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VASCONSELOS : . 
 
 ROMANCE OF THE NEW WORLD. 
 
 BY W. GILMORE SIMMS 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE YEMASSEE," " THE FORAYERS," " EUTAW," " KATHARINE 
 
 WALTON," "RICHARD HURDIS," "THE WIGWAM AND 
 
 THE CABIN," ETC. 
 
 * Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs 
 Are servanted to others : Though I owe 
 My revenge properly, my remission lies 
 In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiars, 
 Ing-rate f orgetf ulness shall poison, rather 
 Than pity note how much." 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 CHIOAQO: 
 
 DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO, 
 
 407-425 DEARBORN STREET 
 
DONOHUE & HENNEBERRY. 
 
 PRINTERS AND BINDERS. 
 CHICAGO. 
 
USNJIVEiV 
 
 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 " Nature did 
 
 Dengn us to be warriors, and to break through our ring, the sea, by which we 
 are environed ; and we, by force, must fetch in what is wanting, or precious to us. 
 
 IT is the province of romance, even more decidedly than histo 
 ry, to recall the deeds and adventures of the past. It is to fiction 
 that we must chiefly look for those living and breathing creations 
 which history quite too unfrequently deigns to summon to her 
 service. The warm atmosphere of present emotions, and pro- 
 sent purposes, belongs to the dramatis personce of art ; and she 
 is never so well satisfied in showing us human performance 
 when she betrays the passions and affections by which they were 
 dictated and endured. It is in spells and possessions of this 
 character, that she so commonly supersedes the sterner muse 
 whose province she so frequently invades; and her offices are 
 not the less legitimate, as regards the truthfulness of things in 
 general, than are those of hislon. because she supplies those de 
 tails which the latter, mi \\iscly as we think, but too commonly, 
 .holds beneath her regard. In the work before us however, it is 
 our purpose to slight neither agency. \Yc >hall det*T to each of 
 them, in turn, as they may be made t ; common pur; 
 
 They both appeal to our a->istaiiee. and equally spread their pos 
 sessions beneath our eyes. *\Ve shall employ, without violating, 
 the material resources of the Historian, while seeking to endow 
 1 i 
 
 166367 
 
2 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 them with a vitality which fiction only can confer. It is in pur 
 suit of this object that we entreat the reader to suppose the back 
 ward curtain withdrawn, unveiling, if only for a moment, the 
 aspects of a period not so remote as to lie wholly beyond our 
 sympathies. We propose to look back to that dawn of the six 
 teenth century ; at all events, to such a portion of the historical 
 landscape of that period, as to show us some of the first sunny 
 gleams of European light upon the savage dominions of the 
 Western Continent. To review this epoch is, in fact, to survey 
 the small but impressive beginnings of a wondrous drama in 
 which we, ourselves, are still living actors. The scene is almost 
 \vithin our grasp. The names of the persons of our narrative 
 have not yet ceased from Bounding in our ears ; and the theatre 
 of performan lie boards of which, even at this momeii , 
 
 are echoing beneath their mighty footsteps. Our curiosity and 
 interest may well be awakened tor awlu le. to an action, t lie fruits 
 of which, in some degree, are inuring to our present benefit. 
 
 It is just three hundred years, since, in the spring season of the 
 year of Grace, one th>ii>aml five hundred and thirty-eight, the 
 infant city of Havana resounded with the tread of one of the 
 noblest bodies of Spanish chivalry that ever set loot in our West> 
 ern hemisphere. That gay and gallant cavalier, llernando De 
 Soto equally the courtier and the soldier having won wealth, 
 no less than fame, under Francis I i/arro in Peru, had now re- 
 
 . ed upon an independent enterprise, in an<t her region, for him 
 self. This enterprise, in the extravagant expectations of that 
 period, promised to be of even more magnificent results than 
 those of his great pi. and companion, already distin 
 
 guished by his xovereiirn a- the Adelantado of Florida. 
 
 Florida that wondrous term incognita, which, for so long a 
 time, led the Kurope-an imagination astray our ambitious cava- 
 lier was now bu-ied in making the grandest preparations for its 
 conquest. A thousand soldi. -p-. many of whom were of tin 1 
 nob , : "f Spain and Portugal, had assembled at 11 ,v. 
 
 for Ming his train with a strength which 
 
 ised to i i m all hi-> anticipations. More than o 
 
 IT 
 
THK SI ANISII CAVALIER. I 
 
 of this brilliant force for such it was, if we compare it with the 
 small and ill-organized bands wliirh were usually deemed suffi- 
 
 tor the conflict with the Indian races of America consi 
 
 ivalry; belted knights, brave soldiers, already din 
 
 the v i, and young, hopeful gallants, of high 
 
 1. who had their fortunes to make, and who had expended 
 til.- !a-t ivmains of their patrimony in the dec-orations, for this 
 enterprise, of tbeil steeds and persons. The rest were >Vut bow 
 men and arquebusiers, men of tough sinews, and mrrals quite 
 as tough rude, sturdy, desperate, in doublets of quilted cotton, 
 which were only not quite impenetrable to an Indian arrow. 
 Well might the ambitious spirit of Hernando de Soto become con 
 fident of suece-- as he reviewed his squadrons. Their num! 
 their manly vigor, their ardent enthusiasm, the splendor of their 
 armor, the admirable horsemanship of lu s cavaliers all tended 
 to assure him of his future triumphs; neither Cortez nor Pizarro 
 had hri-n halt s,, fortunate in such an equipment; and our adelan- 
 tado, as he surveyed his t<>rces. became impatient of the hour 
 when he should dart upon the conquest wliich he air. : ded 
 
 as secure. Compelled, however, to await the tardy process of 
 getting .-hips and stores in readiness, he enlivened the interval of 
 d -l;i : ising his gallan s iu all the military and social 
 
 amusements in which they took delight. While in Cub,, 
 by tli. policy of winning to his banner the wealth and enter; 
 of the island, he cheerfully ewouniged his knights and captains 
 to engage in all th <>f chivalry which could possibly 
 
 :He the atl ection- ( ,f tlie people. The days \\v;. 
 
 utned in tilts and tour Mill-fights, and other inanlv 
 
 The oJghl .ielded io balls and masquer td. <. in 
 
 which tlie vi. i..r of the i.ut too commonly found hii: 
 
 vanijiii-hed by tl as well as tairest of his foes. 
 
 irally a person of parade and pomp, but too 
 queiitly sacrificed | life to the shadow which his 
 
 fan. an entire household were some 
 
 times exhausted in making gay the graceful : its young 
 
 cadet Beauty necessarily h equal ardor, to render bet 
 
4 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 taste and treasure appropriate auxiliaries to her natural charms 
 and thus it was that the brief interval during which our nd ven 
 turers lingered in the island, after reaching it from Spain, ; 
 like a dream of enchantment one of those fairy tales of plca>uiv 
 that we read of in the romances of Arabia. But the time was 
 fa>t approaching when these gay scenes of pleasure the relaxa 
 tions and the mimicry of war were to give place to its absolute 
 and h;*rd realities. The arrangements of our adelantado were at 
 length nearly completed. The ships had taken in most of their 
 storeo, and two of them had been already dispatched with the 
 view to a better exploration of the coast of Florida, and in search 
 of a fitting harbor for the descent of the armament. But a few 
 weeks perhaps days would elapse, and the little city would 
 sink into its ancient dullness and repose. The sad thought of 
 separation from such delights as had been enjoyed by all parties, 
 could only be dissipated by renewed efforts at enjoyment. 
 Gloomy reflections were only to be banished by fresh indul- 
 
 : and, duly, as the time lessened for delay, the plans and 
 schemes for pleasure were hurriedly increased. The young dam 
 sel- of Cuba put forth all their attractions to arrest the fugitive 
 hearts whose heroic influences had but too much touched their 
 own; and more than one brave cavalier was found to hesitate as 
 the time drew nigh for his departure. His imagination painfully 
 contrasted the pleasures which he enjoyed, with the toils and 
 perils which were in prospect. Care and anxiety naturally fol- 
 li.weil sueh comparisons; and, though the sports of the island were 
 not forborne until the armament had fairly taken its departure, 
 
 iv they felt to be more or less deeply shadowed by the 
 consciousness of the change which was at hand. The son-: was 
 growing much less lively than at first the tinkle of the guitar 
 1. -x frequent and merry the voice of the singer more subdued, 
 while the tremulous .sighs that mingled with its strain, and formed 
 its tei and fitting accompaniment, bore evidence quite as 
 
 frequently of the really saddened fancy, as of the beguiling artifice 
 of the fair musician. 
 
 The cares of Ilernando de Soto were of a different character 
 
HKRNANDU DK SOTO. 6 
 
 Though wedded to one of the most lovely of all the beauties of 
 Spain, a princely dame, of family quite as distinguished as her 
 charms, it was not the tender passion which disturbed his 
 fancies. Love satisfied the early gush of youthful ardor lulled 
 to rest by gratification and ambition, that sterner passion which 
 more particularly inspires the bosom of the matured man, 
 superseding all others, except avarice, took possession of his soul, 
 swaying it with little interruption or interval. He was only 
 anxious to be gone on his path of triumph; and every event 
 which was calculated to delay his departure was an additional 
 source of anxiety, and even bitterness. Of these delays, the 
 causes were frequent. The very sports and pleasures which he 
 encouraged sometimes embarrassed the toils of his subordinates 
 while diminishing his own resources, and the shows of reluctance 
 and hesitation on the part of some of his favorite officers, together 
 with certain awkward domestic occurrences, at which it is only 
 necessary that we should glance in passing, rendered active all 
 that was irritable and unamiable in his temper and deportment. 
 It is our fortune to place him before our readers at a moment 
 which found him particularly ruffled by the misconduct of one 
 favorite cavalier, and the expected falling off of another. In a 
 private chamber of the Governor s palace, for he was Governor- 
 era! of Cuba, as well as Adelantado of Florida, he holds in 
 close conference one of his chief advisers. Hernando de Soto 
 was at this time about thirty->i\ years of age, in the very prime 
 of manhood, healthy, vigorous, accomplished, graceful in can 
 commanding in deportment; above the middle height, of a 
 onmtenanct , dark and animated, ami with a large and fiery 
 Of noble family, a gentleman " by all four descents," as was 
 the phrase, he had yet gone forth as a mere adventurer on the 
 conquest of Peru. There he had proved his personal meri 
 be superior to those of birth ; ranking next to Pi/arro himself in 
 the use oflamv and sword, and particularly distinguished by his 
 wonderful excellence in horsemanship. He mi^ht have retired in 
 B and atllm-nce on the wraith and reputation which he acquired in 
 *>eru, but that the master passion of lus soul forbade the sacril mt 
 
6 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 of endowments, of strength, skill and courage, which were too 
 precious and too conspicuous to be consigned to inactivity. It 
 was a fate that brought him once more from his native country 
 in search of greater distinctions than he had yet acquired, in a 
 perilous strife with the fierce natives that occupied the melancholy 
 wastes of Florida. 
 
 I! - companion, at the moment when we seek to present him 
 to tlie iva<lvr, was a person of a very different mood and charac 
 ter. Don Baltha/ar de Alvaro was a cold, dark, and somewhat 
 ostentatious hidalgo, a man of passions rather more intense 
 than fierce, subtle, yet tenacious, capable of secret vices, yet 
 equally capable of concealing them, a prudent man, in the 
 worldly signification of the term, yet a profligate ui every better 
 sense. But he outraged few external proprieties. He had the 
 cunning of the serpent, without the dove s innocence, and pos 
 sessed the art of hiding the fang and venom from discovery, even 
 at the moment when he most harbored and prepared both facul 
 ties for use. He had been for ten years a resident of the island, 
 was a man of large estates, and larger enterprises, with involve 
 ments more than corresponding with the former, and such as 
 might well be supposed to follow from a somewhat reckless 
 indulgence of the latter. He was now forty-five years of age, 
 and remarkably erect and vigorous, had frequently distinguished 
 himself in w*r with the Indians, and it surprised nobody in that 
 day that he should eagerly prepare to embark his fortunes with 
 those of Hernando de Soto. The public voice imputed to him 
 and other cavaliers no higher ambition in undertaking this enter 
 prisr than the capture of such a number of red-men of the 
 continent as would enable them to stock with slaves their vast 
 landed estates in Cuba. Don Balthazar was a widower, without 
 family, save in the person of a single niece, the only child of a 
 brother, who, with his wife, had been dead for several years. The 
 child ha.l liri-n thrown upon the care of her uncle from an early 
 period. - She was now -rvrntrm. with considerable estates of her 
 own, upon which it wa^ >hn-\vdly conjectured that her uncle had 
 trespassed frequently, and with no light hand. She was as beautifu] 
 
A DELICATE QLTKST1>X. 7 
 
 as young, a tall, majestic woman, with pule but highly expressive 
 features, a deep, dark eye, full of tenderness and thought, with 
 an expression of melancholy hi her countenance, which seemed 
 rather to heighten than disparage the eminent beauty of her face, 
 We shall see and hear more of her herealb r. 
 
 While the two cavaliers conferred together, De Soto paced the 
 apartment with an air of much vexation and anxiety. lie -ho wed 
 himself deeply chafed with matters, the discussion of which had 
 evidently occupied for some time before the thoughts and feelings 
 of the two. Don Balthazar kept hi a sitting posture; he watched 
 the movements of his superior with eyes that sometimes gleamed 
 with a sinister expression. This seemed to show him not wholly 
 atisfied with the annoyances of the other; a slight smile at 
 moments played about his mouth, but these were not allowed 
 to attract the notice of De Soto, who broke into speech occasion 
 ally in regard to the subject of his vexation. 
 
 " Methinks, Don Balthazar, you make too light of this mis- 
 chief! You forget that it was to the particular care of my wife 
 that the Count de Gomera confided his daughter. What if she 
 were a natural child ? did he love her the less 1 Was she the 
 less honored by the people under her father s government 1 You 
 say that she had the mother s weakness ! All women are weak ; 
 and that she should yield when man persuades, is due rather to her 
 nature than to the viees in her heart. Her si-curity is in our justice, 
 and if that tails, she tails also. But Leonora de Bovadillu should 
 have had additional securities in my household; and I hold it a< an 
 outrage on myself, scarcely to be forgiven, with any atonement 
 made, that one of my own tru-led Li< .-.tenants should have been 
 the first to abuse these securities. It is a wr- !;u r done to mv 
 wife s honor and mine own. which; but r -r ;-ililities of 
 
 this expedition, would impel me to punish the transgressor with 
 lone, -and -word, and compel him to make the last atonement 
 with his blood !" 
 
 "It is better that he should make atonement by marrying the 
 girl," was the reply of the other. " I trow, it shall bettor pi. 
 one of the parties at least" 
 
8 VASCOXSKLOS. 
 
 " It shall please them both ! He shall marry her, or he makes 
 of me such an enemy as shall make death itself a desirable release 
 to liim from punishment." 
 
 M IK- is prepared for this," said the other. " Let your anger 
 cool. Saving the offence to yourself and your honorable lady, 
 there will be no wrong done to the damsel. He will repair the 
 breach in her condition, and make an honest woman of her ; so 
 that no one shall have reason to complain. Nuno de Tobar is a 
 free gallant. What he hath done hath not been of purpose, but 
 in the warmth of a passion, that has rather found its countenance 
 in the easy nature of the damsel herself, perhaps in her own 
 
 willingness, " 
 
 Nay, nay; I will not have it so, Don Balthazar," was the 
 impetuous response of De Soto ; " this is too much thy irrever 
 ent way of speaking where woman is concerned. The virtue 
 and modesty of the Lady Leonora were above reproach." 
 
 "Well, I mean not harm, your Excellency; we speak of 
 women as we have found them. It nas been your fortune to 
 meet only with such as are pure ; but I " 
 
 " Let it pass, Sefior," was the interruption. " Thou wilt see 
 Nuno de Tobar, and teaeh him my desires my demands. Let 
 him marry the Lady Leonora without delay. Myself and the 
 La.lv Isabella shall grace the nuptials, which shall not be slighted. 
 There shall be state in the arrangements, such as becomes the 
 daughter of the Count de Gomera ; such as becomes a lady in 
 the guardianship of my wife. I will give him no countenance till 
 I will not see him till the moment when he unites 
 hi> hand with the maiden he hath wronged, under the sanction of 
 th<- Holy Church." 
 
 The speaker was suddenly answered from another quarter, 
 
 " Alas ! your Excellency, but the offender must again trespass, 
 and again rely upon your generous nature in the hope for par 
 don," said the voice of a third person, who entered the door of 
 the chamber at this moment. 
 
 " How now, Senor! wast thou not forbidden this presence?" 
 de nanded De Soto, angrily. The intruder was the offending 
 
THK DIFFICULTY SETTLED. 9 
 
 cavalier, Nuno de Tobar, whose liaison with the fair charge of the 
 adelantado had formed the subject of the preceding conference. 
 No more graceful or superb cavalier had ever found favor in the 
 of woman; and, as now, with a softened demeanor, with the 
 air of a man conscious of offence, and sincerely regretting it, he 
 filtered the presence of his superior, his frank and ingenuous 
 countenance, his noble though modest carriage, insensibly won 
 upon the mood of De Soto, and prepared him to listen patiently 
 to the apologies of the offender. 
 
 "I have erred," he continued, "and I crave pardon for my 
 offence. I will make all the amendment in my power. Unhap 
 pily, I can make but little " 
 
 "Thou wilt wed with the Lady Leonora?" 
 
 " That were no atonement, your highness, since 1 shall esteem 
 it rather a reward tor -erv; t>e performed, that you con 
 
 fer upon me a pri/e the mo-t precious to my fancy. That the 
 Lady Leonora has suffered me to know what is the power which 
 my hear- - upon hers, rather commends her to my love, 
 
 than lessens the value which I set upon her. Believe me, Senor, 
 that, in giving me this lady, yon oiler the most powerful mo- 
 to my courage and fidelity, in the progress which lies before us, 
 in the deep forests of th- Floridian." 
 
 This was so gracefully said that De Soto was disarmed. He 
 
 only too glad of the opportunity, thus afforded him. by the 
 
 readiness of the offend dr his misconduct, to take once 
 
 more into favor one of the most accomplished gallants in his 
 
 train. 
 
 "I have been aiiirry with thee, Nuno de Tobar, but thy heart 
 has not meant to offend. Away with thee. then; I forgive ti 
 
 if thy lady-love shall so readily forgive thee. in making her 
 ready to attend thee to the altar. Thou shalt be duly warned 
 of the time when it shall please my wife to s< d to 
 
 thine. Meanwhile, prepare thee with all dispatch, for there must 
 * DO need]e delay! in our expedition. Our departure is at 
 MMML" 
 
 Some farther conference ersued between the parties, and 
 
10 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 when the young cavalier had left the presence, which he did with 
 out rendering necessary the commands of his superior, De Soto 
 resumed as follows : 
 
 " This passeth my hope ! I had feared a struggle with the hot 
 passions of this youth. Few men tolerate compulsion in affairs 
 of love ; still fewer the necessity of an alliance with the thing 
 they have dishonored. Strange that we should be so heedful of 
 a stain which is of our own making : but verily such is man s 
 nature. That Nuno de Tobar is so easy in this matter, though 
 it likes me as repairing the shame of the Lady Leonora, and re- 
 lieving me of some of the trouble in my path, yet somewhat 
 lessens him in my favor. He seemeth to me rather heedless on 
 the point of honor." 
 
 " Nay, your excellency is now unreasonable," was tho answer 
 of Don Balthazar; "Nuno de Tobar is a philosopher somew r hat 
 after my own fashion. He hath made no large calculation upon 
 the sex ; therefore he shall not suffer greatly from experience 
 hereafter. Thou wilt do well to suffer him to see no diminution 
 of thy favor. Hast thou not declared him thy lieutenant-general 1 
 Wilt thou revoke thy trust] If thou dost, the offence were more 
 grievous than the command which weds him to this damsel. 
 That were not so readily forgiven. Trust me, he is one to 
 resent a wrong done to his ambition, where he might submit to 
 one inflicted on his heart." 
 
 " It may be so," was De Soto s answer to this suggestion, 
 " yet I have resolved that he goes no longer as my lieutenant- 
 general. I think of this office for another. It shall certainly be 
 his no longer. He shall win his way to favor ere he gains it. 
 What thinkest thou of Vasco Porcallo for this station?" 
 
 " Does he join the expedition ?" inquired the other. 
 
 " Will such an appointment fail to persuade him to the enter- 
 { HM ? Such is the bait which I have passed before his eyes." 
 
 " His treasures are an object, surely !" 
 
 " He is brave also, and full of spirit." 
 
 " But he is old and capricious ! a single skirmish with the red 
 men will suffice for his ambition." 
 
REASONS FOR A CHANGE. 11 
 
 " Be it so; but he shall have made his investments ! His cafl 
 Vellanoes will have embarked in the expedition. These are not 
 easily rivalled. He may retire from toils which are too great 
 for his years; but what shall restore him his gold when it shall 
 have been expended in the enterprise?" 
 
 De Soto had made his calculations shrewdly. One of his 
 vices the greatest was avarice. This impaired the dignity 
 and virtue of his ambition. Don Balthazar was soon persuaded 
 to soe, in the argument of the adelantado, good reasons for con 
 finning the. office of lieutenant-general on the rich hidalgo, Vasco 
 Porcallo de Figueroa, and for deposing from it the poor but gal- 
 lant young cavalier who had so grievously offended. The subject, 
 however, was soon dismissed, to give way to another of consider 
 able interest to both the parties. But, for the discussion of this, 
 we reserve ourselves for a fresh chapter, as it will need the pres 
 ence of another of the persons of our drama. 
 
lAPTER II. 
 
 Go, Philostrate, 
 
 Stir up the Athenian youth to m.Triinentt ; 
 Awake the pert and risible spirit of mirth ; 
 Turn melancholy forth to funeral ; 
 The pale companion is not for our pomp." 
 
 "II\VE you sounded these Portuguese brothers, as I coun 
 selled you 1" was the inquiry of De Soto. 
 
 The brow of Don Balthazar slightly darkened as he answered : 
 
 " It is not easy to sound them. They are suspicious and re 
 sentful. The jealousies of our people have made them so ; and 
 you have been able to oiler them no position. I should have 
 preferred, were this possible, that one of them should have this 
 very office you propose to confer upon Vasco Porcallo." 
 
 " That is out of the question."^ 
 
 "I feel it; and yet, be\ olid tin- hope of profit, which is felt 
 by the commonest arquebusicr in the army, what is the motive 
 lor the enterprise on tin- i ;irt of these brothers * They are both 
 young and nobl-s ambitious and full of valor. Their follower* 
 are few, it is true, but tin y will make good fight ; and really, the 
 abilities of the elder brother, Philip de Vasconselos, are proba 
 bly of greater value than those of any of your cavaliers. The 
 companion of De Vaca. he hath traversed all these wilds of Flori 
 da, and probably knoweth all the secrets of which De Va<;a made 
 such glorious boast and mystery. Besides, he speaks ami un- 
 iiids the languii -re of he natives; an advantage of which it 
 is difficult to measure the importance. Of his valor and con 
 duct we have sufficient testimony of our own eyes, even if the 
 evidence of other witne.ss.s were wanting; De Vac.a himse f 
 spoke of him as one of the most prudent and valiant of his 
 cavaliers." 
 
AS UNPLEASANT SUGGESTION. II 
 
 " All this, I wot," answered the other impatiently, but what 
 &f thy mission? what mean they by the reserve which seeks 
 me not, and the change of mood which makes them declare 
 themsel\v> doubtful whether or not to proceed upon tin- en 
 terprise ?" 
 
 " They have spoken somewhat of the evident dislike and 
 jealousies of certain of our knights, to say nothing of the rude 
 disfavor of the common soldiers/ 1 
 
 "This alone should show them how impossible it would be to 
 give them command over our Spaniards. Are they not satisfied 
 
 of thi> r 
 
 "Yet doth it also afford sufficient reason why they should he 
 unwilling to proceed in any enterprise with companions so un- 
 onable, for whom they will peril life and fortune, and from 
 whom they can expect nothing in return." 
 
 "And thou hast gathered nothing further from thy inquiries 
 into this matter ? Hath nothing occurred to thv own thought 
 and observation to add foive to the difficulty which thou ha-t 
 so clearly, and which thou hold -t so weighty? Bethink 
 thee. Don Balthazar, fast thou not a niece, a damsel lovely as 
 any that ever blossom. -d in bright Castile? The^e knights of 
 Portugal have looked upon the maiden with eyes of love ? I la! 
 \*\ not BO ? I )oxt thou not 
 
 The brow of the person addressed again darkened as this 
 D met h> ears, His lips might be seen more elo^-lv to 
 contract together. He waa about to speak when the rustling of 
 silken garments at the entrance announced u new vMtor; and 
 the door Opened, a moment after, for the admi^ion of the lady 
 of the adelantado. Both .pproachcd h. ap 
 
 peared, with -h"\\~, of fh- n 
 
 "Am I permitted to attend the<c solemn councils?" wa* the 
 inquiry of the noble lady M -he pa-ed into the apartment ; tier 
 voice .oftly attuned to the playful question, and her lij.^ 
 with the -wertcvt Millies. 
 
 " I" one who BO admirably unit. ^ the wNdom of the 
 with the virtues of the other rength and dignity of 
 
14 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 manhood with the grace and loveliness of woman counsel her 
 self must willingly incline her ear. We were foes to wisdom 
 did we refuse to hearken to the words of her best favorite." 
 
 The stately compliment, so perfectly Spanish, was from the 
 lips of Don Balthazar, upon whom the lady smiled most 
 sweetly, not wholly insensible, it would seem, to the honeyed 
 flattery. 
 
 \v, verily/ exclaimed De Soto, who beheld the expres 
 sion in her fare; "now, verily, hath this politician won thy 
 whole heart by the silliest speech. He is like the cunning knave 
 who possesseth counterfeit castellanoes, who, knowing their just 
 worthlessness, yet circulates them for the value which they de 
 rive only from the ignorance of him who receives. He hath put 
 his copper trinket upon thec, ami will look for the golden one in 
 return, even as we look to our Floridian savage for the precious 
 metals, in exchange for others, which are as dear to his eyes, as 
 despicable in ours. Is it not so, my lady? And yet, if thou art 
 thus easily put upon, what shall be my security, leaving the 
 government of Cuba in thy hands T 
 
 "Oh! fear nothing, my lord; I shall ere long become schooled 
 in all the subtleties of thy politicians, so that thy government 
 shall have no wrong during thy absence. Be not deceived, mv 
 good lord, in the supposed estimate which our sex makes of the 
 flatteries of thine. We receive the coin that thou offerest, not 
 because we overvalue it or esteem it very highly, but simply as 
 we know that it is quite too commonly the most precious which 
 ye have to offer. Were sincerity one of the virtues of the man, 
 we should perhaps never listen to his flatteries ; but it were un 
 reasonable to reject his false tokens, when we know that such 
 constitute his whole treasure; and we receive the tribute of his 
 lips only in the absence of all better securities lodged within his 
 heart. It is something of an acknowledgment, in behalf of our 
 authority, that he is solicitous to show the devotion which he 
 has not always- the- nobleness to feel." 
 
 !Ta! Senor Balthazar, we gain nothing by this banter. Our 
 lady knows that our gold is copper It is for such only that 
 
THE ADELANTADO S WIFE. 16 
 
 he takes it. Shrewdly spoken, by my faith; and yet it might 
 be as shrewdly said, in reply, why receive the counterfeit at all 
 Knowing so well its worthlcssness, unless it were that the de 
 pendency of the one sex upon the other, rendered any gift of 
 the man sufficiently precious, (though worthless in itself,) in the 
 eyes of the woman/ 
 
 ** Now out upon thee for a heathen savage ! Thou art not 
 satisfied with shaming Don Balthazar with his tribute, but thou 
 must shame me with the pleasure I feel in receiving it at his 
 hands. I would thou wert fairly on thy march among the Flori 
 dian, that I might play the tyrant in thy government of Cuba, 
 to the peril of thy insolent sex ! But proceed to thy councils, 
 if there be nothing unfit for the ears of the woman. I have 
 I to sound the depths of all thy policy in other respects, 
 since I am to play sovereign in thy place hereafter." 
 
 The noble lady, speaking playfully, had, in the meanwhile, 
 with a <_ r race peculiarly her own, sunk down upon the divan of 
 orange, from which Don Baltha/ar had risen to receive her. Few 
 persons, not actually born in the purple, were so well endowed 
 to honor it, and to wield authority with sweetness. The daughter 
 of Don Pedrarias Davila, a man distinguished, unhappily, quite 
 as much by his cruel treatment of the famous Vasco Nunez de 
 Balboa, the discoverer of the Pacific, as by his own deeds and 
 su<-ee--e<. Isabella de B< >badilla. inherited the pride ftod dignity 
 of her father s character, without tho>e taints of vindictiveness 
 and pa ion which had rendered him odious among his inferiors. 
 She |>n--M--.ed that happy prudence which never forgets what 
 
 is due to thf humanities and ihc atleetions in Hi,- moment <>f 
 power and good fortune. ^ wiser than the irrcater num 
 
 ber of her sex ; calm in the hour of trial, full of provident fore 
 thought, with a mind quite equal to the government about to 
 devolve upon her, and with a heart devoted to that lord who 
 about to leave her for a pn.tra* 1 . ilous pro 
 
 gress, to which he was induced ly the Ji :i r|,- persuasion* of am 
 bition. He had found her an admirable councilor and ally, in 
 taking his preparations for the expedition ; and, in penetrating 
 
16 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 his chamber of council without a summons, she was yet satisfied, 
 from past experience, that her presence in such a place was 
 never wholly unacceptable or unprofitable ! When, therefore, 
 she declared her pleasure to remain, unless the topics under 
 discussion should prove ungracious in the hearing of her sex, the 
 ready answer of her husband entreated her to do so, whilst 
 assuring her against the exception which she expressed. 
 
 "Nay, Isabella," said he; "it particularly concerns thy rex, 
 that of which we are to speak, and much of what has l>een 
 spoken. Know then, in the first place, that thou art to prepare 
 thy lovely handmaid, the damsel Leonora, for her nuptials with 
 Nuiio de Tobar." 
 
 " Thou hast then adjusted that matter ?" said the lady, with a 
 grave accent and demeanor. 
 
 " It is settled, and without anger or difficulty. It is for thee to 
 decide upon the hour of the bridal. Let it be soon, for we must 
 have dispatch, and advise with the damsel ere the day be sped. 
 But there is yet another matter connected with thy sex wlu ch 
 troubles me, and prevents my purpose. Their mischievous influ 
 ence hath been at work upon my bravest cavaliers. Thou 
 knowest these two young knights of Portugal. I need not tell 
 thee of their worth, their valor, and the great importance to the 
 expedition of the elder brother, Philip de Yasconselos, who hath 
 alreadv sped <>ver all the territory of the Floridian, and is fami 
 liar with the heathen speech of its people. Now, it so happens 
 that these two young gallants grow indifferent to the enterprise. 
 Thev have held themselves somewhat aloof from me of late, and 
 words have been heard to fall from their lips, which declare their 
 doubts whether they will accompany the expedition, as was their 
 purpose when they joined our armament at Seville." 
 
 "And canst thou riot guess the reason fr this change of pur- 
 POM :" demanded the lady, with a smile. 
 
 " Ay. verily ! Thy smile tells me that I ;.-M right in ascribing 
 their fickleness of purpose to the persuasions jim 1 artifices of thy 
 sex. Our grave Sefior, Don haltha/ar de Alvaro, will have it 
 In*, only to the jealousies of our Spaniards, with whom 
 
DISAGRKKMKNT <>F OPINION. 17 
 
 men of Portugal find but little favor. Something there may be 
 ID this, doubtle88 ; l>ut, I trow, it would never be sufficient to 
 Midi \oung gallants, known for their bravery, and 
 ambitious of wealth and distinction, wen- it not fur the charms of 
 thi- Lady Olivia, his fair niece, " 
 
 "It may be that thoii art right in thy conjee: Dofl 
 
 r>altha/ar, interrujiting the speaker, his brow again darkening as 
 if with displeasure ; u but it will profit them little that they turn 
 their eyes in the direction of my nieee. Olivia de Alvaro k 
 scarcely the proper game tor either of these knights of Portugal." 
 
 "And wherefore, Seilor r was the quick inquiry of I)na 
 Isabella. These are brave and honorable gentlemen, both; of 
 as we know a family as noble as any in Portugal. They 
 have not wealth, it is true, but they have the qualit: 
 
 1 enterprise. vJiich in these days of l (lold 
 
 en Cathay where achieve wealth, and make obscure 
 
 name* famous. 1 see not \\\\\ you should so sternly n 
 
 : the devotion wliich they si-em disposed to otU-r to \.ur 
 
 Don Iialtha/ar trod the floor in a stern sih-nce. while the Ade- 
 lantado took up the words, 
 
 "Thou ha-t forgotten another matter, my lady, which seenieth 
 to me of no small import in this ease. If I mistake not greatly, 
 the drci-i..n of the Lady Olivia herself will surely be m< 
 diligent than that of her guardian, in relation to these \oung 
 Knights of Portugal." 
 
 " But I urn her guardian, your excellency, and my niece is but 
 M. " 
 
 "Seventeen is a goodly age for female judgment, Sefior, in 
 Htlairs of the aflectaons,* 1 waa th- am the lady. "But 
 
 thoii surely wilt not oppose the aiithorit\ of the guardian to the 
 when th. iij.oi) a [ f whox t . 
 
 worth and tioblene-^ th.-n- can be no <ju<-s: 
 
 Ah! but I know i tin- quick reply of Don \\i\\. 
 
 f a/ar. not I believe r.ot that the affections of 
 
 to either of these Portuguese adventurers," 
 
18 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " Deceive not thyself, SeSor," said the Lady Isabella. " Men 
 are seldom the best judges of such mutters, especially where 
 they are grave senators and busy politicians. You have quite 
 too many concerns to demand your study too many cares ol 
 business and fortune to suffer you to give much heed to the ten 
 dency of a young and feminine heart. 1 claim to understand it 
 better, and I tell thee, Senor, that if ever woman loved cavalier, 
 with all her soul, and with all her strength, the.n doth Olivia 
 de Alvaro love this elder knight of Portugal, whom they call 
 Philip de Vasconselos." 
 
 " I believe it not ! You are deceived, Lady Isabella. I am 
 sure that such is not the case. But if it were, I should be false to the 
 duties I have undertaken to suffer her inclinations to have sway 
 in this. This Philip dc Vasconselos may have his virtues ; yet 
 what is he but a beggarly adventurer, who has squandered his 
 birthright in wanderings where the better wisdom has always 
 succeeded in acquiring it ?" 
 
 " Not always, Scfior, unless old proverbs fail us. The best 
 wisdom is but too commonly the last to secure the smiles of For- 
 tune. Have not your poets made her feminine, and with two 
 fold sarcasm made her caprices to resemble ours? Say they 
 not, that he is most apt to win her favor who less does for, and 
 less deserves it; and shape they not their sarcasm in such wise 
 as to salve the hurts- of self-esteem, by recognizing the propriety 
 of that favor which provides for him who would never be able, 
 of his own wits, to provide for himself] You shall do no slander 
 to this knight of Portugal, Philip de Vasconselos, who, verily, is 
 a man of thought as well as of valor. I have enjoyed his wis 
 dom with a rare delight, and if his valor keep any rate of pac 
 with his judgment, he should be a famous leader in such adven- 
 turv as that on which ye go. For the younger In-other, I can 
 scarcely ^sj.eak BO t;i\orably. lie seemeth at once less wise and 
 
 more presuming. Be speaks as one confident in himself* and I 
 
 should deem him quite as rash and ill advised as valiant; nay 
 more, he hath the manner of a man whom small griefs uni 
 ably inflame, who is irritable of mood, suspicious of those 
 
THE Dl>YK AM) 11IK FALCON. 19 
 
 about him, jealous of tlu- good fame of his compair .ons, and one 
 
 of too little faith in others to IK- altogether worthy of faith him- 
 
 1 . ia :: of him that we m- -d to apeak. He hath, I 
 
 fancy, hut little chance of BUOC6M with our fair cousin, though it 
 
 . Meiit he hath a passion tor lier quite as earnest as that of his 
 
 elder In-other." 
 
 - \\iuu wyest thou, Seiior?" demanded De Soto, as his wife 
 
 led. 
 
 " What .should I say, your excellency," replied the latter, 
 somewhat doggedly, u save that my niece is in my keeping ? 
 She \sill not, I think, gainsay my judgment in this matter l>\ 
 opposing it with her own." 
 
 " Will >he QOtT" demanded the lady, with a smile. "We 
 shall S BOr, \\h<> Letter understands the heart of woman. 
 
 Bethink you. it is upon no ordinary matter that \ou a*k her to 
 forego her judgment. Tlie late of woman is in the resolve which 
 -hail make for or against her heart. Her whole life is in the 
 love which she feels; and ti 1. or this possessed, d< 
 
 mines her existence. She hath a ran- instinct which tearhes her 
 
 all this. Submissive in all other respects, -he h.-iv grows i 
 lute and >tr*.ii^; and she win m you kfiew fjr mat -> the 
 
 dove only. >hall, wlieii the heart demand- sueli will and cou; 
 
 .me the tierce coinage of the llilenn. Believe it or 
 Olivia de A Ivaro loves this knight of Portugal ; and so lo\ 
 
 -hall not say nay to her desire, and find ii" re->i->tauee lo 
 your will." 
 
 "It mav lie." \\a- Tru- answer of the other, his }nw still dark 
 ened. ln;t a >inister smile at th -ame moment curling his lips, 
 thoi. :.-eptil)le to tl, it him. That lie 
 
 i l)eymd liix wont. \\a- still apparent. 
 
 r r,.i -l: -his thin- 
 
 You \\ill do well to l,,.;ir it calmly. Our lady is 
 surely right. The heart of thy niece liath made its ehoir. 
 
 thai Philip de Va-con-elos hath re-olved on his; and 
 thou wilt he wi-e to put on a friendly countenance when the} 
 
20 7ASCOXSELOS. 
 
 come to doc-Ian-, their desires. Thou wilt scarcely find a noblei 
 
 cavalier in all Spain upon whom to bestow her fortune." 
 
 "And will you that I should encourage a passion which will 
 tend to bailie thy <>\vn desires f demanded Don Balthazar. 
 
 ll..\\- so. what meanest thdi?" was the inquiry of De Soto. 
 who looked the alarm which he ivalU felt. 
 
 "See st thou not thai the bridal of Philip de Vasconselos with 
 Olivia de Alvaro is conclusive against his progress with the e.\|e- 
 dition ? With her estates in Cuba to occupy his thoughts, with 
 her wealth in which to luxuriate, wherefore should he incur the 
 peril of the Floridian enterprise?" 
 
 " And wherefore should my lord himself incur such peril, Senor 
 Balthaxar?" was the quick and energetic reply of the lady. 
 11 Hath he in it estates in Cuba, a government to demand his care, 
 and wealth enough with which to procure all the luxuries of the 
 island . Yet he will leave all these he will leave me, but lately 
 IMS newly-wedded bride and one, I trow, not wholly without hold 
 upon his heart and go forth upon adventures of incomparable 
 peril. But this belongs to the passion of a knightly ambition a 
 <:enerous impatience of the dull paces of the common life; an 
 rand noble appetite after conquest, and the glory which it 
 bring^l Of this same temper, seems to me the ambition of this 
 knight <>f Portugal, who hath been regardless of wealth only as 
 he hath been h -edful of honor, and whose pride it is rather to 
 win a glorious name, than a golden habitation. Thou shall not 
 disparage this que> f , Senor, since it is one which is ever precious 
 in tin- sight of a generous knighthood." 
 
 "You speak it bravely, my lady; but shall not persuade me 
 that this knight of Portugal would wed my niece only to depart 
 from her. He shall need some time after the nuptiaN. -re his 
 ambition shall asse-t itself. His love of distinction will doubt 
 less bring him after the adelantado but with slow footsteps, and 
 when his lance shall be no longer needful to success." 
 
 "This is. indeed, a matter to be thought on, Don Baltha/ar," 
 was the reply of De Soto, looking gravely, and evidently touched 
 
FAMILY TKol HI.KS. 21 
 
 by the suge>tin of tin- other. "There is surely reason in what 
 thou hast spoken. I had not thought of this before." 
 
 llu- interruption uf the Lady Isabella was almost instantaneous. 
 
 "Nor must you think of it now, my Lord, as a thing which 
 should move you to encourage Don Balthazar in his hostility to 
 the affections of his niece. Doubtless, the loss of this young 
 knight will be somewhat felt by you in this expedition. 1 can 
 easily understand the value of such a lance, and that which is due 
 to his particular experience with the Floridian. But shall these 
 things justify a wrong done to fond hearts that merit only fond 
 ness t Are the alfections of so sweet and tender a woman as 
 Olivia de Alvaro to be set at naught, because of thy or my am 
 bition ? Let us be just and generous, my lord. Give these 
 young people way! Let them be happy, if they may, in mutual 
 love. Hut they do love, I see, I am sure. It is a strange 
 blindness of Senor Baltha/.ar which will not suffer him to E 
 
 ; a strange blindness which refuses to see in this young 
 knight, a noble and a fitting husband for his niece. If we may 
 not move him to be friendly to their desires, let us not encourage 
 him in an opposition which I foresee will be only as fruitless as 
 nwi 
 
 " Fruitless / exclaimed Don Balthazar, with a somewhat bitter 
 anile, "W shall see. We shall Bee!" 
 
 "Hear me yet farther, Don Hernan, my gracious lord. 
 Then- is one process by which to test tin- strength of this young 
 knight * pas-inn. If his love shall falter in the struggle with his 
 ambition, then I shall rather glad me that Olivia goe> tar from 
 
 _ .i U. You owe to these good people <,f Cuba >om- 
 ceremonials ere taking your departure. There needs a still more 
 imposing display of your power, at once to rvward their devo 
 tion, and to confirm your authority, during your absence, in my 
 feeble hands. Order a splendid tournament for an early day 
 preceding your departure. Let there be prizes for valor to win, 
 and beauty to bestow. Span- nothing that shall kindle to the 
 utmost the chivalrous ambition in vour followers; and let all 
 tilings lie done, as it were, to furnish a foretaste of the treasures 
 
22 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 and the achievement-* which await the valiant among the heathea 
 There shall be sharp trials of skill and strength among your 
 knights, and those of Portugal shall not be wanting. Build upon 
 this for the temptations which are to confirm them in their first 
 purpose of exploring and conquering the golden cities of the 
 Floridian." 
 
 " Now hath Dona Isabella counselled truly, as hath ever been 
 her wont," said Don Balthazar, eagerly seizing upon a Mig^cstioii 
 which promised somewhat, however vaguely, to assist in extri 
 cating him from a difficulty which, it was evident to his superior, 
 was one of unusual annoyance. 
 
 "Both of these brothers," he continued, "cherish an eager anx 
 iety for distinction in tilt and tourney. Thus far, they have suf 
 fered no sports of this character to escape them; and one which 
 shall make an event in Cuba long to be remembered with wonder 
 and delight, shall surely reawaken in their bosom all their most 
 earnest appetites for fame. Let them but draw the eyes of all 
 cavaliers upon themselves in this tourney, and they shall scarcely, 
 through very shame, be enabled to escape the necessity of joining 
 in the enterprise. 
 
 "It shall be done," said De Soto, with the air of a man sud 
 denly relieved from his anxieties. "Thou hast counselled, my 
 lady, with as just a knowledge of our sex and its vanities, as of 
 thine own and its sympathies. And now for the plan of this 
 tournament. We shall need for this, not only thy help, Sefior 
 Balthazar, but that also of that scape-grace, Nuno de Tobar. 
 We have taken him to favor at the proper season." 
 
 The difficulties of the discussion were fairly at an end. The 
 lans for the future festivities need not call for consideration 
 
 DOW. 
 
1M. 
 
 She s safe enough ut home, 
 And ha3 but hall" her \viu*, us I rrmr 
 Hie devil cannol jugple her from uiy castikiy. 
 
 THE dnv wu consumed t>cf >re Don Balthazar de Alvaro was 
 r> lea-ed from his duties near the : the adclantado. It 
 
 i:ad l.een, with the former, a day of protracted toil, nut without 
 certain accompanying tortures. The tortures, however. did not 
 exactly follow from tin- toil. On tlu- contrary, he could have 
 
 :ily without th 
 noyaiuv or inconvenience, l>ut with an ela-ti-it\ a- 
 
 :i>n, the natural coiiscijuence of his dcrj> >\mj>atliy in the 
 
 . f ih.- xpcditioii. His tortuivs iK-lungftl nitirel\ to a 
 sulijivt. tin- aniioyaiiri s of which, to him. wi-ro not ly any 
 
 -d liy De SotO OF his noble lady. Little did they fancy 
 the dct-p and jn-ciiliar discju n-t which Don Haltha/ar M 
 any alluskm the jirulalility <A* his niece s inarriaiie. Had the 
 lover IHVII any other than the knight of Portugal had h- 
 tlu- ni.ixt uiiexi -i j.ti- naMe j.erson in the world tin- ca-e would 
 riot have been altered. He would still have found a Mern 1. 
 in the uncle of the lady, for which no reasons of ordinary policy 
 could possibly account. 
 
 But Don Baltha/ar had the strength of will to cot 
 hi- Hiperior, as from all others, the degree of concern which he 
 felt in relation to thi- Mil-ject. 11 | indurate.! 
 
 nature knew well how to cloth- \ternally, in t! 
 
 ment- indirterence. or of a pu! .t!.\ . l ;.t 
 
 he surti-n-d not the !e-- ir. ,nd, with the i :u the 
 
 restraint- of that companion-hip throughout the dav, which had 
 lings, they l.n.ke out in expressions of cor- 
 
 9 
 
24 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 responding force with the pressure that had been laid upon them, 
 Let us follow him as, after a long conference with the adelantado, 
 he took his way, at the approach of evening, toward the inviting 
 solitude of his own habitation. 
 
 This was situated in one of the loneliest, as well as the loveli 
 est, of the suburbs of the infant city. The retreat was one in 
 which love and ambition might equally delight to meditate ; the 
 one on human sympathies, which are always sweetly associated 
 with the beauty and innocence of nature the other upon proud 
 hope and prospects in the future, which present possessions 
 princely and beautiful, might naturally suggest to the fierce will 
 and the grasping, eager temperament. The site of the habitation 
 of Don Balthazar was happily found upon a gentle eminence, 
 which allbrded equal glimpses of the city and the sea. Its h<>ri 
 zon was only circumscribed by its trees. fruitage and flowers in 
 an excess of which the best taste, in a warm climate, would find 
 it difficult to complain. The air that breathed balm ever through 
 its atmosphere the breeze swelling at frequent periods from its 
 tributary seas the chirp of innocent insects, and the song of 
 !, but never wandering birds were all suggestive of that 
 condition of the dolce far nicnte of the fatal tyranny of which tne 
 :nd moralist dilate in warning exhortation ever, yet tc 
 which they are always most ready to submit with pleasure, and 
 to remember with regret and yearning. Fruits of every luscious 
 variety, flowers of the most golden and glorious hues and per 
 fumes, vines and leaves of all most grateful descriptions, harmo 
 ni/.ed with this happy empire, where the passions, whether droop 
 ing or triumphant, might here find themselves at home. The 
 shadiest palms, and other trees of equal verdure and fragrance, 
 compensated for the absence of grandeur and sublimity, which, 
 in< 1 1 -I d, must have been inconsistent with the peculiar moral of 
 such an abode. The attractions of this sweet seclusion were not 
 wholly confined to the gifts and attributes of nature. The hand 
 of art had been made tributary, in high degree, to her virgin 
 wants. The sin- of the Lady < Mivia, who had left it for his child, 
 in the keeping of his brother, had made it after the fashion of hit 
 
DON BALTHAZAB fl KKTKKAT. 
 
 own nature, which was meek in its d> i ;i worshipper of 
 
 tin 1 graceful, the peaceful and tin.- beautiful. The luxuries <>f such 
 an aU.de were doubly refiiu-d and spirituali/ed to tin- soul of 
 ta^te, by the sweet ivpo-e, the delicious security which hun_ 
 with a veil, over the partial solitude. At a little distance lay 1 he 
 white dwellings of tin* infant city, the voices of its daily toil and 
 struirgie rising only as a taint and pleasant murmur. mo>t like 
 the sweet chiding of distant billows ona rocky shore. Tin- sea. at a 
 like distance, had also a pleasant music for the dwellers in this 
 il home. \\here, through long and complicated avenues of 
 uc-t foliag* . the 1 oiid and contemplative spirit might mak- 
 Way, withjust enough of the OOOfldouanew of life li.r pleasure, 
 and not enough of its toils and apprehensions for anxiety or 
 care. 
 
 Here. then, with tew attendants, and but one companion, the 
 Mil. tie. the mercenary, ard sleepless politician, Haltha/ar de Al- 
 \aro. made his abode. Hither lie took his way, \\ith slo 
 
 than was hi- \\.>nt. after separating frj ja i .c adelanta<lo. 
 
 Hi- had run a sort of gauntlet of inquiry, a- h. : fnnuthc 
 
 -f I)e SotO, and made hi- wax throng] by 
 
 which his mood had undergone no peculiar B _. I Jut k 
 
 admiraMe to witiu-ss the Mivngth <>f a much e\eivi>cd ami 
 
 well-trained \\ill. in subduing the outbreak- of a temper which 
 
 had suffered .. : painful pro/ocation- throughout the 
 
 day. lie could smi! ( - graciously as he replied deferentially to 
 
 i wanting in a certain kind of smile, \\lieii he 
 
 tin- iiiijuirii-s of his inferior. The necessities an-! 
 
 -to required much l ilie ai" -ilia- 
 
 tion on th" part of hi- I > >:i laltha/.ir \\ 
 
 .icy \\hi : hat noli. humble t- 
 
 incapable ,,/ harm in : . tor u-e in 
 
 tain peri"d. |i, ;r.,\, r ,,1 the interval b. tueen tlu- ilwrllii.. 
 tin- adelantado and his owi,. p in his pro- 
 
 without bet rasing h! n t. the m<.-t worti 
 
 :!<Jf. 
 It Wits nlily \\lleJI he r.-aell"d tile ^eClire -llelter of hi 
 
 2 
 
26 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 grounds that he gave freedom to his real emotions. Throwing 
 himself upon the earth, at the foot of a noble palm, which was 
 encircled by a dense thicket of tributary vines and *hruls. ho 
 yielded to speech a portion of the troubles which had weighed 
 hitherto in silence upon his mind. 
 
 " Now, out upon this fortune, that seems ever bent to break 
 me on the rack of fear. You put your foot upon one danger, 
 and another springs up from its seed. A thousand times have 1 
 flattered myself that all was safe all sure; but even in the full 
 feeling of exultation the doubt, the dread, has thrust its hideous 
 face before my own, grinning and gibing at me, with the per 
 petual threat of. overthrow and exposure. These knights of 
 Portugal are the black dogs that hunt upon my heels. Would 1 
 could brain or bane them both ! Are they, as De Soto and his 
 lady think ? is he, rather, this Philip de Vasconselos, a person 
 to be feared <-. Has he, indeed, won his way to that heart 1 but 
 no! Olivia de Alvaro cannot soon forget cannot hide from 
 sight from fear, if no other more grateful feeling, those memo 
 ries that co iscio isness which utterly forbid that she should 
 become the * ife of this or of any man unless, indeed, in the 
 utter depravation of nat u re, and the utter scorn and abandonment 
 of the world. And where would such a condition, for her, find 
 the faith and homage of this Philip de Vasconselos ? Yet, let me 
 not deceive myself. She is no longer what she was. She 
 dreams she dotes she weeps she has no voice for song, she 
 who sung ever, and scarce had any other passion, and she 
 broods, to utter forgetfulnes of the things around her she, who 
 could sing, or sin, before, without any thoughts of th. s or anv 
 other world. It may be as they think. What thei. ? Shall she- 
 have way 1 Shall this knight of Portugal have way ? Shall 
 she wed with him, or with any, to my ruin and disgrace 7 No ! 
 no! It is but to ask the question to find the answer. It is 
 here it is here either in my dagger, or in that of one as ready 
 as mine own !" 
 
 Such was the soliloquy. He clutched the handle of his wea 
 pon as he spoke., and half drew it from the sheath. But he 
 
THE FATHER S SOLILOQUY. 27 
 
 thrust it back a moment aft IT, drew his cap abov. I, and 
 
 srrctched himsrlf along upon the sward, with his face downward. 
 i, be lay in complete silence, and scarcely stirring, the full 
 
 . f half an hour. Meanwhile, the day waned. Tl. 
 wa- at his .ir ting. and the night birds began wheeling, with faint 
 shrieks, about the place where he seemed to slumber. But 
 slumber was not upon his eyelids, or in his thoughts. It was not 
 
 rs>ity just then. He rose, at length, with the deliberation 
 of "lie who lias recovered the iuii sway over all his moods, and. 
 adjusting his garments, prepared to move towards his dwelling, 
 whieh was still at some distance, and hidden wholly from his 
 
 y the sinuosity of the avenues, and the . of the 
 
 thicket. But he paused more than once on his progress, and, 
 more than once, did words of brief soliloquy break from his 
 lips. 
 
 "At leat, 1 must soon know all. Theiv mu-t be an explana 
 tion. I mu-t fathom her tecret I must probe her heart to its 
 OOre. If that be safi if she be \\hat >he hath been Milliciently 
 hained to be what such training indeed should liave made her, 
 ami a grim smile passed over his : ke. "then 
 
 lilij. de Yav.-oiiselos can do no hurt. Let him live. He 
 
 will scarcely linger here. But if the: ntimmt in her 
 
 . . iy born and from his ;i _ h as 1 would have 
 
 tr.impled out, if nerd br. in blood and fire, a sentiment hostile 
 
 to my hold upon her then must I strike, strike fatally, and 
 
 the danger in its very bud. But, I must penetrate her 
 She h. h grown subtle of late. Mai is an evi: 
 
 i that -he hath a secret, and from me. That alone is 
 si / iili- ant of danger ! I>oth her ty distr 
 
 Ha! what bbel h- her tears manife-t a fei-i 
 
 ! Thru is it a proof that -he holds me in ha 
 loathing. 1 must search, fathom this my-tery. and be as -win 
 .md stein as I am vigilant !" 
 
 i-h was not -poken all at oiu-r. but in snatches. durini 
 his wall;, and eaeli soliioijuy eompellini: hi- mom ntary pan-. 
 In this manner he went torward. his u-atures and manner becom 
 
28 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 ing more and more composed as he approached the dwelling 
 At length the cottage and its gay verandahs opened before him. 
 and he paused as he caught a glimpse of his niece, where she lav 
 dreamily reclining, embowered in the grateful shades of the tall 
 trees by which the dwelling was surrounded. 
 
 Olivia de Alvaro, as we now behold her, her form disposed 
 at ease, stretched on ample cushions, in the airy recesses of the 
 verandah, would seem, from the half-shut eye, and the almost 
 motionless attitude in which she lay, to have been wrapt in the 
 most grateful slumbers. She was evidently unconscious of the 
 rays of the fast disappearing sunlight, which shot, faint and bro 
 kenly, through the intervening foliage. She was a pale, proud 
 beauty, one whose high and aristocratic features seemed scaivelv 
 consistent with that despondency of mood and dependency of na 
 ture, which have been described as her present characteristics. 
 Her features were not regular, but there was a strange harmony 
 between them nevertheless ; the lofty brow, corresponding well 
 with the distinctly rounded chin, the large and well-formed 
 nose, and that drooping darkness of the Moorish eye, which, as 
 we know, though it may slumber long in cloud and shadow, 
 is still capable of such sudden lightnings as consume at the singh- 
 flash. "Wi- have already described her as very young scarcely 
 more than seventeen; but this youthfulness was not marked 1,\ 
 the usual frankness the uncircumspect and exuberant flow, of 
 that period. Her countenance was marked by an earnestness. 
 an intensity of ga/e and expression, which denoted a maturity of 
 thought and feeling quite beyond her years. It is surprising how 
 rapidly one lives, who has learned to feel, and been made to suf 
 fer. Yet what had been the sources of suffering in her ? Ilidi, 
 beautiful, well-beloved, what were the cares cf Olivia de Alvaro, 
 by which she had grown so singularly mature? This we runs 
 ascertain in future pages. Enough, if now we continue the Irs 
 criptimi of her person. 
 
 She was tall, and of commanding figure and demeanor. H r 
 features, significant of so much sweetness and beauty, wei 
 nwlced by a tremulous and timid sadness of gaze, wjiicli con 
 
OLIVIA DE AI.YAKO. > .! 
 
 veyed the impression of a sen>e of awe, compelling her fears, and 
 di-prosvjn_i: I 1( . r elasticity. Thi- exprev-ion. particularly at i 
 moments when >he M emed to become forgetful , thrr 
 
 presence, commended lu-r to sympathy, rather than olTended 
 pride. There could be no jealousy of her superiority, in the evi 
 dent feeling of apprehension which she di-played. A vainie 
 N of danger seemed to accompany the COndOU8ne88 of her 
 charms ; and the elTeet was ratlier to humble ami -ubdue all the 
 loftier indications that were vet inseparable from the LTI 
 of her manner, and the conscious nobility of blood and beaut v. 
 To these she was by no means insensible. Her carriage was 
 such as showed an habitual appreciation of all her posseions ; 
 yet so modified as to make nature more conspicuous than habit 
 in her demeanor. The heart of a young damsel naturally, and 
 very soon, becomes sensible of the beauties of her person. Her 
 mirror, and the common language of s.u-iety. read equally in 
 speech and manner, soon teach her all the value of her charms. 
 Hut a refined ta>te renders it impossible, if she ivallv should be 
 attractive, that she >hould escape this conviction. It is her merit 
 when she does not presume upon her j..,x<,.^i,,ns. and is mod 
 content in then- enjoyment. It is in due decree with the devel 
 opment of her intellect, and the experience of afflictions, that -he 
 schools her vanity. That Olivia de A Ivan. had. in 1 -uro, 
 
 learned to tutor hers. mirht be gathered from many indications. 
 That she was not : n<ensible to her own charms, was etjuallv cvi- 
 Jent from th. - in which she employ. -d them. Few dam 
 
 sels knew so well how to train the glance, to jrive variety 
 play to the expressive mtttdeo, and the plea-iiiir. per>ua-ive 
 action; to subdue to s\v-etness. and the iiio-t touching t-nder- 
 - of tone, the murmurs of the obedient voiee ; to make 
 
 n -p-ak. U \\ith an endowment of their own. and to inform, 
 with a nameless, but nuM winning flrxibilitv. e\er\- j, 
 of th.- well-repulated and ex.|iii-i!ely vynimetn.-al figure. Half 
 sittinii. half reclinin<r. ;,, the wext.-rn of the dw.-llin^, 
 
 her Byei vaguely pUTSUll ! fluetuatin^ play of the . 
 
 sunlight, tliat si* It- m <r,, I.K.I! ,b- ( \,\, t s . as it were, tin- 
 
30 VASxXWSELOS. 
 
 the slightly waving leaves of the anana and the orange, she yet 
 appeared wholly regardless of the timid brightness that sprinkled, 
 as with fairy eyes, the apartment all about her feet. She seemed 
 to muse in far delicious fancies, that made her wholly uncon 
 scious of the actual world in which she lived. Her person, unre 
 strained by any human presence, had naturally subsided into an 
 attitude equally graceful and voluptuous; and this was altogether 
 the unstudied action of a grace, which, natural always, had yet 
 always recognized hi art only the appointed assistant, the tiring 
 woman and handmaid, of the imperial nature. Her dark, glossy 
 hair, hung upon her shoulders, from which it descended in waving 
 but massive tresses. The art which had, without an effort, dis 
 posed their flowing and magnificent folds, had never been more 
 successful in removing all proof of its own adorning fingers. 
 Slightly stirred by th^ fitful zephyrs of an afternoon in May. that 
 season which, in Cuba, recognizes the perfect presence of the full- 
 bosomed summer, her ringlets played upon her neck like young 
 birds, for the first time conscious of their wings, yet still flutter 
 ing, timidly and fondly, about the parent nest. And thus she 
 reclined, c ] ad in robes of white, slightly trimmed with blue and 
 oranire, seemingly unconscious of all things but those which were 
 deeply hidden in her thoughts, at the moment when Don Balthazar 
 divw nigh t<> tin- dwelling. 
 
 The shrubbery had enabled him to approach unseen, until 
 within a few steps of the verandah. He could detect the familiar 
 outline of her person through the leaves of a gorgeous orange, 
 ben rath which he stood silently beholding her. She dreamed not 
 of his presence. His footstep had been carefully set down, as if 
 not to disturb her ; and thus unsuspected, he stood, for a few mo 
 limits, watching her with a singular and intense interest. Even 
 thus keen and emu-nit ralive tin- ga/e which the fascinating serpent 
 fastens upon the uncoiiH-ioiis bird that flies or flutters in his sight. 
 It \\as not malignity or hostility that was apparent in the expres- 
 Nion of hi- eyes. Nay. to the casual- spectator, there might have 
 seemed fondness only, in the keen and earnest interest, which 
 eerced -j study her evwy Mature, as if prompted by the most 
 
BEAUTY S MEDITATIONS. 81 
 
 paternal affection. And yet there was a something bitter in the 
 smile which occasionally played upon his lips; and the slight 
 frown which darkened in his glance was significant of a disquiet 
 or disappointment, the sources of which we may not yet compre 
 hend. Suspicion, too, might be seen to lurk even beneath the 
 smile of the observer, and his secret watch might have been dic 
 tated by a policy which was not above the indulgence of a 
 baseness. 
 
 And yet his purpose did not seem to be espionage. A sudden 
 and troublesome thought perhaps a suddenly suggested curios 
 ity appeared to arrest his fo>Nteps on his approach. Her ap 
 pearance, her attitude, seemed to invite iiis study. It was to 
 muse, to meditate, or, perhaps, to prepare his mind lor some 
 -lit duty, that he paused, without seeking to disturb the dam 
 sel in her vacant mood. She. tOO, had h< for meditation; 
 
 though one might readily ascribe M.V langur ( her atti 
 
 tude 10 the 1. land and seductive influences ,,f the climate. T ; the 
 voluptuous idler, already familiar with that luxr.r_ .tion 
 
 which suspends the thought, and strip-; the lan-y of evu-vthin^ 
 but wings, her appearance would seer i n;: irai enough, ond her 
 conjectured reveries would only be the r ;!. yet unim- 
 
 prenhre in the world. It would be on-y to liken her bower to 
 the wi/ard domain of that archimag*. \vln> wove his perpetual 
 snares in tin- Cattle of Indolence, making all things dreamy and 
 delusive in the half-shut eye. But the meditations of Olivia de 
 Alvaro were of a n more deeply troubles.. m.. 
 
 than those of her uncle, i might be seen to gather in 
 
 her eyi slowly, it is tine, and few. but they were *ueh M 
 -m look to see in the Qjet <f \..ung and innocent loveli; . 
 The gn-at drop< silently oo/ing fmm beneath their dark and 
 drooping fringes, like X..IIH- gradual stream gliding silently forth 
 rV- in the shade nf o\erhanging al<le; :, } )V h. r 
 
 uncle. His features l.ecame gra\er as he beheld them, and he 
 !o, iked a-ide he looked down as if anxious to shut them from 
 hi> .-ight. He turned away hastily a moment after, and, with 
 careful footstep, retreated silently from his place of watch. TVk- 
 
32 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 ing a hasty turn through the deeper ranks of foliage, he again, 
 a tier a little interval, was returning in the direction of the dwell 
 ing, when his ear was aroused by the sound of approaching 
 voices. He promptly shrouded himself in a little copse of gren 
 adilla. Here he could easily distinguish the persons of the visitors, 
 himself unseen. In a few moments they had reached the spot 
 where he stood concealed. They proved to be the young gallant, 
 Nuno de Tobar, ard his frail but beautiful betrothed, in whose 
 behalf we have seen how greatly the anger of De Soto hud hern 
 awakened. She was a pretty creature, light-hearted rather than 
 wanton, whose happiness was now wholly complete, and whose 
 faults were all about to be repaired. They walked unconsciously 
 beside the stern Balthazar, and their prattle once more wrought 
 his features into that sardonic expression so natural to a man 
 who despises the simplicity of young affections. They were on 
 a visit to the lovely Olivia, to whom, we may say in this plaee, 
 the lu trotha- of the happy couple brought at once a pang and a 
 pleasure. We must leave the explanation of this contradiction 
 to other Chapters. 
 
 It was with something of chagrin and disquiet that Don Bal 
 thazar discovered who were the approaching parties. lie had 
 
 almost spoken his ;umoya;iees aloud, as they passed onward to 
 the cottage. His vexation was not l</ng suppressed. As soon as 
 ihey had p:i-^c| into the verandah, he retired from his plaee of 
 watch, to a >pot of greater seclusion in the groves, and the pas- 
 b-ionatc soliloquy to which h ijavi: utterance alionled some slight 
 clue to the nature of his secret meditations. 
 
 "Now," said he, flinging himself down upon the sward, a thick 
 naltii)^ of grass, like, that of tin- Bermuda, which completely 
 protects the garments from the red stains of the earth. "Now 
 will these fools, with happiness fancied in tin ir iira>p. poeeeas her 
 spirit with all the passions which they fee! them^rlves. If hej 
 mmd were yet free from anv fancy in l>eha! ( < >f ;hi> knight of 
 IWt !!.:.: I, they would do much towards its Trailing. They will 
 speak in raptures of hopes which they dream to be posse--ion N 
 "f realities which seldom live through a season, and of sentiments 
 
PREPARING FOR THE CONFLICT. 83 
 
 4 
 
 which few, however cheated at first, hut live to our^e and to de 
 spise iii aft.T times. Iliis Nuiio do Tobar is the sworn friend of 
 VW He will labor in hi- cause. He perhaps kno\\s all 
 
 his secrets. Perhaps he comes even MOW a- an cmissarv. I )- 
 inonios! But does it need this? Let me u.it deceive m\ 
 though i would shut the truth from other eye-. Caul doubt 
 that Olivia de Alvaro looks with fa\or on this knight! That -he 
 
 loves him -he, the but hu-h! The tiling is by ; 
 
 an absurdity. The insane pas-ion does not -top to m> i 
 own claims. The cloud that receives ami -wallows ii| the 
 
 HO -hame (or such alfrontery ; an<leven i^iilt may wor-hip with 
 hope at the altars of the pure ami beautiful. I cannot doubt that 
 she loves him. Klse why this change siriee he came upon the 
 island? \Vhy these tears this despondency thi< drooping fear. 
 tins trembling and perpetual cloud and apprehension. She 
 shrinks from other eves from mine. Her own are ca-t upon 
 the earth, or c!o-ed from study. Could other eyes hut read, like 
 mine, she would have no secret to reveal! It is well that she 
 dare not speak. The very pas-ion that -li" feels for this strai 
 is my security. She must sulidue the-e inclinations. She mu-t - 
 this working fanev which the-e meddling fools will hlow into a flame. 
 
 "hall - f ihV it ! Foi-tunatcly, I am her trill. 1 have ever led hei 
 as a child. She has known no impulses of her own, save those of 
 infancy, until now; and she will scarcely now withstand that p>\- 
 ernini; rule which hath hitherto swayed her a- the lr. the 
 
 leaf. [ would, now, thai this had not been the case. I have peril 
 led upon a moment the >rcurity of a life; but regret is unavailing 
 now. I must continue as I have bepm. I mu-t still assert the 
 superior will of a master, not simply to secure my slave, but to 
 assure in; fety. It \\ill be ea-\. and why should I - 
 
 pie to do it ? Why this fear, this teebleiic ? I will QVeTCOmt 
 it a- before! She shall bend, she shall bow. or break in the 
 conflict ! But there will be no conflict. She will ofl er n<> opp. 
 ti>n none that I cannot soon disarm. Had it been her fi 
 
 ivan mother, I should have no such victory. She would 
 have defied me in her paroxysm, and iii the very passion of her 
 2* 
 
34 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 | 
 
 rage, she would have left no secret unrevealed, even though in- 
 stiint ruin followed on her speech. Fortunately, the child sucked 
 nothing from the mother. She hath no such temper. She has 
 the gentleness of poor Alphonso, all his meek submission, his 
 dread of strife, his shrinking dislike of struggle and excitement. 
 Had he not been so weak as to submit to for tyranny, he had 
 never suffered wrong from me. Olivia hath his feebleness <>f 
 will; but she hath warmer sensibilities. Still, they make nothing 
 against my power, I have schooled them to submission and 
 self-denial. What if I have done her wrong and she dreams 
 not yet of its extent yet, even if she knew all, no desperation 
 of desire, or fear, could drive her to resistance. Here, I am se 
 cure! Unlike her fiery dam, she is too heedful of the world s 
 voice to lift her own, where the very cry which would erush ///// 
 fortunes, would leave hers wrecked on the same shoals. <)i. 
 this, I hold ! Here, I am safe. I must still sway still maintain 
 the mastery but I foresee the struggle. 1 see it in those tear.-, 
 in that deep despondency, in the distaste which no longer 
 suffers her eyes to meet the gaze of mine, in the cold and chill 
 ing word which checks my speech, and the reserve, almost like 
 aversion, with which she encounters my approach. I must pre 
 pare for the struggle ; but shall we not escape it all if \ve once 
 et these knights of Portugal embarked 1 But how, if they 
 resolve to stay 1 That is a grief that must find its own 
 remedies !" 
 
 We care not now to pursue our subtle politician in his walks 
 or his soliloquies. Enough has been shown to develop the sort 
 of temper with which he views the supposed conquests of his 
 lovely niece, over the affections of two of the noblest adventur 
 ers in the train of De Soto. Tin-so had not been her only con 
 quests. But none of her previous suitors had ever given hei 
 uncle any cause for apprehension. It has been shown that he is 
 not simply averse to her marriage with either of the knights of 
 Portugal, but is alike hostile to the claims of all. As the guar 
 dian of his niece, with small estates of his own, and ample pos 
 sessions of hers, to manage, his disquiet on this subject may well 
 
LOVE S TEACHINGS. 46 
 
 be supposed to arise from motives of most singular s fishness 
 or baseness. But Olivia herself, aware of his aversion to her 
 marriage, lias really no notion that avarice is the infirmity of hei 
 uncle. She knows but little of his individual resources, but much 
 of himself. She has seen m -thing i" ! i< r.xpeiidituiv, or conduct, 
 wliich would make him appear in her eye* to be a mercenary. 
 Her minority had boon singularly managed, so as to keep her in 
 a state of menial vassalage, quite uncommon on the i>land. 
 She had been kept in almost complete seclusion until the appear- 
 aneo of De Soto and his lady, when it was impossible to with 
 hold her from the court; her own wealth, her lathe- s name, and 
 the position of her uncle, equally requiring it. l"r to this |Hii<V 
 she little dreamed of the treasures which the world had in 
 its keeping. She little knew the value of her o\ n. Hut in the 
 course of a single night the germ of paion had llimcd. and 
 L\c rapidly maturing beneath its fervid warmth, had taught 
 her a yr .ef in teaching her A faith. Alas \ sir. knew not till now 
 how pivei..us. how radiant white. m.i<t be th : first otfering^ de 
 manded for its shrine. Leaving the uncle t/ purMie his moody 
 walk through the umbnigeous grounds of hi domain, let us re 
 turn to the niece, and witne.-.s the, reception o. her gue- -. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 But a month ago, 
 
 I went from hence, iind then twas fresh 
 In murmur, (as you know what great one* do 
 The less will prattle of) that he did seek 
 The love of fair Olina." TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 THE pleasant laughter, and gay voices of Nuno de Tobar, and 
 rJs betrothed, prepared Olivia de Alvaro for their approach. The 
 trace of tears was quickly obi iterated from her eyes, and she 
 strove with smiles to welcome her visitors. Pride, as was 
 alleged by her uncle, was one of the chief securities for her 
 strength, no less than for his safety. She was one of those who 
 love not that the world should behold or suspect their sorrows. 
 But her pride was rather a habit than a passion. She had other 
 and more fiery oualiti-.-s in her natmv, for whieh he failed to give 
 her credit. He deceived himself when he thought lie knew hei 
 thon uglily. Some of her characteristics were yet in abeyance, 
 sonic i! n (H ls and passions which are likely to confound and 
 astonish him hereafter. But these in proper season. She, iier- 
 seif, is perhaps as little aware, as her uncle, of her natural 
 endowments. 
 
 Olivia received her guests on the steps of her verandah. The 
 cloud had disappeared from her face, the light had returned to 
 her large and lustrous eyes, and with the sweetest voice in the 
 world, she welcomed them to an abode which, to the casual 
 visitor, would seem to be entirely secure, from sorrow. The 
 young creatures who now entered it, themselves newly made 
 happy, were certainly not the persons to make any discovery of 
 the latent troubles of its inmate; and assuming the happiness in 
 other hearts, which they felt in their own, they poured out upon 
 Olivia a torrent of congratulations, which it required considers 
 
LENOKA BOKAD1LLA. 3? 
 
 ble strength of endurance to withstand. She had heard of their 
 betrothal, and of the 1 which DC Soto had extended to 
 
 the erring gallant. Society at that day in Cuba was not par 
 ticularly jealous of propriety. That Leonora Bovadilla had 
 sinned, foiin.l its suflicicnt excuse with knight and lady, in the 
 simple fact that she loved ; and it was only with that class of 
 ancients, of her own sex, who had survived even the hope < 
 change from single to dependent blessedness a number sing:i- 
 larly t e\v in every community that censure claimed the privi- 
 -till to wag a slanderous tongue under the guise of a jeaimis 
 virtue. Olivia <le Alvaro h:id never been of the number to 
 reproach the poor Leonora for her lapse, even when it was 
 doubtful whether the sense of virtue, the sentiment of honor, 
 or tlie feeling of love, ill Nuno de Tobar, would prompt him 
 to repair his wrong according to the worldly usage, by 
 making her his wife. Having known her as a thoughtless child, 
 without guile as without experience, a -feature of extreme ievi- 
 t v. but without anv : mpiilses to evil more than seemed naturally 
 to belong to the mcmmal temper, Olivia was not prepared to re 
 gard her as guilty, because she had been weak. She was 
 indulgent in proportion as thr- world showed itself severe, She 
 knew, according :mou history, that, 
 
 " Kv. - - may claim, 
 
 Except tu\ erring sister s Mum 
 
 and rising above the prejudices < .t\ the world, as much through 
 sympathy a-- generosity, she suffered her manner towards ih- 
 frail olfeiider to show noi.e of those har>lier aspects which for- 
 ever insist upon it- faults. On the contrary, a tender solicitude 
 M-eim-d desirous to ><.,,the the hiimiliatioiis of tin- sufferer, and 
 make her forgetful of those public disgraces \vhi.-h >lie c:-iild not 
 always hope to escape. Leonora felt all this, and P-paid the 
 kindness of Olivia by as mm h devotion as could distinguish a 
 nature so thoughtless. The first visit which she made, after the 
 iiciliatiou of her _ruardian with her lover, was tl:at whi<-h w 
 now witness. Of cour-e, the peculiar c;ise <f the visitors was not 
 
38 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 one to be spoken of openly. The silent pressure of Leonora s 
 hand by Olivia, the tender kiss which she impressed upon her 
 cheeks, and the single tear which gathered in her eye, as she 
 whispered a hurried word of congratulation, sufficiently assured 
 the former of the continuance of that sympathy which had al- 
 ivatly afforded her so much solace. But she erred, perhaps, in 
 ibing the tear to the sympathies of friendship. Had she but 
 beheld the big drops that fell from the same fruitful fountains, 
 but a little while before, she might have suspected other and 
 more selfish sources of sorrow in her friend. 
 
 Seated hi the cool shadows of the verandah, the gay Leonora 
 soon opened her stores of prattle. She had gathered all the 
 rumors of the day, and she was impatient to untold them. 
 
 " And O! dearest Olivia, have you heard of tin- tournament ? 
 The town is full of it. It is to be the greatest and the gayest 
 of all the shows that we have had. They have IK mm the pre 
 parations already. Such a painting of shields and banners, 
 such a sharpening of swords and burnishing of lances, such 
 aprancLigofsteeds it will be something to ivmemher a thousand 
 years to come! Nuno has been busy since non making the 
 ;. Yeingements. The adelantado cannot do without him. He 
 will be busy for a week, they will all be busy your knight, as 
 well as mine ; for you know, Olivia, you have a knight." 
 The other shook her head very mournfully. 
 " Nay, never shake your head ; you know it as well as I two 
 of them, indeed; and you might have a do/en, if you were not 
 so proud " 
 
 "Me proud, Leonora!" reproachfully. 
 
 "No! no! I don t mean that ! I ou</ht to know, if any one, 
 that you are any thing but proud. I should have ^aid, so lofty 
 
 so superior " 
 
 " Ah ! vou mock me, child." 
 
 "I am a child; but I don t mock you. It is so. I believe it 
 all, and everybody else thinks BO. I m sure you d have a thou 
 sand suitors, if they r>H not all feel that they are unworthy of 
 your smiles." 
 
LOVE AND AMBITION. 3tf 
 
 The hand of Olivia was passed with a clow j-n-sMin- ov-r h,-r 
 brows. Little did the thoiightle-> L ..li.-ra tin-am that the m 
 was occasioned by a feeling of pain. She continued: 
 
 Mint i .ft he homage of the knights of Portugal, nobody has a 
 quotion. It is in i-very 0116*8 month; e\ cry body Beefl that both 
 the brothers low s, .u to detraction. The question with them all 
 is. which of tiieia you favor. Now, I am lor Don Andres, the 
 younger ; but Nuno " 
 
 Here >he was interrupted by a look from h*r lUrotVd. f..i 
 which Olivia was properly grateful. The subject B , an- 
 
 noy her. 
 
 * Hn>h. hu>h, dear Leonora ! Tell us of the tounianienl rather. 
 This is not the MMOa to talk of love, but of war. S,, |,,,xs th,- 
 adelaiitado treats the aH ectioiis, when they eome in c..n!lict wit 1 ] 
 his ambition. \Vh, ( n [oyel J, 80 Mately. s n,,l,|,.. s .. Uki 
 Queen, 48 the Lady Uabella ? yt-t will he Irave her. a BewJ/- 
 wedded wife, to jr, , on wild a.l vc-nt .ires a-ain^ the Floridiaiis. 
 ! |.nn M -h chivalry, such dev ii.,n, such bvel What i 
 hath he of further wars . hath he not wealth enough from IVn. ] 
 hath he not grandeur enough as ( Jovernor of t his goodly island, 
 and reputed o,,c of the noblest cavaliers of Spain 1 Meti 
 h- wantonly flings fV,, m l,i m a ii v j,,,, al|1 j ;l ,r| M| .i, M1< tl - ( . a , m , 
 a^ dream tbr a shadow which will mock his hope, and del, 
 him of all his hapj.ine ." 
 
 Olivia had gpoken rapidly, in (.rder. IXMdbiy, to divert the in. 
 teivM of her companions to other subjects. | M ^-.raking, how- 
 
 ev,-r. ,,f ,he projected oonqoed of Florida, -he y,-t trenched upon 
 the province of Nuno deTobar, and Endiieodj awafled h> eorduct 
 
 aUo. II... too, like DC SotO,had ac M uiiv,l the ].. 
 b.-autiful woman; he had formed tfoi e-jually : A | ; i,h | h . 
 
 bom to abandon at the calls of ambition ; and though 
 
 Mate Mraa neither leonre, nor his pone* it like th. 
 
 hitter. y,-t the imputation, in scmo degree, la;. 
 
 like disregard t., th,. obim* ,, t - lluty an ,] ;; -, ,, 
 
 Wired Olivia after the usual manner ,,f knight 
 
 BM chivalry display its-lf, unlesi 
 
40 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 by deeds of arms and conquest ? It is by these deeds and this 
 conquest, that it brings home tribute to Beauty, and crowns love 
 with its proper jewels. It is to make love secure in state and 
 home, and refresh its bowers with lasting delight, that in encoun 
 ters peril for a season, the laurels and rewards of which shall en- 
 dun- through future years. Love is not abandoned when the wor 
 shipper carries ever with him in his heart a passionate devotion, 
 which makes him cry upon the beloved one s name in the storm of 
 1 tattle, and pray for her prayers in the tempests of the deep, which 
 prompts him to build for her a temple in waste places, and to en- 
 wreathe chaplets of her favorite flowers in forests which she may 
 never see. His devotion even warms with distance, and he re 
 numbers her beauties and her virtues the better when he no 
 longer may enjoy them. If he goes forth, it is with the purpose 
 that he may return full-handed with spoils, that he may lay at 
 her feet in guerdon of his faith and homage. 
 
 "Ah ! Senor, you phrase it well, and it is such fine eloquence 
 that for a season reconciles the poor heart of woman to too many 
 of the errantries of chivalry. For me, I confess, twould better 
 j ilease me should my knight leave to others the storm of battle 
 and the peril of the seas. Let me have the devotions of his 
 heart at the altars of home, rather than in the forests of the 
 Floridian. Let me have the idol of my eyes always present to 
 my sight. I should not need that he should wander away from 
 my eyes to be able to recall his virtues and grow fond of his 
 devotion." 
 
 "Oh ! Fie, Olivia, dear, you have no sort of idea of what 
 belongs to true chivalry. Why," true chivalry lives on fighting 
 and conquest, on long wanderings over sea and land, into places 
 that were never heard of before, seeking all sorts of enemies to 
 overthrow, and coming home with treasures of gold, great em 
 eralds, such as they gather in Peru, and pearls,-- pearls by the 
 bushel. They gather them, Nuno tells me, by the ba-ketful 
 among the Kloridiaiis. Nay, you smile, but the story comes 
 from your knight* of Portugal Phillip, the elder, has been 
 among tin D that country. 
 
A FORMIDABLE OPPONENT. 41 
 
 u l have no knights, Leonora, and this reminds me that I have 
 really no interest in this game of war that is called chivulrv. 
 Let those like it who may. Its splendid shows do not beguile 
 i:isfy my imag mati 
 
 "Ah! l)iit they will in the tournament, which is at haii <!. 
 Don t tell me tliat you have no knight. I promise you, dear 
 Olivia, that you will have knights enough to do battle f<>; 
 smiles, mid to wear your favors. These knight- uf Portugal 
 will not be the only ones to break lances in your honor. But let 
 them beware how they cross with my Nuno. If he do. 
 unhorse every opponent, I will never, never, never love him any 
 more. And that s a vow to the Blessed " 
 
 I >on t be ra>h, Leonora," interrupted Nuno, with a smile. 
 "You may punish yourse f by surh a vow, much more than you 
 eould ever punish me!" 
 
 "Hi! II 
 
 IIv- evaded the Ojiirrv. and went on. 
 
 tor overthrowing these knights of Portugal, it is no eaffj 
 matter. 1 should rather CTOS8 lances with any other foe>! Philip 
 !e Va-eon>clos " 
 
 II .w! Are you recreant? Will you alN-w these Portuguese 
 
 to pluek the honors from < "a-tilc?" 
 
 I if I ran help it. But I should prefer other 
 hands than mine to make the attempt. The world ivi> fe\\ 
 
 which ran -afely OTOSfl that of Phiiij. -le V 
 
 mine. I fear, is n.,t one of them; and I so love the man that I 
 -hould fmd no satisfaction in depriving him of a single ;birv 
 
 hat h. lint BOmcthll . is due to the hi>ll<>i 
 
 "C ( a-ti!c. and if IMiiiip \ eiiln-ows all other roml>at.i 
 
 a eha icc of inehidiii j me ;iin.iiir his capti\ 
 I he eyes of ( ; ;,- w< re cast n\ <>n the irr-.und. Hut li. 
 drank in I r\ syllable .-.Inch had fallen fn.m tl, 
 
 C.OUslipaof Nuno d Tobar. She did not sj..-.-ik \\hetrhe had 
 nor for 80m< time after, but r.-maiiie.l apparently a 
 
 iv and desultory prattle A ho. in the 
 
42 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 of all doubts of the future, had given herself up to that fearless 
 and roving method \vhich frut too commonly distinguished her 
 mercurial temper. She was arrested when about to trench upon 
 dangerous ground when about to renew her badinage in regard 
 to Olivia s feelings for the knights of Portugal, by the appear 
 ance of one of them. Fortunately, his approach had been heard 
 in season to prevent her speech. 
 
 The visitor was the younger of the two. Andres de Vasconse- 
 los had many of the qualities of his elder brother, Philip. Their 
 persons were not unlike, their courage and the contour and ex- 
 piv>Mon of their faces. They had both served as well against 
 the Moors of Spain as the red-men of the western contineflt. 
 But Philip, the elder, enjoyed the high distinction of being usu 
 ally understood when the family name was mentioned. lie had 
 done famous tilings under Almagro In Peru, lie had once before 
 travelled the neighboring continent of the Appalachian, at least 
 as far as Cube/a de la Vaea had earned his explorations. He 
 was wise, besides, prudent, circumspect and gentle, and these 
 were virtues to which the younger brother. Andres, had but little 
 claim. Of Philip we shall say more hereafter. Of Andres, the 
 world spake with many qualifications. He was described as 
 proud and passionaU quick of quarrel arrogant in his assump 
 tions, and of enormous self-conceit. \Ve have already had it inti 
 mated that he, as well as his brother, was now in doubt whether 
 to continue in a future progress with the expedition of De Soto. 
 Yet they had both left Spain with this special object, coming over 
 to the New World as a portion of the armament Something of 
 the reason for their change of purpose has already been sug- 
 ge.xted. They had. in fiiet, found but little i-iieourageiiieiit from 
 the adelantado. K-s-> ; perhaps, because of ins inappreeiat in of 
 thrir merits for he thought of the brothers veiy highly as in 
 
 consequence of tin- biii"otr\ alld jealollSV of the Spanish ( hief- 
 
 tains {heir clannish prejudices, and a somewhat painful sense of 
 
 theh 1 inferiority, at lea-1, to tin rider of the. knights of Portugal. 
 IV neglect of De Snto had followed, p,-rh;:ps, im-vitably on this 
 feeling of his people. The brothers had bren oil rr-d no dis- 
 
A HOPELESS SUIT. 48 
 
 rfneti. Ofl in the army, and as their military p:ussion became cooltxi, 
 
 ; love made its app -t in usurping the { 
 
 :mer in their bosoms. Unhappily, their atfe, 
 fixed upon the same lady, The devotion of Andres de \ 
 selos h-.l him almost nightly to her dwelling. Philip was a fro- 
 <jueiit visitor; hut h- his periMls as seldom to cn>>- his 
 
 brother s progress. Andres little knew how much he owed t. 
 
 . EJe was alow to perceive, whal i by all 
 
 ;i:l. that, if the heart of Olivia de Alvaro inclined to 
 ainly was n>t the suitor whom she most pivf.-nvd. His 
 self-esteem was not willing to accept any sueh Ir.imili-iii. 
 
 <>n. 
 
 Olivia naturally received him with respect and kindness. Sh 
 
 felt uneasy at }\ ^ attentions, l.ut she ri^p.-et.-d him l.e<-ai!M- of her 
 
 attachment to his In-other. It . with his temp.-r, to mis 
 
 :ie sour.-es ,,f this kindness. Hut he -nfleivd to 
 
 presume upon it. A eertaiu dignifu-d luit mild in the 
 
 mant.n-s of the lady. eTV( d to .-h--k Bl BTJ feeling -f <>ve-\\e-ninjT 
 
 conlidenee, and to sati-fv the bold gallant that th.- fortress must 
 
 ;r leaguer bef -re the garrison \\-onlil be persuaded 
 
 to >unvnder. II.- i-ndi-avore.! aeeordingly to s -h. _-,T de- 
 
 .vitli as turn li p. :iiand: and t- 
 
 the duration of the si, g.-. his attarks \\re rend. i-d m - 
 more fre.|uent. It was seldom that a night was snfll-ivd io pa^ 
 without finding him in h. : her iv- 
 
 . and th.- ner mainirrs. seld^u: Milli-r. 
 
 to Irave her witlmiit gi\i- JpBT vanity sut r .raine 
 
 _n-s. She brheld thi< conlideu.T with pa! 
 - were inerea^-.l aeeordingly ; but as th--- 
 
 on liar-h UpCCtS,HOt] lone to arrest the >elt-delu>i>n of 
 
 the lover. 
 
 A little awkwardih !nl hi- fir>t app-aranee within tho 
 
 irele. Nuno ],. | o|,;ir WM the friend of Philip d- \ 
 ratlier than his brother. II.- had n.-v.-r been alt 
 with the latter. Ib- wa f both for 
 
 bis fair hostess perhaps suspected the nature of her feelings for 
 
44 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 his friend and knew, besides, that the younger brother had 
 already begun to regard his senior with a feeling of rivalry 
 Andres was naturally jealous of one whom he had reason to be 
 lieve was in his brother s confidence; while Nuno de Tobar, 
 though fond of Philip de Vasconselos, had anything but a friendly 
 feeling for Andres. The imperious temper of the latter had, more 
 than once, brought them to the verge of quarrel. Their inter 
 change of civilities on the present occasion was cold and formal , 
 and, though the fair hostess, seeing the feeling between them, 
 made an amiable effort to interest the party, still the atmosphere 
 for awhile grew oppressive from mere stillness and formality. 
 But the confidence of Andres de Vasconselos was of a sort not to 
 permit this influence to prevail to his discomfiture ; and a per 
 severance that suffered no discouragement from a freezing answer, 
 on rewarded by a conversation, which, if not aetuully ani 
 mated, was yet sufficiently so to keep the scene from becoming 
 absolutely oppressive. By a strong effort of will, for which her 
 previous exercise had not often prepared her, Olivia took a rea 
 s< .liable share in the dialogue, and Don Andres was encouraged to 
 proceed as he found her interest somewhat rising in one of the 
 subjects which was started. This was the affairs of the army and 
 the expedition, and naturally enough of the tournament. The 
 thoughtless speech of Leonora conducted her to an inquiry, the 
 answer to which drew the eyes of Olivia directly upon the 
 knight of Portugal. 
 
 " They say ci thee and of thy brother, Don Andres, that ye 
 are not minded to proceed on this expedition into the country of 
 the Fl.-ridian?" 
 
 "Of what Philip de Vasoonselofl designs, fair lady, it would be 
 presumption in me to conjecture. Of my own purpose 1 can 
 say nothing, but that it is still subject to such moods as may pre 
 vail with me when the adelantado is about to depart." 
 
 " Well, for my part, I see not how such brave cavaliers, well re, 
 nowned hi sword, and battle-a\e, and spear, can hold it doubtful 
 tfnat they shall do when the trumpet invites them to glorious en- 
 ierprise ; nor do I question that when the signal sounds, thou 
 
AGREEABLE DELUSION. 45 
 
 wilt be among the first to hear ami an-wcr. But, of a surety, 
 thou wilt nut be wanting to tin- toiinia: 
 
 * And }." answered the kni-i .with a smile 
 that might have been mi-taken I ..;- \v-iv it not M 
 
 a rashjie-s if I >hmM venture in a : arms with Mich for 
 
 tunate gallants as Don Nuno dc Tohar. who wears tli 
 one of the loveliest dam-els of Cuba? It will need ,-omcthing 
 more than skill and valor to render a poor knight of Portugal 
 -fill against the cavalier- of ( a-;ile. when they co u-h BpeAI 
 under the smiles of the mo-t invineible beauty." 
 
 Then- \\as somrthing etmivocal in this remark that made Nuno 
 de Tobar \\inet-, but \\\< betrothed did imt j.i-i eeive it. Sin- wi-nt 
 on, slily glam ing. as she >| < k-. at tin- pale tiiee of Olivia, which 
 put on an inriva-ini: i;ra\ity as >lu- li>teiifd. 
 
 ^ :ns it tn m,-. S.-fior. that thou wilt searedy laek in the 
 aus|ie,-s which befriend thy oj.jM.iu-nt. I doubt not but the 
 smiles of Beauty will give thee suflieieiit eneourageiuei. 
 lea^t, it is s.-ar.vly fitting that a true knight should sufler fn-m 
 "iueh want/ 
 
 The eyes <,f Aii lresde STftsooiiselos followed those of \.< > 
 
 as sh<- looked misehievoii>ly in the direction of her friend. The 
 
 uite unfortunate. There was uo mistaki 
 
 resolute <;ra\ity which absolutely gloomed the features of ( )|j. 
 via. But lier lace \\as no longer pale. A warm llu-h rose 
 upon her cheeks at the xame moineiit. of the BOUTOe >!* \\hieh 
 Don Andres readilx lcceivel himself. His vain and eai: r tanev 
 - oti^tnied thi> Hush into a eoiifes^iou of weakness, and a 
 proud exulting glance, \\hich he did not seek to re-train, betra\ ed 
 to Olivia the. delightful com ictiou \\hieh he iMt. But her 6/e 
 
 made no answer to hi- own. and the fhish ptttfng immediately 
 
 from h,-r cheeks, was MlOOeeded ly an almost mortal pal< 
 which was by no means diminished while Aixlres eontiniied to 
 speak iii answer fcO tile _ . fil] I . :u r ^ti.ns of Leonora. lie had 
 
 his reply, full of cm i the pl.-a-ing insinuation 
 
 she ha-Ue.- i:\eyed. <|iiite as much, j.rrhaps. b\ the direction of h. r 
 
 glance, as by the language which -1 .had utteiv.l. His reply, 
 
46 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 though the mere words might disclaim his sense of triumph, was 
 yet distinguished by a manner which betrayed the most confident 
 assurance. 
 
 " Alas ! Lady Leonora, thou wouldst betray me to my ruin ! 
 Would I could rejoice in any such hope as that which thou en- 
 couragest. But how should it be for me, a poor knight of 
 Portugal, by no means in favor with your proud nobles of Cas 
 tile, to hope for better countenance from her proud and lovely 
 daughters 1 Yet the bird will spread his wings for the mansions 
 of the sun ! The fond insect will dart, though it be to perish, 
 into the blazing flame or pyre ; and 1 tear that, hopeless of the 
 Hlory that 1 seek, and destined to equal peril in the pursuit, I 
 too am ambitious of the prize that but mocks my best endea 
 vor." 
 
 " Thou confessest then thou lovest 1" was the eager inquiry 
 of the gay and thoughtless Leonora. 
 
 " Ah ! wouldst thou possess thyself of my secret ? That were 
 only to make merry with my weakness. Surely, in the good 
 fortune which has smiled upon thy heart, it were scarcely gener 
 ous to find a pleasure to show to the world the disappointments 
 which mock the desire now preying hopelessly, perchance, upon 
 mine." 
 
 "Not hopelessly, not fruitlessly, Sefior Andres! Verily, 
 Scnor, that is a speech more gallantly than truly spoken. I will 
 not believe that thou thinkest so humbly of thy hopes, or of the 
 noble qualities which thou bring st into the field, as potent 
 aizainst the maidens as against the lances of Castile. As I know 
 that our cavaliers esteem thee one of the best warriors in our 
 array, so am I sure that our ladies look upon thce with a fav<>r 
 which docs not imslx seem thy reputation as a knight." 
 
 Tin- flatters was not lost upon the person addressed. He was 
 in th- mood to believe every syllable; and indeed, the thought 
 less woman, rating the judgment of her friend by her own, was 
 well prepared to believe that the preference of Olivia was be 
 stowed rather upon the younger than the elder brother. Don 
 was not unwilling to continue a conversation which 
 
A SK ASo.NA HI.E DIVKKSION. 47 
 
 seemed fc o much nigher to hi> object. He did not 
 
 see the painful constraint which sat upon the features of Olivia. 
 
 " Ah !" Nva-s hi- reply. "Hut lie \\ho ha.h >et liis all , 
 upon the bird of paradise, can give hut little hoed to the plum 
 age or the strains of inferior MM 
 
 Hi> Bjrea gain >ought the pale countenance of the maiden 
 whom he Worshipped. Her glance was equally wandering and 
 >;d. Nuno de Tobar -aw that >he wa- troubled. He himself 
 was Cttmatisfied \\ith the thoughtless pla\ of his betrothed. 1 1,, 
 felt its ni si-hirvous tendency, ami his friend>hip for Philip de 
 V*a& made liim unwilling to l.ehold a pn^rt-s-; on the 
 
 part of his brother which was adverse to his own. He inter 
 fcwd to rffed a .liver>ion of the topic, which the fanciful allusion 
 of Don Andres now enal)lel him to do without an effort. 
 
 kinir of l.irds and sinrJn L r. dear Lady Olivia, reminds me 
 that in tin- .-ar.-s of the camp, and in my long term of disfavor, 
 I have not enjoy d thy mu-ic tor a weary season. I prav th- , 
 favor us with somr one of tli..M- many ditties which never come 
 with due rll .Tt save from those who feel them. 1 would I could 
 persuade thee to one of those antique ballads of El Cid ; but I 
 will not a>k thee. remembering the flat denial which thou ga\ 
 in my pr- that fine courtier. I ),- Sinnlar. when he omed 
 
 the ballad of I rraea, and the Moor who lost Valencia. Nath- 
 le-s some other strain, I pray thee, if it be only to persuade 
 Dona Leonora that Xuno de Tobar is not so entirely for slave 
 that he dare DO* BO k a favor a t the hands of another beauty. I 
 tr " v bidret, that thy ear, like mine, is accessible to all 
 
 th- eharms of mii-ie." 
 
 * Verily, Sefior, 91 vraa the reply, -that depends entirely on the 
 
 bird that >mir-. There are BOOM who M plumage makes marvel- 
 
 diM their strain-. That thou ha-t had the wit to entreat 
 
 from the Lady Olivia that bounty which it has been my first 
 
 thought (,, solicit, is a great vexation. But I must content my 
 
 Self DOW with H i;\ elitlV;. 
 
 The ,-avaliers both looked pleadingly to Olivia as they spoke 
 But she needed no second soliciting. She was not one of thosa 
 
48 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 whose vanity requires persuasion, as well as audience ; besides 
 she was only too anxious to escape a further dialogue, which 
 pained her something more than either of the parties present 
 could imagine. She was not one of that common company \vlic 
 delight in the imputation, so grateful to the vulgar damsel, of 
 conquests which they have made ; and resented naturally, as of 
 fensive no less to decency than good taste, a reference of this 
 nature in the presence of the very person who is suspected of feel 
 ing their authority. But there were deeper sensibilities besides 
 these at work within her bosom, to prompt her to revolt at the con 
 versation, and the diversion of Nuno de Tobar was eagerh s?ized 
 upon as affording relief to troubled feelings. She had al. eady 
 taken the guitar ere Don Andres had finished speaking, and, altor 
 a few soft prelusive touches, with a voice that trembled with her 
 emotions, though full of compass and power, she sang in tru- 
 nappiest style of art, yet with the most easy execution, the fol 
 owing ballad, which seemed in some degree designed as a com 
 mentary upon the preceding conversation : 
 
 AMINA. 
 
 Now why does fair Amina, 
 
 With gallant suitors near, 
 Still scornful hark the pleading 
 
 That woos no other ear ? 
 
 Great nobles seek her beauty, 
 
 And knights for valor known, 
 And wealth displays its treasure, 
 
 Yet still she keeps her own. 
 
 She answers sighs with silence, 
 And heeds not, though she hears 
 
 The sorrows of the bosom, 
 That worships her in tears. 
 
 A scornful song requites them, 
 
 With answer such as shakes 
 The strong heart with its mockery 
 
 The feeble one it break* 1 
 
THE SONG. 40 
 
 And thus, while all are watchful. 
 
 Each eager in his quest, 
 She answers for the bosom 
 
 In maiden freedom blest 
 
 M Ye call me now your mistress, 
 Ye bow beneath my word ; 
 To change were sorry wisdom, 
 The subject to the Lord. 
 
 " I know ye well, my masters, 
 The gentlest of your kind, 
 To him who flies in freedom, 
 The sternest where ye bind. 
 
 Tis pweet to have your homage, 
 
 J Tis sweet to hear you plead, 
 And know that for our beauty s prtw 
 Ye do each valiant deed. 
 
 M How well ye speed in tourney, 
 How gallant grace the hall ; 
 How sweetly in the twilight grove* 
 Your pleading murmurs fall 1 
 
 u Your eloquence how gracious, 
 
 Your song forever sweet, 
 That lifts the heart on pinions 
 As exquisite as fleet 
 
 " Too precious to the maiden 
 
 These treasures while they re true; 
 And sad to think, if change in her, 
 Should work a change in you. 
 
 ** If tis to win our favor 
 
 Your graceful arts are shown,- 
 If valor strikes thus nobly. 
 That Beauty may be won 
 
 " If tis for this th.- p:>]. u-. 
 
 Your courtly graei-i seea, 
 For this y pl ;1 ,i in twilight bower, 
 With homage mire to plei 
 
 s 
 
60 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " How great the fear of Beauty, 
 
 If, when ye gain the prize, 
 Ye deem no longer needful 
 The grace that won her eyea . 
 
 " Ye sing but for your mistress 
 Ye sing not for your slave, 
 And give no more, the object won, 
 The worship that ye gave. 
 
 " I will not brook a peril, 
 
 That sounds of joy the knell ; 
 And will not yield my heart to love, 
 Because I love so well." 
 
 The song was finished; and as the maiden laid the instrument 
 aside, a storm of gentle reproaches fell upon her ear, as well from 
 Nuno de Tobar as from the youthful knight of Portugal. 
 
 "Nay, nay !" exclaimed the fair Leonorade Bovadilla " heed 
 her not, heed her not ! She thinks not as she sings. She has 
 chosen this ballad in a perverse spirit, only to mock what I have 
 been saying. She is sworn in her secret heart, well 1 know, 
 against all such inhuman selfishness. Out upon your damsels like 
 Amina ! She was but a Moorish damsel, I trow, and her heart 
 was given up to heathen divinities." 
 
 " And love himself is one of them," said De Tobar archly. 
 
 " Not our love, Don Nuno not the love known to chivalry, 
 and before whose altars the true knight first buckles on his spurs. 
 lie hath his birth in the gay regions of Proven$e a cavalier him- 
 self, belted and spurred, with the addition of a pair of wings. Sre 
 you what John of Nostrodamus writes of him, and you will U- 
 satisfied that he is not of heathen origin a pure Christa m, a no 
 ble and a gentle from whom comes the religion of the belli I 
 knight." 
 
 And the Portuguese chauntcd the original description from the 
 ballad of the Troubadour. 
 
 " Censure not the Moor," said Olivia to Leonora gently " you 
 know not that I somewhat share in the blood of that misguided 
 people." 
 
DON ANDRE S THEOLOGY. 51 
 
 " But not of Jie infidel ?" replied the other with a sort of holy 
 horror, crossing herself devoutly as she spoke. 
 
 " No, surely, but of a family that haply beheld the blessed 
 
 light of the Christian I huivh, and of their own free will sought 
 baptism. But tin 1 Itallad I have sung ccmes not from the Moor. 
 It is pure Castilian. The dam-el Amina was of the true faith." 
 "Ay, lady, but she sang not wisely, knowing the wants of our 
 sex, and the better virtue in her own. Her ballad is in the per 
 \.TSC spirit of the Moor, who, with the true heaven in his eye. \-t 
 wilfully turned away his sight. In heart she was but a pagan. 
 It suits the eree.l of one who found in his slave the thing of his 
 auctions. Of such only is it permitted to think ill of knighthood, 
 and to stifle all the free faith in the heart of woman. It suits tor 
 prooch to a rare of misbelievers, who, though they bore them- 
 selvcs manfully t nough in battle, were yet little familiar with the 
 laws of Christian chivalry. The true knight loves not less the 
 because it hath been won. If he keeps it no longer in 
 his e\e. it is because he ha!h conveyed it to his heart. If he 
 boasts no longer of its beauty, it is because he fears to tempt the 
 avarice of others to seek his treasure. If he sings no longer in 
 h.-r praise, it is because, when he hath wholly given himself up to 
 her charms, as he doth by marriage, he hath said the most in her 
 honor that could be spoken. Verily, I repeat, your Amina was 
 but a wretched heathen in heart, cold and selfish, and her doctrine 
 is only true of a people who believe with the infidel." 
 
 was the eloquent commentary of Don Andres, conveyed 
 in a manner at once spirited and graceful. 
 
 "Thou ha>t made a riirht good and proper defence of thy sex 
 and mind, Don Andrea," exclaimed Leon,,, "and I trow thon 
 
 wilt never lack lady s favor to grace thy helmet in the fields of 
 tourney. Thou wilt take thy part. I tru-t, in the tournament 
 which the adelantado has appiinted;thou and thy valiant brother, 
 even if ye go not on the enterprise against the Floridian." 
 
 With the mention of his brother, the eyes of Don Andres were 
 seen suddenly to sparkle with a keen and fiery expression. Nuno 
 de Tobar, knowing the conscious rivalry that existed between the 
 
62 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 two, watched him with interest, but said nothing. But Don An 
 dres was not so forbearing. 
 
 " Philip de Vasconselos must answer for himself," said he, 
 somewhat equivocally " we are both of us sufficiently old to 
 adopt our resolutions without much consultation with one another." 
 
 With these words he passed quickly from the subject. The 
 evening was not much longer protracted, and soon De Tobar and 
 his betrothed took their departure, leaving the knight of Portugal 
 behind them. They were not conscious, as they descended the 
 verandah into the groves leading from the dwelling, of the move 
 ments of another who led the way through the shady thickets. 
 This was no other than Philip de Vasconselos himself. Let us 
 not imagine that he had been a listener. lie had been making 
 his way to the abode of Olivia, when arrested, almost on the 
 threshold, by the voice of his brother. lie was about to retire, 
 as he had usually done under the same circumstances. 
 
 " Let him have all the chances," he murmured to himself, aw 
 he turned away. " lie was the youngest born of our mother 
 and had her fondest blessing. It were a grievous sorrow if he 
 had not mine." 
 
 Just then the voice of Olivia in song, detained his departing 
 footsteps. He leaned sadly against a tree while he listened to 
 the satirical ballad with which the damsel had answered the so 
 licitations of his brother. The sentiment of the ballad was no 
 less ungracious in his ears than in those of Andres ; and yet 
 there was a secret feeling of satisfaction in the heart of Philip, 
 that the ditty had been chosen in response to the prayer of a 
 rival. He retired, with mingled feelings, from his place of watch, 
 as the song ended, and strolled slowly through the alleys. In a 
 little while he heard the footsteps and the voices of De Tobar and 
 his companion, behind him, ami perceived, with a pang, that his 
 brother did not accompany them. His pace was hurriedly in 
 creased. He felt all the delicious opportunity which Andres 
 enjoyed, and readily conjectured that it was with a special purpose 
 that the latter remained after the departure of her other guests. 
 
 " Well !" he murmured to himself sadly, " be it so ! If he 
 
A LGPER S QI n 63 
 
 hath the word with which to win her, she is his ! I will not envy 
 my brother. I would I had the strength to pray that he might 
 be successful. He hath wronged me he will still wrong me 
 and I will submit. He shall find in me no willing rival, whether 
 in love or war. Our mother gave him to my care. I will think 
 <>f her love, though he may never do justice to mine." 
 
 The field was clear before Andres de Vasconselos. He was 
 alone with the woman whom he loved. He was not the 
 man to lose time, or dally long in a fruitless attendance at the 
 Mirine of his devotions without making his petition heard. lie 
 was one of those impetuous spirits whose fierce and eager will, in the 
 assertion of its desires, is apt to blind to the prospect of defeat 
 to all prospect save that which is beheld through the medium 
 of a passionate and almost tren/.ied hope. Scarcely had Nuno de 
 Tobar and his betrothed disappeared, before he was at the feet 
 of Olivia. But not for us to watch the progress of the brief but 
 exciting scone which followed. Let it suffice that ere many 
 minutes had elapsed, Andres de Vasconselos was also speeding 
 away from the abode, darting headlong through the perfumed 
 alleys whieh surrounded it, and hurrying almost madly in the 
 direction of the neighboring hills. 
 
 With his disappearance, Don Balthazar de Alvaro once more 
 emerged from the cover of the neighboring thicket. His espio 
 nage over his niece and her visitors seems to have been continued 
 throughout the evening. He had been sufficiently near, in his 
 place of concealment, to behold all that had taken place, and to 
 hear .-very syllable that was spoken. An exulting expi 
 was kindled in his face, and his satisfaction at the result was audi 
 bly expn-- 
 
 "So far it is well ! He hath his quietu*. I had expected thN ; 
 but it is something to be sure. That danger is passed. There ; - 
 yet another, and a greater ! Were I as confident of the answer she 
 would make to the prayer of Philip a- of Andres nay, v 
 not so confident I should feel at rest. This accursed anxi, t\ ! 
 It leaves me almost a c.\v;ird. I Jut I must arm myself for tin- 
 worst, and against the final struggle. It will come, and I must be 
 
54 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 prepared. Olivia de Alvaro must wed with neither of these 
 knights of Portugal. She must wed with none. The hour that finds 
 
 her a bride, finds me . But it shall never come to this ; 
 
 we must baffle him, or he must perish. Both shall perish ere 
 she wed this man !" 
 
 Did Olivia dream of the near neighborhood of her uncle all this 
 while ! Could she fancy what were his resolves and reflections, in 
 respect to her future fate and fortunes ! It might almost seem 
 that she did from the pallid features of her face, the big tears 
 swelling in her eyes, the drooping self-abandonment with which, 
 as soon as Andres de Vasconselos had disappeared, she suffered 
 herself to fall back upon the couch, her hands covering her face, 
 and, as it were, seeking to stifle the deep moan of agony which 
 perforce escaped from her lips. The sound reached Don Bal 
 thazar in his place of concealment. Slowly he receded from the 
 spot and disappeared in the more distant shrubbery. He had 
 not the heart to meet her at that moment. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Uo a vedirmi 
 Tremar tu set ; ma, piu non tremo." ALTOOU. 
 
 IT was past midnight when Andres de Vasconselos returned to 
 the bohio or cottage, which was occupied by his brother and him 
 self His agitation was measurably subsided, but not his pai 
 sions. The quiet was only upon the surface. A violent storm 
 was still busy, raging in the depths of his spirit. His features 
 were rigidly composed, but stern almost to feroeitv. and his 
 emotion was perhaps only concealed by the resolute compres 
 sion of his lips. It seemed as if he did not dare to trust to tin-in 
 in speech. Though late, his brother had not yet retired f..r tin- 
 night. Philip de Vasconselos was busily en^ed writing at the 
 table, the only one which the apartment contained. The light 
 by which he wrote was peculiar enough, however common to the 
 island. It consisted of a cluster of twelve or fifteen cocuyos. 
 that larger sort of phosphorescent insect. These were enclosed in 
 a little wicker-work, or cage, made of the most delicate thr. 
 of gold-wire. They emitted a light, of a color brilliantly green, 
 ample enough for all the purposes of the student. Philip looked 
 up, at the entrance of his brother, and discovered, at a ula- 
 that his emotions had been violently aroused and agitated. II, 
 welcomed him, however, with a gentle word and -mile, the an 
 swer to which was at once brief and iin:ra<-ioiis. 
 
 "Are you unwell, Andres?" was the inquiry, ain-ctionatflv 
 made; for the elder brother was touched, rather than vexed, by 
 the repulsive accents of the other. 
 
 "And if I were, Philip de Vasconselos]" sternly and un^atis, 
 factorily replied the younger. 
 
 "And if thou wort, Andres! This to me, thy brother?" 
 
56 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 "Why not? Why should grief or suffering of mine concern 
 thee ? It is enough that thou hast neither." 
 
 "Nay, Andres, that I myself am free from cares and sorrows 
 would be good reason only why I should seek to bring some 
 remedy to thine. But there is yet another cause for my anxiety. 
 The epistle, my brother, which is now growing beneath my 
 hands ^specially reminds me of my duty to succor and to com 
 fort thee. It is a letter to our mother, Andres ; and I am even 
 now about to speak of thy health and happiness." 
 
 "What warrant hast thou for assuming either] What know 
 est thou of my happiness or health ?" 
 
 "Nay, Andres, that thou hast vigorous and youthful health, 
 may not be denied. All who behold thee, speak loudly of thy 
 full cheek, thy elastic form, and the brightness of thine eye; and 
 thrse things speak for thy happiness also. It is vain to declare 
 the presence of a grief which leaves the beauty and vigor of the 
 form unwasted and untouched. Surely, my brother, thou art 
 not unhappy ?" 
 
 " Why troublest thou me with such questions, Philip 1 ? Write 
 to our mother whatever it pleaseth thee to write. Say what thou 
 wilt. It matters but little to me what thou sayest !" 
 
 " But it matters much to her, Andres," replied the other, 
 somewhat reproachfully. "Besides, I dare not speak to our 
 mother indifferently of him, her favorite son, whom she so com 
 mended especially to my affection as a younger brother." 
 
 "Philip de Vasconselos, both thou and our mother have erred 
 greatly when ye claim to believe that I need guardianship. I 
 tell thee, Sefior, I am, like thyself, a man, and fully capable of 
 taking care of my own health and fortunes." 
 
 The reply to this rude speech was full of a sad solemnity. 
 
 "Something hath vexed thee, Andres, making thee unjust to 
 thy brother and ungrateful to the tender fondness of thy mother 
 for thy youth. Thou wilt find it less easy, when thou recoverest 
 thy calm of temper, to forgive thyself than to procure her for 
 giveness or mine. I will finish my letter, making my own 
 report of thy condition, which, until this hour. Andres, hath 
 
THE RIVAL BROTHERS. 57 
 
 seemed to all the island, as to myself, such as it would be most 
 grateful to any mother to behold or know." 
 
 "As thou wilt ; and yet ! Look at me, Philip de Vosconselos! 
 look at me, ere thou writest down any delusive falsehood for 
 my mother s eyes! Look I like one whom the Gods have 
 marked for happin. 
 
 He approached the table as he spoke, and grasped, with some 
 violence, the hand that held the pen. Tin- eyes of the brothers 
 encountered. Those of Andres were bloodshot, full of n 
 and expressive of a fury that seemed about to break through all 
 restraint. Philip rose, as he caught the fearful expression in the 
 other s t uce. His o\vn fraMivs were cairn and firm, but filled 
 with a tender concern and sympathy, such as spoke for the gen- 
 t!r and nobli- attachment with whieh the elder brother regarded 
 the younger, and the favorite ot their motlier. 
 
 Ires,* 1 he vaid. "I know not that I am \\ i<e. or like to be 
 Micces>ful in asking thy confideiiee. Of late thou ha-t -eem.-d to 
 regard me mther as an enemy than a brother " 
 
 "Thou art ! Thou art !" WU the wild and reckless answer. 
 
 "Nay, I cannot answer thec, Andre-, by any a uraiiee in 
 words. It becomes not me patiently to strive to disprove thy 
 injustice. I look upon such speech as a s..rt of madiie-s. <>\i tin 
 part, rather than a wrong done to me. Enough, that I tell th.-e 
 1 am hen-, ready, as thou ha-t always found me b< : : \e 
 
 thy came, to h.-lp thy prqgreM,to light thy battle- if need 
 
 be " 
 
 "I ask not thy lielp in battle, Philip de Vasconselos. I am 
 njual to my own dang.-r. Hut thou art willing to 1,,-lj, m y pro- 
 
 serve tfij 1 1 n - . h :" 
 
 .! with all my >tn-ng!h, and all my heart!" wa- the . 
 
 reply. 
 
 II irken ! wilt thou deign then to seek on my behalf, and to 
 solicit from Don P.altlu/.ir d. Alvaro, tlie hand of his niece in 
 marriage ? Wilt thou do this. Philip de Vas,-onx,.los?" 
 
 " Verily, of a truth will I do this, if the lady hath authori/ed 
 3* 
 
58 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 thee so to solicit ;" was the answer, in somewhat subdued AC 
 
 cents. 
 
 " If the lady hath authorized thee to solicit !" was the mocking 
 repetition of the infuriate young man : " Go to, Philip de Vas- 
 conselos, I well know that thou wouldst not, ay, thou couldst 
 not, serve me in this. Would I need to solicit the favor of the 
 uncle, were I sure of the favor of his niece ?" 
 
 " Thou wouldst surely not seek the one, were the other den in 1 
 thee?" 
 
 " Not through thy eloquence, surely, Sefior Don Philip, lest 
 thou shouldst haply forget thy client s claims in the prosecution 
 of thy own." 
 
 " Andres, my brother," said the other calmly, but with a stoni 
 er show of expression than had before been apparent in his ooon- 
 U.naiice, it will not be easy to make me angry with thee. It 
 is in thy madness that thou dost me this gross injustice, and I 
 forgive it. But let us speak no more in regard to this matter. 
 It needs not that I should tell thee what thou seemest already to 
 understand, that my affections have been placed, as \vell as thine. 
 upon the same lovely lady. I deny not this, though I have deem 
 ed it only proper that I should be silent on the subject, seeing thy 
 secret in the same moment with mine own. It is surely our mis 
 fortune that we have so loved. But I resolved, from the moment 
 when I discovered the bent of thy affections, that the field should 
 be open to thee from any obstruction of mine. I stood not in 
 thv way. I offered no rivalship to thee, and, while thou hast 
 nightly sought the dwelling of the Lady Olivia, it was enough for 
 me to know that such was the course of thy footsteps, to turn 
 mine in the opposite direction. This very night, when I learned 
 that thou wast her guest, I left the garden of the lady " 
 
 " lla ! thou wast there, and thou hast heard?" was the inter 
 ruption. 
 
 " I have heard nothing ! When I found the verandah occupied 
 by thyself and Nuno de Tobar, with his betrothed, I turned 
 away in silence, seeking nothing farther. I left thee to thy OWE 
 
RECONCILIATION. 69 
 
 progress, with the resolution to give thee all the opportunity; 
 and, if success were thine, to bury in silence, in the depths of 
 mine own heart, tin; secret atleciion which has troubled it. Thj 
 injustice hath not suffered this " 
 
 A deep groan from the younger brother interrupted the speaker 
 tor a moment. The latter would have proceeded, Imt Andre- 
 broke in. 
 
 "Enough! Enough, my brother," he exclaimed with a re 
 turning sentiment of justice. "Iain a madman and a fool. 1 
 have wronged thee ! Pursue thy fortunes. It needs not anv 
 longer that thou shouldst yield thy hopes or purp<es to mine. 
 This night hath resolved me. It finds m where I had 
 
 hoped most strongly. It find- me destitute, where I had set all 
 my fortune OD th- . I dare not wish that thou shouldst 
 
 be more fortunate. I am not generous enough for that. Vet I 
 i in thy path no longer. Within the hour I have made a new 
 ition ; 1 wfl] continue with Hernan de Sota 1 will go with 
 
 him into Florida. In Cuba 1 -lioiild find but wreck and s.,rrowonlv." 
 K it BO, my brother!" said Philip sadly. 
 
 fcj me not, if thou would-t not madden me. Thou knowest, 
 
 my pride and temper. _,-t what is due to thee 
 
 1" ihv justice, i: !ty. ever shown to me. even 
 
 \\lieu m- perversity was m>-t. Enough, i; >w that my mood in- 
 
 thee, to do the.- right, Philip . ; t o think 
 
 that 1 no longer love thee as I did. i 
 
 \\here I have failed where 1 have beei: cnislu d and , 
 founded with unexpeeted denial. I fear I ; . but f.r 
 
 thee. this had not been the case, Th..n hast pam m,. 
 
 as th. ii ha-t ever doo ia t thou 
 
 sh..ulNt tell me of th. . Thou lia-t gi\eu wax to 
 
 thou ha-t yielded me <>| {" Ttun; 1 
 
 anre. it is like thou felt that thoi: 
 I kn- ii of thy will and hope, Phi!!: 
 
 and fully IxTieve that tliu ha-t built t: 
 tidence in th\ . lorLune, which might boldly give every 
 
 .iisity to mino r 
 
60 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " Thou still wrong s! me, Andres !" mildly. 
 
 " Perhaps, perhaps ! do I not even wrong myself as well as 
 thee 1 We will speak no more of this. Enough, that the field 
 lies before thee that I cross thy path no longer that I go 
 on the expedition with De Soto and as, most likely, thou wilt 
 be successful where I have failed, so thou wilt remain here, and 
 we will cast our shadows no more upon each other. W rit e this to 
 our mother, and say to her that my soul is now wholly yielded 
 to the ambition of conquest. Tell her what thou wilt of those 
 dreams of Dorado, which woo the adventurer to the wilds of the 
 Appalachian." 
 
 " Brother - 
 
 " Think not that I would wrong thee, Philip. Is it not enoug! i 
 that even in my passion and my pang, I acknowledge thy forbea - 
 ance 1 I blame thee not, even while I curse in bitterness thy 1 1- 
 ways better fortune. It is thy fortune that prevents my love, 
 and not thyself." 
 
 " But thou dost love me, Andres T 
 
 " I know not that ! How should I love thee, when thou hut 
 been the barrier to my love 1 the only one passion on which all 
 my affections have been set !" 
 
 " But I know not this, Andres ; I have never spoken wore of 
 love or tenderness to the Lady Olivia." 
 
 " But thou wilt speak both ; and she will hear thee, aiW \\ -s| <>irl 
 to thee in accents like thine own. No more of this, lest I grow 
 wild and foolish, and curse thee, Philip, for thy better fortune." 
 
 " Nay, thou shalt not, brother," and he threw his arms tem erly 
 about the unreasonable youth, who submitted but only for A mo 
 ment to the embrace ; he shook himself free from it in the next 
 instant. Philip s eyes followed him with a deep and melan J\o!y 
 ^t, full of sorrow and affection, as he saw him prep< V.g 
 once more to leave the cabin. 
 
 " Whither go you, my brother, at this late hour 1 ?" 
 
 " Forth ! Forth once more into the night !" 
 
 "Nay, Andres; were it not better thou shouldst seek * 
 sleep *" 
 
THE LOVER AND THE BROTHER 61 
 
 " I cannot sloop ! Thou knowest not what a stifling fullness 
 harbors here and here !" was the reply of Andres, smiting his 
 nead and bosom as he spoke. " I must hurry forth ! I must 
 nave air and solitude !" 
 
 With these words he disappeared from the cabin. Philip de 
 Vasconselos followed him to the door, and his eyes anxiously 
 pursued the retreating form by the imperfect Marlight, until it 
 had wholly gone from sight. The older brother then returned to 
 the table, where, seating himself, he rested his cheek upi 
 palm, and sunk into a fit of melancholy, which was of mixed 
 character, at once pleasing and painful. The perverse and will- 
 ful pride of his brother, his suspicions and jealous temper, must 
 necessarily have been productive of great grief to one by uhm 
 he was earnestly beloved ; but it was in vain that Philip de Y;is. 
 con-elos tried ti stitlc the feeling of satisfaction which enliv. 
 and pleasantly agitated his bosom, as he thought of the rcjec- 
 tion by Olivia de Alvaro of his brother s suit. Love i- certainly 
 .flhe most selfish and exacting of all the passions in the heart 
 of youth ; perhap- it is the passion which most com. 
 
 .: -1 >wal!ows up the rest. Philip was really 
 fond of Andres; fond of him by reason of natural sympa:* 
 
 1 of him by habit and association- t -id of 
 all that was manly in hi- character proud of his spirit and youth 
 ful beauty fond of him, on account of their mother, and partic 
 ularly BO, a-, tor o long a time, he h;-d been the guardian of hi- 
 tb and f -rtunes. IJnt hi- heart reproached him for the still 
 ful feeling of Satisfaction, Wfaicb he vainly elide;.. -ill), 
 
 and which continually reminded him that, in this quarter, 
 there \\;i> \\<> longer an ob-fade to his own - 
 to overcome this thought that he proceeded to iv-urne the letter 
 Ahieli fie had been writingto his mother when Andres had lir-t made 
 appearance.. A few additional line- only were written, when 
 ne flung the reed from him and d-.-ed the portfolio. 11 
 ous system was in too much agitation to Differ him to coiitini: 
 u* employment which particularly demanded the utmost calm 
 
62 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 of the spKt. He went once more to the entrance of the cabin, 
 and soliloquized, as i r his brother were still in sight 
 
 " Unhappy child of passion ! forever erring and repenting only 
 to repeat thy error ; what a destiny is thine ! How shall I watch 
 and save thee, when it is ever thus, that some cruel suspicion, the 
 oflspru ir O f thy wild temper and fierce will, Continually begets 
 thy hostility against the hand that is outstretched in thy service ! 
 Thou wilt go with Hernan de Soto, and it jnay be that I shall 
 not be with thee. Ha ! Is this, then, a doubt ? Is it so certain that 
 mine shall be a better fortune with Olivia de Alvaro than was 
 thine ? She has refused thee, thou, as brave, as noble, as come 
 ly as any of the gentlemen of Castile ! Will she be more likely 
 to hearken me ? It is possible ; and J have a hope, a hope in 
 which I gladden though I shame to own it, based upon a broth 
 er s denial and defeat! Is there reason for this hope 1 ? Do I 
 not delude myself does not Nuno de Tobar, when he encour 
 ages my passion, does he not delude me also 1 The thought 
 that I too shall be scorned, makes it easy to pardon- the violent 
 passions of my poor Andres. Well! We shall shortly see ! 
 Now that he no longer pursues the quest, it will be for me to 
 know what is my fate. A few days, and it may be that I also 
 go with thee, my brother, into the wild forests of the Apalachian. 
 And yet, *were there other fields of venture, Hernan de Soto 
 should have no help of mine, lie hath favored, rather than 
 frowned upon, these jealousies of his Spanish followers. They 
 hold me in their hate, if not their disesteem ; and envy me the 
 very skill and knowledge upon which they build somewhat for 
 their Impe of Bucoess. Let Olivia but smile upon my prayer, 
 and 1 fling them of! , with as little regard as 1 would fling off the 
 most worthless thing, in my dislike or indifference !" 
 
 \Vr need not follow Philip de Vasconselos in his soliloquy. 
 Knough is givt-n to show the temper of his mind and character. 
 \Ve \\ill leave him to his slumU-rs. such as he may snatch, in 
 ;he brief interval which now remains between the midnight and 
 tne dawn; while we retrace our footsteps once more to tc. j 
 dwelling of Don Balthazar de Alvaro. 
 
THE GUARDIAN AND WARD. 6S 
 
 It might have been an hour after we saw him retiring, silently, 
 from his place of espionage among the groves which surrounded 
 the verandah where his niece had received her guests, that we 
 find him returning to the same spot. But it was no longer 
 to find concealment and to play the spy that he now appeared. 
 His step was set down firmly and fearlessly, and 4iis lips parted 
 with a pleasant catch of Castilian song, as he drew near the 
 shrubbery. Don Balthazar was no mean musician. With no sen 
 sibilities such as are vulgarly assumed to be absolutely necessary 
 to musical endowment, he was held to be something of a master, 
 and could shape corresponding melodies to the most difficult dit 
 ties, with a readiness not unlike that of the Italian improvisator?. 
 His song on the present occasion, which might have been a 
 spontaneous utterance for aught we know, was sufficiently loud 
 to be heard within the dwelling. But it did not reach the senses 
 of Olivia, who lay stretched upon the divan, upon which we 
 beheld her sink suddenly at the departure of Andres de Vascon- 
 selos, under the burden of a nameless sorrow, for which, with 
 Beauty in her endowment, and Devotion at her feet, it would be 
 very difficult to account. She In-held not the entrance of her uncle, 
 and yet she slept not. Her eyes were open, but the glance was 
 vacant; the sense was shut. It was fixed within, upon the 
 struggling pas-ions of her own heart, and took no heed of exter 
 nal objects. !)<>n Baltha/ar approached her he stood before 
 her he spoke to her, yet she heard him not. lie paused quiet 
 ly, and surveyed her. Very peculiar was the character of that 
 glance which he Vstowcd upon the lovely outline and perfect 
 beauty of the features within his g M /.-. It might be pride and 
 exultation, such a- a tat her feels beholding the unsurpassable 
 charms of a favorite daughter. But there was something still 
 that was eijuivoeal in the ,-\i r. --ion of his features. There \\a- 
 a mysterious significance in that look, at once of steady and 
 ciiviim-pert watch, yet of eagernc^ and .-ati-faetion. which baflled 
 the curiovity that it continued to provoke. Some moments 
 were consumed in this serpent-like gaze, and all the while she 
 remained absolutely unconscious of his presence. She was only 
 
64 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 aroused from this unconsciousness as he sat himself quietly be 
 side her, and folding his arms about her waist, lifted her \\ith an 
 air of great affection in his embrace. Then it was that she 
 started, looked wildly about her for a moment, and then, distin 
 guishing the intruder, fixed upon him a countenance expressive 
 of any feding but that of tenderness or regard. In an instant 
 the full, quick, keen vitality, came like a flood of light into her 
 great dark eyes; her lips quivered, and were suddenly elosed 
 fast, as if with sudden resolution. She started from the cush 
 ions, and shook herself free from his grasp, as if he had been a 
 viper. 
 
 "You!" she exclaimed in a tone of suspicion and apprehen 
 sion. 
 
 " Even so, Olivia. Who else ] But what now ? Why this 
 passion 1 What has vexed you ? What startles you ?" 
 
 " How long have you been here ?" she asked wildly. 
 
 " But this moment," he answered : " 1 thought you slept." 
 
 She drew a deep sigh, as if suddenly relieved. 
 
 " It is late," she said ; " 1 will retire." 
 
 " Late ! what of that ? Have you any cares for to-morrow ? 
 Sit, my beauty, and tell us who have been your guests who 
 hath been here ? What are your tidings ?" 
 
 "1 have none," she answered coldly and timidly, still moving 
 to retire. 
 
 "Now. saints and demons! what is in the ehild !" In- ex- 
 elaimed, as he endeavored onee IIK-IV to detain her in his grasp. 
 She shrunk from him with a visible shudder. A heavy scowl 
 
 UT his forehead, and he spoke with closed teeth. 
 What! still in thy Biscaynn temper? Nay, nay, my pre- 
 s one, thou shalt not leave me thus." 
 
 "Suller me to go, uncle," she entreated, as h raught her hand. 
 
 " Why, so I will, when thou hast answered me what has put 
 thee in this temper again ? Methoilght, when I lel\ thee last, that 
 thou ludst been sobered hadst grown wi-er. What has 
 wrought thee into this passion, at a moment when brave eavn- 
 liers grow humble in thy train ? Or dost thou repent thee for 
 
A WATCHFUL PROTECTOR. 66 
 
 having dismissed with denial this famous young gallant of 
 toga 
 
 What a char.::.- in her aspect followed this speech from his 
 lips! But a monu iit before sin- exhibited aversion. hut it 
 coupled with timidity and a feeble, tearful appivhen>ion. In a 
 
 the timidity . the tear tlie nppivhev 
 
 Ibr eyea Hashed full with indignation as she replied : 
 
 U What! thoil hast {U/aill descended to the oil;, 
 
 Thou hast once more placed thy-df in secret \\avli upon 
 
 t upon thy actions child not upon thec, hut upon those 
 the,-. I know thy danger from thrse iraHants, and 
 it is in ! I fear them, my Olivia, that 1 keep v 
 
 thy guardian thy protector. child - " 
 
 . tempt to take her hand as h- >p..ke. 
 >t," she cried. -()),. wolf assigned to keep the 
 lamb!" 
 
 - What wouhlst thou have, cliild ? It is stirely n.-r.mil that 
 I ho] 1 ,-ver present in mind the treasure that I am set to keep." 
 fiend ! and tlmu smiPst a> thou speak st thu- drea.lfullv/ 
 .. not a fiend, Olivia, only. I ^ r;n ,t you. n,,t exactly 
 an :M gel Believe me. I amnt awhit worse than m<t othcrn- 
 a Thou slinderesl thy : 
 
 * No, truly, no. M,M guardiana, having sucfa prcci..u^ n-,.., 
 in their k-. -piu^. wcuhl take care of I- M I have done, Have I 
 
 . my child as tenderly, as eh -:, ;1 U 
 
 ure before mine own ejetl Ah. 
 M if I loved thee leas,] had been spoiled of th.-e bef 
 It IN in n,\ : . ( Mivia, " 
 
 " n1 - criu-I taunts ! What i:ain is U 
 
 toth.-eiiow. that thou -houhi-t add a If to 
 
 tiope, why jibe me ever with thi- \tm1 
 
 \\ hy hold before mine ej6fl tlu- terrib! of the woe 
 
 n; ist pl;r ever in my soul . 1-Wh. ar thv mockeries. 
 
 r me to leave th-e suifer me to sleep sleep--sleep ! if 
 this be possible to-night." 
 
66 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " Nay, I would not mock thee, Olivia. I but speak to thee the 
 language of a sober truth. I do, indeed, love thee, my child 
 love thee as my own would have thee ever as mine own, and 
 thou mightst see in this fondness the secret of that distrust which 
 dogs the heels of all others. Give not way to this blindness ami 
 madness, which can profit neither thee nor me, and sec the love 
 which I feel for thee, my child !" 
 
 "Peace! Peace! thou maddenest me when thou t-dkv-st to 
 me of thy love !" 
 
 " A truce to thy passion, Olivia. Thou art not wise ir ts 
 indulgence. It spoils thy beauty. It takes too much from thy 
 charm of face, as it disturbs the peace of thy heart. Thus niflK I. 
 thou remind st me painfully of thy Biscay an mother, who was fiercer 
 in her wrath than the hurricane of these tropic countries. She 
 would suddenly grow convulsed like thyself, with a tempest that 
 threatened everything with destruction ; but she was not, as thou 
 art, capable of soothing all down again to the most beautiful 
 repose !" 
 
 "Her passion were much the most fitting to mate with ihine ! 
 O ! would that she were here! Mother! O! mother! \Vhore 
 art thou now ? See st thou thy child into what hands into 
 what late she has fallen without hope as one who dr.-wns, 
 with all the seas upon him, and no strength to struggle upward 
 into life 
 
 She threw herself once more upon the cushions of the divan, 
 her face downward. One single sob escaped her, but one. for 
 at that moment the hand of I >.,n ttaltha/ar, in seeming tender 
 ness, was placed upon her neek. Ills touch seemed to recall the 
 more i u-ry feeling with which she had at first received him. She 
 started up, and repulsed him with a spasmodic fiercoi 
 
 -Thv toueh is like BO much poison! Beware, lest I go mad! 
 Thou wilt drive me too far, as if thou had-l not already driven in 
 to perdition ! Canst thou not pity wilt thou not spare me 7 I 
 have been weak I know that I am weak still but I feel that I 
 have a strength in me that may become fearful for mischief, : f 
 pot for good. Uncle, it were better, far better, ere you roust, 
 
A DISAPPOINTMENT. 67 
 
 that strength into exercise, that you sh mid drive your daggei 
 
 tli of our hea 
 The brow c.f Don Balthazar WM contracted ; but a determined 
 
 t disputed the cloud. His rdle was that of conciliation. 
 He was not unwilling to acknowledge and to respect that fearful 
 strength which she averted herself to possess, though latent. He 
 felt that lie had gone too far. lie had given her no credit for 
 tha; : of which she was now making a fearful exhibition. 
 
 N ieed, had he hitherto found any reason to su>peet the 
 
 pre~. e energies. She had hitherto borne her 
 
 self so mildly, if not feebly, that he had come rather to slight, if 
 not to despise, the weakness of a nature, which had been almost 
 wholly controlled by his superior will. That he had been so 
 .1 hitherto, in this respeet, was due to cau-es already 
 glanced at the seclusion of her mode of life, her extreme youth, 
 and her imperfeet edueation. The instincts of her heart, suddenly 
 springing into birth, had opened to her eyes a new survey, and 
 filled her soul with a consciousness not less overwhelming and 
 opprosive than strange. He was beginning to discover the full 
 extent of her developments, when it was perhaps too late. Re- 
 .s a child, a pliant creature in his hands, he had but 
 too much given way to that satirical temper which marked his 
 ,-haraeter. It was now his aim to <o..>;he. He was not prae i 
 in this art, but In- >erioiisly addre^ed him>elf to the endeavor. 
 Olivia, thon art HUM perver-e to-night. Is it at the 
 moment when I am mo-t grateful to thee, that tlnui woiildst re- 
 pulse my acknowledgments . I do but M-ek to show how greatly 
 I pri/.- that dutiful allection \\hich alone. I doubt \\< used 
 
 dismiss this young and insoU-nt knight of Portugal. 
 
 laim.-d. interrupting him with a 
 
 hitter lo,,k and a.-eent, which i-tK-i-tually interpreted into xe..niful 
 irony the two wo.-,U whi-h slu- had borr..wed from his speech. 
 "And WM i not hi<. 
 
 r. let this folly cea^e. There is no policy 
 
 in thi> hvpoi-risy. Th-m ean-t de,-ei\e me no longer. I ha w e 
 no need to deceive thee. We know tach other. Thou knowetrt 
 
68 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 me thou hast sounded the hollows of my heart, and the kno* 
 ledge thou hast .gained has been fatal to all my hopes. Thou 
 knowest that I owe thee neither duty nor affection that, if any 
 thing, I owe thee hate only an unforgiving hate that should 
 dream of nothing but revenge. But I have no such dream. 
 Give me but peace such peace, at least, as may spring from 
 thy forbearance, and if I meet thee with smiles no longer, I shall 
 at least assail thee with no reproaches. I rejected the suit of 
 
 Don Andres de Vasconselos simply because alas! why 
 
 should I furnish thee with a reason for this rejection 1 Enough, 
 that it was with no regard to thy interests, or thy desires, that 
 I was moved to decline his prayer." 
 
 "And yet, that thou didst so, is a great gain to me, as well as 
 to De Soto. Failing thee and thy hacienda, this knight will now 
 be ready to seek for a slower fortune amongst the Apalaehian 
 of Florida. We had lost him but for this. He and his brother 
 l M ,th that more wily adventurer had set earnest eyes upon 
 thy possessions. I doubt not that they knew well the number 
 of thy slaves and acres, and the exact annual product of thy 
 
 lands." 
 
 "Oh! be silent, Scfior be silent, for very shame. It befits 
 not thee, least of all, to impute such sordid passions to these 
 noble gentlemen." 
 
 Even at this moment, when fully convinced of the necessity of 
 roiiciiiation, and really desirous not to offend, the habitual sneer 
 of the uncle obtained tlu- nseendeney. 
 
 -And thou persuad.-t thyself though I wonder not that it 
 is thy charms alone which have wrought upon the alU-etions of 
 these knights of Portugal." 
 
 The sarcasm smote sharply on the woman sensibilities of tin? 
 damsel. She replied instantly: 
 
 I think not of it! 1 would that I could think of neither them 
 nor thee. Small pleasure, indeed, do I find in thinking of thee, 
 and smaller the profit, in such condition as is mine, in .riving 
 thought to knight or nd.le, on whose, seuteheon there rests no 
 st-un. Why wilt thou madden me, with these things? If, for a 
 
FATI1KKLV AKKKCTION. H 
 
 moment. I h:i\e been weak and vain enough to think of any noble 
 man, Heaven knows how suddenly and soon my own 
 in-art lias smitten me for tin- guilt and folly of such fancies. But 
 if the deadlier tongue of 1 not speaking ever at my 
 
 his lanuuaiie, there w. re rebuke sufficient in the conscious- 
 hat, whate\er .-perch is addressed to my ear, must be 
 by thine; that even did I presume to love, or to 
 to the pleading of a lover, the precious sweetness of 
 stieh intercourse must In- without secret or security. Thy watch 
 
 r upon my footsteps, and thy miserable spies " 
 
 \ ... ;t thou wrong iiild. I have set no eyes to 
 
 watch tlu-e but mine own, and mine watch thee only because thou 
 art so precious in their sight." 
 
 She gave him but a single look, so cold so freezingly sad. 
 that he felt all its profound scorn :md denial. 
 
 i f a truth. ( Mivia, it is so. lladst thou been my own child, 
 
 I could Hot have loved thee 1 
 
 ither! M.-thcr! Hear him ! Alas! wherefore was I not 
 thine own! That might have secured me from this fate And 
 yet. 1 know not ! I know not what thou holiest sacred ! I know 
 not \\l-t could ha\ -.tr in thy hands, from thy bad and 
 
 brutal nature. ( MI ! Srfior Hullhaxar I will call thee no more 
 mine und. when 1 look upon the. now, with eyes fairly 
 
 opened upon thy cruelties and crime. I feel a doultt, a 
 le-t 1 be in tin- power of tome fearful cmis-ary of the enemy of 
 
 uho-M- -iud\ i< how to cut me olf frmu repentai. 
 \at or. Motlicr of (lod, he merciful! ,l.-u. d. -eriid to i. 
 Dover me with thy holy shelter. Oh! 1 feel that I -hail madden, 
 the white -pints \\hom I pray f..-r >haU come <juickly to 
 my aid !" 
 
 A pa ion of tear- foli(.\sed this wild ap- 
 
 \\hat reii-ve.i the -\\olleii heart and the overburdened brain. Don 
 Balthazar felt thai he must j-aiise. He did not dare to ad.ln-<s 
 her in the moment of the pan \\MII. He waited, watcliing her 
 patient! v, till her tear- flowed fiv.-Jy, and then subduing him-elf 
 to his jHtliey his bitter reckl--- iD" d to the : 
 
70 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 him, and with which he felt that it would not do to trifle farthei, 
 he carefully adapted his speech to the task of soothing. In 
 some measure he succeeded. She grew calmer, and milder, and 
 he now approached her where she sat upon the divan, and with 
 out interruption, save from her sobs occasionally, continurd the 
 glozing speech which was to quiet her anger. She answered him 
 but seldom, and then capriciously sometimes witli t-.-ars <>nl\, 
 and again with some burst of indignant speech, that drove him 
 back to his first positions. 
 
 " Oh! why wilt thou, dearest Olivia, give way to these pas 
 sionate phrensies? of what profit to conjure up such wild and 
 gloomy reflections ? They nothing help your situation or mine. 
 They restore us nothing that is lost, but tend rather to embittei 
 the only consolations that remain to us." 
 
 " What are they ?" she asked fiercely. 
 
 " To economize the better feelings. To forgive where we cai. 
 to spare when we can " 
 
 " Ah ! I owe thee much for thy forbearance. ; 
 
 " I feel that I deserve thy chiding ; but, dearest child, I will do 
 better. I will give thee no cause for anger henceforward Only 
 be merciful. I owe thee much, Olivia, mueh for the past. 
 That thou hast sent off this young gallant with denial, leaves mo 
 to-night with a light heart." 
 
 " And mine ! mine is breaking 1" was the wild finish which 
 her lips sobbed out at the conclusion of his sentence. The deep 
 despairing agony of her manner admirably suited the language 
 of her lips. 
 
 "Nay, nay, my child; not so! The world is but begun with 
 thee. There is sunshine for thee, and flowers in abundance. Thou 
 wilt forget " 
 
 " Never ! never ! Oh ! would it could break, break at once, 
 that I may feel no more this terrible struggle tins pang that is 
 worse than death! But its doom is not to break. There mu>t 
 be more agonies. I must undergo many deaths, and that blight 
 of all that accursed bitter blight !" 
 
 The picture of her grief was beyond all practice. There could 
 
AN UNWELCOME I A KENT. 71 
 
 be no question of the terrible earnestness of HIT woe. With her 
 face buried in the cushions of the divan, she lay silent or sobbing, 
 vithout an effort to move, until 1 more to i 
 
 her up. Again she betrayed that shuddering horror at his touch, 
 which she had shown several times In-fore ; and, firmly repulsing 
 him, she again abandoned herself to her affliction-. IT thing 
 ta vain, or only offered new provocation to her sorrows 
 
 Olivia, dearot child, wherefore now this unwonted pas>ion ? 
 What grief hast thou now, that thou hadstnot yesterday, and the 
 day before ? " 
 
 " Ay, Sefior," she answered, with a fearful vehemence, " and 
 last week, and months agone, even to thai dark and damnable 
 hour, when " 
 
 And she closed the sentence abruptly, covering her face with 
 her hand- as she did so, as if to shut from sight some ten il.le 
 nee. 
 
 -Olivia dear child!" 
 
 ( hild me not! 1 am not thy child. Thou hast known me as 
 a child only to crush me as a woman. Away, I entreat thee 
 let me never see thee more. If thou wouldst not drive me 
 into absolute phrensy, I implore thee to forbear to depart lor- 
 It is those days, those weeks, those months, when in mv 
 ignorance and weakness, I had not felt t 1 
 
 them now, to which I owe them all ! Blot these out, Senor, from 
 my memory! make me foruet them, I command thee, or ! 
 Hid thrust it into this heart, which th.-u ha-t ! . 
 with death and misery. Do it. uncle do it, if thou hast one 
 rfc of the man within thy bosom if, indeed, thou h;i.xt .me 
 feeling of pity in thy soul for the poor orphan whose sin- .: 
 milk from the same box,, m with thy own." 
 
 lutched at the \\.-apon in his girdle, and w - . h ive seiz- 
 . .1 it, ! .ut that he grapple 1 her by the wrist, an 1 held her 
 
 " < Mi ! thou shuultl*t do it -such a blow would never si 
 thy dagger. If thou wilt D M never 
 
 more. If thou canst not bring me the forget full less I implore. 
 thou art my bane only, ami eanM briu : no remedy. \ 
 
72 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 of soothing I despise. As I live, uncle, I loathe thy presence. 
 Thy voice sounds iiissingly in mine ears., like that of the serpent, 
 who carries a deadly poison beneath his tongue." 
 
 The inspired priestess, drunk with the sacred fury, never looked 
 so sublimely fearful. Her great flashing eyes, lighting up the 
 paleness of her cheeks her widely distended nostril, her lofty 
 and erect figure, and the wild but beautiful action of her frame, 
 actually seemed to confound and overwhelm her companion. He 
 spoke but how feeble now were his words of soothing his en 
 treaties his arguments ! 
 
 " Olivia ! This is, indeed, wilful. Of what avail now all this 
 horror, this professed loathing ]" 
 
 " Professed ! Oh ! Man, man ! Vain man ! What seest 
 thou in me at this moment, to make thee dream that I could say 
 anything that 1 do not feel ! But of what avail thou ask sf? Of 
 what avail, indeed, except for curses perhaps for death ! But 
 that the grief can bring no relief is sufficient cause for suffering. 
 Could it avail could anything avail would I suffer thus 1 ? 
 Would I seek no remedy ? Would I not go through the fur 
 nace in its search, and gladly give up the life which is tutored 
 to reconcile itself to all manner of sin and sorrow, as it is made to 
 see that nothing can avail ! Oh ! Blessed Virgin, if my lips may 
 now be permitted to name thy name, and to appeal to thee, what 
 hast thou suffered me to see 1 In the brief space of a single week 
 mine eyes have opened to the truth. I behold now what 1 neither 
 saw nor dreamed before. Oh ! Senor, brother of my wretched 
 father, what hast thou done! Thou hast slain the very hope the 
 life of hope and happiness of his only child, given to thee in 
 bU-ssings and in sacred trust, all of which thou hast trampled un 
 der foot in scorn." 
 
 " Not so, dearest Olivia. Thou seot this matter through a false 
 medium. The evil is not of the magnitude which thou deem st it. 
 Who is there to betray our secret 1 Who is it that knows " 
 
 " Is it not enough that / know, that / feel that the dreadful 
 consciousness is crushing me to the earth, making my soul a 
 thing of constant tear, and apprehensions the most terrible?" 
 
OLIVIA S INDIGNATION. 73 
 
 The wisdom of Don Bahha/ar was again at fault. lie could 
 not forbear a remark, which, however true in ; , the suk 
 
 ject "f lu-r ::!. ts, was yefr very unseasonably referred to in the 
 piv-M-nt condition of her feelings. 
 
 . ia, this ilivailful coiiM-iousness of whieh thou sprakest, 
 ne\. wd thee until tliine eyes beheld this Philij 
 
 Hi-ware my child, lest " 
 
 The fearful spirit was n.usod again within her. She did not 
 suffer liim to finish. 
 
 to thee, Balthazar do Alvaro, unworthy and 
 nerooa brother. ba<e and eruel guardian shameless and |>er 
 jmvd man do thi.n beware ! If 1 am to be cni-di, 
 by thee. I will not be reproached or threatened by thre ! 1 
 
 -t justly, in. Ire.l, that until I beheld this knight of Portugal, 
 
 I did Dot well OOIKive the full extent of the wrong which thou 
 
 t done me. That thy perfidy, thy stealth, thy eunnini:, thv 
 
 f" 1 "- !.! fatal power, \\hi.-h had wrought upon me 
 
 in moments of oblivion, had done me the cruellest of evils, I well 
 
 know ! My tean, mj reproaches have not been spared, as thou 
 
 well knowest. from the beginning! But of the awful t 
 
 which thou wert the sole cause, 1 had little knowledge. Mine 
 
 U thou sayest, with the moment of mv 
 
 I Oh! make not i 
 
 I,y .-ompellinj: my tongue to n-p.-at that name. It I 
 only \\h,-n 1 kn. w him that 1 began darkly and I 
 know myself. 1 th.-n. tor i! t j lr tt ., T ; 
 
 M if from the dt-pth- 
 
 It i- in th- birth of \\hat hid been my blessing and mv jov, that 
 I am madi- terribly -f what ifl ,,,y 
 
 curse! K;.- irh ! It is wonderful ttat I hai for this! P.ut 
 
 thy wanton malice hat! Boodl of mv indi 
 
 Jght ! Let u 
 
 ail(| I :im "o i ild.l.lin,]^ w.-ak. ^ul>- 
 
 ii my iiii thing Of 
 
 "lilt in whH). II,, 
 
74 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 witness, 1 had no share ! I am a woman now. I have riser; to 
 the highest intelligence of woman, only through despair. I now 
 know thee for what thou truly art base, brutal, and oh ! shame 
 on thy pretence of manhood, with a corrupt selfishness that would 
 Keep me still a victim !" 
 
 " Olivia !" 
 
 " Follow me not touch me not look no more upon me if 
 thou art wise, and wouldst not see me a maniac beneath thine 
 eyes, raving aloud to the abashed people of thy and my misera 
 ble secret." 
 
 Thus speaking, with arms extended as if for judgment, and 
 eyes flashing almost supernatural fires, she waved him passion 
 ately aside, and defying the obstruction, which he was too much 
 paralyzed to offer, darted headlong from the apartment 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " Now wil these damned conspirator* gainst Virtue 
 Make surh felonious tralTic of her s.-rvanls, 
 As move the night to shudder ; cause her fair planets 
 To Mush with secret passion that tht-y may not 
 Come down with holy succor I Oh 1 that angels 
 Might put on arn.or when they would, ami strangle 
 The em-my ere he strikes." Tine PARRJCTD*. 
 
 f: m - :jht before lu> recovered himself. He 
 
 stood aba-! :- ! rather pale and almost trembling, at 
 
 . -tt-il fur\ In- had awakei.ed. At Ungth, but slowly, 
 
 he began to reeover himself; and his gathering thoughts betrayed 
 
 diem-elves in broken s< >lilo<juy. 
 
 "This gr.>\\- mor. . It mu<t be looked to. It is a 
 
 hfd by the -hortr>t inrth<d. if it passes not oflf 
 
 . thr n-M. I ut I must |in-]ari myself t>r the worst. She 
 
 must not br snll .-rrd to destroy me. rv.-n if she to dc- 
 
 i . 1 must cure these Tioleno km - ami I will." 
 
 UN hand, perhaps mieon eioii-! the handle of his 
 
 A moment aftrr. h- - ;/. -d hurriedly thr light, and left 
 the room, pursuing, at (ir>t. the .\hirh Olivia had en 
 
 tered, as if abi.ut to ; -<> in the direction of lur eliand.er; 
 
 paused a!m>t a >oon a> he had eiitei cd i 1 . :d)oiit, 
 
 nto the apartment \vhieh he had left 
 
 opi-nii [ M tlie opposite wall, entered another passai: 
 
 din-ting lo hi> own ihami leg the light down upon 
 
 a table, he threw himself into a light ehair of ba: u. and 
 
 with so litt :.d BO hea\i)y. that the slight wicker framo 
 
 of the lal.i i and tin- <n\k beneath his \-. 
 
 " I was a fool, M he said, .so|i!...jni/ing inoolily. "1 was but a 
 fooj to (X3nfrt>nt her in her paroxysm. It is then that she hath A3 
 
 7* 
 
76 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 little measure in her anger as her fierce Biscay an mother. Yet 
 how lately hath this sort of fury developed itself in IKT. How 
 wonderfully to-night did she resemble her. There was the same 
 dark, fiery eye, sending out sudden flashes ; the same sudden 
 swelling of the great vein across her forehead, till it seemed big 
 to bursting; the same show of the teeth, gleaming white, d 
 set, and gnashing at moments the thin lips that seemed to part 
 and turn over, like those of a hungry tiger. What a resemblance ! 
 I never saw the like before. Yet, when I beheld the likei 
 that I should have dealt in the old saivasm ; that I should not 
 have forborne. I should have known enough of the mother. i 
 have waited for the moment of her exhaustion. Who takes the 
 fish will do wisely not to thwart him in the struggle. Why 
 should he not struggle, since it avails nothing m^ainst his capture . 
 He is so much the sooner in the toils. Let h.m beat the water 
 while he lists, until it becomes easier to die than to strive. Such 
 is the true art of dealing with women in their passion, especially 
 when they carry tempers of such intensity. It is in her exhaus 
 tion only that she yields; and the exhaustion comes the sooner 
 where the flurry is so extreme. With opposition, she finds new 
 strength ; but, taken in the lull, with fondness or persuasion, Mid 
 she cannot help but yield!" 
 
 lie paused, rested his elbow on the table, and supported his 
 brow upon his hands for a while in silent meditation. A few mo 
 ments oiih passed thus ; his mood was too much excited for quiet. 
 He started up from his seat, and again instantly resumed. 
 
 "Something has gone wrong," he muttered. "She hath dis 
 covered something of the secret. How much, it behooves that 1 
 should know. She knows the worst, that is certain ; but can she 
 have found out the agencies? I must summon Anita. That hag 
 of hate hath not betrayed me, I know. She too much loves tin- 
 evil to do aught which should prevent its exercise. She t<>. 
 much hated the mother to be merciful to the daughter. She hath 
 too willingly served me in this matter to have repented of her 
 share in the performance. But she may have kept her secret . 
 loosely ; she may have been watched ; that Olivia has suspected 
 
THK r.MVKl SAL PANACEA. 77 
 
 her, I know ; and. with suspicio:. tkened, an intense spirit 
 
 will be rieeptaoi till it makes discovery. I mu>t lee -md < I 
 ine her." 
 
 He touched a tassel depending from tin- wain>eot ; then rt 
 ed his soliloquy, pursuing another train of thought 
 
 "These accursed knights of Portugal ! They vex me 
 side. She hath dismissed one of them, but he is no K-<> a trou 
 ble. Will he stay content with one rejection? T; 
 dr, ply filled with the one image, and of rare arrogance, an 
 easily satisfied with denial ; but I will yet put my foot upon their 
 necks; or, failing in this. I .shall thrust my dauirer to their h. 
 Every man is haunted by some viper, or spider n 
 tile, or spiteful insect. These are mine! Yet, but for this 
 derful change in her. they should not give me cau-e ,,f fear. Hut 
 yesterday, so meek; and now, a tigiv^ ! \\YII. there is always, 
 at the worst, one remedy, and ///\ cannot fill i 
 
 Thus speaking, he drew forth his dagger from th<- sheath, 
 contemplated the weapon darkly a* he spoke. Tin-re was t! 
 his manner, and the cold intelligence in his rve. dunn^ this sur 
 vey. which denoted the reckless hardihood ,,f a nature, originally 
 cold and selti-h. and \\hieh had berii tJmroughlv indurated by a 
 
 .: and terrible criminal experience. It is not for us t 
 in his histon. and recall the events of a life whi.-h hav, 
 lute connection with the pn.giv^s \\hich is bet;, re tia l^iou^h, 
 that the j.aM. ODOe kiDwn. would 1,-ave us little dubt of the 
 indiflmooe uith whi.-h the bold, bad man before US, would school 
 himself to the execution of any crimes which it became hi 
 to eontemplate. See him as he turns the dai^er. ft] . hi a 
 
 finger over the mstpOli that darken it- point, and d..t ; 
 freely upward on both rfdwi A fierce smile. a dettkiac -rin 
 appears upon his face, as he makes the survey, and tells a sumYi 
 cut story. 
 
 "Ay, it is there oill !" he muttered - precious proof of my 
 revenge ! Little did Nicolas de Vergaray fin^y, when 
 triumphed over my heart, that I should sc soon find th- 
 
VASCONSELOS. 
 
 his ! I would not cleanse the bright steel which his blood had 
 t Hinted. I preferred that the stains should forever remind me of 
 my triumph at the last ; ay, in the moment when he fondly 
 fancied he had all to himself the happiness which he had despoiled 
 me of ! He, at least, enjoyed it only in his dreams !" 
 
 The door opened. The soliloquy was arrested. He restored 
 the dagger to its sheath, and looked up at the intruder. This 
 was an old woman of about sixty, a mestizo, a cross of the negro 
 and the red-man. She combined, in very equal degree, the most 
 conspicuous characteristics of the two. She had the high cheek 
 bones, the thin lips, the full chin, the glossy dark flowing hair of 
 the Indian, with the retreating forehead and flat nose of the black. 
 Her eyes were of the sly, sharp, gipsy cast, the brows quite gray, 
 and thus in singular contrast with her hair, which was quite as 
 black as in the days of her childhood ; if, indeed, days of child- 
 ^ood had ever been known to her ! She had not the appearance of 
 Due who had ever been a child. The wear and tear of vexing pas 
 sions had scarred her face with every sign of premature old age. 
 Her skin wa* a scries of wrinkles, like the ripples of spent billows 
 tipon a gradually rising shore. Her teeth were gone, with the 
 exception of a couple of very sharp snags, that stood out in 
 front, between her thin lips, like those of a squirrel. She had nc 
 ,lesh upon her bones, and her clothes, thin and light, according 
 .vith climate and season, hung upon her skeleton form as if from 
 i peg upon the wall! A gau/e han.lkerehief, wrapped imper 
 fectly above her neck, suffered her skinny bosom to appear, but 
 without increasing her attractions. Her figure, thus betraying 
 the signs of age, was yet singularly erect. Her step was firm, 
 though stealthy. You saw that she set her foot down firmly, 
 though you di .l not hear if. ami, though moving with caution, 
 she was" yet quit* of movement. She did not wait for a sum 
 mon, but advanced at once to her master, and stood up before 
 .Vim ; her eyes lighting up beneath the gray brows, like lamps of 
 naphtha in sepulchral caverns. 
 
 " Give me some wine, Anita," was his first salutation, 
 
ANITA. 79 
 
 She brought it forth from a eupbnard, and j>Iacod it before 
 him; a fh-k m wieker-work of straw. The goblet was 
 
 brought at the same moment. She said nothing. 
 
 "Get another goblet for yourself, Anita, and sit !" 
 
 She did as she wa< . ..mmande.l, <mietly, and without hesita 
 lion ; as if to ..U-v \\a- a thing of course, and she had been ac 
 eii.-toiiud to all manner of commands. 
 
 Don liakhazar lilK-d his glass, and swallowed the contents at a 
 single gulp. He filled it a second time, and seated it before 
 Urn. 
 
 "Drink," said he, "Anita." 
 
 She did as -he was bade, emptied the goblet as soon as fill. -d, 
 and her eyes glittered with a humid light, pale and intensely spir 
 itual. After a paQM, in wh uh she seemed wholly to wait on his 
 words, he spoke : 
 
 Well, has she been trouK 
 
 " No !" was the brief reply, in the short, shrill, yet soft manner 
 of the red-man. 
 
 " It is strange ! She has been showing me the image of her 
 mother, as we both have seen it often, in other davs; you, in par- 
 tieulnr, Anita!" 
 
 The eyes of the woman glared with an expression of hatred, 
 which was al<>lutely fiendish. 
 
 "She sh.iws the blood," he continued, "as I never saw it 
 shown before ! Pmt h>\v is it tli , ,-$ not sleep? Has she 
 
 ate has she drank ? 
 
 Yes ; l,,it not miieh ! Very little! She >. She is 
 
 . She thinks something wr< | 
 
 This wax ^pokeo ill a itit -ia .-..mmnn to the ju-rsons of her 
 but we do not to imitate her. 
 
 "Something more than thinks, I fancy! She knows. II. .w 
 ha^ dh 
 
 " I don t know that >h- ha- di^-nvered anything. She said to 
 me once, about a week ago, that she wondered why she felt so 
 drowsy every day." 
 
 " AK!_ an a you 7 n 
 
80 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " I wondered too ! That was all !" 
 
 ki There is something more. Are you sure, Anita, that sh<> has 
 not found you sleeping ? Are you sure that you have not hap 
 pened upon a flask of canary at the wrong moment ?" 
 
 " No !" 
 
 " Well ! I am sure that she has matV. some discovery ! The 
 question is what ? and how much 1 Sta knows the worst- lhat 
 is certain." 
 
 The woman grinned. 
 
 " But does she know by what means vre have worked 1 You 
 say she eats and drinks little. Is this only the lack of appetite, 
 or does she suspect her food ?" 
 
 The woman avowed her ignorance. 
 
 "But she ate and drank yesterday?" 
 
 "Yes; but very little." 
 
 " Did she seem affected afterwards ?" 
 
 " Very little ! She was drowsy. She took her siesta ; but 
 when I carne in to look at her, she rose up." 
 
 " Can she have become accustomed to it already ? Does : J 
 cease to affect her ? You must increase the dose, Anita." 
 
 " It may kill her !" 
 
 " Hardly ! How much do you give her now ?" 
 
 The woman took a small phial from her bosom and held it up 
 io the light. It contained a slightly greenish liquor. She desig 
 nated, with her finger upon the phial, thp quantity given. 
 
 " That should be enough, certainly ! But if she refuses the 
 draught rejects the food ! That is the question. The next 
 question is, whether she refuses from want of aopetite, simply 
 You must change the food, Anita. Tempt her aopetite. Get 
 some new dishes, and forbear the drug, until her suspicions, if 
 she have any, are quieted ; say, for the next three days Mean 
 while, be vigilant, and see that you are not surprised. You note 
 all who approach her 1 ?" 
 
 "All!" 
 
 " Now is the time for circumspection. She loves this knight 
 of Portugal." 
 
THE CONFEDERATES. 81 
 
 "She has just refund him." 
 
 ; the younger brother. But the other " 
 
 "He comes seldom." 
 
 " But is not the less powerful when he comes. They must b 
 closely watched, when together. He must not be suffered to 
 propose to her without interruption. If you find him, at any 
 time, when I am aWnt. 1 >ee< uning too impressive, show yourself, 
 and stop the progress. In that man I see my bane ! She loves 
 him. How has she concealed it from you 1 ?" 
 The woman answered by a vacant stare. 
 " Ah ! I see ! There are some things quite too subtle for you, 
 Anita. But, let there be nothing which escapes your watch. If 
 necessary, you must increase the potion." 
 
 " Unless you mean to kill her, no ! She now takes as much 
 as can be safely given." 
 
 "Yes, if she takes it all! But, when she refuses to eat and 
 drink, or does so sparingly, then more may be given. You must 
 not forget what you owe her mother." 
 The eyes of the \\<>man glared fearfully. 
 " You have not forgotten your own daughter?" 
 Anita seised the flask, unbidden, and again filled the glass 
 
 h T. which she emptied at a draught. 
 
 "To-night, I hav,- leeo the mother in the daughter! She has 
 all her pasMons, though M yet Suppressed. Sh.- will give us 
 trouble, unl.-ss we take h--d to her. Our danger is in the passion 
 
 which she f rt -ls f,,r this Portuguese knight the elder,! mean not 
 
 the younger. She oarefl nothing tor him. If I can get them both 
 Florida, or otherwi>e disposed "f. all may go well ; and 
 she may Mib-idc into h-r old Irth.vjv. II, r pa--in for him : 
 br..i: L r|,, ,,,, t a ][ h,. r ,,,},,.,- |, ;i ^i,,ns They IIIM K ant and 
 
 tii -light ful. They ijuiek.-n lu-r intelligence. She is not the HU 
 woman >he was a month ago. She is no longer in my power, or 
 in yours. If we herd iii.t. -he \\ill dtCSJM BS, Si. rry 
 
 .iiese. She vill CXJ...M- us! " 
 
 The woman grinned with exultation. 
 
 "She dare not ! . to t.-ll n 
 
82 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 "Very true; but you remember that, when her Biscay an 
 mother was aroused to passion, she had no prudence ! She re- 
 vealed every thing ! It will be so with Olivia. I am sure of it, 
 from what I have seen to-night. That is our danger. Let her, 
 in this paroxysm, be assured that all her hopes of this Portu 
 guese knight depend on escape from , and she will rush into 
 the market-place with all her secrets! She will destroy herself 
 in the fury which would destroy us. And, Anita, if she can win 
 belief, she will not so surely destroy herself. We know that she 
 is guiltless, in her soul, of any crime ; we know that the whole 
 wrong is ours !" 
 
 " Yes ; but the shame ?" 
 
 " Is something in Spain not so much here ! and pit} and 
 sympathy will lessen it anywhere! We must beware of any 
 extremity. Now is the time for all your subtlety, if we 
 would be safe. See to it; observe her closely; see that she and 
 this knight of Portugal the elder, mark you from the younger, 
 indeed, we have no cause of fear do not meet, unless under 
 your eye or mine; and that they do not come to any understand 
 ing. We must keep them from mutual confessions. They both 
 love passionately; but bettor /or us that they were both dead, 
 than that either should speak of passion to eaeh other s ears! 
 Let her but hear and answer him. and >he is happy, Anita hap 
 py! think of that, Anita! think of that! How will you relish 
 to see the daughter of that mother happy in the arms of her 
 lover, while you are led off to prison, knowing the fate of your 
 won daughter the debt of thirty years unpaid; while your 
 
 "Tell me of him ! Have you heard?" was the ea^-r inquiry 
 x of the woman, who, during the speech of the other whi<-h irafl 
 
 evidently designed to goad h-r passions into phrensy. had risen 
 
 from her sear, and moved hurriedly, with clasped hand 
 
 H intense agitation, over the floor. 
 
 "Tell me of him! Of Mateo; have you heard, my master?" 
 She approached him closely as she made the inquiry, and bent 
 
 Jier face forward, almost touching his own. Her words, earnestly 
 
NEFARIOUS PROJECTS. 83 
 
 and imjT -poken, were yet in such subdued accents as 
 
 barely to be audible to his ears. 
 
 "II. b \- : in the mountain fastnesses, and at the head of a 
 formidable band. I have sent to him by a special messes 
 I have M-iit him ni( 
 
 Thanks, my master, thanks! But have you got his pardon 
 from the adelantadof 
 
 "Not yet ! Hut if we ean g< -t the-e Portuguese knights fairly 
 pledge.! for Florida. 1 -haii BOCOeed withSoto, or failing with him, 
 shall do M> wiih IWia Isabella when he is departed." 
 
 "You will not go with the expedition?" 
 
 " Until this night, I had iv-olved upon it. Now, my resolution 
 is half taken the other way. There is too much to care for here. 
 i mii-t sec to her!" 
 
 "Happ\! She! 1 muttered the woman: "Ha! ha! 
 1 am living here for nothing. A- if I had no memory to make 
 -ul !" 
 
 " Drink, Anita." 
 
 The hag willingly obeyed. The instincts of black and red man, 
 combined within her, made it ea<y to comply with such an order. 
 Vi lien >\\e had finished, her eyes glittering with a moist white 
 her companion said 
 
 Ami JIMW watch! She must eat and drink. If she will not 
 as you provide, put tiling- in her way to tempt her. I.< 
 closets open to her search, only prepare what ye put there. In 
 crease the do 
 
 " It will kill her, if she eats or drinks. But what then ? Let 
 
 The light redden* in the vindictive woman s eye. 
 
 Don Balthazar regarded ln-r coldly and (juietly for a mon. 
 then, as if inditfcriTitly, remarked 
 
 "No! not yet not that! it might peril everything it might 
 subject us to " 
 
 The woman approached him <ortly } and, with a significant lift 
 ing of tho linger, said, whimperingly 
 
 tt No fear of that. I have a potion which shall so silently steal 
 
84 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 Into the brain, that none shall suspect. It will leave no foot 
 print, no finger-inarks, no blood, no blackness, no sign behind 
 it, yet will it seize upon the life as surely and as suddenly, as if 
 the dagger had been driven right into the close places of the 
 heart. Say but the word " 
 
 The dark-souled man shuddered, as he heard, and saw the 
 fierce, eager, intense glare of the speaker s eyes. lie said hur 
 riedly 
 
 " No ! Anita ! no ! I will not that. I will that she should 
 live live yes ! the time is not yet come !" 
 
 "It is as you say ! Yet had I not forborne to give her this 
 poison, but that thou hadst in thy power a more terrible death ! 
 I had rather thou shouldst slay her thou, of her own blood: 
 and I saw thee do it." 
 
 "I slay her, Anita ! Thou art mad ! I tell thee, I would not 
 touch her life, for the world, if " 
 
 " Ay, if, if she saves thee not the danger and the trouble. But 
 it was the life of the heart and the hope, and the woman that I 
 beheld thee bent to slay, and thy poison was so much more fatal 
 than mine ! Ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 " Oh ! get thee hence, Anita ! The wine begins to work in thee. 
 But help thyself to another goblet, and to sleep now. Thy watch 
 has been a weary one." 
 
 The woman yawned at the suggestion, filled the gol.let, drank, 
 and was about to retire without a word, when she seemed to re 
 collect, and again spoke, as usual, in those low, subdued tones, 
 which, when employed to utter passionate language, are so sin 
 gularly impressive. 
 
 " Do not forget Mateo ! let me see him once more bring him 
 to me and I will drug for thee a thousand lives !" 
 
 Balthazar took her hand and wrung it warmly, nodded his head 
 affirmatively, but said nothing. The woman went away, without 
 obeisance or farther nod. 
 
 " Well, let the worst COMIC!" muttered the Senor, after she 
 had departed, "and Anita has her own remedies. If it cannot 
 be otherwise, let her use the potion. She can burn afterwards to 
 
AN ANTIDOTE FOR LOVE. 86 
 
 prove me guiltless. But the time is not yet not yet May it 
 r be. I would escape that necessity, if I can !" 
 
 He seated himself, folded some strips of the fumous Cuban 
 together, and lighted an extempore cigar, and still he solilo- 
 Balthazar de Alvaro was a cold, unscrupulous villain , 
 hut though his thoughts ran upon crime, it would be an bynstfoe 
 lo him now to suppose them dictated by hatred. It was not from 
 my sentiment of hostility that he pursued his victim, as his Ian 
 guage fully testified. 
 
 " It may kill her ; true ! What then ? It will not hurt her ; 
 nay, it will help. It will save her. The quality of her offence 
 is not such as will bring down punishment upon her head : and 
 the wrong she sutlers may well atone for that which she has done. 
 If heaven be no fable, she is more worthy of its pity than ita 
 loathing ; and if hell be not a dream of the priesthood, as J deem 
 it, then my tate must assure her of a full revenge! Let these be 
 her consolation. At all events, I must seek mine own safety. She 
 must die, if needful to secure this ! yet, we may escape this ne- 
 OMrftj. If we can chain her tongue, my fears perish; and if my 
 fears perish, she may live. Time will show. I must have time. 
 Let this old hag but prove faithful, and all may yet go well. 
 These Portuguese knights disappear with the expedition. I must 
 see to that. I must move Soto to show better favor to this 
 Philip de Vasconselos than he hath yet done. He must encour 
 age him ; must give him some distinctions some command and 
 win him fr-.m the paths of love, by opening Letter glimpses to 
 tho-e of ambition." 
 
 But we nerd not pur>ue the meditations of the subtle and "ndd 
 criminal who sit- and muses before us. They conduct us no tar 
 ther in pursuit of the clues which are already in >ur grasp. 
 
CHAPTER Vil. 
 
 * ftr, in my heart there was a kind of fighting 
 That would not let me sleep .... Rashly 
 And praised be rashness for it ! I,ot us know, 
 Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, 
 When our deep plots do pall ; and that should teach us 
 There s a divinity that shapes our ends, 
 Rough hew them how we will." HAMLBT. 
 
 THE moment that Olivia reached her own chamber, she threw 
 herself prostrate before a fine portrait of the Virgin that hung 
 against the wall of the apartment. She uttered no prayer, no 
 sob, no sound ; shed no~tear ; gave no outward sign, beyond her 
 prostration, of the object of her quest, or of the agony that 
 preyed upon her ; asked not, in language, for the peace and se 
 curity which she sought, but lay at length, her humility and grief 
 apparent only hi the one action, as if with the conviction that 
 all her woes were known ; her contrition ; the shame from which 
 she suffered ; the faint hope which she dared not encourage ; the 
 fond passion, which she felt to be pure as grateful, but which her 
 conscience bade her not to entertain. She did not once look up 
 to the benign and blessing features of that Mother of Love and 
 Mercy, whose eyes, she yet felt, were looking sweetly and ten 
 derly down, even into the secret recesses of her own full and 
 bursting heart. And thus she lay, prone, motionless, as if her 
 life and breathing had ceased in the utter prostration of her hop< 
 and person. 
 
 There is something very touching in the spectacle of a person 
 totally ignorant of religion as a subject of thought and examina 
 tion, who yet welcomes it as a faith ; who believes with sponta 
 neous consent; who receives it as a mystery; seeks not to ana 
 lyze or solve it ; prefers it, indeed, as a mystery, and confides. 
 
 H 
 
OLIVIA S FAITH. 87 
 
 without misgiving, to all its promises! Though wealthy, and 
 of high birth and connections, Olivia de Alvaro was as little 
 versed in the doctrines of the theologian, as the simplest peasant 
 of the country. She knew not that there was anything needing 
 to be understood. She simply frit. Her faith, as perhaps U tin- 
 case always with the most pure of heart, was based wholly on the 
 sympathies, and a natural sense of weakness. It was a thing of 
 instinct, not of thought, and it reached her through a sensuous 
 medium. Better, indeed, as it was so. Doubting her strength. 
 her safety, and the good faith of those around her. she had no 
 doubt as to whom only and certainly, she could turn for refuse. 
 We may smile at her securities; we may hold her choice of the 
 medium of communication with Deity, to be a mistaken one; 
 but her confidence is unimpaired; and regarding the object sought 
 only peace of mind relianceconfidence; the end was quite 
 to the full attained, in her case, as if the visible Saviour of man 
 kind stood before her. Nor are we permitted to doubt that the 
 benevolence of God accepts any medium of communication, with 
 himself, which a pure faith, however mistaken, may honestly 
 adopt. To suppose otherwise, would be to accuse his justi< . 
 making feebleness and ignorance objects of punishment, equally 
 with offence and guilt. 
 
 Suddenly, while Olivia still lay in this position, the d< 
 her chamber opened; and a person entered a ^irl >f >i\!,--n or 
 eighteen a mulatto, who had been evidently ju^t an.iiM-d from 
 her slumber-. She came in yawning; her tare vacant, her . 
 still heavy with sleep. Her features were of a ><.rt to -how 
 sleep was not necessary to impair her intelligence. They v. 
 coarse and meaningless. She was one of tho-e mulatto,^. j n 
 whom the more slugiri>h characteristics of the ne^ro race [in- 
 dominated over all others: and united, in ^ingulai he 
 qualities of cunning, with an excessive stolidity. Olivia r 
 at her approach, seated herself upon a little settle, and loo 
 up into the face of tin mulatto with eyes of inquiry, if 
 hope. The suggestion oeeunvd fo her for a moment -(an 1 
 possibly make use of this creature? Is she capable of the 
 
88 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 degree of faith and sympathy which I need in my present 
 strait]" The inquiry was a natural one. Every young damsel 
 inclines to put trust in her waiting maid, and in this relation 
 Juana stood to her mistress. But the latter had too long had 
 experience of the characteristics of the maid-servant. She 
 was not ignorant of her cunning, but she had good reason to 
 believe that this was all pledged to the service of her uncle, 
 through the medium of the old hag Anita, who was the grand 
 mother of the girl. As for her affections and sympathies, these 
 Olivia had never yet been able to awaken. She had been indul 
 gent and considerate ; had bestowed her gifts freely, but beyond 
 the single moment in which they were bestowed, she had no 
 proof that the benefit was remembered with gratitude. The 
 blank, indifferent, stolid features which she surveyed were full of 
 discouragement, and after a brief examination of them, the un 
 happy damsel, with a sigh, averted her eyes, abandoned her pur 
 pose of solicitation if she had entertained any and submitted 
 to be disrobed in profound silence. The girl was not disposed to 
 break this silence. She performed her task drowsily. It was 
 not a protracted one: and this done, she retired for the night, 
 leaving her mistress alone, once more, to commune with her 
 own sorrows. 
 
 " There is no hope !" she exclaimed, mournfully, sitting in her 
 night dress where the maid had left her, her hands folded upon 
 her lap, and her moist eyes looking vacantly up at the Virgin 
 with an expression of the most woeful self-abandonment. 
 
 " Yet why should I hope ! What is there to hope ? What 
 have I to live for? The light is gone, the love ! I dare not 
 love. It is criminal to love. It is now criminal to live ! Yet, 
 Mother of Mercy, I dare not think of death. I cannot die ! I 
 would not. Yet, it is not because I fear ! Oh no ! Yet, if it be 
 not fear, can it be hope that makes me unwilling? Oh! weak 
 and miserable sinner that I am, am I dream to unite the fate of 
 any brave cavalier with mine? Shall I glide like a serpent into 
 the bosom of so noble and gentle a knight as Philip de Vasconse- 
 los, and beguile him into love for so base a thing as I I that live 
 
TlIK CONFLICT. 89 
 
 a lie to God and a loathing to myself! Shall I who know all 
 
 "iat I am and who hate my own knowledge shall I delude 
 sueh as In- in?" a faith that I am worthy of his embrace and 
 Ala*! if love alone could make me worthy, then were it not 
 imsermly that I should do so. Oh! I could requite his j 
 with a fervor and a truth that should leave him nothing to re- 
 ;md nothing to regret! To grow to him to cling to 
 :iim forever to pass into his very heart to drink life and joy 
 
 fn.m his lips! what a dream of happiness! Oh! why 
 lo I eheri-h this drvam ? Am I ba-e enough to hope, or to toil 
 
 fulfilment ? Can I do so great a wrong to so noble 
 il-rnan? Down, foolish thought ! Hi- still! What is the wrong ? 
 1 I -iot I..ve him ? Will I not love him trulv a< in-v.-r v.-t was 
 A night beloved by woman ! Knw> he aught will he ever knw 
 
 f what hath happM to me? will it lessen his trust or mv 
 Idelity . Who dare -peak who reveal the terri: not 
 
 ie my unele my fate! my eternal eii- inv! wh<m Marv. 
 
 3iiithT. take the wild thought from me! whom I -mii-times 
 J-el it in my heart to slay, even while he sleeps upon his couch 
 .ind.-r the noonday 1. 
 
 And. vpraking thus passionately, she threw her more 
 
 the pi. -lure of the Virgin, whom ^he invoked, a* with the 
 
 . to silence her tumultuous pa^ions. But the 
 
 : not hers. Her -<>ul WM in 
 
 too \vi!d a caifliet to l>e sul.dued to quiet, unless by a miracle of 
 Other reMODfl I .r this <-.,nfliet and thi- weak- 
 lie^. Tli,. unhappy L r irl was really feeble, and in want 
 tenanee. W, h.t\, 1,, ;,nl it intimated that she probably 
 taiin-d su-pieions with n-ganl to the food - !I.T. Such 
 
 ^hr n. .w fl i was dr:: 
 
 h knew with what eriiel object. She left miieh of it un- 
 ta-trd. pating "iily in the n-ve^jt y of lif. . oi.ling all those 
 
 with whieh she had rOMOfl to } 
 
 to be mixed, II- T eauti.n and : .-e had not always a 
 
 for her , ,1 by the dex 
 
 terous agent employed in drugging it, that the drug had been in- 
 
90 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 troduced into fruits even, the integrity of which one would sup 
 pose could not be invaded unless by some external proofs being 
 apparent. In this way only could she account for the dream v 
 and prostrating moods which she had occasionally felt during the 
 day. Here, then, was a young woman, of high birth, proud con 
 nections, and ample fortune, an unsuspected prisoner in her own 
 dwelling, denied, virtually, the necessary aliment of life. Truly 
 the case was a pitiable one ! Olivia de Alvaro, sustained during 
 all the scenes in which we have beheld her, chiefly by the inten> 
 ity of her excitements, was now near to fainting from absolute 
 want of food. 
 
 The cravings of nature were not to be withstood. She rose 
 from her prostrate position ; seizing her lamp, which she shaded 
 iiarefully with a handkerchief on all sides but one, she cautiously 
 opened the door of her chamber and entered upon the j 
 which, more or less directly, conducted to almost every apart- 
 ment in the house. Adjoining her own was a small room, 
 not much more than a closet, which had been assigned to the 
 waiting maid Juana. Into this she looked boldly ; intending, if 
 the girl were yet awake, to speak to her of some object, any 
 but that which she really had in view. But the girl. 
 pected, from a previous knowledge of her habits, already slept 
 profoundly. She closed the door cautiously behind her, and, 
 with feet set down carefully, she stole along the passage leading 
 to the opposite quarter of the house. The passage, at a en-tain 
 point, divided, one arm conducting to the apartment of Don Bal- 
 tha/ar, the other to guest-chambers ; opposite to the-e was ; i saloon 
 which was usually employed in the colder seasons of the year. 
 Tlie stairway, terminating the passage, led below to servants 
 n-iits, kitchen, and store-rooms, and constituted, in particu 
 lar, the province over which Anita presided. Hither were the 
 ps of Olivia directed; but when she readied the place 
 h -:c he passage divided her own lamp bci led sho 
 
 j .iiiht a glimpse of a light st vamiiw from Luieaih the door of 
 .iij 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS. 91 
 
 from thi- quarter. \Vh Who hut her 
 
 eruel r uncle tlh- man who had al>u<ed hi 
 
 made the \ if Mood ti t.y which them 
 
 all, who lint lu- and the ma . re*tUT whom 
 
 feared . the unnatural a ILT of w hieh had na- 
 
 ; any i.f h.-r in- 1 ami OOB 
 
 i what ^houl.l he tli" Mihjrrt of ih-ir li- 
 iu- imt tlk-ir victim ? \V.-r- th. \ QCK BT6E ti; 
 
 > rilVlllMVrllt h(T illtl 
 
 subtlu- ii-- f.Miiil not think nf l.iit with 
 
 horror iVrhaj^ >h- may hi-ar what tin . 
 
 ,ay It-am thri; .:id find a nu-ai. 
 
 Olivia diil nut si;tl<T any di.nl.t- nf j-roj-rirty to jn -\.-nt ht-r 
 
 fathm tlu-ir II; ; : 
 
 fully ju>tifu-d l.y h.T situation. Shr -t-t down IHT lamp at an 
 
 :vd it with tli- : th.-n 
 
 stoh- forward to tin- door of tin- rlnmlirr which held the con-,f,ir- 
 ThroiiLrh a - ni. in that 
 
 ivr little Ih cd to jini>h 
 
 itline (^ her two enemies, Thc\ vrere botli nd tlu- 
 
 up was U-foiv tlu-m. ! : \ . Imt 
 
 
 
 ; at intervals. \\Y hav- 1- 
 
 :. Hut ^h<- coi. 
 
 . held up to I)" 
 
 containing lu-r dniii. in 01 him th- do<e whi-h 
 
 -h- u- sa!!;. i upon h phial 
 
 and th 
 
 :1 fl-inu-il up I 
 h<-r h -art. whi-h nearly drove the unuttercd our 
 
 
 
 firm. - al restoi 
 
 of th imd it impossihle to hear 
 
 what iirncd to hiT ; and, 
 
 rom the door, 
 
92 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 resumed her lamp, and proceeded by the little flight which con 
 ducted below, to the apartments in the rear, which were assigned 
 especially to Anita. These were easily accessible; Anita never 
 suspecting any visitor, and least of all the one in question, during 
 her absence. Here, the poor girl, after curiously surveying the 
 region into which she had not before often penetrated, began her 
 search after food. She reasonably supposed that any provisions 
 which she should find in these precincts would be found uiulrug 
 ged. There was a basket of cakes, such as had never been 
 brought to her; of these she gathered a small number, taking 
 care so to select them as not to disturb the general appearance 
 of the pile. She found some " cold baked meats/ also some 
 fragments of a bird-pie, and other matters of the same sort, such 
 as had not been displayed among the cates usually provided for 
 her. Anita, it was apparent, was by no means regardless of her 
 own appetites. She had a taste for nice filings, and, like most 
 persons of inferior race, was in the possession of an enormous 
 appetite. Olivia fed freely while storing her spoils away in a lit- 
 tie basket which she had appropriated from a collection in the 
 closet of the crone. With the basket in one hand and her little 
 half-shaded lamp in the other, she prepared to effect her return to 
 her own chamber; but hardly had she emerged from the old 
 woman s apartments, when she heard the. shuffling of feet upon 
 the stair-flight, while a suppressed cough attested the approach 
 of the verv person upon whose domain she had been tiv-pa->inir. 
 Here was a dilemma. To say that she had any fears, in the 
 event of discover, would be alurd. The domain was hers. 
 The food which she had seemed to pilfer was, in faet, the proceeds 
 of her own estates Hut the action would have betrayed her se 
 cret suspicions, which it was her policy for the present to conceal, 
 and would only prompt her enemies to rosorl to new sch. 
 which it might not be possible for her to detect and o\erthr..\v 
 
 With the bitter feelings of her soul duly in&eased with the neoesjtv 
 
 which she now felt of concealment unto these circumstances, Olivia 
 rilently receded alongthe path she had come. Still the shuffling of tlw 
 
 old woman s feet was heard, the cough increased in frequency 
 
THE HIDING PLACE. 93 
 
 and force. There was but one course for the unhappy girl, and 
 that was to hide herself in the very chamber of the enemy ; if, 
 indeed, this were p068il , Fortunately, her >tr 
 the emergency. Her mind became clearer under the pr< 
 indignant feelings gave her resolution, and she steppe, i 
 firmly to the tabooed region, as quiekly as -he might with 
 and there looked about her for a place of r< : 
 
 She was not long in resolving upon a spot in whi h to shroud 
 
 : . The chamber was one of ample dimensions, and it had 
 
 two spacious olOBeta, But Olivia was prudently apprehensive 
 
 that the old woman might look into these; -he OUl about f.r a 
 
 place of better promise. Anita had the negro faculty <: 
 
 mulation in high degree. To tho<e wlio know anything of the 
 
 habits of this race of people, it will readily be conjectured that 
 
 ri in such a situation as that which -h and of her 
 
 ithered about her an infinite tr- 
 possessions of the whites. Her r 
 
 crowded witli old clothes as the warehouse <>f a London . 
 man. They hiiim about the walls; they lay upon the chair- ; 
 
 i-p<-nded upon lin, - the room obii<jue!\ 
 
 a huge wooden ! rtion of o 
 
 d with tin-in. Behind this convenient bulk 
 
 Olivia- 1 in -hroudinu her-e!f a fe\\ re tlie 
 
 light which tlie withered cron.- -arri. d b.-jan to glimmer in the 
 chamber. Her- bivathiiiir. -he cn-)n-hel. \\ith all the 
 
 patience and re-olution \\ hi.-h -h-- ill OOmmai 
 moment when the hag -h"iild -1. .-p. in order to .. 
 cape. r rhe interval was Millicii-nt . and tr\; 
 
 and pati. i\> . liad many things to d. and >h 
 
 with her the remnant . .f ihe ; 
 7.iir and herself lia-1 been d: ii 
 ity wh-n a 
 
 Finall -fully 
 
 I*. in al: 
 forraances, the poor girl behind the clothes-horse was k 
 
94 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 continual apprehension. Several times the old hag approached 
 the ]>l:uv of her concealment. Once she absolutely proceeded 
 to take from it some of its articles of bed-furniture ; to dispose 
 of cloaks and shawls, and rearrange the disordered drapery. 
 Olivia, all the while, eowcring and crouching like a guilty person, 
 dreading to be diseovered and haled into the light. But she es 
 caped ; the crone receded to other parts of the room, having, it 
 would seem, a variety of domestic cares, separate from those 
 which concerned the young lady and the Don, her uncle. Mean 
 while, the damsel watched all her proceedings with no small in- 
 terest With careful finger, she made for herself an aperture be 
 tween the massed garments upon the horse, through which sh.- 
 could behold all that took place within the chamber. And it was 
 with momently increasing interest that she saw what numerous 
 cares occupied the soul of that old woman, momently hovering 
 over the \vrv verge of existence. How she had accumulated ; 
 with what method she examined and arranged ; with what caution 
 she put away ; with what heed she counted and reviewed her 
 treasures, a< if -he was required to provide for a thousand years. 
 Olivia was confounded at the extent and sort of possessions which 
 he aged crone could show; the constant spoliations of a long life. 
 There wen- chests and boxes, all of which she opened and ex 
 amined, lifling to the light, and surveying some of the contents, 
 with the same gratification, no doubt, which she felt when she had 
 first pilled them from the noble lord or lady whom she served, her 
 master or their guests. Olivia beheld little trinkets there lifted 
 up to sight, which she herself might claim. She recognized 
 .. hers, which had been the property of friends. These were all 
 commontv a-soeiated with treasures of quite another character. 
 Amonu r the p,,sxrsH.>n- of Anitatherc was quite an armory. There 
 were hauberk, and helm, and lance-head, and da^er, and silver 
 spur, and Nra-s. and gorget, and coat-of-mail, and ecanjil of cot- 
 ton. and bright tar!/ of polished steel. But we forbear the cat 
 alogue. Knoiii:h that this acquisitiveness of Anita had been for 
 ..ixtv years without restraint, exercised in a variety of situations, 
 und of larg - opportunities, and that she had been as successful in 
 
ANITA S COUCHER. 95 
 
 eoncealing as she wa- avid in securing her spoil. Her treasures 
 thus acquired, included fruits and spices, silks and satins, rare 
 velvets, tilluny and lawn. jellies and ftyropc, tinct with rose and 
 cinnamon, fresh fn.in S ;U i arcami ai.d Ind. She had money, too, 
 in considerable store, and into the slit of a box in one of her 
 chests sin- dropped a newly-gotten east ellano, probably the gift 
 of Don Balthazar that vcrv night. 
 
 Olivia now began to grow weary of her watch, which had yet 
 proved so in^tnu -live. Her anxi.-tios and apprehensions, as well 
 as weariness, promised, however, soon to be relieved. The 
 crone began to di-robe herself for the night. This perform v 
 but for a single circumstance, would have been totally without 
 interest to the spectator. But, one of the first necessities of 
 Anita, after stripping off her outer garments, was to take from her 
 bo^om the little phial which Olivia had seen her exhibit to her 
 uncle. This she placed upon the table, \\here it labelled the eye 
 of the damsel, and held it with a singular fascination. In that 
 phial lay her fate! That was the potent spell which had so 
 chained her MD868, until - - but the thought almost 
 her, and it was with diftieulty that she restrained : V om 
 
 rushing forth, and giving utterance to her wild passion in the 
 wildest phrensies <>f speech and action. With a strenu. i.^ . v r- 
 lion of her will only, did she forbear; and, still keeping 
 upon the phial. sl u . continued in her place of watch in quiet. 
 
 ita had assumed her night -dr.--. Thi, done, 
 
 iddreOM I hor-elf to her She, too, could pray ; but 
 
 not the pra\er of igony, and I She 
 
 1 a habit, which but too commonlv the 
 
 -able wretob D ,nty. But her 
 
 r <iitrieii-nt!y sarMaetory. r \ \ .ithasortof 
 
 sheth.-r lelf-ir !!,.,! n..t inquire. 
 
 !ing ri.-fore a little ima^f of the .lying Christ, sh-- 
 
 his iucrc\ ; th.-n craw!-d on her hands ;i nd knees, without rising 
 
 as the ro<>m to her couch. and 
 
 oply raised herself that she might make her | bed 
 
96 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 No doubt her conscience was quite satisfied with the Deity whica 
 made her toils no weightier. 
 
 The soul of Olivia was in great agitation. Fettered in a con 
 strained position, anxiously dreading and expecting discovery, ex 
 cited by what she had seen, and moved by a purpose which she 
 had not yet declared to herself, and which was still working in 
 her thought, she was yet compelled to remain quiet until 
 the old woman slept. Now, age does not sleep easily, or very 
 soundly : and it was a long time still, before Olivia could be 
 sure of the proof which taught her that Anita could no longer 
 hear and see. At length, persuaded that she might venture out 
 with safety, she did so. The light in the apartment guided her 
 movements. She approached the bed, and surveyed the sleeper 
 with curiosity. The withered features, though composed in the 
 calm of sleep, still seemed to wear, in the eyes of the damsel, the 
 expression of that malignant hatred with which she felt sure 
 that Anita had always regarded her. She, herself, looked upon 
 the sleeper with features of indignant loathing. She turned away 
 quickly and proceeded to the table. The vague suggestion 
 which had been working. in her mind had grown into a resolu 
 tion. She seized the phial, whose mysterious powers she be 
 lieved herself to have felt, and without hesitation poured a por 
 tion of its contents into the wine-flask. There were still several 
 draughts of the liquor in it ; she knew the old woman s appetite 
 for the juices of the grape, and pleased herself with the idea that 
 she would drink, and sleep ; such a sleep as hud }een so often 
 imposed upon her own senses, and to such cruel results. In that 
 sleep of twenty -four hours for siu-h was the term which Olivia 
 <-d in the action of the potion she, herself, would enjoy a 
 measure of liberty which had been long unknown. She would 
 tli. -n explore the household, and provide herself so mode.ra^ 
 wa* her calculation such a sufficient supply of proper food. 
 
 from the stores of the housekeeper, :is Would keep her, for a 
 
 vhile, uL lea.-.t, free from the necessity of partaking of her dosed 
 Having executed her purpose, there was no longer 3 
 
THE DREAM. 97 
 
 motive v o remain, at the risk of detection, and seizing upon her 
 basket ami lamp, she. di>appcared in safety. The clasp of the 
 door yielded, and * <! without noise ; the pMttge prove, I 
 
 ; the light nad disaj.jH are.1 from l.nieath tin- d.r <>f h.-r 
 unele; and Olivia regained her cfi.inil.rr without riiil.ai-ravv,, u -nt. 
 Hrre she procer.K-d to satisfy h.-r hunger, in some degree, MJ.OJI 
 the eates of whirh she pOWOSSed benelf Ki.r ;h- remnind.T 
 she sought a hiding-place, which she- suppose,! to l,e uiiMi.pcctc.l. 
 These put away, the poor girl threw herself once mori 
 tne image of the Virgin, in prayer. She could pray. 
 
 wfcHtt >f suffering, hut n.t of guilt ; and. a* sl u . l<,,,ked 
 up. she fimcii-d tliat the picture smiled upon her. Tpori this 
 smile she slept and dreamed pleasantly; and, in her drear-., be- 
 held the image of Philip de Va-con-M-l..^ ..ecupvini: the place of 
 the Virgin, .and looking iown upon her with even more loving 
 sweetness. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 "Oh, detU I Oh, aguardj t . . A gran pena repiglw 
 I senai iiin-i. Che mai diu egli ? Avrebbe 
 Forae il niio anior ? . . . Ma, no ! Racchiuso ttammi 
 Nel piu addentro del core." ALFIKRI. FIUPPO. 
 
 THUS dreaming, the sleep of Olivia de Alvaro was fortunate!) 
 a protracted one. Nature, thus, asserts for herself some happy 
 hours, even in a life which is one of unfailing sorrows. She slept 
 late. In- the meantime, the girl Juana had been several times in 
 her chamber. Her movements finally awakened the sleeper, who 
 found that the da) had considerably advanced. The morning re 
 past was already awaiting her. She arose, and her toilet was as 
 sisted by the girl in waiting. This performed, Olivia dismissed 
 her, preferring to take her breakfast alone. A. portion of this 
 she hurriedly put from sight, to be thrown a>vay, or otherwise 
 disposed of, at a fitting opportunity. Meanwhile, she pacified her 
 appetite by a free use of the eates which she had appropriated 
 from the stores of the old woman. A more buoyant feeling pre 
 vailed in her bosom, the natural effect of the temporary security 
 which she felt. She had found a respite had gained time whirh, 
 in the case of youth, is always felt to be a gaJn of importance. 
 At all events, she was for so many hours safe, so she thought, from 
 the dangers of that drugging influence wlii <!, for a long time, hail 
 been sapping her strength, and placing her completely at the 
 mercy of those who had so terribly abused their advantages and 
 power. Juana reappeared, removed the breakfast things, and 
 proceeded to her household duties. Olivia, all this while, saw 
 nothing of her uncle ; and finally ascertained that he had left the 
 dwelling at an early hour for the city. Her hope was, that, as 
 was usually the case, she would see no more of him during the 
 
A VISITOR EXPK(TKI). 99 
 
 from his presence was now always a source of 
 relief to her. Whether she thought more favorably of the pres- 
 :!iothcr we may conjecture only ; but we may mention 
 tlu: BOOH ^lu- proe.-rded to make JUT toilet anew, and 
 
 .ingly with some regard to visitors. 1 1. r div was carefully 
 .refully adjusted. She wore a rich necklace of 
 pear!-; and a bandeau of pearls eiieireled her forehead, twined 
 tastefully in with the dark trcssrs of her ^\ t ,^\ hair. She wa>, 
 nmidt all her grief, as the Greek poet describes Klectra in her 
 im Miming, who clipt only the "extremity of her lock-." "heedful 
 <f beauty, the same woman still !* Alas, Olivia de Alvaro was 
 still a ehild imly, scarcely more than seventeen. (Iricf. and a 
 terribly depre irg sense of shame, had done much towards ma 
 turing her passion^. I>nt she had enjoyed too little communion 
 with the world to have done much towards maturing her intel 
 lect. She felt shame and sorrow, but she felt love also; and 
 girlh<d wa- Mill strong within her; and hope was not wholly 
 cm-he. 1 within her heart. Vet. even while she habited her per 
 son a< if with an eye to charm, -lie was troubled with misgiv- 
 -u< -li as. more than oner, caused her to droop and sadden, 
 and finally sink down upon her couch, and give wav to a full flood 
 of What right had she to hop,-; what hope to be hap 
 
 py ; h .v, pre-ume to dream of tin- precious affections of another, 
 when these <uld he. given with tin- presumption only that she 
 fully deserving of them all! The vi ry truthfulness of her 
 own passion prompted this juM coji-idera ion of what was due to 
 the affections ,f an.:h.-r. Hut youth and girlhood, and her own 
 ial!y triumphed. 8 i:uid>t her tears. She com- 
 
 1 her to; -.and arrayed her jew- 
 
 iMjUext. \\\\y should she not love, and loving, \\liv not 
 hope ? \\ .1- not her love sufficiently warm, her soul sufficiently 
 -to render Philip de Va- on^i-Ios happv ? Slu 1 nud, it 
 lii<-h it would be fatal to her hope were he to 
 v ; but how should lie . \-cr kn-w And. M Q! Bfoased Vir- 
 -he exclaimed, lookini: up at the benign mother, "am I to 
 peri -h for the cruel deeds, th,- guilty passions of another!" 
 
100 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 It was not difficult, though the subject of a long, secret strug 
 gle in her own soul, to reconcile herself to a conviction which 
 promised her the happiness which she desired. Her passion 
 proved too strong for her conscientiousness, and her reasons 
 readily gave themselves, as they but too commonly do, to the 
 requisitions of the former. Her philosophy is probably that of 
 thousands in like situations. The fond heart of woman is too 
 much dependent for its life on the affections, not to be easily 
 persuaded by an argument which sustains the cause of the latter. 
 The love which Olivia felt for Philip de Vasconselos was too 
 precious to her soul to yield in such a struggle ; and the result 
 was, that she determined, though with shuddering and trembling, 
 slmuld he offer her his hand, to subdue her fears, her sense of 
 justice, all scruples of whatever sort, and accept the blessing 
 which her heart craved as its very breath of life. What could 
 her uncle do 1 What could he dare ? The word from his lips 
 that would blast her, would seal his own ruin and disgrace for 
 ever ! She would be true to Philip, as true as woman ever yet 
 was to man ; he would protect her from all abuse and outrage 
 would rescue her from the hostile power from which she had 
 most reason to fear both ; and in the pure devotion of the future, 
 might she not hope to repair the misfortunes of the past in which 
 she could conscientiously affirm, that, however much she might 
 have been the victim of the guilty, she had never been wittingly 
 the participator in his crime ? 
 
 Soothed, if not wholly satisfied, assured in some degree, by the 
 solacing sort of argument through which her mind had past, Olivia 
 proceeded to the latticed verandah, and from thence descended 
 into the shrubbery. Ah! the innocent flower ! ah! the uncon 
 scious bloom, and the unsuspected blossom ! How they appealed 
 t<> her! and whispered such whispers as made her turn away 
 from them with averted head, while upon her pale cheek there 
 miirht have been seen a flush as deep and vivid as a warm sun 
 set in a hi."nid sky. She returned to the verandah, closing its 
 lattices, letting down its curtains, and shutting out the sharper 
 glances of the day. Then she threw herself upon the settee of 
 
A VISITOR. 101 
 
 wicker-work and cane, ami covered her sad eyes with her hands 
 
 in ;i sorrowful meditation. Leaving her thus abstracted for 
 awhile, let us proceed to other par- 
 Thai morning, Philip <le Ya-conselo-. had eaten his humble 
 meal alone, and in >ilence. Andres^ nt ; whither he 
 
 knew not, and the younger brother was of a temper, and just 
 now in such a mood, that it was only a safe policy in the elder, 
 not to semi too curious in any of his affairs. Philip, though 
 naturally and humanely troubled about the fate of Andres, 
 sympathi/ing with him very sincerely in his disappointments, 
 t too human to be deeply grieved by the one misfortune 
 : all which his brother felt, in the denial of his mistress. 
 It would not, indeed, have been |uite in nature, not to have felt 
 his own h -pe-; revive pleasurably at the knowledge. IK- was 
 con-eious of an exulting feeling in his bosom, accordingly; 
 whieh. knowing its source, he labored, though unsuccessfully, to 
 school and to rebuke. But this labor did not prevent him from 
 making his toilet that morning with extreme care, and resolving 
 to visit the lair Olivia. In this purpose he was seconded by the 
 counsels of the gay gallant Nmio de Tobar. who suddenly broke 
 in upon him. and finding him alone, gave free vent to his encour- 
 iigem.-nis. v. he 100 had heard of the defeat of Andres, 
 
 and he urired it as one of the >iu p n: in favor of his friend. But 
 Philip shook his h--ad gravely. He valued the Lady Olivia too 
 highly t- fancy that >he would be easy of attainment. His pas- 
 >ion wa- too earnest, not to prompt him to a very severe ques 
 tioning of his own nn-rits. and to this etl eet was his reply to 
 Tobar. But th" latter loudly denounced hi- . modesty, 
 
 ftp.il urged a thousand i n>.,N. , . to his own audacious 
 
 f-.r the eneom-agemeiit of his friend. In the end, they 
 
 her to the dwelling < f the lady. 
 
 In the meanwhile, her uiiele had suddenly made his appear- 
 ance. bringing with him another visitor. This was a gaily dress- 
 ed eavalier, sufficiently comely of person, and smooth of face, 
 to be satisfied with himself; but who possessed few distinguish 
 ing traits by which to compel attention or respect Still, if 
 
102 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 Olivia \* as to wed with any body, this was the person whom her 
 uncle was most pleased to tolerate. He may have had special 
 reasons for this preference. Such, at least, was the belief of 
 Olivia, to whom Don Balthazar had more than once spoken on 
 the subject. He himself frequently afforded to the young gal 
 lant the means of being with his niece in private. Don Angus- 
 tin de Sinolar was one of the passable gentlemen that go to make 
 up what is called good society. He came of respectable family, 
 enjoyed respectable possessions, obeyed the usual laws of fashion 
 and never trespassed upon the proprieties of the circle. He was 
 confident of speech, and was always in possession of the latest 
 intelligence which could please the persons present by dispar 
 aging the absent. He was no less devotedly the lover of Olivi/ 
 than were the brothers Vasconselos that is, so far as concerned 
 the externals of devotion. But the essentials of an earnest pas 
 sion, of any sort, were not within the nature of De Sinolar. 
 He was of marriageable years and person, ami an establishment 
 was necessary to his position, a wife was necessary to his es 
 tablishment, and he required rank as a first condition in the dam 
 sel he should espouse. Other requisites were wholly subordinate, 
 The ordinary secret of this ordinary gentleman, who, even in the 
 workings of his passions, obeys rigidly a conventional arrange 
 ment, was that which made his policy ;and to do $he agreeable to 
 his mistress, as a carpet knight, was the extent of his perform 
 ance in the effort to secure favor. Had Olivia been of a like 
 temper, De Sinolar would have proved a formidable rival to 
 either of the Portuguese brothers. The small graces of society, 
 the tea-table heroics, were in the possession of neither. Philip 
 de Vasconselos was particularly deficient in such arts. lie was 
 of a grave, calm, reserved nature, too earnestly in love to 
 meditate his conquests by any ordinary means. He could only 
 show, as he did without his own consciousness, perhaps, how pre 
 cious in his eyes was the object of his passion. The woman of 
 ht art soon distinguishes between two such suitors, and if she deter 
 mines in favor of either, docs not hesitate long in declaring for 
 him whose earnestness is congenial with her own. It is the woman, 
 
A NEW RIVAL. [US 
 
 whose oh,iT.icur has been too feeble to withstand the coercive 
 shaping of fashion merely, who is usually caught by him who 
 is cool enough always to make himself agreeable simply as a 
 companion. 
 
 The t\v> friends found De Sinolar in possession of the ground, 
 ami eagerly displaying to the eyes of the languid Olivia a col 
 lection of silks and shawls, which he had purchased f >r the ap- 
 proaching tourney. The entrance of Don Philip ami De Tobar 
 afforded De Sinolar an opportunity of dilating to a larger audience 
 upon the excellence of his tastes in the choice of silks and 
 colors. De Tobar lent him a ready attention, the better to 
 fiord his friend the desired opportunities with Olivia. Her eye 
 was cast down, but brightened, at his approach. He was not 
 annoyed at tin- presence of the others, since it was not his pur 
 poee yet t<> approach the subject of his passion. The encouraging 
 assurances of his friend had failed as yet to prompt him BO soon 
 fo peri! his hope upon the question. He seated himself near her, 
 however, and spoke to her in those subdued tones which are so 
 grateful to the ears of lovers ; his deep, grave, almost sad glance, 
 look ing all the while, as it were, down into her heart. She caught a 
 glimpse of this look, but suffered herself only a moment s naze. 
 That moment was enough to Pemind her of her dreams bv niirht, 
 when she had seen the same sweet, sad, soliciting glances ^a/ini; 
 upon her from the place which was occupied by the picture of 
 the Virgin. The approaching departure of the expedition tor 
 Florida became naturally the subject of conversation, and afford- 
 cd a clue to DC Sinolar, which prompted him to leave for awhile 
 tins. 
 
 " Ah! yes! we shall shortly hear of your departure. Senor." 
 said he; "and yet, by the \say. I know not if I rightly includ* 
 you in the expedition. They say, Senor. that you have not yet 
 declared whether you accompany Don ITernan or not; aiJ 
 some say, a-jain, that yt>u have half resolved not to go, < an it 
 be -o? Now one should think that there could be no doubt about 
 your purpose. Else why should you come from Portugal, to 
 
104 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 the new Indies, if it were not to better fortune by conquest 
 among the savages ?" 
 
 " Unless," answered Tobar, with a laugh, " he might better 
 fortune by a conquest among the saints ;" and he looked mis- 
 ehievously at Olivia as he spoke. 
 
 De Sinolar was for a moment at fault. 
 
 " Among the saints ! I don t see. Oh ! yes ! among the 
 ladies ! Saints and angels ! yes ! well, that were certainly less 
 dangerous warfare, and one that I much prefer myself. If that 
 is the game of Don Philip, he is wiser, I am free to confess, than 
 most soldiers of my knowing. They have, methinks, precious 
 small value of ladies favors ; and show but little wisdom ac 
 cordingly. I beg you ten thousand pardons, Seiior Don Philip, 
 but I am bold to say I have regarded you as too much of the 
 warrior to give heed to beauty too fond of the tilt and spear, 
 to hold in overmuch estimation the darts from lady s eyes, and 
 the wounds they give; wounds, I say it from my soul s experience, 
 sueh as no army surgeon can be found to heal !" 
 
 Here he smote his bosom ailectedly, and looked to Olivia; 
 but her eyes were upon the floor. Even the sigh of the gallant, 
 which followed his speech, was lost upon her heedless senses. 
 They were all alive, however, the next moment, as the deep 
 tones of Vasconselos answered De Sinolar. 
 
 " You do me wrong, Don Augustin, and you do the character 
 of the noble warrior wrong, if you assume either me, or him, to 
 be insensible to the charms of love, or the claims of beauty. 
 Perhaps, it is the valiant man only, who is always prepared to 
 sacrifice himself where he hates, who feels love to be a sufficient 
 power to command self-sacrifice, if need be, also. But I trow t here 
 can be no occasion for me now to defend the tenderness ai 3 soft 
 ness of the warrior s heart, which hath been sufficiently instanced 
 in all stages of the world, and is a thing usually acknowledged 
 among all classes of men. And for the soldier s regard for beauty, 
 what nee4 have we to look beyond a present instance 1 For 
 what is this tournament provided, for which you are preparing 
 
tBRBSOLUTIOK. 05 
 
 these brilliant colors and silks, l.ut that tin- valor of tl 
 
 fill appeal to the smiles of love and heair 
 
 aused. Olivia, looking dojrn the while, said in low tones 
 
 I- you have not j :vd to thed>.:l.ts of Den 
 
 -tin, touching your departure with the e\p edition." 
 Ah! true," cjuoth De Sinolar " They say that th-:v are 
 doi, ; my thought that Don Ilernan had shown you 
 
 the 1 ettcr arirumcllt." 
 
 " They >ay rightly. Senorita," replied Vasconselos to Olivia, 
 and scarcely noticing DC Similar "who say that I have yet de 
 termined nothing. 1 am truly luit half rt-solved to drpart, yet 
 fully half indinrd \ p-main. TTii-ro ! private roasOM for 
 this uiuvrtaiiity. Whi-thi-r Don Ilrnian will succeed in |.-r- 
 suadini: me -and it is mc of my d.id>ts if h- deofarea -> to do 
 will greatly rest ujmn the force of oilier and oppo-ite fn-r-ua 
 sion< than tho^c of war.-- I erhaps. it were only wise with me, 
 to \ie d Mindly to Don IL-nian s aj-iruim-nts, and look nothing 
 firth 
 
 It \Nas the tone with which this last sentence was sp,,kcn. and 
 the look which accompanied, which held the meaning more 
 nificantly than the words themselves. Tin- sweet, sad n-^i^na 
 tioii in both wcr.t direct to the heart of Olivia. But -he 
 her eyes upon the flo.,r and remained silent. But DC Siimlar, 
 
 who nothing fait tto words spoken, and who was 
 
 in looking below the surface of any thin<j. proeeeded in 
 lis u-ual manner. 
 
 \V. ;!. SefiOT, it will he needful tliat you should deride xhnrt- 
 ly. In a we -hall have the tournament, and in a 
 
 mo|. tvels will l.e ;t l! ready to receive the armament. 
 
 Then will you eml.ark he h -rses and artillery. Th.-e the fir>t. 
 Then will the loot sldi--r< ^ MM hoard. an<l at th- la -? the 
 
 knights i men, They an- baki g famous quantity 
 
 hread. even n yi s, and la (Jranj. 
 
 cage: -k anioiiL! t!i- hatln-u the 
 
 gold from th - altars and the treasure from the rich f the 
 
 Apalachian. Ah! I/idv <)li\-;a, when tin /on, 
 
 6* 
 
106 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 we shall be as dull and quiet here as if we had never known 
 either dance or music. 
 
 " These ga\ knights will all be on the path of conquest. Well 
 For my part, I say let them conquer ! 1 have no passion for con 
 quest, and 1 have no faith in its fruits. 1 believe them to be all 
 delusions. One man gets off with a sound head and a full pocket, 
 but a hundred pays for him with deadly wounds, broken limbs, 
 and beggary forever ! If one could be sure that lie should be 
 the one, and not one of the hundred, why, it were pleasant to 
 adventure ; but where there s but one white bean to a score of 
 black ones, I m not the man to draw, if 1 can help it." 
 " But the fame, Senor the glory ?" said Olivia. 
 Tame and glory ! They will neither plaister my head, 
 mend my limbs, nor find me in rations. My rc/jartimiento, here, 
 answers all my ambition. It lacks but a mistress to be all the 
 empire I demand, and she, with the blessing of the Virgin, 1 hope 
 some day to find willing to my hands." 
 
 And here he looked with a sudden tenderness towards Olivia. 
 " And have you never felt the eager desire for battle, Senor ?" 
 quoth Tobar : " That joyous desire for the strife of swords and 
 the crash of lances, whieh makes the head throb with delirium 
 and the heart bound as if \ had wings of its own, and was about 
 to soar to heaven that feeling which the adelantado hath happi 
 ly described, from some old heathen Greek or Roman, as the 
 r-ipture of the strife. " 
 
 " No ! indeed ! no such raptures for me. Any other sort of 
 rapture, in preference ! Let it be eating, or drinking, or dancing, 
 or loving I care not h<w vulgar or how simple the bull-ring, 
 the cock-pit nay, the siesta, any thing but the shouts and the 
 struggle of combatants. The tournament is enough for me, I ve 
 tried that. I ll try it no more. When 1 want to break a lance, 
 I have only to sully out into the mountains after some of my 
 runaways. I use a blunt spear on such occasions. Then, I charge 
 valiantly enough. Then, I overthrow and make captive. I don t 
 kill unless 1 can t help mys If; sin-e it is more profitable and 
 pleasant to beat my Indians than to bury them." 
 
A PHILOSOPHICAL FOP. 107 
 
 44 Your humanity is eo;;;mendab! " wa> the somewhat 
 
 iv . who, indeed, had scarcely heeded 
 
 what the other had been sav ing ; and now turned from him with a 
 contempt which was sufficiently apparent. Hut the other was by 
 n> means discomfited bv all expression whichhe clearly beheld. 
 iol very promptly and very indillereiitly, as if his social 
 portion his wealth put him quite beyond reproach. 
 
 "Ali! you scare*.) mean that, I know, Senor Don Philip: 
 but it matters nothing. I don t care who knows that I am re 
 solved to live while I can, and ri>k no bones upon reputation. 
 If heads are to be clover., let them take the hardest : if brains 
 arc to be scattered, it needs only that you choose such as can waste 
 little: if hard blows are to be struck, get those men only for 
 <rk who have been trained to the boncan. If you love 
 lighting. Don Philip, it is well for you: not foi nie. I love it 
 not. You have tried your hand at it. and it suits you. You 
 have fought against the Moors. You have already had a 
 
 ridian fighting, and I have seen you carry you 
 sportively, against IJaTttiinmeo de Gallegos, and Senor Nuno, 
 ,i:d I am free to confess that the !a*t per>on whom 
 
 should entreat to a supper of blado and lai;.-e>. 1 am only at 
 conflict with gentle woman." Bimlil y on Olivia; "and 
 
 the i a nan to >ueh brave knL: ir-elf. Hy tlic\\ay, 
 
 I)on Philip, they tell me you served with Francis 1 i /arro 
 in Peru ! 1 had fi .rotten ti, 
 
 "It mattered QOt," M.^M rcd Vl s coldly. 
 
 V A :i.an t -r you, that Francis Pi/arro. II- - 
 
 the M.ugh customer for a weak stomach. He s what I call a 
 
 ilk of Corte/, indeed! H\T should Hernan ( .rte/ 
 
 be a hero . I ve seen him a hundred times NN hen lie was nothing 
 
 out a fanner, and had a hacic nda not half the value of m\ "Wi,. 
 
 lie \\a^ lucky. Seii. i- very lucky. 1 remember him \\cll. I 
 
 ;t a boy wh-n he worked hi- lann and drove his mule, 
 
 /ike any otlier j--a>ant. though they make him now a born 
 
 nobleman ; and how OOUld he . 
 
 it not for the blind fortune th . BMD on the horse whila 
 
108 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 his betters hold the stirrups 1 No! no! If there be a truly 
 great mail of these days and countries, it is of a certainty the 
 noble Marquis Pizarro." 
 
 Nuno de Tobar could scarcely restrain his angry impatience 
 while the fopling continued to discourse thus freely of the great 
 masters in the art of war, whom in that day it was the fashion 
 to commend as above all Greek and Roman fame, and he sharply 
 responded to the flippancies of De Sinolar in respect to Cortez. 
 Vasconselos, on the contrary, gave him little heed, and seemed 
 not to think it necessary to gainsay his opinions. He was con 
 tent thajt he should " rabble on," as it afforded him an opportu 
 nity to murmur a quiet remark, in under tones, to his fair com 
 panion, whose responses, brief and timid, were always delivered 
 in like subdued accents. It was only when his stock of small 
 talk was entirely exhausted that Don Augustin was content to 
 take his departure. This he did, when, at the close of a long 
 rambling speech, he had emptied his budget of accumulations ; 
 what he said being only a repetition of what he had heard. He 
 did not seem to apprehend any danger from leaving the field to 
 his rival ; persuading himself that Vasconselos, though good 
 enough where lances were splintered, possessed too few re 
 sources of the courtier to make much progress where the game de 
 pended on the ease of the dialogue and the liveliness of the humor. 
 
 His departure was a relief to all the parties. Nuno de Tobar 
 soon after rose, and upon some plea of flowers, passed from the 
 apartment into the garden. The lovers were alone together. A 
 wild thrill shot through the soul of Olivia at the consciousness. 
 Her cheek flushed her frame trembled with emotion. But she 
 cnew that she was watched that the eyes of Don Balthazar 
 were upon her from some quarter that love had no security in 
 that House of Fear. \ a-. on-* -los was free, of course, of all 
 such apprehensions. He knew that Don Balthazar had entered 
 the house with De Sinolar, but, as he had seen nothing of him 
 after, he presumed that he had quitted it, or was elsewhere em 
 ployed. He drew nigher to where she sate. 
 
 ieparture of this expedition, which threatens so much to 
 
TENDER MOMENTS. 109 
 
 lesson the plea-tires of the ladies of Cuba, will give but little 
 concern, I fancy, to von. Scfiorita." 
 
 " And wherefore not, Sefior " 
 
 "You take little delight, 1 fear, in such exercises as challenge 
 the best regards of knighthood. I have seen you at very few 
 of the gentle passages between the knights." 
 
 "True; but 1 am not insensible. 1 have heard full re-ports 
 of their performances, and found delight in the accounts of sueh 
 grace and valor, and courtc-y and skill, as has been rarch 
 
 "Yet would I have belu-ld you, Senorita, among the gay beau 
 ties of this island court, who have stimulated courtesy by heir 
 grace, and prompted achievement to great things by their ap 
 proving smiles. I have looked for you, Senorita. very often, 
 and, may 1 say it, have sometimes left the field, as, 
 you not, it has seemed to me to lark its best attraction." 
 
 "Ah! Senor, it is the. wont of Cavaliers to use this - 
 
 h to fooli-h damsels. And why should you lea 
 where there have been so many beauties -,c cheer, and s<- 
 sweet WHOM to encourage ?" 
 
 "Yet was there one, of all, one only, lady, > - hom I most 
 
 desin d to behold." 
 
 "Ah! and why should the Senor Philip be insensible to the 
 I which have daily hailed his passage* <>n every hand ? 
 Who has won the applauses Alld the prizes ;,t the several toiirne\ s ] 
 Win e lance hath been most honored in the conflict ? wh-e 
 name been inoxt x.inided ? in whose fame have the mult tude 
 rai-fd ni"-t lV -juently the shout of acclamation . " 
 
 * k Alas! lady, all these tributes are of little value in tl 
 of Philip de VasOODSeloS, compared with the sweeter asMirancc.s 
 that mi^it tall from the lipsof one. the loveliest virgin of all < ub;i " 
 
 Thccy- of VasOODSeloa ^- re fastened tenderly, a- he xpokr. 
 upon those Of OllTia, 11- r- -unk, ba-hfully, beru-ath hi- glance ; 
 and a warm red Hu-h juiekly overspread hercheek-. llt-rliand lay 
 
 beside him upon the sola, which she partly occupied. Hi- : 
 fell hesitatingly upon it ; and it pfq not withd- 
 
110 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 silent the beatings of her heart were audible, and his bosom 
 rose also and sunk, in impetuous responses, to the excited emo 
 tions which seemed to prevail in hers. He continued, more 
 eagerly, and more tenderly. 
 
 " It may be that mine is the sin of .presumption, lady ; but of 
 a truth it were a somewhat pardonable sin, since its hope is of 
 favor at the shrine of as chaste and holy a passion " 
 
 The hand was instantly withdrawn, and so hastily, as evi 
 dently to surprise the pleader. He looked inquiringly into her 
 Dice, and, as he did so, her cheeks paled so suddenly, and to such 
 an ashen white, that Vasconselos feared she was about to faint. 
 But she recovered herself with great effort, yet not so com 
 pletely as to prevent a sudden sobbing, like that of an infant in 
 its sleep, from escaping into sound. 
 
 " You are ill, Senorita ; or am I so unhappy as to have offend 
 ed you r 
 
 " You have not offended me, Senor Philip, oh ! no!" was the re 
 ply, tremulously and hastily spoken " a momentary pain only." 
 
 He paused, waiting on her with a gentle and sweet solicitude 
 that allowed no change in her face to escape his eyes. Hers 
 sunk beneath his survey, and her cheeks were again suffused 
 with blushes. This seemed a grateful omen to the knight of 
 Portugal. He resumed his pleading his hand again rested 
 upon her own ; and hers was unwithdrawn, in spite of the gen 
 tle pressure which detained it. She looked downwards as he 
 pleaded. 
 
 " I trust, dear Senorita, I have not spoken too rashly. Better 
 that I were dumb forever than now to offend. But, indeed, you 
 must suiler me to speak. Indeed, you must hear me. Ah! if 
 \<>u but knew, Senorita, how pure is the tribute of affection 
 which I now offer to your charms ! Too well I know the chaste 
 ami Imly homage which a virgin heart requires " 
 
 The hand was suddenly withdrawn. An hysterical laugh es- 
 iMpeil from the lips of the damsel, as she replied 
 
 " Ah ! Senor, you are all too serious. You sadden me much. 
 
THE MYSTERY. Ill 
 
 In faith, you do ; and I must sing to you a merry song ere I grow 
 gloomy as the night. You shall hear a cheerful ditty, such as will 
 make you laugh, and make us forget forget be very forgetful." 
 
 She would have ri>-n. and motioned to the guitar lying upon a 
 table ; but he held her firmly by the hand. He was bewildered 
 by her conduct, but grew more and more firm as he contempla 
 ted her. He had seen too much of the world, and of human 
 nature, not to perceive that th*re was some mystery in the pro 
 ceeding. How else should he account for the feverish hurry of 
 her manner, at such a moment, so utterly unlike her conduct, 
 during all other periods 1 how, for that sobbing sigh, that con 
 vulsive shudder, and those forced husky accents while delivering 
 words ostensibly meant to be playful and sportive ? Vasconselos 
 was now not to be deceived. He saw that the gaiety was all 
 assumed only ; yet wherefore ? He was more ready to believe 
 that there was agony, rather than merriment, in her spirit at thpt, 
 lit. Then why -4iould she seek to sport with emotions. BQ 
 sacred, in his bosom, when she had always before shown him a 
 ropeet approaching to reverence ? Va^conselos felt instinctively 
 that the damsel Bought under the guNe of levity only to conceal 
 the activity and presence of deep and painful emotions. He felt 
 and saw all this; but it was not the moment, nor was his the 
 mood, having advanced thus tar, to be diverted from his object. 
 He ^till kept his gra-p upon her hand. He looked steadily into 
 her ryes. They answered his gaze wildly. She trembled all 
 over. He spoke. 
 
 "Olivia lady I cannot now be baffled I must speak, and 
 you rnu-4 answer me. It is too great a matter, to me too 
 vital to my soul s life, to MillVr me to he silent longer, or to 
 leave you without having an answer. Yet you must not suspect 
 me of unkindiiess. 1 see that you MI tier. I am not deceived by 
 this show of merriment. 1 feel that there is a secret sorrow whicn 
 you vainly stniiriile to conceal " 
 
 No ! no ! no secret 1 () ! Senor, release me let me go !" 
 
 And she burst into a passion of tears, and buried her face in 
 her hands upon the arm of the settee. Vasconselos bent over, 
 
112 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 clasped one of her hands in his own, and was about to pass his 
 arm about her waist, when a sudden footstep was heard in the 
 room. In the same moment Don Balthazar spoke, but a sin 
 gle woid, but it sounded in the ears of Olivia like the voice 
 of the Angel Monkir calling up the dead. 
 
 " Olivia !" 
 
 She started to her feet looked wildly in the face of Vascun- 
 selos, who had withdrawn a pace, and was observing Don Bal 
 thazar and then tottered towards her uncle. Philip darted for 
 ward to help her, when she recovered herself, bowed slightly to 
 her lover, and followed her uncle from the room. Scarcely had 
 she got into the passage when Don Balthazar said to her quickly 
 and she now observed that his face was very pale 
 
 " When did you see Anita last T 
 
 " Not since last night. Why ?" 
 
 " She is dead !" 
 
 " Dead !" 
 
 " Ay, dead ! of old age, I suppose. Died in a fit ! But go 
 to her. You will find her in her room. Meanwhile, I will ex 
 cuse you to these gentlemen." 
 
 He disappeared. Olivia was frozen to the spot, and speech 
 less. Her conscious soul was full of nameless terrors. She 
 too readily divined the cause of the old woman s death, and 
 though no purpose of crime was in her mind when she mixud 
 vvith the contents of the wine-flask the potion from the phial, slu> 
 shuddered with such a horror as might well become the guilt of 
 the murderess. When Don Balthazar returned from speak inu 
 with Vasconselos and his friend, he found Olivia where lu- ha. I 
 left her, rather the statue of a frozen woman than a living 
 breathing sufferer. He was startled by her evident incapacity, 
 and putting his arms about her, was about to convey her to her 
 chamber ; but the touch of his fingers recalled her energies. She 
 revolted from the contact with as great a shuddering as she felt 
 when first apprised of Anita s death. 
 
 " Touch me not!" she exclaimed solemnly " I will go alone." 
 
 She did go, but not to the sight of the dead woman. Sh 
 
A NEW CATASTROPHE. 118 
 
 fi-lt that sh- could nut endure that spectacle. She hurried to her 
 own chamber, and when tin-re, threw herself half fainting upon 
 tin- e<>uch. The new catastrophe, in which she had so much par 
 ticipate.l, added to the gloomy horrors which had already taken 
 such full possession of her soul. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 " Mark me well : 
 
 1 boldly tell thee that I bear a soul, 
 Prepared for either fortune. If thy hand 
 Be stronger, use thy {xnver." AGAMKM.VO.I 
 
 DON BALTHAZAR found no difficulty in sending off the two visit 
 ors. After the departure of Olivia, they had but little motive 
 to remain. Her uncle was not much a favorite with them. He 
 was known to be a hard and selfish man, who was believed, and 
 rightly, to have no sympathies with either. Still, he was a man 
 of the court, and could put on, when he pleased, the manners ot 
 a preux chevalier. He was now exceedingly courteous and con 
 ciliatory, and apologized warmly for the unavoidable withdrawal 
 of his niece, and for those cares, of his own, which denied him 
 the pleasure of giving them further entertainment. He told 
 them, without scruple, the cause of the present confusion in his 
 household; and made quite a pretty story of it. 
 
 "His venerable housekeeper, who had been almost a mother 
 to Olivia, watching and tending her youth with more than paren 
 tal solicitude, was suddenly found dead in her seat. Well that 
 morning, to all appearance, at noon she had passed to judgment ; 
 and this without alarming the family. Olivia was, of course, 
 terribly shocked by the event. She had retired inconsolable to 
 her chamber. She was so tenderly attached to Anita, and Anita 
 so tenderly attached to her ! Her affection was very great,- - 
 great indeed ; so great, that he, Don Balthazar de Alvaro, wa.-s 
 exceedingly anxious for her health ; and so forth." " And so 
 good morning to you, Sefiores." 
 
 " An old hag !" exclaimed Nuno de Tobar to his companion 
 as soon as they had got fairly beyond the premises, " one of 
 
 114 
 
ANITA S SUCCESSOR. 115 
 
 the ugliest and^nost fiendish-looking human vultures you ever 
 beheld. As for her attachment to Olivia, or Olivia s to her, I don t 
 believe a word of it. I never saw any proofs of it myself, and 
 have heard many tilings which lead me to think there could be 
 no attachment between them. In fact, Leonora tells me that 
 Anita was no more than a spy upon the poor girl, whose steps 
 were watched as carefully as if every bush concealed a lover, 
 and behind every tree stood an armed man ready to snatch her 
 up and make off with her. Be sure, Don Balthazar has no de 
 sire that she should pass from any keeping but his own. He 
 enjoys too much good picking from the estates of Olivia to give 
 her up without a struggle. There is a strange story about a 
 .silver mine which lie has somehow wholly appropriated to him 
 self; and by all accounts, he may well dread the day of reckon- 
 ii:u r with th- man who shall become her husband. For this rea 
 son he keeps her immured as much as possible; and it is certain 
 that no gentleman can obtain access to his dwelling without find 
 ing himself watched. You must continue, Philip, your visits 
 when the uncle is known to be busy elsewhere. There is some 
 thin^ gained, I am thinking, by the death of this old woman. 
 It tea ^pecial providence in your behalf. See that you make 
 
 ; it." 
 
 The calculations of Nuno de Tobar, in respect to the advan 
 tages gained in favor of the larger liberty of Olivia by the death 
 of Anita, were somewhat those of Olivia herself; for, in spite 
 of the shock which she had received by that event, and the nat 
 ural horrors which were taught her by her own secret conscious. 
 ness of the cause of it, she could not avoid reflecting upon the 
 probable increase of her own securities in consequence. They 
 were both deceived. That very night, the place of Anita was 
 filled by another old woman, another creature of Don Balthaxar, 
 not so ugly, perhaps, or so old as her predecessor, but equally 
 hard favored and un-cnipuloiH. Sylvia was a me-ti/o also, 
 brought from one of tin- hacienda- of the estate, a few miles in 
 the country. Olivia had seen and known her before. Hie sight 
 of this woman, in her new situation, left, her little hope of profit 
 
116 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 by the death of Anita. Sylvia was as subtle as the former, and 
 no less the willing tool of her employer. She had all the fierce 
 malignity of mood characteristic of the hybrid race to which 
 she belonged, a people usually of fierce passions, sudden im 
 pulses, capricious impulse, and tenacious of the sense of wrong 
 and injury to the latest moment of existence. Don Baltha/ar 
 knew his creatures well, and satisfied of this fact, Olivia, for the 
 moment, resigned herself to despair again. 
 
 But she found an unexpected ally, where she least looked for 
 one, in the person of the young serving girl, Juana. This girl 
 was the grand-daughter of Anita. The event which put another 
 in the place of her grandmother, had also its injurious conse 
 quences to herself. She naturally regarded herself as the 
 heiress of her kinswoman ; and knowing how large and various 
 had been the accumulations of the latter, her expectations were 
 correspondingly large. To her consternation, the successor to 
 the place of Anita at once usurped possession of all her stores. 
 Juana was driven out from the precincts altogether, and com 
 pelled to confine herself to the little chamber which she had long 
 occupied, adjoining that of Olivia. Sylvia had assumed the en 
 tire control of the household, and her usurpations, in a few hours, 
 were such as to satisfy Juana that her expectations from the 
 savings of her grandmother were all cut off. Si; was held in 
 no more favor than her mistress, and soon foun . . erself under 
 an authority which was disposed to submit to su. questioning. 
 Sylvia had her own children and grand-children to provide for. 
 Juana was dreadfully indignant. She did not dare to approach 
 Don Balthazar with her griefs ; but she condescended to confide 
 to Olivia. In her passion she revealed to her all the secrets of 
 their mutual prison-house, all at least that she knew, and thus, 
 in a measure, confirmed the unhappy irirl in the conviction which 
 she had already been compelled to foci, that she was the victim 
 of a thousand cruel arts. Juana swore to have her revenges, 
 and better to secure sympathy, she promised Olivia that she 
 should have; redress also. What, \\vre her plans of vengeance 
 the did not declare; but when questioned in respect to h-r 
 
OLIVIA S ALLY. 117 
 
 means and opportooitiaa, contented herself with a knowing look, 
 ;ind a sagacious shaking of the head. She was naturally a stu 
 pi.l wciu-h, but possessed that sort of animal cunning which is so 
 iVc.mently found in connection with a base and feeble intellect. 
 Fur tlu- proem nothing could be extracted from her, and the 
 busine of the household went on without disorder, and with 
 no apparent interruption. But, as we shall see in the sequel, 
 J uana \\as busy after a fashion of her own. 
 
 Hut the day, thus distinguished by the startling events which 
 we have recorded, was not at an end. Olivia sat. alone in the 
 
 iah. The evening meal had been set before her by Juana, 
 but had been carried out untasted. She had no appetite just 
 then for mortal food. Her soul was still agitated to its depths, 
 as the sea that heaves up tumultuously with all its waves, though 
 the winds which have swept it with fearful strife, have wholly 
 
 i and gone. She lay reclined upon the settee of wicker- 
 work where we beheld her during her morning interview with 
 
 nselos. There was no light in the apartment ; none, in 
 fact, was neec-sary, while the moon glinting through groves of 
 orange and anana, sufficed for the desires of the sad and contempla 
 tive spirit. The gay gleams flitted over the floor of the veran 
 dah, and glided, stealthily and faintly, to the interior of the 
 apartment, otherwise dimly shaded by the massive foliage which 
 curtained the opening in front. Here, saddening under the 
 sad sweetness of the scene, Olivia brooded, absorbed in ru 
 minating the events and the prospects of a life, which, at its verv 
 1 iiddir 1 already shrouded with a blight. Her heart 
 
 sunk within her a- she thought;all was dark in the future; all 
 gloomy, grievous, and reproachful in the past. At length she 
 \vpt, and found a momentary relief in her tears. The big drops 
 for red their way through her fingers, tears of a bitt> 
 which proved superior to all the sweets promised by an all < 
 whi- h \sa> only too precious to her hop. -. 
 
 II.- IOVM Mfti" wa> h r exclamation. He loves mi he- - 
 the only man for whom this heart ha^ ever felt a passion. I 
 caimot mistake his silent admiration. I cannot doubt the broken 
 
118 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 meaning, the imperfect sentiment in these hesitating words 
 and oh ! were it but that I could bear his glances with this 
 dreadful and humiliating secret in my heart, how heavenly were 
 uuch a love. But how to enjoy his affections, yet betray his 
 confidence ! How, unworthy as I am, to receive his embraces ! 
 How place my head how bury my face in the bosom whose 
 faith I have deceived ! Impossible ! no, Philip de Yascoriselos, 
 precious as I hold thee to my heart, I must deny myself even 
 more than 1 deny thee. Thou wilt come, but it must be for 
 denial only. I de^y thee for thy bettor fortune. Thou wilt go 
 hence ; go upon the path of conquest ; and ambition will rightly 
 take the place of love ! Though I die to own thee, yet I never 
 will be thine." 
 
 She had spoken audibly this soliloquy. It made its way to 
 other ears, though her own were scarcely conscious of its import. 
 From the dense masses of shade at the foot of the verandah, 
 came a voice in answer : 
 
 " A wise resolution, Olivia, a very wise resolution ! But one 
 thou wilt hardly be prepared to keep. The morning sun will 
 bring thee fresh hopes and fancies ; the evening will bring thee 
 thy lover with the moonlight ; and thou wilt forget the vow as 
 if it were written in water !" 
 
 At the first sound of the speaker s voice, Olivia half started 
 from the settee on which she reclined. But, as she recognized 
 the accents of Don Balthazar, she schooled her mood to indiffer 
 ence ; drawing a long deep breath, and looking a mixed scorn and 
 hatred, which, could her features have been seen at the moment, 
 would have embodied a truthful portrait of those of Medea, 
 about to take her flight for Athens, in her chariot dyed with tin- 
 gore of her kindred. Intense and bitter was the momentary 
 feeling of indignation which darkened her cheeks with red, only 
 to subside, in the next instant, into a more than mortal paleness. 
 The uncle advanced from the thicket and ascended to the veran 
 dah. He approached her, flung his cap upon a table, and seated 
 Himself at her side. She recoiled from him, retreating to the 
 end of the settee. 
 
TIIK VOKS. 119 
 
 " So hostile still !" said In-. M Wei . ! It is perhaps reasonable 
 enough, though it comport* little with thy resolution. It thou 
 wilt shake oil* the knL r ht> of Portugal, tliere is no need to - 
 me with thorn. Nay, tor the very n-jix.ni that they d ; 
 should 1 be Mitlered to remain. Let me say, Olivia, that 1 re- 
 jokv in thy resolution. It is wise it is prudent. It would i,- 
 do for thee to wed with Philip de Vasconselos " 
 
 " And wherefore not ?" 
 
 " Ah ! there are sufficient reasons." 
 
 "None which concern thee, at least. If I have so resolved, it 
 is for a reason of mine own, the force of which it te little likely 
 that thou shouldst feel." 
 
 " Be it so ! It is enough that thou hast resolved. I care not 
 to know the motive for a decision which is yet grateful to my 
 mind. Thou hast resolved ! and yet I somewhat wonder at th< < 
 Olivia." 
 
 " Thou know st me not." 
 
 " Thou wilt scarce keep to thy resolution." 
 
 u Thou know st me not." 
 
 " Ha ! did I not see thee when he was urging thee, as still the 
 passionate lover knows how to urge his suit? Did 1 not see thee 
 tremble, even though thou reooiledst from his supplications ? DM 
 I not see the yielding weakness in thy lip and eye hear it in the 
 tremors of thy voice know it in what I know of the pa->i..n for 
 him which >tirs in all thy soul? Thou woulUt have- yielded. 
 at one moment nay, at another! Iain curious, Oli via. Wh.-iv- 
 
 at certain moments, when his hand had taken thine into . 
 k.-.-pin^. and when thy whole heart was inciting to his prrMia-iv 
 words wherefore, then, didt thou break away, and spi-nk of 
 thy guitar, and of idle minstrelsy?" 
 
 " Said I not, thou know st me not ?" 
 
 " But wherefore ?" 
 
 "Thou didst not rivi> h.-ed to the words he uttered." 
 
 "Nay, but I did. They wm: words of pa-Mon and devotion. 
 such as well befit such an occasion. They were well chosen 
 words of love, I trow; and they w. re passing sweet, I am err 
 
VASCONSELOS. 
 
 tain, in thy ears. Why just then didst them recoil from him, evei 
 ;i> from an udder thou hadst startled in thy path, evade his sup 
 plications, changing the course of his thought, and of thy own, 
 and seeking to divert him from his purpose, only that he might 
 hear how deftly thou couldst linger thy guitar ?" 
 
 " And think st thou I had such motive ?" 
 
 "What else?" 
 
 " I tell thee again, thou know st me not ! Heard st thou tlie 
 words which he poured into mine ears ?" 
 
 " What words ? I noted that he was warming to thee with no 
 doubtful purpose. Didst thou mistake him ?" 
 
 " No ! I knew I felt his purpose ; and had his words been 
 otherwise chosen, I had probably been base enough to listen, and 
 weak enough to yield! Ah! uncle! hadst thou not utterly 
 hardened thy soul against all that is noble, the words which Don 
 Philip employed had smitten upon thy senses equally with mine, 
 and thou hadst felt a shudder and a cold shame pass over thee. 
 such as made me, perforce, refuse to listen to the devotion of 
 lluit love which I could not help but feel." 
 
 " What words are these? They spoke for his love only !" 
 
 " More ! more ! There were words in his speech which were 
 as poisoned arrows to my heart." 
 
 "How! what?" 
 
 " For my but no ! no ! why should I repeat to thee ? Thou 
 
 wilt not feel as I do thou canst not ! Enough, that I strove to 
 avoid the professions which I dared not trust myself to answer. 
 I would have him abandon his purpose, and seek me no more. 
 Let him find one who, though she may love him less profoundly, 
 will be more deserving of his affections. It is because I so muck 
 love him, that I will deny his prayer. I dare not dishonor a heart 
 which is so precious to my own." 
 
 The uncle rose from his seat i and stood intently gazing for i 
 moment, in silence, upon the excited features of the damsel. She 
 had exhibited to his mind a virtue beyond his understanding. He 
 approached and laid his hand upon her shoulder. She recoiled 
 from his touch. 
 
WOMAN S FAILING. 121 
 
 " Verily, Olivia, thou art but a very simple child." 
 
 "Child ! Oh! would to Heaven I were! but I am not. Thou 
 reed upon me too dreary an experience of age of thy 
 ag to In- a child of thy sex, to be properly sensible of mine. 
 Thou hast crushed me wi;h a deadly weight of knowledge ! Thy 
 tutorship has taken from me all the sweet ignorance of child hood. 
 Alas ! 1 know too mueh for childhood as well as peace! neither 
 shall I ever know again !" 
 
 " Thy fit is again coming on thee, Olivia !" 
 
 " Fit ! I tell thee. Don Haltha/ar de Alvaro, that, though thou 
 hast the power to destroy me. and every hope which is mine. 1 
 will not snd er thee to mock me with thy taunts! Fit! Verily, 
 if it were foaming madness, it were in reason, in proper accord 
 ance with my wrongs ;i ;id sorrows. Should I not be maddened ! 
 Should I not rave from the house-top f sueh wrongs as might 
 the heauiis and the earth to shudder I 1 
 
 "And wherefore rave ? Thou seest how idle! 1 can well con 
 ceive how much thou feel st the loss of sueh a knight as Philip 
 de Va-i -oiisdos for, of a truth, a more noble cavalier treads not 
 ,!. [sle Of Cuba 
 
 \o more ! no more!" 
 
 It seemed the humor of Don Balthazar to chafe the sore spot 
 in her soul, and he continued : 
 
 Well, what say st thou to Augustin de Sinolar ]" 
 
 \\ii-. didst thou bring him hither to-day 1 II >uit to 
 
 theeb. .. > .,iil 1 not then, that I scorn this man I )e Sin- >lar . " 
 
 "So! thou rejeetest I )e Sinolar because thou seorn st him. and 
 nsetaa lecau-e thou l>vest him ? This, my ( >livia. is l,ut 
 eiiild s play. Let me show thee thy folly. Thou h;t- 
 It is mj a well as ihine, but I have every confidence that 
 
 thou wilt keep it faithfully. Now, to h 
 
 never likes to reveal, is jiist the failing of every woman since tlm 
 t Kve. . I ust such a secret as thine, troubles every damsel 
 fair as thou art!" 
 
 " Impossible !" 
 
 " True, my child ! True ! But should it make Jier miserable I 
 I 
 
122 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 She has eaten certain fruits which are forbidden, but she has sens* 
 enough to wipe her mouth after eating, and who is the wiser 1 
 Now, this act of wiping the mouth is very simple. Shalt thou 
 then deny thyself the privilege of eating again when it pleases 
 thee ? Shalt thou deny thyself, because of a past error if it 
 pleases thee so to call it to partake of even more precious fruits, 
 which thou dost really desire? Wherefore? What wisdom in 
 it? No! no! I love thee, Olivia, and will teach thee better 
 policy. I have resolved for thee, and if thou ever wed st, thou 
 shalt wed with De Sinolar." 
 
 " Name not that thing, De Sinolar, to me." 
 
 " True, he is a thing, that is certain ; and so far acceptable. I 
 lather prefer him on that account. * 
 
 " That thou may st the better use him ! For that thou may st 
 make a dog of him without endowing him with a dog s courage." 
 
 " Perhaps ! perhaps !" 
 
 " But I shall never wed. So forbear this cruel talk, I pray thee." 
 
 " I cannot trust thy resolution, Olivia. I fear that when Philip 
 de Vasconselos iv-xt approaches thee with the words of soliciting, 
 thou wilt answer him with the words of consent." 
 
 "No! no! no!" 
 
 " Yet, verily, thpu lovest that man ! " 
 
 " I deny it not ! It is my boast, when spoken to thy ears. It 
 were my pride, were I other than 1 am, to make declaration of my 
 love abroad to all mankind. I love him as man never was lved 
 before ; and it is, as I have said to thee already, it is even because I 
 so much love, that I will not marry him. I will not do him such 
 grievous wrong! Oh! uncle, thou hast destroyed my hope ajid 
 happiness forever. Thou \\\\>i abused the, trust of my dear tiu 
 ther thou the shepherd, that hast thyself been the wolf to de 
 stroy the lamb." 
 
 A paroxysm of tears followed this speech. The uncle smiled 
 contemptuously. He knew that tin; more violent passion was 
 usually weakened in the access of tears. She looked suddenly up 
 and caught the expression ; and a passionate pride rose up in her 
 oul to her relief 
 
THE WoLF AT BAT. 128 
 
 "Th m moek st, I Bee! Now. I ee, Don Balthazar de 
 
 Alvaro! thi .u hadst better stay thy tortures. Hiou know st me 
 tin- tires which jnvy upon my -<>ul like those of a volcano. 
 Better thoii shouldst, without weapon or preparation, aroti-e the 
 she-wolf in thf cavern with her \oung. than v.-x me farther with 
 thy taunts. Beware! I h.ive hern weak, and thoii hast taken me 
 at vantage. But it" I am weak, I am blind no longer ; and if not 
 Mrong to hear, I am. at K-a-t. tempered to r.^i-t ami to ; 
 The very pa->ions thoii ha-t goaded it, 
 
 rs in the end. Icoun^i-1 the.- 1 to what I say. He 
 
 I am eaj>al>le of tiling rven more evil than thoii think st 
 for. anl there U a limit beyoii l which it were well for thee not to 
 go. Once more I warn th>v. I have ha<l sueh bitter thouizhts 
 and fe.-j!r_ r ^ towards thee. that did>t th)U])rcss me much further. 
 I frel as it I could slay thee with a daj^T, i-vcn as 1 wiuld strike 
 
 !>ent that crept to my i.o-om while I slejit." 
 
 Sin- had risen while -he Bpofc him. wild and 
 
 with lla>liini: dark eye. and white arm waving. He 
 
 survey. -d her with a stern and frowning brow, but somewhat 
 
 coldly his lips c<uu ;s if with a ferliiiu of pride and 
 
 . and his ,-ye looking into her- with the bright lixi-dn- >- 
 
 which that of th - >-r|)ent is -ai 1 to **\\<>\\- when f-i<cinatinL r tin- 
 
 bird from the tree. Thnv wa- he parti. < -till regarding 
 
 each Other, v-ling. looking on him with a raided s|.irit. ani 
 
 wild, fiery glan.-e; :. r turninu r th- adta-tlv 
 
 coolly if not calmly, and apparently re^-rving himself ft r the 
 
 neiit. At length, he spoke. \vr\ M if 
 
 v svllable. 
 
 "1 think I do kn Mivia de Alvaro. and something 
 
 know of what thoii art capaltle in thy pa ion. Have I i 
 late, likened thee to thy Bi-cayan mother? and her I knev. 
 oughly. Let me convince thee that I do n I e too hum- 
 
 blv tl. . of evil. Sit down once more while I ji. 
 
 Th -:. i and qui >t in the aiithoritv of hi* 
 
 .:id words, that, from habit metvl , the dam el sub; 
 
124 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 and resumed her seat. Steadily looking into her face, he pro 
 ceeded to speak again, as deliberately as before. 
 
 "Didst thou know, Olivia, that the poor old woman, Anita, 
 was poisoned? She died from no old age, but from a deadly 
 liquor which she was made to drink." 
 
 The listener grew white as death. Her knees shook beneath 
 her. Her tongue was frozen. 
 
 " Ay, Olivia, some loving hand drenched her posset with a too 
 bountiful allowance ! Dost thou know this kerchief, Olivia f 
 
 He showed it. It was her own. She was silent. 
 
 "This kerchief did I find where the person was concealed who 
 drugged the old woman s draught." 
 
 He paused, as if awaiting the answer. But none was spoken. 
 
 " Thou hast nothing to say. Well ! It is enough. Not to 
 speak is sufficiently to answer at such a moment. But, let me 
 say to thee farther, my child, it is known to me that thou thyself 
 wast the last in the chamber of Anita last night! Shouklst thou 
 think, now, that 1 am ignorant of what thou art capable? -It was 
 thy hand, Olivia de Alvaro, that drugged the old woman s 
 draught with death." 
 
 "And if it were, Don Balthazar de Alvaro," exclaimed Olivia, 
 rising, and resuming all her strength and courage, as she beheld 
 he air and listened to the tone of superiority which he employ 
 ed "and if it were my hand, then were my hand rightly i-m- 
 plo\ rd in punishing one who has been a murderess to me. And 
 had my hand served thee with the same fatal drug, then were I 
 also justified in the sight of man and heaven. Go to, Senor, thou 
 shalt not alarm Or confound me. I am prepared, when thou art 
 so pleased, to listen to thee as thou reportest all thy story to the 
 world. I fear thee not I know not now that I fear anything in 
 life. Thou hast brought me to this desperation. Yet know, that 
 when I mixed the drug with the draught of Anita, I knew it not 
 as a deadly poison. I knew it only, and believed it to be no 
 more than a stupefying drug, such as wrap the senses in an un 
 natural and temporary slumber. As thou knowest so mu-h. it 
 is not unlikely that thou knowest, also, that I beheld thee and 
 
A WARNING. 126 
 
 Anita in -nee in regard to my fate, on the night 
 
 when that drug was mixed with her win*- . I -aw ln-r, a\. and 
 thee, a- the fatal phial \\as held between \e to lli-- light, and \ . 
 . ved together that mv potion was to he increa-ed. \Va> it 
 unreasonable if I thought tin- goiHy medicine which ye designed 
 for me, in your charity, it WM but fitting that ye also >hould 
 partake? I wished to commend ye. aK> to such b!es>ed viM.m.s 
 Ai.d dreams. a s \e nightly and daily prepared for me. 1 would, 
 nave ye too enjoy that insen>ible respose, which ye deeiv.-d be 
 tween ye should lighten my cares, and keep me from the feeling 
 of my cruel wrongs; and had it heeii possible, Don Baltha/ar. 
 that 1 could have mingled the drug with thy own wine-, im. this 
 hand should fearlessly have done it; not, I atVinn, as meaning 
 that it should be fata o thy life, but as forcing you to such trial 
 of those sutlerings of mine which have never yet compelled voiir 
 pity and forbearance ! Now, that you know of what I am capa 
 ble, 1 again bid ye beware! You know the terms between us. 
 1 loathe you, and I fear you; yet so little do I fear the world of 
 man. that, were it not for one who lives among ve, I should com 
 mission you freely to declare aloud all that you have made me 
 and all that I am! Nay, the time may come, when. heedle-> of 
 ih -haine which shall follow from this speech, I mvself shall i, r " 
 out into the highways of the citv, and speak aloud the truth mv 
 self!" 
 
 1 )on Balthazar was silenced. Kor the moment, he had i . 
 
 . 1 left the verandah, and passed into the gr. . 
 around it ; while Olivia, thoroughly exhausted, but no loi.. 
 nvmiiluiis oi te:-.ri ul. r < \\ith a firm frame and spirit, and 
 moved quietly to her chain 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Cymb The time is troublesome : 
 
 We ll slip you for a season ; but our jealousy 
 Does yet depend." SHAS 
 
 PHILIP DE VASCONSELOS did not, as was anticipated by Don Bal 
 thazar, and wirmly counselled by Nuno de Tobar, return imme 
 diately to the attempt upon the affections of Olivia de Alvaro. 
 It would have been quite enough to preclude his visit for that day 
 and the next, at least, that there had been a death in the family j 
 an event, however, to which his more reckless friend attached no 
 sort of importance. But there was another reason for delay and 
 hesitation : Philip had no such confidence in his own position, 
 no such faith in his own powers, no such conviction of the favor 
 able regards of the lady, as was asserted by Nuno. He was, on 
 tin- contrary, troubled with many misgivings, which grew in dif 
 ficulty the more he examined. The very fact that he really and 
 earnestly loved, made him tremble at the thought of precipitating 
 his fate; and the true lover is almost always prepared to think 
 humbly of his own claims, in view of that supposed perfection which 
 he reeogni/i s in the lady of his love. Besides, with the natural 
 delicacy of a proud and honorable mind, conscious of his own 
 poverty, he felt the awkwardness of a suit to one who was in the 
 possession of great riches. He felt how easy it was to suspect 
 the motives of such a suitor, and dreaded lest such a suspicion 
 should taint the mind of the lady herself. Not that he was dis 
 posed to forego his suit because of this, or any other considera 
 tion. On the contrary, he was resolved to bring it to the trial, 
 and know the worst as soon as he could think it proper to do so. 
 But all his conclusions counselled him to delay. Nor must we 
 allow it to be supposed that he was without his encouragements. 
 
LOVER S 1IOPES. 127 
 
 He persuaded himself that there was much in what had taken 
 place between himself and Olivia in that last interview, to show 
 that she was very far from insensible to his pretensions. It is 
 true that there were tilings in her carriage some curious caprices 
 of mood and manner, whicii he found it not easy altogether 
 to comprehend. But there was still enough to please a lov 
 er; and to persuade one, even less bold and ardent than our 
 hero, to continue a pursuit in which he had certainly suffered no 
 repulse. She had evaded his application, but she had shown a 
 peculiar sensibility at his approach. She had trifled somewhat 
 when he was seriously earnest, but what was the meaning of her 
 tremors when her fair white hand lingered within his grasp ? and 
 had she not encouraged his return? and had she not declared an 
 interest in his presence in Cuba, in language too impressive to be 
 wholly without that desirable signification which the lover seeks? 
 Vasconselos was very far from being discouraged nay, without 
 heeding the confident assurance of Nuno de Tobar, he felt a new 
 hope springing within his bosom at every moment of increased 
 reflection; and, ere the day was well over, he had resolved to 
 bring his doubts to an issue, at least, before the departure of the 
 expedition. It was his farther resolution, if successful in his 
 suit, to abandon the adventure with De Soto. For that matter, 
 he had partly determined thus, whatever might be the result of his 
 courtship. This conclusion was reach* d that very night, and 
 the next morning, when he was visited by Tobar, he unhesitat 
 ingly declared it, to the great consternation of that young gallant. 
 The latter enabled him to do so, without effort, by rallying him 
 on the score of his amour. 
 
 " Where were you last night, Philip ? You promised to be 
 with us, and broke faith. Truth to say, we had the merriest 
 night of it in the tent of Juan de Anasco. Better flasks of Xm - 
 \\. re, never opened to Don Ferdinand. All cried aloud against 
 yon, and cursed your drowsy courtship, which Beemfl to be noto 
 rious throughout the Island. Now, my good fellow, if you must 
 be in love, there is no good reason why you should be out of tb* 
 
128 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 world. Ever) body a>ks for you they all look for you in vain. 
 You are lost to all good fellowship." 
 
 " You are likely to lose me still more completely than you 
 do now, Nuno. Some day j?ou will fail to see me altogether. 1 
 mean, indeed, to separate myself wholly from such a band of 
 vicious profligates, who have no faith in anything more lovely 
 than a ptarl oyster, and yield their hearts to nothing less persua 
 sive than a gold mine. What should I do with such people; 1 
 who still believe in love and beauty, and have a heart still open 
 to the pleadings of a woman? That I do love is sufficient reason 
 why I should leave such companions. From this day I am going 
 to quit you all. I propose even to forego the expedition to Flor 
 ida. It needs me not; and there are good reasons wherefore I 
 should abandon it." 
 
 " Now the blessed saints forefend, that you should speak seri 
 ously this resolution, my friend. Why, Philip de Vasconselos, 
 this is mere madness. What reasons can you have 1 That you 
 love and would marry, and may marry Olivia de Alvaro, is not 
 sufficient cause, I trow, since the one stands not in the way of the 
 other, if there be any settled purpose in your mind to go." 
 
 " Aye. but there is none." 
 
 "How ! I thought your going with the expedition was quite a 
 settled matter. 1 know that the Adelantado counts confidently 
 upon your going, and holds it of large importance to the interest of 
 the expedition that you should go: for you arc the only person of 
 all the party who knows the tongue of the Floridian, and the pas 
 sages to his country." 
 
 " I did, in some degree, prepare and consent to depart with 
 the A lelantado, but if he counts upon my going and values my 
 performance, he hath taken but a strange course for showing me 
 the estin.ate he hath of my services." 
 
 "Truth, he hath neglected you soine\\ h tt. 1 
 
 " But this availeth little, and 1 ha\e no regrets and no com 
 plaints. Let it suffice tor \ ou, Nuno, that, for the time, the |,u-,- 
 aiou for warlike adventure hath gone utterly out of my heart. I 
 
129 
 
 look with discomfort at all warlike panoply I turn away from 
 lan.-< :-tl with ft eling " d;- -omfort. and my shield g 
 
 at mo with unpleasant ; rightness fnMi the wall. Love hath sub 
 dued mi" to simpler an.l sweeter desires. 1 dream now of long 
 floating hair and 1< -wy ! a BWeel song and sweeter 
 
 in tho shade of lemon groves in tin- star-light." 
 
 "Shame on thee, Yaseonselos, that thou shoiildst make, such 
 confession! I will report the*. 1 for a haugard through the arn.\. 
 I loo have had ,ny passion^ anl my loveft, as thou knowc-t. .t: d 
 I coulu\ on occasion, play me a merry turn of sadness upon the 
 guitar beneath my lady s lattice, even now; hut that she shouM 
 i me from my love of shield and spear, were impossible! 1 
 must not believe thee." 
 
 "Thou shall! thou wilt ! I am the very tiling that I tell thee, 
 and care nothing for all the i:>ld and treasure of the Floridian." 
 "It will greatly anger the adcl&ntado when he hears of thy 
 ion." 
 
 v. I think he is somewhat prepared for it. He hath 
 
 . f ed me with neglect from the beginning, in all substantial 
 
 things, and he nw sh<>\\s me a c>!d courtesy, which Arg 
 
 tility. r rhis. of it-elf, were enough to move me to abandon his 
 
 banner. Hut tlioii aN<> knowest how much are we 1 ortug 
 
 the dislike of thy common soldiers. My brother, Andres who 
 
 leads a troop i.f our people, and a goodly one. hath a certain 
 
 measure of independence. Hut I, who am only a single ii 
 
 and lance, I have no power, and lacking power. ha\> ,rity. 
 
 I could only go as a simple volunteer, tin- aid to a superior who 
 
 hath shown me aveixiim. See-t thou not how little motive is 
 
 th -re left me for this adventure ? Kven the pa^e who helped 
 
 buckle on my armor is withdrawn from me. -imv he wait- also 
 
 :iiy brother, and i- hU paid follower; and thix reminds me, 
 
 .Niiiio. ;h.-it 1 am ,1-made blackamoor ; 
 
 a boy who -hall bring me water, unlace m\ helmet, and put on 
 
 k and docile urchin, who shall be <mick a- will- 
 
 :ui<i whom, by kindm. I CM make faithful. Wilt thou 
 
 knight, rhilip do 
 
 6* 
 
130 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 conseles, is willing to pay a goodly sum in Castellanos for this 
 Moorish urchin ?" 
 
 " It shall be done, Philip ; but thou chafest me. I cannot lose 
 thee from this expedition." 
 
 " It may be that the Lady Olivia will reject my hand. If it be 
 so " 
 
 " Nay, I know her better. She will not reject thee. Leonora 
 vows to me that her heart is full of thee only." 
 
 " Hath she said this to thy wife 1" 
 
 " No ! not in words ; but she hath shown it in a thousand in 
 stances. My wife is a laugher, but she hath an eye. She sees, 
 and I, too, see, Philip, and we have no doubts. It is your own 
 modesty alone that seeks for them, and builds them up into a 
 tower ! I can tell you what the answer of the lady will be, and 
 upon this you may count with certainty. But you will scarcely 
 wed on the instant, even when she accepts thee. Some time 
 will pass, and why not yield this to a campaign in Florida? 
 How much better to bring home a dowry for your bride, in the 
 pearl and gold of the Apalachian ? Nay, hath she not a noble 
 hacienda, one of the finest in all the island, at Matelos, which 
 needs nothing but an adequate supply of slaves, to make it an 
 empire 1 A single season in Apalachia will give thee any num 
 ber." 
 
 " Nay, let her consent to my love, Nuno, and there shall be 
 no delay. We shall instantly wed. I like not these long ga-ps 
 between promise and performance. The; make the heart sick 
 and the soul weary. Unless there be good reason, there shall be 
 no delay. She shall be mine as soon after she hath said the 
 consenting word as the time will suffer for the coming of the 
 priest and the preparation of the altar. 1 " 
 
 " And Don Balthazar ! thinkest thou he is the person to suffer 
 thee so easily to take possession ? I look for trouble from that 
 quarter." 
 
 "Trouble! I tell thee, Nuno, there is something in fin- aspect 
 of that man which so offends my nature, that it will go hard with 
 je if I do not take him by the beard on the first occasion, J 
 
A CHAMiK OF VIEW. 131 
 
 nave somehow, among men, an infallible instinct for knowing 
 an eiicMiv. even as mo-t men have the in-tinct for knowing when 
 there N venom in reptile ami Insect My >oul >eems to lift my 
 W 1 behold him, with the feeling that I ought to cru^h." 
 
 li one who hath power and policy. He 
 hath ci mi-age, too, ami is known for a man of pn.we-s in arms. 
 You know that the adelantado hath made him Captain-General 
 
 of th- 
 
 "Ha! thni he departs with the expedition? 1 had thought 
 
 ihN doubtful." 
 
 "Tin- appointment hath secured him, and some thousai. 
 rastellam>N besides, drawn, I suspect, from the estates of the fair 
 Olivi 
 
 M \V,-ii. Irt, him depart. It is even more important, if he 
 hat 1 >hou1d remain. Let Olivia hut yield me her favor, 
 and I can not who departs. Nothing then should persuade me 
 to tliis wi!.! enterprise." 
 
 "Ah! 1 hilip, thou di.l-t not hold it so wild ere thou sawe>t 
 the fair niece of Don Baltha/ar." 
 
 U I was but a wild person in that day myself." 
 
 "And why shouldst thou now deem it -o wild an enterprise? 
 
 Thou wert a companion with Cabeza de Vaca, and shared his 
 
 spoil-, and held with him the opinion that the mountains of Apa- 
 
 laehia contained treasure-; of gold and silver even greater than 
 
 Peru and Tenochtitlan." 
 
 "And think not otherwise now. Hut to me such treasures 
 M valiif.leN-; in comparison with others y r t more pre 
 cious. Thou shalt enjoy my >han- of them, Nuno. May they 
 make the.- r u-h and leave thee happy. Hut. for my happiness, 
 ! not now to go on shipboard. I need not carry lance 
 ttgain aim mi: tl. I, My ears shall not pr u-k at the >um- 
 
 f tin- trumpet, and I >hall soon K-arn to forget in the quiet 
 shadows of my jig-tree, that I ever had communion with wild and 
 profligate youth like thyself." 
 
 "Now am I half persuaded to implore the Saints that they 
 more against thee, and forbid this damsel to give hearing to thy 
 
132 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 pra\ or. Thy passion for her Lids fair to break the head from one 
 of the best lances of Castile ! What shall we do without thee in 
 Florida thou who know st all about the country, and hast such 
 sufficient knowledge of the infernal dialect of these savages of Apa- 
 lachia ? When this resolution of thine shall reach the ears of the 
 Adelantado, he will surely madden. He will carry thee, perforce, 
 Philip." 
 
 " Be thine the tongue, Nuno. to make him the report, that the 
 first overflow of his anger will fall upon other heads than mine." 
 
 " Upon mi-ne, thou meanest ? Yet thou scarcely deservest this 
 friendship from the comrade whom thou abandon st at the en 
 trance of the field ! But thou wilt decide otherwise, I trust; and 
 prove thyself true to thy vocation, if not to the sex. He who 
 keeps faith with his comrade, need not concern himself in regard 
 to pledges made to woman." 
 
 " Out upon thee for a heretic ! But that I know thee to speak 
 commonly a philosophy such as thou canst invent, and not such 
 as thou believest, I should lift, lance against thee, though I never 
 strove in tilt or combat again ! But get thee hence, and leave me to 
 my meditations. Thou, meanwhile, may st employ thyself, and 
 amuse the island, by telling aloud this purpose of mine W aban 
 don the expedition." 
 
 " But thou wilt take part in the tournament?" 
 
 " Ay, as a point of honor it is needful. We Portuguese have 
 been too much held in disestoem by your proud Spaniards, and I 
 am resolved to lower some of the Iruighty crests, which have 
 abused the courtesy of knighthood. It will be, perchance, a <. >K-mn 
 service, closing my career in chivalry. I will then dedicate my 
 spear to the Gods of the Harvest and set up an altar to peace., 
 where hitherto I have bowed only to that of war! 1 
 
 " A Dios /" exclaimed the young knight at parting. " I go sadly, 
 Philip, to make evil report of thee to all good companions ! 
 
 " A Dios !" replied the Portuguese " I wish thee no wors<: evil 
 than that, in time, thnu shall come to be full believer in thy own 
 report." 
 
 Nuno de Tobar needed no exhortations on the part of Philip 
 
HUNO i I l.ANS. 133 
 
 de Vasconselos, to spread abroad tin- news of his resolution to 
 abandon the expedition. He was naturally given to talk free! v 
 all that he knew. But, in publishing the matter, he aimed really 
 so to cause the expression of regret among the people, which he 
 kn-\v wmild be very general, a- to move tin- Adelantado to re 
 >iew his conduct towards the Portuguese knights, and to repair the 
 evils .vhieh had followed liis neglect, k was the notion of Nuno, 
 and it was probably not without justice, that a little more favor 
 ^liown to these adventurers would have secured their attachment-. 
 and confirmed them in their desire for the adventure. It was no! 
 too late, he fancied, to win Philip bavk to the enterprise, and he 
 resolved freely to declare himself, to this effect, to the ears of the 
 Adelantado. The command of a score or two of lances, and an 
 honorable appointment, would, he persuaded himself, so influence 
 Philip tie Vasconaelos, that, even if he married Olivia, he would 
 still accompany or follow the expedition. Was he not about to 
 abandon his own wife, who was both young and beautiful; and 
 did not the Adelantado himself do likewise, in respect to a woman 
 ii" Ion beautiful than noble? He could see no reason why the 
 Portuguese should exhibit a more feminine tenderness and affec 
 tiun than either. 
 
 In th i and this policy he seconded the desires and opin- 
 
 i"ii of POM P.altha/ar de Alvaro. This per>on soon got tidings 
 of the avowed det, rm mation of the knight of Portugal. Nuno 
 de T .bar had given lar^e eurrency to the report in a couple of 
 hour<; but Philip, who was not without his policy, and whose de- 
 circulate hi- deeision, set other . w ork in its 
 
 .-nation. E had Nuno de Tobar disappeared v, hen 
 
 ritOF had suii^ht his lodirinirs a::d he was shortly suc 
 ceeded by a third. To all of these our knight was equally commu- 
 
 . . and the news was soon di^per-ed. as upon the wings of 
 the wind, all o\er the city. I >oii Paltha/:tr was one of the first 
 pers..n- whom it rea 
 
 "Tl H ired! n he muttered to himself This knight is hope- 
 ful of - He is not willing toforegohisohftDoes. Hegrows 
 
 confident: he will come again. He will pr >no0e, I eannot hide 
 
134 VASCONSELOS 
 
 her from him. I cannot deny him entrance. I dare not hurry her 
 off to the mountains. He must see her. Well ! she has resolved, 
 in her refinement of virtue, not to accept him not to marry him 
 or any other. She loves him too well, she says, to dishonor him. 
 Very good ! very satisfactory, could she keep her word were she 
 firm in her resolution. But, is it possible 1 Can I trust her ? 
 Is any woman to be trusted where her heart is full of the one ob 
 ject, where the passions are young and vigorous, and where the 
 opportunities are free 1 She will tremble and hesitate, and be 
 coy recede, yet loiter, listen, and finally, forgetting everything 
 except the passion which she feels, she will fall into his arms, and 
 he will drink the moist, warm consent from her burning lips. So 
 it has been ever^so it will be ever to the end of the history. 
 I have studied the sex in vain if it be not so! and how to prevent- 
 all this, for it must be prevented ! The Adelantado must persuade 
 this knight to continue with the expedition. He must win him. lie 
 hath the charm to do this, when he is persuaded to use it ; and he 
 must use it now. He must make him a captain of twenties nay, 
 hundreds but he must bear him off; and meanwhile, it must l>e 
 for me to encourage him with a promise of Olivia on his return 
 from the expedition. To gain time is now the thing essential. 
 The rest may be left to the thousand casualties of such an adven 
 ture as that on which we depart. But should these arts fail ! 
 should the persuasions of the Adelantado come too late should 
 the pride of this knight of Portugal reject our overtures with 
 scorn, as perchance he may should my promise of Olivia, on 
 his return, not satisfy him as, in faith, her encouragement hath 
 been sufficient to make it unsatisfactory what remains ] Verily, 
 but one remedy ! We must try the sharp necessity of the dag 
 ger. There will be opportunities enough, I trow. It must either 
 be my hand, or that of one whose soul and weapon I may buy 
 against any bosom in Cuba !" 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " //a/. have then sinned apainst his experience, and IrangreMed against his valor , 
 sod my tute that way a dangerous, since I cannot y-t find it in my la-art t. 
 Uere he comes. I pray you make us friends. I will pursue the amity. " 
 
 ALL S WELL THAT ELxns WELL. 
 
 WK have heard the cold and cruel determination of Don Bal- 
 iha/ar de Alvaro. We may be assured that it has not been 
 spoken idly, or with a mere braggart spirit, and that his ; 
 lion and his will correspond too well, to make him pause, when 
 ever it shall seem necessary to carry out his purpose- in art ion. 
 Fur UK- present, his conclusions led him at onoe t.> seek an in 
 ten icw with the adelant&do. As he expected. In- fimnd 1 - 
 already in possession of the rumor touching the withdrawal of 
 Philip de \ aseoii>.-los from the expedition. 
 
 " Is this report true, Don Balthazar?" demanded the a-lelanta- 
 do, who, proud as he was, and self-confident, could not help 
 showing in his tone and manner that the allair seriously dis- 
 (juieted him. 
 
 M It is not improbable, your excellency : the report 
 through several persons who have his ear. Nuno de Tobar him 
 self assured me that his present mood inclined him to foregp 
 .: -edition, but he thought that, with proper eflorN made, 
 Don Philip might be persuaded to review his decision." 
 
 " And am I to stoop to solicit this Portuguese knight to be my 
 companion in my arms?" was the imperious demand of I >, 
 
 M Nay !" interposed, gently but earnestly, the more sedate- 
 spirit of his wife, the Lady Isabella >k nay, my Lord, this ja 
 an unreasonable spirit which possesses thee. Don Baltha/ar i- 
 surely too much thy friend to counsel thee to any dishonor, or 
 descent from thy high dignity. He means not that thou sh<m!d>t 
 ink the .spirit of the noble and the knight, to conciliate an ex- 
 
 136 
 
136 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 acting spirit, or win the countenance of the unworthy. He but 
 counsels, as I have striven to do, that in the case of these brave 
 knights of Portugal, whom none hold to be less than honorable 
 in very high degree, thou shouldst assume a different bearing 
 from that which is but too common for our Spaniards to show 
 to these gentlemen. Verily, I say myself, they have been quite 
 too much slighted in this adventure, the more especially when 
 we ivmember the claims of Don Philip, rrot merely as a brave 
 warrior, and polished gentleman, but on account of the special 
 Dualities which he possesses from a former sojourn with the 
 Floridian of Apalachia. And where is the shame and the dis 
 credit to thee of seeking and soliciting this noble and his brother \ 
 Dost thou not solicit many, many who are far less worthy ? 
 What is all thy toil here, the parade which we daily make, the 
 court which we hold, the feasts we give, the pageants and tour 
 neys we exhibit, but the fruit of a solicitude which seeks men, 
 and money and horses, and all that is deemed needful to the 
 success and glory of thy enterprise 1 Of a truth, my Lord, I 
 see, as I have long seen, that there is no true wisdom in looking 
 coldly on these brave spirits, who, I doubt not, will be most happy 
 of thy favor, and most hearty in thy cause." 
 
 The Adelantado trode the floor with hasty strides while his 
 wife was speaking. When she had done, he spoke. 
 
 " I see not what ye would have. I gave these knights all the 
 countenance that was possible. They were entreated to ourpres- 
 eliee ; they were dealt honorably with when they came. I could 
 not strip command from. other of my followers, born Castilians, 
 who brought with them their own retainers. I could not for my 
 own dignity, abridge my own command, that they should find 
 the followers whom they did not bring. I dared not give them 
 high places in the expedition, knowing well the jealousy of our 
 people towards the foreigners. But, I trow, all this complaint 
 of neglect had never been, Don Balthazar, had it not been for 
 thy niece. It is the passion of this knight for the Lady Olivia, 
 and, perchance, thy hostility to his object, which hath marred hi* 
 purpose, and not any lack of my favor. He had gone, as so 
 
DON HAI.TIIA/AIi s TACTICS. 137 
 
 many do, as an individual adventurer, a single lance and sword, 
 but for his pa-Mon for thy niece ; ami thou, I wot, hath put thy 
 baa upon his alK-clion." 
 
 I have put no ban upon his affections, your excellency, nor 
 upon h. PS, He Ifl iV. e : eome and go, and he sees my niece 
 when hi- will. 1 have not forbidden him ; I do not purpose to 
 forbid. If he seeks her in marriage, and she allccls him, I with- 
 hol i :,t." 
 
 " Thou ha-t changed in thy tv-olvr since we last spoke of 
 the-e partie- I" 1 said Donna Isabella. 
 
 our La.lv-liip. I hearkened to your counsels, and re 
 solved in enmpHanee with them. But it K perchance, for this 
 very reason that he hath declined the expedition. Had 1 : 
 his pa^ ;t ._r ( . to ihc Lady Oli.i.i. he had been less hoj.eful. I am 
 fi-ee to say that 1 believe she hath lar^e power over him." 
 
 " And he over her." ipioththe Lady Isabella, " or the woman s 
 ey havi- in this jrrcatlv mistaken the n<nal si^ns of the woman s 
 heart. 11 
 
 * Well ! w exclaimed Ilernan de Soto, breaking in with impo- 
 :!, and what is to come of it? Will he sink into 
 the drudirr upon a vineyard ? \\ ill he become fruit-pn;: 
 trie haeii-nda of the Lady Olivia do Alvaro, and prepare his 
 monthly accounts, as >te\vard and aiieiit. for tin- e\.-.:iiination of 
 : Don T. Think ^t thou to bring him 
 
 to this ? Can it be that one of the bravest and ln->l lances in 
 Portugal ay. and Spain will be content with this petty employ 
 in life while "Teat deeds are done in Florida he who, but a 
 month airo. had an ambition for conquest, and a pa ion lor 
 pri-e. equal to that of the ni.xt eager adventurer in < 
 Tlicn is knightl: in spirit in the last decade ; 
 
 and on, a- he reads may well \vond, -\- if the Hernan de 
 
 < ordova are not in f-iith a pure fable, a silly invention of the 
 Go to, Don Baltha/ar, vu shall not per-uade me to 
 .his." 
 
 "I would persuade you to nothing, your ex* -ellency, which you 
 
138 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 deem hurtful to your honor or your interests, or which you fina 
 displeasing to your moods. You hear what is reported as coin 
 ing from Don Philip himself. 1 believe the rumor, and think 
 that he hath so expressed himself. It is for you to say whether 
 the loss of this knight, perchance his younger brother also, be 
 such loss as you can suffer without grievance." 
 
 " Of a truth, not ! we want every man whom we can get, and 
 every brave knight in especial, particularly one who brings with 
 him such manifold resources as Philip de Vasconselos." 
 
 " This being the case, your excellency, it may be well to ask 
 in what way, without derogal u from your high dignity, to per 
 suade him to the adventure. I have shown you wherefore . 1 
 think he hath resolved to quit your banner; the neglect of 
 favor the jealousy of our Spaniards, and the passion which he 
 hath for my niece." 
 
 " When thou sawest these things, and that the hope of thy 
 niece was that which made him hostile to the expedition, why 
 then didst thou give encouragement to this puling passion for the 
 damsel 1" 
 
 "Nay, my lord, thou an ;ii:ain unreasonable," interposed 
 Donna Isabella. " If there be offence in that, the guilt of it lies 
 at thy door and mine. Don Balthazar, as thou wilt recall, de 
 clared himself in opposition to the suit of the knight of Portugal, 
 giving, as reason for it, the very peril which we now fear, that he 
 would abandon the expedition if successful with the lady. Was 
 it not so, Don Balthazar ?" 
 
 Don Balthazar bowed assent, and then proceeded in reply to 
 De Soto. 
 
 " I gave no encouragement, your excellency, to this passion. 
 In truth, for many reasons I was greatly hostile to it. The calm, 
 and, as seemed to me, as I trow it did to you, the insolent pride 
 of this knight s bearing was rarely inconsistent with his poverty 
 of position and resource, and I felt a pride of nation which re 
 volted to think that the large possessions of my niece should fall 
 into the clutch of a beggarly and grasping stranger. I had 
 
A D1FFKKKNCK OF OPINION. 139 
 
 am (her suitor for her one Don Augustin do Sinolar, a 
 worthy gentleman. an<l a handsome, whose estates lie adjoining 
 "f m\ niece at the hacienda Mutclos." 
 
 And did>t thou really seek to match thy niece with that thing 
 of silk and straw, I )e Sinolar ? Fie upon thee, Don Baltha/ar 
 tie ij.on thee. for designing :i most unworthy sacrifice." 
 
 Tin t ace of Don Balthaxar Hushed to the temples, as he listeneo 
 to tin. 1 rebuke of the Ladv Isabella, and felt the sharp indignant 
 glance of her eye upon him. But he had his reply. 
 
 He is rich, lady, and hath a good exterior. He hath the 
 vanities of youth, perchance; I deny it not; but he hath few of 
 the vices of youth. He hath meekness, and gentleness, and sim 
 plicity, and " 
 
 < )h ! hush thee, Don Balthazar; as if the qualities of a chicken 
 or a hare were sufficient to satisfy the heart of a woman. Fie 
 upon thee. 1 
 
 ; Briefly," interposed De Soto, "she rejecN your favorite 
 ! } ^inolar, and must have your knight of Portugal." 
 
 "My choice wa< not hers, and, though the Lady Isabella re- 
 bukc- me. I mii-t -ay I am <orry for it. Olivia had been in.ich 
 happier. I trow, with De Sinolar, than she ever could hope to he 
 with Philip de Yaseonst.dos." 
 
 "And why not, I pray you . " attain spoke th i!>ella. 
 
 *hiwin<: a feminine tenacity <>n a subject which so naturally inter- 
 "xted the pride and temper of tin- 
 
 " Nay. it does not matter to our present quc-t." said IV 
 The ([notion is. does -he resolve to wed the Portuguese? 11 
 
 "She prefer* him. beyond all que-tion. hut that she will wed 
 with him is still -as who can answer for tin- oaprioea f the 
 S( . x ? and \\\\> with a sly alanoe at the Lady NabelU 
 
 till a verv questi- uiablc mat | 
 
 ka her, there is an end "I 
 
 the -l-iibt. "> 0\ do not bar the [.I-OLMV--. and imne .lenies. She 
 will wed with him, 1 >ee, and he is lost to the expedition a loaa 
 greater than fifty raatchlo 
 
140 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 De Soto strode the apartment with a vexation which he did 
 not labor to conceal. Now, that tin- loss of the knight seemed 
 to be certain, he was at no pains to conceal his conviction of his 
 value. The tfuth is that, as Don Balthazar had indicated ahva.lv, 
 the pride in the bearing of Don Philip de Vasconselos, and tin- 
 stately reserve which he maintained to the Castilian leaders. De 
 Soto among them, had touched the self-esteem of the latter. 
 Yet this conduct of the Portuguese was not properly a cause of 
 wonder or complaint, when it was remembered with what oj.rn 
 jealousy he was regarded by the Spaniards. Don Balthazar 
 watched his superior with keen eyes, but a calm, unspeaking 
 countenance. After a brief pause, he spoke as follows : 
 
 " Nay, your Excellency, it does not seem so necessary that the 
 Knight should be lost to the expedition, even should he wed with 
 my niece. He may be persuaded to follow it after he hath wed- 
 ded " 
 
 " Better before !" said the Lady Isabella with a smile. 
 
 " Yes, I grant you, better before; and, whatever attempts we 
 make upon him should be seasonably tried ; but, failing to pre 
 vent his bridal which, I repeat, is by no means an assured thing 
 then we may negotiate that he follow thee when the honey-moon 
 is over. Thou wilt suffer one or more small caravels to remain 
 from thy fleet, wherewith to bring stores after thee, and the si-k 
 soldiers, and in one of these he may easily depart with others. 
 Thou wilt hardly feel his loss ere he is with thee. Thou wilt 
 consume several weeks in thy progress along, and thy descent 
 upon the coast in the unloading of thy caravels, the landing of 
 the horses, hogs and cattlp, and in other needful preparations 
 When thou art ready tc penetrate the country of the Aj.alaehi- 
 an, he will, if we use the proper means of persuasion, be with 
 thee in season." 
 
 " And these means of persuasion. Sant lago ! Shall I go to 
 this Knight of Portugal, and bend myself l>ef!>re him, and sav, 
 Sir Knight, wilt thou honor thy servant by taking thy part in 
 this expedition? " 
 
THE EMISSARY. 141 
 
 "Nav, nay, my lord " began tht- lady, but the Advlantado 
 
 waved his hand impatiently, lcx>king to Balthazar. The 1.-, 
 did not delay his answer : 
 
 " Will your Excellency leave this matter wholly to n 
 
 will use what proper arguments I may. I will in no respect com 
 mit thy pride or honor. I will promise office, and the command 
 of n troop, yet in no way conflict with thy engagements." 
 
 " How wilt thou do this 7" 
 
 " Nay, will it not suffice that it shall be done]" 
 
 "In God s name, do it; I shall say no more. Thou wilt re 
 lieve me of an embarrassment; and if thou succecd st with this 
 churlish cavalier, will do help to the enterprise, as none better 
 knows than thou ! Away, Don Balthazar, and let the grass not 
 grow beneath thy feet. To-morrow thou knowest the tournament 
 Sna, and there is much work for thee here as elsewhere. To 
 thy papers, my secretary my soul, rather! 
 
 And with this superb compliment, the stately Don turned to 
 his wife, and proceeded to dictate a* >he wrote. Don Bal 
 thazar, having carte blanche, made his bow and took his departure. 
 He lost no time in visiting Philip dc Vasconselo*. The office 
 was one which the uncle of Olivia would have cheerfully dep 
 to another; but this was impossible ; and he proe. <>rd 
 
 ingly to the work before him, with the promptitude of 01 
 \\hom the duty is apparent. His hope lay in the temptation 
 which he would hold forth to the ambition of the adventurer. 
 Having himself little faith in the affection* as sufficiently compen 
 sative to man, he persuaded himself that the aim of Philip <le 
 Vasconselos was the fortune of hi* ward. If he could hold forth 
 a sufficient lure of the *ame-charaeter through another medium, 
 he flattered himself that lie >diould be siieeesvful. N.uii doubted 
 that Florida and the mountains of Apalaehia concealed tiva-sires 
 in gold and ^ilver. i:- MIS and precious >toiie*, equal to aii\ in the 
 
 ; iiiu of Peru. He knew that this faith w,i 
 
 by the PortiiLTUes.- whohadl.een on.- ..fthe e\p|..ivi^ of thai 
 oomitry with the Ca\alier :e \ aca. All that -cemed 
 
 l, therefore, to be^uilin^ lum to the - -.-, fc> 
 
i2 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 mollify his pride, and secure him the means of going thither i a 
 style which should maintain his dignity and affoid him an ado 
 quate command. For this money was necessary, and De So.o 
 had none to spare. The resolution which Don Balthazar had 
 formed, vas to use the means afforded him by the large income 
 from the estate of his niece, of which he had complete control. 
 To employ the wealth of Olivia in ridding her of two dangerous 
 lovers, seemed to him a perfectly legitimate measure ; though, 
 in respect to the propriety of the proceeding, he never allowed 
 himself to doubt for a moment. Thus prepared with his gen 
 eral plan of action, he entered the humble dwelling of the Knight 
 of Portugal. 
 
 Philip de Vasconselos beheld the approach of the unusual vis 
 itor without surprise. He had, in fact, anticipated the unwonted 
 courtesy, and we may add, had partly designed it should be so, 
 when he instructed his friends to declare aloud his determination. 
 He knew quite as well as any other person, how necessary he 
 was to the purposes of De Soto. The appearance of Don Bal 
 thazar seemed to assure him also of the conviction felt by the 
 latter that his niece would favor the suit of the Portuguese. The 
 instincts of Philip de Vasconselos on this subject had been 
 strengthened by the positive reports of Nuno de Tobar. They 
 were confirmed by the visit of the uncle. His hands were ac 
 cordingly strengthened. He was prepared for the interview. 
 Though yet a young man, hardly more than thirty, he had been 
 a soldier ; had travelled much ; mingled much with men ; en 
 dured those vicissitudes which strengthen patience, teach coolness, 
 and give insight ; and with a mind naturally acute, and a judg 
 ment well balanced and secure, he was more than a mateh foi 
 men of greater age. and as much experience. lie was a politician 
 over whom the habitual cunning of Don Baltha/ar could obtain 
 no ad vantage. It was a curious study to watch the interview 
 between tli" parties to behold the Castilian Don doubling like a 
 fox through all the avenues of his art; to see him circling around 
 his object, without approaching it ; to note how warily he kept, 
 in regard to his secret fears, while holding forth his nipst beguil- 
 
DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 143 
 
 ing lures; in particular t.> note how sweetly he could insinuate 
 his flatteries of the man he hated in his soul, and had already re- 
 - ed, simpler remedies having failed him, to treat with sharp 
 medicine at the point of his dagger. He tried the pulse of Phil 
 ip s vanity and ambition with most laborious art, and a skill of 
 practice which had BUOoeeded with ninety-nine in the hundred of 
 the young men of the time. But he tried in vain. 
 
 ^ et Philip de Vasconselos gave him no direct denial. The 
 \ oung man opposed art to art. He showed himself highly grati 
 fied with the prai^. of the other. He made no effort to dis 
 guise the ambition which he really felt, and suffered the old 
 politician to believe that all his flatteries had made their way to 
 his heart. He was never more frank and cordial in his life . He 
 spoke to Don Baltha/ar as to the undo of Olivia, and in the strain 
 of one who regarded him as in no idverse to the free 
 
 course of her atK ciions. He did not say to him, "I love your 
 niece," he did not even speak of her; yet he so shaped his 
 i confidential friend, and so governed tone and coun- 
 tcnanee equally as to indicate to the other the utter absence from 
 his thouirhts of any doubt that he, Don Balthazar, could be other 
 than friendly to himself and objects. The confidence and ease 
 with which he gave himself out^apparently just forebore the look 
 jf M !feomplaisance,and expressed the sense and spirit of a man 
 vho felt that his chances with fortune were quite even, or at least 
 looked so fair, as would render any reluctance to press them, a 
 dastardly for the toleration of any brave man. 
 In the end, all that Don Baltha/ar could obtain from the young 
 knight was a promise to consider his proffers to deliberate 
 hone.fly up on them, and HMota seasonably, giving his final 
 answer before tin departure of the fleet 
 
 "Demonios!" muttered the ( t.tilian to himself, when he had 
 fake,, hi* departure: "ThU dog of a Moor thinks he already hath 
 (he rabbit in a sack. But he shall lose hi. own >kin ere he ! 
 it is clear that be Inpat for Olivia s OOOMOt Now will it del 
 on her whether he tastes my dagger or not. If her virtue Ha ! 
 ha virtue ! if her virtue boUsovl to refusal of his hand, why 
 
144 VASCONSELOS 
 
 let the dog drift where the seas may carry him ! but if, as I fear, 
 her passion for him proves too strong for her magnanimity, he 
 must die ! So be it ! He shall never live to be her master- -or 
 mine!" 
 
 He returned with all diligence to the presence of the Adelan- 
 tado, whom he found in the most joyous mood. The change of 
 a couple of hours had effected wonders. When he left his pres 
 ence De Soto was angry and sullen. Now his mirth was abso 
 lutely boisterous. In this merriment, though more temperately , 
 Donna Isabella shared. Don Balthazar looked on with wonder, 
 and several times vainly essayed to speak. He was always 
 overborne by the laughter of his superior. 
 
 " Tell me nothing yet," cried De Soto, at an interval in his 
 bursts of mirth, " Nothing that shall qualify my pleasure. II a ! 
 ha ! ha ! wait, good Don Balthazar, till I can recover breath, when 
 you shall hoar, and then, if it be not wholly against your princi 
 ple, you shall laugh too." 
 
 " Ay, ay, your excellency, as Sancho counsels, * Let not thy 
 secret rot in thy keeping ! " 
 
 " Ere long it will be no secret. The story is too good to bo 
 kept from air. It must be sent abroad, and no doubt will gain 
 addition as it goes. Thus, then, there were some barques that 
 put into port, as thou knowest, from stress of weather yesterday. 
 One of them had sprung aleak, and needed repair. On board of 
 this vessel came Hernan Ponce, an old comrade of mine in Peru. 
 We were dear friends in Peru, and we made a brotherhood be* 
 tween us, which is, as thou knowest, a copartnership ir common 
 interests and profits, to last through life. We were thus to share 
 our gains and losses equally, our honors as our profits." 
 
 " Ah! and he now comes to claim of thee the half of tin 
 here, and thy command in the expedition ?" 
 
 t: Nothing half so good, Don Balthazar. He claims nothing at 
 my hands, but his aim is to escape from claims of mine. Thou 
 must know, then, that Hernan Ponce hath made great profits in 
 Peru, and with immense wealth of p>l<l ami silver, jewels and 
 precious stones, he hath embarked at Nombrn de Dios for 
 
TUK TKKASUKK. 
 
 It Ls greatly against his will that he hath put into Havana, So 
 great was h : s fear of my domain Is that he made great offers to the 
 Captain of the barque, Diego de Miruelos, who was an old ibl 
 lower of mine, if he would steer wide of Havana though he should 
 peril the Chip s safety in doing so. But Diego, who has a keen 
 
 .t for a rogue s secret, and who knew the danger of his vc 
 not to be overborne. So here he is ; and yesterday he ad- 
 
 1 me, by secret message, of him he hath on board. Where 
 upon 1 Miit a most courteous di>patch to Ilernan Ponce, to com 
 pliment and congratulate him on his arrival, and to entreat him to 
 come on shore, and in regard to our brotherhood, to share my 
 dwelling, my conOand, and the honors and profits of my expedi 
 tion." 
 
 \h! well he hath complied ?" 
 
 "No! no! Th mething of the fox in Ilernan Ponce, 
 
 it appears, who showed himself a true comrade only when h 
 
 a poor adventurer. Now, that he hath gmwn r ch, the na 
 
 ture changes. He e.vu-ed himself from coming a>hiv \e-ter- 
 
 day. pleading fatigue ; but he is to visit me to-day. Meanwhile, 
 
 DiegO _.. :ae to understand that Ilernan he. .MHI- 
 
 nieation with the shore, and counselled me to set eves abr -ad, 
 
 sueh as might see dearly amid tin- darkness. Whereupon, 1 did 
 
 so, until every inlet and landing-place v, : -,.,l with my 
 
 foot*, It was a wi-e precaution. Look at the fruits of it." 
 
 ing a curtain, IX, Soto showed to h; 
 
 . iy roller-, in which, the lids being remove.!, could be Wen 
 I of gold, and peark and preciou> itOQea, heaped to full. 
 MM, 
 
 " r rh- . iim. d I) t - Sol. ht. to 
 
 be hidden -omcwhnv. l^ut. even a> th-y \\viv landed. : 
 set upon the mariners, .li-per-.-d th.-m. leiied u;>ou tin- 
 and it i> h.-rc. I K-arn from Dirgo that Ilernan k-pt 
 on board but his ooffen of silver. The^e. if pre-^ed. he VTM t 
 share with me in compliance with our artii-h-s o bro l, 
 Have I not reason for merriment, think you ? Ha . ha! ha! how 
 will he stare when he beholds them !" 
 1 
 
VASCONSELO3. 
 
 u Wilt thou show them ?" 
 
 " Eh ! why not ? He shall see the sordid runagate, that I 
 know him ! I will shame him with my discovery. 5 
 
 " Which is clearly forfeit." 
 
 " Nay, the dog.- 1 will not keep his treasure from him. ! vrlll 
 spit upon it, and force his sLaine upon him." 
 
 " It is a gift of fortune. Thou wilt need it all, Don Her 
 nan." 
 
 "Nay, teach Lot that," interposed Donna Isabella; "rather 
 let it go, lest we be haunted by the prayers of hate and avarice. 
 My lord will, I trust, need none of the treasure which is yielded 
 grudgingly. I would not have his honor reproached by scan 
 dal." 
 
 " But it is his right, Senora." 
 
 "Yes ! but one may well forego a right when there would be 
 feeling of shame, and not pride, in its assertion. letter let my 
 lord do as he nobly resolves, spit upon the treasure, and so 
 upon the baseness of the owner. 
 
 It was probably the advice of the lady that led I > onto to his 
 determination. He was rather inclined to grasp at treasure from 
 whatever source, and his reputation is not above tin- reproach of 
 an unbecoming avarice. While they were yet speaking, the 
 attendants announced the approach of llernan Ponee, upon 
 which Don Balthazar said. 
 
 "My need requires me elsewhere. I will not stay to see thy 
 treatment of this partner of thine, particularly, as it seems to me, 
 thou dost unwisely in restoring him his treasure. Better werl 
 thou to help thyself, and punish him thus. It were the most 
 eiVeetual manner for teaching him his basene->. lie would then 
 surely feel it. Such a wret.-h will go on" exulting, even though 
 thy spittle should somewhat stain his pearls." 
 
 " What of the knight of Portugal ] Dost thou make any thing 
 of him?" 
 
 " He speaks fairly, but does not yet decide. He will deliber 
 ate upon my counsel and proposals. 
 
 "Ah! he will deliberate. A curse upon the insolence of the 
 
HKKNAN POXCK. 147 
 
 Moor for all these Portuguese are of mixed blood, I think ! 
 ne will deliberate whether lie will serve in ranks of honor in 
 ; vi. e of a Castilian knight. 1 would he knew nothing of 
 the Apalachia. or that I had those about me who knew half so 
 much, then should he nevt.r set foot in this enterprise, which is 
 
 ivat a glory for such as he. 
 " Ah ! my lord, thou dost this young Knight a great wrong, I 
 
 -aid the iady. 
 
 "Break oil," said Don Balthazar "here comes your wealthy 
 brother in arms and fortune. A Dios, your excellency. Se 
 flora, I kiss your hands. 5 
 
 !. t down the curtain upon the coffers," said De Soto hastily, 
 as the footsteps sounded at the door without. In the next mo- 
 nieiit, the unhappy Ilernan Ponce was u-heivd into the apart 
 ment. He had been apprised of the miscarriage of his treasure, 
 j.ceted into whoM- hands it had ialleii and, in his loss. | u - 
 \vas taught to see his own bareness. Hj s looks showed what he 
 feared and felt. But in those of the Adelantado and his noble 
 lady he saw nothing but cheering smiles, and a frank welcome. 
 ; him as an old friend, and betrayed no suspicion, 
 and expressed no unkindm . U : - >!\ed to say nothing about 
 .Mured treasure until Ponce should speak. .For a long 
 time ;t, ilking about wholly indifferent subjects. 
 
 But where the treasure i-. tin-re will the heart be also, and out 
 of the fullness of the heart will the mouth be forced to speak. 
 The luckless adventurer, at length, delivered himself of hi- 
 and told the story of his mi-fortunes. The Adelantado had been 
 waiting for this opport unity." 
 
 "What! Ilernan P.>n, -.-. hadst thou then such a treasure as 
 thou di->cribest. and would-t thou have hidden it from me? Was 
 I not to share with thee in thy prosperity, even as I had -hared 
 with thee in thy adver-if \ ! Lu! now the dill 
 us. Behold these, artid. d, signed, and under 
 
 seal, in which, a- tho .d that I h -,ded in my pre 
 
 sent expedition, all the -hips and m uiitions, the arms, the horses, 
 the men and money ; all tho titles, commands, and privilege* 
 
148 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 which I have obtained from the crown, I have set down and 
 devised for our equal benefit, and made thy half secure to thee, 
 according to the articles of fraternity and copartnership between 
 us. Read the writings for thyself. See the names of the wit 
 nesses. Hast thou cause of complaint ? Wilt thou say that I 
 have not, in all things, fulfilled my part of the contract of bro 
 therhood ? " 
 
 Hernan Ponce read, and humbled himself. He admitted the 
 justice with which De Soto had proceeded, anri confessed that 
 he had been unworthy of such a brother. 
 
 " It is not too late to atone, Hernan Ponce. The way is open 
 to thee still. If thou art pleased to share the expedition with 
 me, my titles and commands, my stores and possessions, I will 
 yield thee such as thou may st prefer. The one half of all shall 
 be thine ; the one half of the conquest and the treasures we may 
 win." 
 
 The humiliation of Hernan Ponce increased, under the noble 
 treatment of his old companion in arms, but he said mourn 
 fully 
 
 u It is vain now, since, except the silver which is on board the 
 vessel, I have no treasure of value left. It would be a shame and 
 a wrong to accept the half of thine, when I held back thy proper 
 share of what was mine." 
 
 " Nay, Ilernan Ponce, it is not so evil with thee yet. Thy 
 treasures hath fallen into friendly hands. Look, Senor, not a 
 pearl is missing from thy coffers." 
 
 As he spoke, Donna Isabella raised the curtain, and the greedy 
 miser gasped with joyous wonder, as he eagerly lifted the cover 
 from the coffers, and saw that his gold and jewels remained un 
 touched." 
 
 But this eplf.oae need not detain us longer. The history is 
 briefly told by the chronicler. Ilernan Ponce had no ambition 
 for conquest. lie wa- content with the treasures in possession. 
 Now that his gra>p was on<-c more upon his coffers, he was for 
 incurring no further rUks. The Spanish equivalent for our 
 English " bird in the hand " was tripping busily in his brain. 
 
THE PA HTML li.SU II DISSOLVED. 149 
 
 The honors proposed to him seemed to be rather too expensive. 
 IK- had just loft the land of savages and strife, and he had no 
 rva-ion to suppose that the Apalachians were like to prove more 
 genial companions than those of Panama. He expressed himself 
 very grateful to his brother in arms, the noble Adelantado, but 
 re-ally he could not think of depriving him of any share of his 
 well-won homors any of the results likely to accrue from his 
 well-grounded hopes of conquest. For his own part, he needed 
 change of air from the new world to the old. His health required 
 it, and his treasures. He longed to air his pearls in the atmo 
 sphere of Seville; he thought his ingots would be improved by 
 the coinage of his majesty. Tie was curious to look at the ope 
 rations of the mint. And there were many other reasons equally 
 strong and good. We do not mean to say that he urged all 
 th -se aloud. They were the unspoken arguments of his secret 
 soul. De Soto listened with contempt. Glad to get back his 
 trea-mv-. and perhaps feeling some compunctions of conscience, 
 Ilernan Ponce presented to the Lady Isabella ten thousand dol- 
 lar> in gold, which he entreated her graciously to accept. Had 
 the story ceased here, we might have suffered Hernan Ponce to 
 depart, with the reputation of being less base and unworthy than 
 he originally appeared. But there is another scene in the drama 
 which, though occurring afterwards, may very well be given in 
 thi> place. His mi>er soul repented of this liberality, and wait 
 ing until De Soto had sailed for Florida, he brought suit to re- 
 or the ten thousand dollars from the Lady Isabella. But 
 this brave woman, to whom he really owed the restoration of 
 all his treasure, was not to be outwitted or alarmed. She re 
 plied quietly that there was a long account between her husband 
 and the plaintiff, as might be B6CO in th. artirlr. ,,f copartnership ; 
 t Kit the latter owed De Soto more than fifty thousand du 
 being half of the outfit fur the exp.-dition ; ami corn-hided by de 
 manding the arrest of the debtor, and hi> detention until the j 
 ment should be given on th- fafe 11 rnan Pone,- g,,t wind ,,f 
 this replication in due season, and without waiting th- return 
 of his ten thousand dollars, put out to sea, with hi> bird* 
 
150 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 in hand, and leaving those in the bush to fly whither they thought 
 proper. They had already taken wing with a hundred thousand 
 more for the forests of the Apalachian. But we must not antici 
 pate. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ** Weep not at thine own words, tho 1 they must make 
 Me weep." SIIKLLEY. 
 
 " What cruel sufferings, more than she has known. 
 Canst thou innict ? " ll> 
 
 THE household of Don Balthazar de Alvaro maintained its ar- 
 customed serenity to the world without. Its order had under- 
 gone no apparent disturbance since the death of old Anita, and 
 Sylvia, her mesti/o successor, seemed to fall as naturally into 
 her habits, as if she had been trained directly under them. No 
 doubt the stern discipline of her master had tutored her to im 
 plicit obedience, while his precaution had left nothing doubtful 
 in the directions which he gave her for her government during 
 his absence. But we may mention here, that the girl Juana, if 
 not refractory, was inattentive, and the old hag who now super 
 intended the household had occasion to notice her frequent and 
 prolonged absences, for which the girl, on her return, was unwill 
 ing, or unable to account. Once or twice during the progress of the 
 last twenty-four hours, had Sylvia felt it incumbent on her to 
 administer an expn ive cuff or two to the cheeks of the sullen 
 servant, winding up these salutary admonitions with threats of more 
 potent handling, and a final appeal to Don Baltha/.ar. Hut blows 
 and threats did not much mend the matter. They only increased 
 the dogged obstinacy and sullenness of the girl; who, however, did 
 not spare her young mUtn the n-eital of her cruel wrongs. She 
 concluded always, howVYCT, with a si-nit icant and monitory shaking 
 of the head, winding up with the repeated assurance of redress, both 
 for herself and mistreat 
 
 Olivia did not much heed the-.- a --u ranees, and li-teiu-d, sim 
 ply, in that mood of listlessness, which had followed her despair 
 ing, determination not to wed with Philip de Vasconselos. She 
 
 JM 
 
152 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 abandoned herself to this feeling, and its external exhibition was 
 apathy. Still, she somewhat wondered that she did not see her 
 lover that he did not make his appearance, as her uncle feared, 
 as her friend Leonora de Tobar had asserted he would appear, 
 and as she felt it criminal to hope. A morning visit from Leo 
 nora, the thoughtless, the joyous, upon whom neither shame nor 
 scr -ovr seemed to sit long, gave her all the little tattle of the 
 town ; and she ran on, with tongue at random, discoursing of a 
 thousand matters in which Olivia took no interest. It was only 
 when Philip de Vasconselos became the subject, that the visitor 
 found an expression of eagerness and concern in the eyes of her 
 suffering hostess. 
 
 " It is certain that he loves you to distraction, Olivia. Nuno 
 says so, and he ought to know ; and I suppose he could tell me 
 a great many things to prove it; but he won t. He says Philip 
 is his friend, and he can t betray his friend s secrets. As if a 
 husband should have any secrets from his wife ; and as if I 
 couldn t keep a secret. Now you know, Olivia, nobody better 
 keeps a secret than I. I never tell any thing never! My 
 mouth is sealed upon a secret, as solemnly and sacredly, Livy, 
 as if it were a a what ? why a kiss, to be sure, lie might trust 
 me, I m sure, with every thing he knows with every thing he s 
 seen and done, and not a syllable should ever pass my lips. 
 And yet, would you believe it, when I ask him about your Philip 
 and his secrets, only to tell you every thing, why he tells me 
 that Philip says he will tell me, and that I will tell you, and then 
 every body will know every thing. The fact is, Livy, one thing 
 is very certain to me, that if your Philip speaks in that way 
 though I don t believe a word of it he s a very saucy person, 
 and Nuno should not listen to him. But Nuno believes him the 
 best fellow in the world, and says he loves him next to me. 
 Not close, you know, but far off that is, he has no friendship 
 for any body betwixt him and me. Now I ll let you into a great 
 secret that Nuno told me, and O ! he was so positive that, you 
 shouldn t hear, of all the world, and I promised him not to tell 
 you, Livy, but I didn t mean it, and I know bettor than all that j 
 
THE SECRET. 163 
 
 for what Is a friend meant for, if one is to tell them no secrets 
 at all, and hear no secrets from them ? Pretty friendship that, 
 indeed ! No ! no ! I know better, and I ll be faithful to you, 
 Livy, and tell you every thing." 
 
 The necessity of stopping to take breath alone arrested the 
 
 torrent. Meanwhile, Olivia had not the heart to reject the alleged 
 
 secret, That which was stirring in her own bosom, and making 
 
 her wretched, seemed to catch at every suggestion from without, 
 
 ;is if it brought with it a hope ; and, indeed, we are half inclined 
 
 to think that very young girls, of the age of those two, have 
 
 not often boon persuaded to reject a revelation in which those 
 
 . feminine interests, of love and marriage, are the understood 
 
 cuts. Olivia. however, sat incurious seemingly so, at least 
 
 at all events >h.- was passive. 
 
 \V.-II! ilnii t von a*k uhat the -eeret i<. I.ivy ! \ "ii don t 
 i to pretend that you don t care; t ... don t 1 know you re 
 
 dying ti.r this same IMiilip de Vasoonseloe, and that you think 
 more of the plumes in his helmet than of the heads of all 
 men ?" 
 
 Olivia shook her head. 
 
 " Oh ! if you don t wish to know, Mary Mother, 1 don t wish 
 
 t< foive it upon you. I can get any number of girls to listen to 
 my 
 
 And >he pouted ami allectcd a moment s reserve. But she 
 lit a-< well have sought to stifle a volcano with a soup-plate, 
 
 to -n-leavor to keep down her tidings when the\ had once 
 led to h-r tongue. 
 
 Ah! I see you are BO1TY, DO* Well, YOU -hall h 
 You must know, then, that Philip lias determined not to go with 
 tlu- A lelantado. and he toll Nuno that it was because he love.) 
 \ou much. And Nuno Bgyi it has , great hubbub, 
 
 and the Addantado 5^ in quite a fix. and y.ur uncle, the old Turk, 
 h:i- been row IMiilip to persuade him; and Xuno thinks 
 
 that D"ii P>althazar has ma-le him a promise that if he goes with 
 the expedition, and mak. - but one campaign, that he shall then 
 have your hand. So that all i* ! end happilv at la-4, Livv. My 
 
 7* 
 
154 VASCONSELO3. 
 
 Nuno and your Philip will come home together, and when you are 
 married, we ll buy a hacienda alongside of yours at Matelos, and 
 we ll be as happy as birds of Paradise with our husbands. Isn t 
 it nice, Livy, and won t we be so happy so very, very happy?" 
 
 " Never ! never !" exclaimed the poor girl solemnly, her head 
 drooping upon her hands, through the fingers of which the big 
 tears were seen to trickle. 
 
 "Oh! but we will, I tell you. None of your nevers for me. 
 It must be so ! Why, Livy, what do you cry for ? Because 
 you will have the very person that you lo\ 
 
 " No ! no ! I shall never marry, Leonora. 
 
 "Oh! I know better than that! Why, what in the world 
 were you born for, Livy? What but to marry a noble gentle 
 man, and and oh, you know what I mean; so don t lock ><> 
 like a simpleton.* 1 
 
 " ! have resolved not to marry, Leonora. I hope" here her 
 voice iivinbled "! hope that Don Philip will never compel me 
 to iv fu -e his offer." 
 
 M ( )f course, he won t compel you to refuse. No, indeed ; if 1 
 \\eiv he I d rather compel you the other way, for say what you 
 will, you love him, and you ll have him, if he ever asks you , 
 and he loves you, and he will ask you; and I shall be at the 
 wedding, and we will live alongside of each other, in our two 
 heavenly haciendas at Matelos, and there shall be no more wars, 
 ind no more campaigns in Florida, and and " 
 
 There was another breathing spell necessary for farther pro- 
 
 ts. r J1iis found, the gay, thoughtless creature resumed. 
 " But I haven t told you half of my secrets. Nuno says that 
 Philip and his brother Andres have quarrelled, and it, is all on 
 < our account. He told Philip that you had refused him " 
 
 " He should not have done that." 
 
 " No ! and by the way, Livy, that s what I have to quarrel 
 with you about. You never told me, your own sister in love, a 
 word about that busmen. Oh! you sly, selfish thing. To keep 
 such a good secret to yourself, and never so much as give me a 
 peep at it. I wouldn t have served you so." 
 
LEONORA S CONSOLATION. 166 
 
 " You NvouM have told it to Don Nuno ?" 
 
 "No. indeed ! I can keep a secret M dose, you know, as any- 
 DOdy. A for him. I never tell him anything. But, let me tell 
 you aliout tin- quarrel. Tliere were high word- between them. 
 Don Andres told Nuno himself. Philip never said a word ; 
 and Don Andres went off from him and took awav all the Por 
 tugucse -oldicix who were all followers of l).,n And!,-. H-- 
 ha> ihe money, you know, though he is the \ mincer brother. 
 Vet I doubt if he has any great deal of that ! But Philip has still 
 having ^, rll t all his patrimony in Florida before, when he 
 went there with Cube/a de Va<;a. Philip hasift even a paije t. 
 buekle on his armor, and he has given Nuno his moiu-v all that 
 he has, 1 suspect, to buy him a negro boy to serve as a page 
 
 to bring his horse and buckle on his armor. Think of that a 
 
 M o,,r to be the page of a noble knight. Oh! it is so pitiful ! 
 1 am rery, very >orry for pour Philip." 
 
 Olivia looked MUTV top, but she never lifted her head and 
 
 : .-p.ike ; a deep Huh forced its wa\ fnun her IIOM.MI. and ^li,- 
 
 thought Oh! what dreadful ihouglit-* wei e lu-rs. JI,, W >h.- 
 
 would have n-joieed to take the poor knight to her bn<om. and 
 
 with her wealth to lift him into {.ride above the pitv ot 
 
 lu-d multitude. Her thoughts t.k >peech in tears; and 
 r \\as wrung from a bleeding heart. Little did her 
 
 tlioii. ompanion dream of the anguish which >hecau-c.i b\ 
 
 her wanton, though unmeaning babble, riinieaiiing though it 
 from her lips it \sa- full of meaning in the MJU! of the bei 
 
 1 Rink deep, and settled firmly there, to be reproduced bv a 
 
 perpetual and unsleeping memory. 
 
 - But. dear me, Livy, how can you be so sad after all 1 have 
 been telling you . ])oifty<u>. TV thing promise 
 
 out well ? Your uncle relents; Don Philip loves you; VIMI 
 him; then- will be nothini; to p: ir marrying him 
 
 now, and your happiness is sure. Do you weep for that . What 
 a strange, f >olMi child. t<> wee[. i is to be ha; 
 
 "1 shall never be happy. Leonora, 1 shall never marr\ 1 )"ii 
 Philip, or any man. 1 shall go to a convent." " 
 
156 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " A convent ! What ! with your face and fortune ? Now 
 know you are crazy. But you don t mean what you say. Leave 
 
 convents to the ugly and the poor, to those who have no hopes 
 and no pleasures " 
 
 " I have no pleasures no hopes !" 
 
 "And why not? It s because- you won t have them, then. If 
 1 were you, 1 should have nothing else. I should live in hope all 
 the day, and dream of pleasures all the night. The world *hould 
 bring me nothing but love and sunshine, and every thought of 
 my soul should he born in the odor of a thousand (lowers. And 
 why should your happiness not be like mine you who have the 
 means to make it so] Now don t think to cheat me with those 
 vacant l>oks. This sadness is only a sort of cloud, behind whieh 
 is the brightest moon of joy. The cloud will disappear with tin- 
 first breeze, and the moon will shine out, bright and full of hap 
 piness. Wait a few days. To-morrow begins the sports 
 and the tourneys. Oh! Livy, such great preparations as they 
 have made. Nuno has had the arrangement of everything. He 
 took me with him yesterday, to B66 the lUts and harriers. They 
 have raided them ju-t without tin- city, in a natural amphitheatre 
 amoni: the hills. There is a great enclosure for the bull-fights. 
 We are, to have the most splendid bull-fights, as brave a> any 
 thing they have in Spain. They brought in a do/en great 1>< 
 yesterday from the mountains the finest animals in the world; 
 all as wild as tigers. Several famous matadors have come with 
 them, and we are to have >u.-h sport. They have, raised hign 
 Mailolds for the noble people and the, ladies, and in the een .re is 
 one with a canopy for the Adelantado and the Lady Isabella, and 
 their immediate friends; we are to sit with them. Livy. but on 
 1 ONV , ,nd nearer to the li>K so that the gallant Cavaliers 
 
 can draw nii:h to us, alter each passage of arm-, and each scleet 
 hi> <^uceii of Love ;md Beauty. Won t that be charming? Think 
 of that, Livv. I m Mire I kn..\v who \\ill !> among th- 1 nio>t ual- 
 lant knights, and I m Mire 1 know who he ll ohoCM M IIH ^ueeii 
 of Beauty. Ah! but. Livy. you mustn t put on that sad and 
 solemn face! it will never do in such a scene as that!" 
 
TIIE PRE3KNTS. 157 
 
 ** 1 will not be there, Leonora." 
 
 "YOU OHi t help yOUnelC Your uncle will be compelled to 
 
 bring you. 1 heard tin- Lady Isabella L . . to him that >rn- 
 
 will require you to be of her { arty, ainl lie promised lier that K- 
 would bring you. No! no! on such an occasion nobody will 
 be allowed to May away. In particular, \\hat will be said if the 
 greatest beauty and fortune in the Island wi-iv not to appear ? 
 Ever) body would say then, it was because Don Balthazar did 
 not wish you to be seen did not wi>h you : - 1 was nol 
 
 willing to give up the guardianship of your tiva-uiv-. N 
 cannot help but bring you. lie knows what an outcry wulu 
 follow your absence; and the blame would rest upon him. ! he 
 Adclantado will see to that." 
 
 Olivia did not answer, but -he iMt tin if what her ^ r a\ 
 
 companion had spoken. She had already had it >ignifu-d to her 
 B a matter of course, that her prc-i ii-v had h.vii 
 required ; and she felt, perhaps, that there was n mode of 
 from the i. l o>sibly a lurking and natural curiosity 
 
 might help to reconcile her to the duty. Nay, was it a natural 
 re!uetaii -e. that which would forbear the sight of the noble per- 
 formaii -rs of the man she loved . L,-t h,-r : niighr. 
 
 not to marry him, there was no need of a resolution to refuse to 
 see him in a public spectacle \\lieiv he wa* s.-en by thousand- 
 
 \Vhiie they yet spoke of this matter, a -ervant a: : 
 with a billet Irom I )on IJaltlia/ar, and B h silks 
 
 and ribbon*. The-e amused the eiirioi; ..rhaif 
 
 an hour. The note -imp!\ eoiiiinned what had b.-i-n said by tlie 
 gay lady, toiu-hing the d -:a I-abella. In a UKHl 
 
 space after, a billet from that lady her- , iu^r an . 
 
 - loll of the -allle ile-il e. M . (Hllj-ani 
 
 brilliant in- iiieli >he 
 
 and wear at the tournament. Oli-. d thnn, but without 
 
 any show of Interest .V 1 o L opon, who \ 
 
 with | ..ir;. lion. 
 
 44 You are th- pe in the 
 
 you have no hear:. I could -.s . :tifu pr. 
 
158 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " And I too can better weep than rejoice over them, Leonora.* 
 " What can be the matter with the child ? Livy, there is some 
 
 thing wrong it is unnatural that you should show such faces at such 
 a time you, so young, so beautiful, with such a fortune, and with 
 such a lover with every reason, too, for believing that nothing 
 can now stand in the way of your loves. Livy, I do think that 
 there is something wrong something which I cannot guess." 
 
 For a moment the gay young woman forgot all her levity, and 
 turning from the rich dresses and the jewels, fixed her eyes on the 
 gloomy features of Olivia, with such intense and penetrating cu 
 riosity, that her cheeks flushed and her eyes fell ; and she stam 
 mered rather than spoke afraid of that suspicious gaze : 
 
 " No ! nothing ; only I am sick sick at heart, Leonora. I am 
 very foolish and weak ! Would to Heaven I were dead !" 
 
 " Shocking ! was ever such a foolish child ! But something is 
 the matter, and it must be very serious to make you look and 
 speak so ; and I must know it, Livy. As your friend, you must 
 tell me all. You know how well I can keep a secret. Come, 
 dear, tell me what it is that troubles you." 
 
 ITiis recalled Olivia to herself. The very appeal to her expe 
 rience in behalf of her friend s capacity to keep a secret, warned 
 hrr of the danger threatening her. She did not philosophize ex 
 cept through her instincts; these sufficiently taught her that a 
 secret, once supposed to exist, is already half discovered ; and by 
 a strong mental effort, she threw off her cloud for a space, and 
 allowed herself to answer prattle with prattle. She diverted her 
 friend s curiosity from herself to her garments, and in the exami 
 nation of silks, ribbons and jewels, Leonora forgot that there were 
 any other mysteries in the world. Thus the rest of the lime was 
 consumed while she remained. 
 
 When hrr gay visitor was gone, Olivia sank into a seeming 
 stupor; y-i her thought was busy all the while ; the mournful, 
 dreary, ghostly speculation, which aimed at nothing, settled upon 
 nothing, hoped flu- nothing, and feared everything. The day parsed 
 thus. She was unci msrious mostly when Juana made her appearance 
 u the apartment, and only roused herself to reply to the salutation* 
 
THE PRAYER. 169 
 
 of Sylvia. Food was set before her, but she could not eat. Her 
 appetite failed her wholly thus, for long periods, to be roused at 
 periods into a sudden voracity. And she was alone all alone . 
 She felt her loneliness, with her other and severer griefs, and the im 
 age of Philip do Vasconselos only grew before her imagination 
 to compel her tears. How tenderly did she think of him, yet 
 how gloomily I He was at once her hope and her terror. She 
 could have died for him with a bound and cry of joy ; but she 
 dared not resolve to live for him. On the edge of this al Siral 
 of hope and delight she loitered long, but the nobler sentiment 
 rose superior to her love nay, let us do her justice, rose out of 
 her love, and had its birth only in her truth and fondness. The day 
 pa-sed and found her still resolute to deny him. " No !" was still 
 the utterance of her heart and will " No ! I too much love him, 
 the nobleness which he loves, to dishonor him with hand of 
 mine ! Oh ! uncle, to what misery hast thou doomed the orphan 
 ntru-ted to thy keeping!" 
 
 While she broods, prostrate before the image of the Blessed 
 Mother, scarce knowing where she lies scarce praying as 
 sin- purposes her prayer*, perhaps, more efficient from the 
 very incapacity of her wandering mind, to fix, connect and breathe 
 them, to thebeiiinn IVing to whose maternal spirit she yet looks 
 for saving, let us turn to the movements of that cruel kinsman 
 whom tier condition loads with curses which her lips do not 
 speak. 
 
 It was only after a lonu day of toil, public and private, that he 
 returned to his habitation. He did not seek his niree. who had 
 retired fr he ni^ht. He proceeded at once to the apartment 
 of Sylvia. The 1, -pared to meet him with complaints. 
 
 "You must M-nd that idle weiidi. .Iiiana. to the haeiciida. She 
 must br made to work the ground. Sh,- i- of no KTVlOe i 
 
 ut of her. She is continually I > hen 
 
 >le returns, and 1 sr,,]d her. -hr i- in-oh-nt. Sin- ; ; at . -r mi-chief. 
 The-e a 1 - for no good. You had best send her a 
 
 and get one more willing in her p 
 
 At that moment Juana presented herself. Her fir- salutatiop 
 
160 VASCU.NSKLOS. 
 
 was at the hands of Don Balthazar, in a blow from his doublo 
 list, \vliich smote her to the earth. She rose with the blood spirt 
 ing from her nostrils. 
 
 " Hence!" he exclaimed, with a voice of thunder and a brutal 
 oath. "Hence! To-morrow you go to the country." 
 
 Juanu disappeared but not too far. She waited at the door 
 and listened, her nose dropping blood all the while. She did not 
 observe it. She scarcely felt the pain. The blood of tin- r <! 
 man in her veins supplied her with one feeling only, and that 
 was for the indignity. She listened. She reserved Uerself for 
 her own time; but resolved that she would not go to ihe coun 
 try. We shall see. 
 
 Meanwhile, a long conference followed between Don Balthazar 
 and Sylvia, in regard to Olivia. 
 
 " She eats nothing that I provide her. 1 know not how she 
 lives." 
 
 " She has supplied herself secretly from other sources. That 
 
 6M " 
 
 Impossible! I have watched her. She has carried her noth- 
 
 ing." 
 
 .F liana, as she, listened, reproached herself that such was the 
 case. She had never thought of the wants of her young mistress. 
 She now resolved to supply them from her own store.-. She 
 now became more resolved than ever to befriend the" damsel, 
 who suddenlv rose before her eyes as an object of sympathizing 
 interest. But she did not leave the door. She had still other 
 things to hear. 
 
 u Here N more of the potion!" said Don l.altha/ar. giving the 
 
 phial. " To-morrow I will see that she forth. In her al>- 
 
 ii her apartments. If you find fond, you know what 
 to do with it." 
 
 This is all that need concern us of this o.nfereiirc. \\heh 
 IV i. Uahh.i/ar was about to leave the apartment, ni- 
 si^hi of i he 1.1. .o,l upon the floor \\hicii had fallen frv,i:t the uos 
 
 of J uaiia. 
 u What is thi.sT he said, stooping. 
 
THE SECRET ENTRANCE. 161 
 
 u H;i ! ha!" laughed the old woman as she looked down 
 "Her nose has eaught it. Your hand is not a light one, Sciior." 
 "She shall find it heavier \ et. But are \< 
 **Yes; see lu-re dro{> drop drop even to the d 
 The old woman pointed out the tracks; hul. on the outside 
 Vhey found it in a puddle. 
 
 IIV." exclaimed the D..II, "the wench has ]oituvd here. 
 She has Ii>tened to all that has Keen said. ll.n we must fi.\ | u -r 
 tor it. Mix the potion with her tl.od. al>o. If she shares it will, 
 Olivia, well ! our end is answered That is the secret. < Hivia 
 
 brihed her. She supplies her \\ith food, so that the girl can well 
 
 t her own. Now we have her. Uul take all preeau!; 
 and when she goes forth to-morrow, sean-h her ehamlu-r. Mean 
 while, do you go to the room of .luanaand -ee what slu- ixal)n!it. 
 Put on a gentle manner wish her. Beguile her. I )o not span- 
 : repi-oaehes of my violen.-e. I will go to the ehaml.er of 
 Olivia, and see in like manner alter h 
 
 The old woman threw oil lu-r slippers and softly stole to the 
 room of J liana. Don Ualtha/ar waited awhile, and then fol owe.l 
 Biowlj, on his way t<> the apartment of his nie.-e. whuh VTOfl he- 
 yond it. When he drew nigh, he found Sylvia emerging from 
 J liana s ehamU-r. 
 
 "She is not there," said she in a whisper. 
 
 li.i! she is then here !" Be pointed to Olivia s door. "Go 
 
 m and wait." lie spoke in a \\hNpt-r aUo. The old woman 
 di-appear.-d. 1 )on Ualtha/ar tried the door gently it was loeked 
 within. He drew a steel pn.l.e from his pocket, stooped, and 
 bed a secret spring in the panel. It silently unelo M -d ; and 
 eroiirhing nearly ;< tin- lloor. lie sue,-, -,-d,-d. without noise, in en 
 tering the aj-artnn-nt. A dim light l.urned upon a tal.le. The 
 uiu-le looked up. and wa-- -out;.iinled to Bee hi- her 
 
 quietly In-holding all his m, f c ,]t 
 
 ail the xliam,- and meumesi of hi> j.roeeeding. in the in. 
 diaCOTi Py. 8 J, induraied M he WM, he e.uild not 
 
 suppre^> the sudden flush that owr-pr.-.id hi- . : OODOeftJ 
 
 the confusion which paralyzed his mo\ t -mri,t iod f.-r a monu-nt 
 
162 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 arrested his speech. The face of Olivia declared her equal scorn 
 and loathing. She never rose, but looking on him with pitiless 
 composure, she exclaimed, 
 
 " This, then, is the noble process for accomplishing my <i^ 
 struction! worthy of a noble knight thrice worthy a C astiliar. 
 gentleman and altogether becoming a guardian and a kinsman !* 
 
 The uncle rose, recovering himself, with the creel position. 
 
 " Thy destruction, girl ! What dost thou mean . Dost thou 
 think I come to murder thee ]" 
 
 "And what else should I think, when thou comest in na^t 
 fashion, at such an hour, and through an avenue which is secret 
 to thyself? Why shouldst thou not murder me . and why, if 
 such be not thy object, shouldst thou thus visit my place of sleep- 
 ing] But thou well knowest I meant not that! Thou know st 
 that, thanks to thy other means of destruction ! I have now no 
 fear of any hurt thou canst do to this poor life. Wert thou capa 
 ble of a noble charity, I would entreat of thee to end it to take 
 thy dagger from thy girdle, and here, with no witness but the 
 Holy Virgin, and that Heaven who will at last avenge my cause, 
 strike me to the heart, and close the eyes which now see nothing 
 but mine own shame/ 
 
 "Olivia, thou art quite too passionate and wild!" 
 
 "Am I then, with the sight of thee, at this hour, knowing what 
 thou art, knowing what terrible wrongs thou ha->t done to me, and 
 seeing, for the first time, one of the secret modes by which thou 
 hast dotroycd the very life of my life, my hope, my soul, for 
 ever !" 
 
 "Poh! Poh! How thou relates* these matters. I tell thee, 
 were it not for thy own thoughts and fancies, thou ha. 4 su ll-i.-dno 
 wrong, no hurt, nothing which should keep thee from being a* 
 gay as the gayest, and as happy as the best. Look at th\ friend, 
 Leonora de Tobar " 
 
 "Speak to me nothing of her! Were it even as t)n>u sa\ est, 
 that my grief and shame are only in mine own thoughts and fan 
 cies, is it not the mo>t terrible of wrongs that thou hast planted 
 them there, so that their dreadful forms and images keep me from 
 
A BOOTLESS ERRAND. 163 
 
 joy by .lay, an 1 haunt my sleep Vy night with worse terrors than 
 Hut, enough! Wilt thou not leave me to-night in 
 peace with such peace as thy crime may permit to a hopeless 
 penitent !" 
 
 M U in) >ni- witli thee here] I look for the girl, Juana?" 
 
 " Dili search of her bring thee hither? There is no one with 
 us hut the Virgin Mother, and the Saints who have pity on the 
 orphan. Hence, anl leave me." 
 
 ( Mv thing more l.cfore I depart. The Lady Isabella has com- 
 misMoned me to entreat thee to come to her to-morrow. She 
 wants thy help and ta-te in certain draperies. I have promi-ed 
 that thou wilt attend her." 
 
 1 what if I say I will not ? What am I, with the con- 
 BdousneM \\hich I carry with me, that I should dare look in the 
 such pure and noble person ! But go leave me. I will 
 attend the Lady Isabella." 
 
 w Th well! Thou hast not seen .Juana? She ha h not been 
 with thee?" 
 
 " She N thy creature one who hath helped for my destruction. 
 What should I do with her ? 1 loathe llie sight of all who belong 
 to tie 
 
 The Don. now thoroughly savage, replied 
 
 I L r " ! r i , mark me. girl, th"ii wilt one day so enrage me 
 with thy insolence that I -hall make ihee tremble with such a terror 
 a- thou do-t not divan 
 
 it what thou \silt of vi"]ene, only let it not be shame 
 and there shall be no tiv 
 
 \\ ifaall W e ! Open the door. I will leave thee." 
 
 irt as thou cam -t !" -lie replied, rising and taking the 
 key from the lock, while for a moment the M-orn upon her lips 
 wa- lightened by a bitter smile. He looked furiously upon her, 
 and made a step towards her. a-> if bent to \\rot the key from 
 i-p; but a more cautions mood prevailed with him, and 
 vitli anger that incr. -a<ed the a\s k\s ardn.-s of his method of de 
 parture, full under her eyes the while, he scrambled through the 
 panel, which instantly closed after him. Olivia hastily svi/ed the 
 
164 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 light, and proceeded to examine it ; but the secret spring was too 
 well adjusted not to elude her search. 
 
 Full of anger, and with a fierce oath upon his lips, Don Bal 
 thazar rejoined the old woman, his creature and confederate, 
 below. 
 
 "Well," said he, " hast thou found the wench, Juana ?" 
 
 " She is gone. She is not within the house !" 
 
 " She shall taste the Calabozo to-morrow. See to what I have 
 told thee when the Seiiorita goes forth, and make the search 
 thorough. She hath concealments of which you know not. Do 
 thy duty well, Sylvia, in this business, if thou wouldst be sure 
 of my favor. In particular, do thou observe the outgoings of this 
 wench, Juana. She hath questionless been bribed by her lady. 
 See to her !" 
 
 Juana, meanwhile, was hidden in the groves with a companion. 
 In the shadow of the great orange trees the features of neither 
 were discernible; but he was a man, huge or* size and bold of 
 speech. lie treated her as if she were a child ; but tenderly, as 
 if he were her father. 
 
 "Never you mind," said he, at parting with her; "the goods 
 shall be had, and the blood shall be paid for ! ( )nly a little while. 
 To keep from the meat awhile, is to strengthen the stoma-h. It 
 is ;i >trong man only who can wait. lie drinks long who drinks 
 slowly. Swallow thy tears, lest tUey blind thee. To-mm>\v is 
 better for work than yesterday; and a good appetiu better than 
 a bad digestion. Take thy sleep now, my child, that thou may st 
 wake with both thine eyes open." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "It is not safe 
 fc -.empt mch pints, and let them wear their swords" 
 
 BRACMO.VT AXD Furrtxm 
 
 IT is necessary that we should now take cognizance of othei 
 parties to this true history, whom we have suffered too long to 
 vemain in tin- hack-ground. Our view is somewhat retrosp* 
 
 in now about to depict having been sketched 
 prior to tin BOenea which have occupied the two preceding chap- 
 Lrt us return to the well-known lodg- of the young knights 
 iuiial. and seo what a: changes which have 
 
 occiirrcd in the awkward relations which exited l.etwceii them, 
 the fruit of eager pasaiota, and, unhappily, misplaced afKvtions. 
 :il days :. 1 since the interview already deseribed. 
 
 in which th. y were the sole and at i. Though the scene 
 
 on that occasion had terminated, if not amicably, at least quietly, 
 yet Philip de Va-c,,nsi-ltis, with gn-at BOITOW, pcr.vived. on the 
 -ther to the cabin which they occupied in com- 
 . that he had relap-ed again into his condition of m< ..,]: 
 tion which did not alway> forbear rudeness. Th-i-l.li-i 
 .veil linderstoo.l alld dreade.l the ] 
 -u-picious. and re-.-ntfuI >pirit of the young man. which :. 
 
 pctllo . 
 
 He had >triven, though without much good result, to soothe the 
 t-vil spirit in the mood of .md to mollify the disappoint 
 
 ment which the latter still keenly felt in regard to h 
 by Olivia. It was under this de-ire that Philip had. in the mean 
 while, forborne, ho\vc\vr luious, to vi-it the woman whom he 
 loved quite as passionately, though with more <j, -n.-n^ity and 
 prnder-.-e, than his brother. He made no allusions to her in nia 
 
 (106) 
 
160 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 intercourse with Andres, and was studious so to select the sub 
 jects of his conversation, as by no possibility to prompt the 
 mind of the youth to turn in the direction in which his heart had 
 suffered hurt. But Andres exhibited no sense of this prudence 
 and forbearance. He was one of those wilful and wrong-headed, 
 but otherwise noble and generous spirits, who prefer, under dis 
 appointment, to suffer and complain ; who, of themselves, irritate 
 the sore places which they feel, and steadily tear away the plas 
 ter with which the physician would cure all their ailments. It 
 was in despair of saying or doing anything which could be ac 
 ceptable to his brother s mood, that Philip de Vasconselos finally 
 forbore the effort. For the last two days, therefore, an ominous 
 silence had prevailed in their cottage when they met. Nothing 
 was spoken which either might well avoid ; and Philip felt with 
 sorrow, that the chasm between them was hourly growing greater 
 in depth and width. But he felt with still greater sorrow that 
 nothing could then be done to arrest its increase. It was to time 
 only, that great corrector, that the matter could be left. 
 
 But time was not allowed them. The tournament approached, 
 with all its excitements, appealing equally to their pride, their 
 renown, and the somewhat peculiar position in which they stood 
 in regard to the Castilian chivalry. Both of them, accordingly, 
 might be seen, a few days before the event, busily engaged bur 
 nishing and preparing their armor. It had already been remark 
 ed, as discreditable to the Spanish knights, that their Portuguese 
 auxiliaries were better armed, in a simpler and nobler style, and 
 kept their mail and weapons under better polish than the former. 
 De Soto himself had been compelled to refer to these knights in 
 compliment on this account, and to urge their example, in order 
 to prompt his Spanish cavaliers to <ret themselves serviceable 
 armor, and to keep it in order. They were better pleased ti 
 show themselves in gewgaws and gilt than in the substantial 
 coverings which were essential to warfare. One <>f the histori 
 ans of this expedition thus contrasts tin- appearance of the knight.* 
 of the two nations: "And he (th<- Adelantado) commanded a 
 muster to be made, at the which the Portugales shewed them- 
 
THE SPANIARDS AND PuIMTGL KSE. 167 
 
 selves armed in verie bright armor, and the Castellans very gal 
 lant, with silkc upon silkc, with many |> mkings aiul cuts. The 
 Governour, because these braveries, in such an action, did not like 
 nim, comnianded that they should muster another day, and [that] 
 every one should come forthe with his armor : at the whieh the Por- 
 lugales came, as at the first, armed with very good armor. . . . The 
 Castellans, for the most part, did weaiv very l>ad and rustic shirts 
 of maile. and all of them head-pieees and >teele caps, and verrie 
 bad lances." The contrast mortified De Soto. In order to rebuke 
 
 t ilians into an emulation of the Portuguese, he distinguished 
 the latter (perhaps unwisely) with unusual favors at the first, 
 and appointed them places near his own person. This was the 
 original source of that jealousy and hostility with which the 
 Spaniards encountered the farther progress into favor of the 1 or- 
 tuguese brothers. It showed itself so decidedly, and with marks 
 of such serious diseontent, that the Adelantado committed the 
 further error of passing to the opposite extreme, and puttini: on 
 siieh a cold aspect to our adventurers, as to forfeit in great de- 
 
 rieir attachment to his cause and person, besides expos 
 ing them to the neglect and contempt of those who naturally 
 take their cue from their superiors. We have not thought it 
 
 ary to detail any instances of the unfriendly or insolent 
 treatment to which they were subject, but have <ati>fied our 
 selves with Allowing what has been the result of it upon their 
 minds. Enough to mention that, in their own skill and spirit, 
 their ability in the use of their weapon, and their promptness 
 to report to it. thev found thus far a sufficient securitv against 
 any outrageous contempts, while the friend-hip of a few of the 
 Castilian knights, such as Nuno de Tobar, reconciled them in 
 some degree to endure the slights and indifference of th. 
 Hut the consequence of this false position in the Castilian army 
 wa< to exeite their national as well as individual pride ; to make 
 them resolve upon achievement ; to keep their armor l>ri. 
 all occasions; to be :i!\vay- n ady f>r MfTiOQ with their weapns 
 and to pluck the chaplet. on all OOOMfoQP, from the helms of their 
 boasting rivals. But their personal griefs were perhaps not 
 
168 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 necessary as incentives to performance, in the case of knightr 
 with whom chivalry still prevailed with all the force of a 
 passion. 
 
 Our brothers pursued their task in silence. Occupying the 
 same dwelling, and with but little space in their somewhat nar 
 row limits for any performance unseen by either, this silence 
 was an irksome one. The elder brother had made repeated 
 efforts to break through the icy reserve which prevailed in the 
 demeanor of the younger from that fatal night, the events of 
 which have already been described. On that night, after their 
 passionate interview, Andres de Vasconselos had returned from 
 his lonely and gloom\ wanderings, in no way improved for com 
 panionship. His affections were more stubbornly congealed 
 than ever ; his passions, if less explosive, not a whit more sub 
 dued or placable. A sullen rigidnoss was conspicuous in all his 
 features ; a gloomy in flexibility in his mood ; a hostile reserve 
 in his actions and deportment. This continued, increased hour 
 ly by the reports of the city, touching the supposed superior 
 good fortune of his brother in respect to the affections of the 
 lady of their mutual love. The kind words addressed to him 
 by Philip were answered only in monosyllables, which were 
 sometimes more than cold, and accompanied by looks which 
 the truly warm feelings of the elder brother regarded as little 
 less than savage. A becoming pity and sympathy, however, 
 led him to be indulgent to a nature which, naturally passionate, 
 was now suffering the stings of a peculiar provocation. Besides, 
 was not Andres the last born, and the favorite, of a mother who 
 was tenderly beloved by both ? Philip did not forbear his e 
 forts, because they were received with indifference. He felt that 
 the moment was one which might form the turning point, the 
 pivot, of a sad and serious future. The chasm left unclosed in 
 season must only widen with time. The affections suffered to 
 remain ruptured, or hurt, would only become callous from the 
 lack of proper tendance, a gentle solicitude, a heedful care, 
 the patient sweetness of a loving watch, which, never obtrusive. 
 
A Sl MMKK EVENING. 169 
 
 iwver suffered the proper moment of consolation to be lost. 
 Such was the spirit with which Philip de Vasconselos regarded 
 his wayward broth 
 
 It was two days yet to the opening scenes of the tourney, the 
 
 beginning of which we have already seen. The day was at its 
 <-lo-e; a day all Unshed with beauty, and sweet with the warm 
 nreathings of the- budding ^ummer. The sun was at his setting 
 [\\> not ungrateful rays fell pleasantly gay upon the green slope 
 whieh led to the slight bohio, or cottage, made of poles and reeds 
 thatched with straw, whieh the brothers occupied. Soft flicker 
 ing fhN and remnants of purple, that seemed momently rolling 
 then. p, and disappearing with the breeze, only to re-ap 
 
 pear and >pivad themselves out in increasing brightness, on higher 
 ; hill, won, at the same moment, the silent fancies of the 
 brothers. The hills were fringed with faint red tints that, glori 
 fied them a< with heavenly halos ; the woods, filched with the 
 mingled drapery of >pringand summer, lay gently waving in the 
 hn . .rocked in the arms of beauty, and canopied 
 
 with the smiles of heaven. It was one of those delicious mo 
 ments wh.-n the world withou 1 with all its s\v:vtm < 
 into the heart, and takes the. whole soul into its embrace of ] 
 1 in- ^" t ji T-. a- by a eoinnioii instinct, threw a>ide their toils. 
 an. 1 ea* UWID wn upon the hill-slope, their eyes rai, 
 
 : trie blessed pro>peet. Their shields, of bright blue & 
 
 . and shining like mirrors in the <un, reflected back the 
 riellow voftne-v ,{ his beam<. They hung upon the upright | 
 without the , the entrance, to \\hi.-h they 
 
 furnislieil a rich and ln-litting lecoratioii. Their long 
 well-sounded and seasoned a- h. headed with br iidit 
 
 , that >hone like -liver in the >un, were leaned ngains 
 wall of the dwelling, and also without the ci tvaiiee. ! !., ; 
 of Anilr- ii, had ju-t piadi- his , 
 
 and taken his departure, under instructions from hi- : ml 
 
 r or a moment, the tw- fn-m :h. 
 
 lay, seemed disposed to 8Datdi a respite, in th- : \0p:h 
 
 had descended upon all nature in the -la .ful approach of 
 
 8 
 
VASCONSELOS. 
 
 nuig. Andres lay at length beneath the slender shadows of a 
 palm, which, at an earlier hour, could have yielded no shelter,- 
 none was needed now. His eye:; were shrouded 1>\ his arm, 
 which was carelessly thrown across his brows. While in this 
 ntiitude, Philip rose suddenly from where he lay, and moved bv 
 n brotherly impulse, approached him and threw himself quietly 
 by his side. 
 
 * Andres, my brother," was the affectionate salutation of the 
 cloer, "it is naturally expected that we shall both do our devoir 
 in the approaching tourney. It is due to our reputation, as good 
 knights, and particularly to our position among these gentlemen 
 c f Castile, whc would not be slow to remark upon any unwil 
 lingness which we might betray in entering the lists. They will 
 do their best, and we must do ours. That we can maintain our 
 own, and the honor of our country, in a passage-tit-arms, whether 
 with lance, sword, or battle-axe, with any of these cavaliers, I 
 nothing question; though there be knights among them manv 
 who, like Nun^ ^o Tobar, will honor, by their prowess, those who 
 n ay strive against them. These will afford us sufficient exercise 
 and honor. It needs not, my brother, that we should cross wea 
 pon with each other." 
 
 A grim smile passed over the features of Andres, as he with 
 drew his arm from above his eyes. The expression was an un 
 pleasant one to Philip. A brief pause ensued. At length the 
 younger replied : 
 
 "Verily, Philip de Vasconselos, it were not wise to suffer 
 th-sr knights of Castile to suppose thee unwilling to cross wea 
 pons with any warrior, even though he were of thy own blood 
 and nation. Such reluctance, in the minds of persons sworn **: 
 cavil, might be construed into doubt of thy own capacity an 5 
 prow 
 
 " I fear not, Andres," replied the other, calmly, " that any ?dlt 
 judgment of these or any cavaliers will do injustice to my re 
 [. t:iinn. -inc.- it will be easy, at any moment, particularly as i 
 snail never be unwilling, to satisfy .-my doubting opponent, and le 
 nience any unfriendly one. But no man will venture to think 
 
BROTHERLY ADVICE. 171 
 
 thai any fooling but that of a natural attachment between kins- 
 men hath kept us from a trial of skill ami prowess, which, though 
 it be but tiro mimicry of >trife, is yet too nearly like it, and is 
 but too frequently apt to occasion the reality, not to plead against 
 our indulgence, adversely, in tho exercise. It is not, however, 
 what the \vorhl without may think, my brother, but whatwe/<?e/ 
 within, which should control our wishes in this ma-tter. It is 
 enough for me that, even in sport, I love not to confront with 
 MI the bosom of a brother who is so very dear to mine." 
 
 Hrother, mine, I do not quite understand these refinements. 
 \V< have eroded weapons in the tourney a thousand times ere 
 this, in our early exetvises. nay, in the very training which thou 
 h;t-t given me. and whieh, as a grateful pupil," this was spoken 
 with a smile by no nu-ans pleasing in the eyes of Philip, "I am 
 only loo glad i,, have ree.-ived at thy hands. What is there now 
 ike the ditl eiv! 
 
 A-k thy own heart. Andres," replied the other, sadlv. "Art 
 fhou the same person that thou wast, when, without a care or 
 thought but <f the art which thou hadst in thy desire, thou took st 
 lh\ first lessons from my lance? Since that day thou ha^t 
 mingled. \\>r thyself, in the press of knights; thou ha-t shared 
 the eager fury of the battle; thou hast won for thyself a name 
 which thou must maintain, at all perils, to thyself and otl. 
 Hut thou hast other feelings, fears and hopes than tho^e which 
 
 pOMeSM 1 thee when a boy; thou ha-t grown a man of <-.. 
 and. I grieve to think it, my brother, thou no long.-r look st upon 
 me. thy Philip, as th- loving friend from whom came thv first 
 Of in arts and am. M make it pnulent and proper 
 
 that we should not stri h other. The aeridoiits of 
 
 tlic tourn- : thcmstlves, sutlieieiit to keep our arms asun 
 
 der. Men have bveii slain, unwittingly by their rival knights, 
 through : :Vai!ly ;uid fault in 
 
 arm; through ha-te; thi oiigh U ;i. and tho-e name 
 
 provi.len- ex ,,f the e.-Mliet. of which no in.. 
 
 no wisdom can foresee. But chiefly do I desire that we should 
 not find our weapo- i, inasmuch a- my 
 
172 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 brother, a decline of that trust hi me that love, winch, of old, 
 made it pleasant to me to teach thy inexperience." 
 
 " I am no longer inexperienced, Philip de Vasconselos. 1 no 
 longer need thy teaching, or that of any man ! Thou talk st of 
 accidents from weakness, and defect of armor. Never better 
 armor than mine, as thou knowest, came from the forge of the 
 Milanese. It had its fashion from the same hands with thine, and 
 is, I warrant me, as free from frailty. My lance is under thine 
 eye. The sword which I carry has lu-en a thousand times within 
 thy grasp. Thou canst tell the weight of my battle-axe, and 
 knowest the value of its tempered metal as certainly as thou dost 
 thine own. What remains ? Methinks, my brother, there is no 
 such difference between the strength and size of my body and of 
 thine. Take the muscle of this arm within thy grasp. Doth it show 
 to thee a feebleness which should make it shrink from any strug 
 gle with any cavalier, even though he be of redoubtable prowess, 
 like thyself? Thou speak st of what is in my heart ; of a change 
 in my feelings towards thee! it may be there is such a change ! 
 Verily, I see nothing in my fortunes or in thine, Philip de Vas 
 conselos, which should make me regard thee with feelings such as 
 we bore to one another, when thou stood st not in the way of my 
 hopes, and hadst not yet shrouded my heart, in the overwhelm 
 ing shadow of thy greater fame ! I reproach thee not, that such 
 has been th) fortune ; but verily, it is no longer seasonable with 
 thee, to discourse to me of the love of kinsmen ; and I tell thee 
 more, Philip de Vasconselos, thou hast but too much the habit of 
 speaking to me as if I were still the boy, untaught, and only now 
 receiving from thee, for the first time, his infant lessons hi the use 
 of blunt spear and shielded weapon." 
 
 "And is it thus, my brother?" was the mournful answer of 
 Philip de Vasconselos. 
 
 * But I will not upbraid thee; and yet I will not forbear to en- 
 treat thee. The feeling which thou shmvest is m<l ertaiiily 
 enough to make me unwilling (< riir<>unt<-i with tin-. 1 in this tour- 
 liov. Were it p.-- Mr, wii!:out shame and uiseredit, to re fuse to 
 take lance in these guy passages, 1 should must surely withdraw 
 
PHILIP S ANTICIPATIONS. 173 
 
 myself from the field. Brit I am pledged to the encounter ; with 
 lance, sword, and battle-axe, three strokes of eaeh; with Luis de 
 Moscoso, with Balthazar de Gal legos, with Nuno de Tobar ; and 
 it may be with others, whom I now m-all not." 
 
 "Thou canst not well escape thy devoir," said Andres, with a 
 sneering smile. 
 
 "Nor, save on thy account," replied the other "would 1 
 desire to do so. But there is that within my bosom, An-i 1 
 whatever may inhabit in thine , which makes me shrink from 
 the thought that we shall cross lances in the meke. 1 know 
 not that thou designest such a conflict; but I kno\* thy ambition 
 thy pride and I fear that evil spirit which sometimes : 
 thee, making thee blind to thy better feelings, and to the claims of 
 those about thee, and which, I grieve to say it, has but too fre 
 quently shown itself in thy moods of late. Brother, hearken to 
 me; I pray thee let us not meet! Thou wilt find many noble 
 knights to conquer, who will do thee honor. There will be no 
 lack of the fit antagonist, even though Ilernan de Soto himself 
 shall take the field. Let u- do nothing which may perchance 
 le^eii or change that love which our mother gave us and which 
 should be deal to u>. because of her. as bec&lise of ourselves." 
 
 "It is on //<// account for me that th<u wouldst y.void the 
 eneounter with me!" replied the younger brother. "Verily, 
 Philip, thou ha^t betrayed thy modesty. Is it so sure that mv 
 lance must fail when it cn.oes thine . is thy arm " 
 
 " Nay, brother, why thus wilt, thou mi-take my purjn 
 thus cruelly outrage my atlecti.ms ? I do ii"t reproach thv 
 prowess when I tell thee that it is on thy account, wholly. lh:tt I 
 would avoid thi-> encounter. I (ear that thou wiL v - 
 that thou wilt show a >pirit in the field, which would not 
 bec..me a brother; that thy pride, wrought i.: 
 sions by unjust suspicions by unwise jealousies, will lead thee 
 into deeds of unmeasured violence, >ueh as " 
 
 " Such :is tin. u far. it, eh " W* the iiMcking interruption. 
 
 The other aiidweivd proudly- hi> loin -s growing iii>lantly- *-* 
 
174 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 calmer, and with a slower enunciation, while his eye flashed 
 with a sudden fire, entirely different from its recent expression. 
 
 " I fear nothing, Andres de Vasconselos, as thou of all persons 
 should by this time know ; nothing but shame, dishonor, and 
 the reproach of knighthood ; nothing but a wrong done to our 
 mother s fondness and that wrong which thy evil mood seems 
 resolute to do to our own. To escape this, I would have implored 
 thee to forbearance ; for I know thy temper in the conflict, and I 
 somewhat dread my own ! Unhappily, we share, in some degree, 
 the- { missions of one another. Thus it is that we have both loved, 
 ivhi re both may l>e luckless r 
 
 " No ! no !" exclaimed the other bitterly. Philip did not re- 
 gard the interruption. 
 
 " With our mutual passions roused our pride endangered in the 
 field s regard, I dread the struggle that would follow : for, at such 
 moments, Andres de Vasconselos, I cannot easily distinguish the 
 kinsman from the foe! Love, pity, the ties of affection, and 
 frifixlship, are all obscured in the wild passion when the blood 
 rules triumphant in the brain, and I should bear thee down, my 
 brother, as unsparingly as the least regarded among the ranks of 
 all this Castilian chivalry." 
 
 " By the Blessed Virgin, thou speakest, Don Philip, as if 1 
 were already beneath thy spear " 
 
 " Forgive me, brother, that I have done so ! The Saints fore- 
 fend that lance of mine should ever threaten thee in any conflict ! 
 i but " 
 
 " And I tell thee, Don Philip, I no more reck of thy lance, 
 than I do of that of the least famous of all these Castilian cavaliers! 
 I know n.t of any prowess in thcc that I have need to fear ; and I 
 promise thee, should it ever hap that our weapons be crossed, 
 then look to do thy best, or I put thy boasted skill to shame." 
 
 " 1 bnast 1:0 skill, brother!" 
 
 "Thou dost thou art all a boast ! What else is it when thoa 
 warn st me that in the strife thou wilt be pitiless that thou wilt 
 suffer no thought of kindred to disarm thee? Is it not as mi"h 
 
I HE s; 176 
 
 as if thy victory were already sure, ;m<l thou hadst me trampled 
 under thy fed 
 
 u I have been in fault, brother ; verily, I confess it. It is not for 
 me to boa -it ; an-I still !. u t> boast of advantage over 
 16, I love thee too well to be pleased at any for 
 tune wh u-h sha41 be, or seem, better than thine " 
 
 The : it-it of the younger brother construed this sen- 
 
 whii-h In- interruj tetl. to refer to the disappointment of his 
 suit with Olivia de Alvaro. 
 
 k - Indeed, thou approvVt the truth of thy disclaimer by thy 
 taunts. Have don.-. I pray thee, good Don Philip, and let the 
 time bring its own brood ; whether of hawks or sparrows, it mat 
 ters not. 1 a-k not of thy purpose, and feel myself scarcely free t; 
 tell thee of mine. I know not that I have any purposes. I 
 lot that 1 shall oppose any lance in t n _TCS. 1 In 
 
 put myself in r- adines* to ..bey m\ ni-.-essity or my mood 
 whichever it may p!ea-e th< to believe. I only know, 
 
 Philip de Va<con>elos. that I am seorned and wretched, and thou 
 triumphant, as well in the love of woman as in fame. Go to: 
 why wilt thou goad my sorrows, when such is thy own good for- 
 tun. 
 
 "Andres, let not the sun set on tJ menr. I feel that 
 
 thou d<vst me wrong, but 1 implore thee as if the wrong wero 
 
 Philip extended his hand affectionately to his brother, as he 
 made this appeal. The other did not r.-.-eivo it ; but, waving his 
 own in the direction of the orb now rapidly disappearing behind 
 the l.-ist dUtant billows of the B6A, he -aid coldly 
 
 - !! inkl !" and, without another word, rose up and strode 
 down the slopes which enndin-ti-d to the city. The elder brother 
 threw himself upon the eaitlu tVoiu whence, during tl 
 
 M of the dialogue, he had risen at the same moment with 
 the other. 1 his a- hi ; 1 upon his hands. 
 
 : ;Iy !" he ;nself - he is possessed of an evil de 
 
 mon! What is to be done ? Will he put himself in harneaa 
 against me? Can he purpose this? But no! no! The etfl 
 
176 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 mood will pass with the night. I will tent him no further with 
 the matter." 
 
 That night beheld the two brothers, in the same apartment, 
 praying ere they slept ; yet they prayed not together, nor at the 
 same moment. What was in their hearts while they appealed 
 to heaven ? Alas ! it is our fear, that, while, the lips moved hi 
 worship, the thought was foreign to the homage ! Passion, 
 rather than prayer, was in their mutual hearts ; the one dream 
 ing, the while, of earthly loves and earthly distinctions; the 
 other, filled with a wild conflict, in which pride and vanity, con 
 founded by defeat and humiliation, were busily brooding in wor 
 ship at the shrine of a divinity which they did not yet presume to 
 name. 
 
 The next day, without naming his purpose, Andres de Vascon- 
 selos withdrew from the place of lodging with his brother, and 
 took up his abode with Antonio Segurado, one of his lieutenants. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "Now ringen tronipe loud and clanouu 
 Ther is no inure to say, hut cat and west, 
 In |>nn the spores sadly in the rest ; 
 In goili the sharpe spore into the side : 
 Then see even who can juste, and who can ride." 
 
 THI Kmora TILB. 
 
 HAVANA, at the period of the events which we record, was a 
 growing hamlet of little more than a hundred dwellings. But 
 ;i brief space before the arrival of Don Ilernan de Soto in the 
 island, there had been an invasion of the French, by whom the 
 
 :? y had l>een laid in ashes. It had been one of his duties, 
 on his arrival, which had not been neglected in continence of 
 his preparations for Florida, to rebuild the town, which he had 
 been doing with all his energy, and with a free exercise of his 
 
 - as Adelantado. To him the Ilabanese owe the election 
 of the first firt which tlie place ever pOIWsVed. It will be for 
 
 an antiquarians of the present time to fix it- lo.-atit.n. Asa 
 matter of course, we are not to look to the work-* of De Soto, ill 
 rebuilding the city, for the evidences of his architectural tastes, 
 or tor any enduring proofs of the labor of his hands. The place 
 then atlorded but an imperfect idea of the noble and imposing 
 <-ity that we find it n- \v . SI 8 then possessed none of tin--- 
 
 - and massive -t i -uctuivs. which now assail the vision, 
 and ei.mmand the admiration of the spectator. IL-r heights and 
 harbors WT- not then, as now. eover.-d with the mighty an-i 
 frown: 1 -ses that stretch tlj-nisi-lv-s around h.-r. with a 
 
 hundred thousand guanlian hands grasj.ing bolts of iron terror 
 for her protection. But, if less threatening and powerful, she waa 
 not less lovely and attractive. Her beautiful bay, then as now 
 
 8* m 
 
178 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 lacked but little of the helps of art to render it as wooing and 
 persuasive as that famous one .of the Italian ; and, in the luxuriance 
 of her verdure, which covered, with a various and delicious beauty, 
 all her heights; in the intense brilliancy and clearness of her moot) 
 light, which seemed rather to hallow and to soften, than to impair 
 the individuality and distinctness of objects, as beheld by day ; in 
 the exquisite fragrance from her groves, and the soothing sweet 
 ness of the sea-breeze which, in that tropical climate, one re 
 gards as the most blessed of all the angels who take part in the 
 destinies of earth playing like a thoughtless and innocent child 
 among forests of vines and flowers the fancy became sensible of 
 a condition, in which life can offer nothing more grateful, or more 
 fresh; and, to be sure of which always, ambition might well be 
 satisfied to lay aside his spear and shield forever. Her cottages, 
 each as it were enshrined amidst an empire of fruits and fra 
 grance, already wore that aspect which, in oriental regions, assures 
 us of the dolce far niente in possession of their inmates, justifying 
 vagabondage, and so irresistibly persuasive, that one who feels, 
 ceases to wonder that a people, having such possessions, should be 
 content to seek nothing farther should demand nothing more 
 from nature should even, in process of time, become indifferent 
 to the wants and appliances of art should forget the civilization 
 which they have won shake off the convention which has fettered 
 them, and lapseaway into the stagnation, if not the savageism,ofthe 
 aboriginals; knowing life only in a delicious reverie, in which ex 
 istence is an abstraction rather than a condition; a dream, rather 
 than a performance; win-re living implies no anxiety, acquisition 
 no toil, enjoyment no cessation ; in which nothing is apprehended 
 so much as change, even though such change may bring with it the 
 promise of a new pleasure. Such is the power of climate; such 
 the charm of that of Cuba ; but. we must not be understood as as 
 suming that such, at that period, was its effect upon the European 
 inhabitants. The luxuries of society in that day had not so much 
 accumulated, nor was the popular taste so much relaxed by the 
 process of social refinement, as to enfeeble the energies and exer- 
 of her people. They wen- still the hardy race which had 
 
TIIK SPANIARDS IN AMERICA. 179 
 
 been trained to eD durance, strife, and all sorts of adventure, by 
 
 the unceasing struggles of tlmr hundred years. The benign cli 
 mate had not yet done tin- work of emasculation perhaps never 
 would have done this work, if the surrounding Bavagea had l.ccn 
 left ]>artially unconquered. Had the Spaniards with the profund 
 policy which is said to have marked the history of Aztec supre 
 macy, suffered rival and hostile races still to exist, upon whom pe 
 riodically their young warriors could exercise their weapons, the 
 r<>us encr-ies of their people might have been trained to re 
 sNl all the blandishments of climate. As yet, they remained 
 unimpaired by iN insidious sweetness. The savage still harbored 
 in the mountains; the Caribbee still fed upon his captive along the 
 margin of the gulf; the Apalachian, a fearless warrior, still roved 
 uncon.juered in his mighty shad, s and the Spaniard. Mill needy, 
 with all his treasure^, looked out, on every hand, for empires 
 which IP- mu>t yei He was .sensible of the delicious lux 
 
 ury of his Cuban climate, but did not yield to it his strength. That 
 tierce, vigorous life which distinguished the Castilian character, at 
 the period of the conquers of Spain in the new world, --to which 
 due such a wonderful constellation of great captains Corte/, 
 the Pi/am-, Ojeda. F.alboa. and a ho,t besides declared the 
 fa people in their prime, with a startling mission of per 
 formance In-fore them, demanding the equal excreta) of the l.e-t 
 genius and courage. The compound pa ion of avarice and ainhU 
 tion left them in no humor for repOSfe Without paii-c. yet not 
 blindly, they pursued their mission; and the impatient and fevered 
 restlessness which it demanded and excited, rendered them sujw- 
 " to ,\er\ |MTsuasion that threatened contlict with their 
 strength. The-.- eoiild only prevail finally with the race which, 
 with ample luxuries in possession, find no longer in their thiiM 
 the provocation to performance. For the present, no Spaniard 
 can enjoy the sweets of Cuban airs wilh comparative - They 
 
 have still a gnat work to do, are still goaded by fiery passions 
 which will not suffer them to sleep, and thevsei/e their lu\i; 
 with the mood of the hurrying traveler, in a strange land, who 
 plucks the tlower along the wijiidfl M he passes, and hastens ou 
 
180 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 his way. The Spaniards of that day gathered all their luxuries 
 en route, and threw one acquisition away as soon as they made 
 another. The fresh desires of achievements kept them from all 
 loitering. Acknowledging the sweets and beauties of the scene, as 
 proffered them by Nature acknowledging with due appreciation 
 the bounty in her gifts they tasted only, and pressed forward. 
 They were, then, far from yielding to that base faith (for human 
 ity), which finds present possessions ample for their wants. It 
 needed yet the riper experience of a hundred coming years, and 
 enjoyments not yet within their grasp, to reconcile them to an 
 other moral to the surrender of all such as might be rising to 
 their hope! They are now driven by those fierce wants of Old 
 Spain, such as naturally rage in a condition of society, which toil 
 some necessities still goad, and where the door to pride and power 
 is open always to the staff of gold. Mere ease is not the object. 
 This, in Cuba, is already in the possession of its people. They 
 have only t live in the sunshine, and let themselves alone, and 
 thev live ! But in the days of De Soto they did not hold such 
 life to be living. They had then fiercer impulses to appease, and 
 more exacting and earnest appetites to satisfy. They obeyed a 
 destiny ! They were still chiefly sensible of passions taught in 
 the market-place ; by the multitude ; during the struggle ; in 
 which to hope is to contend ; strife, blood, conquest, glory and 
 personal prominence, in all situations constituting the great argu 
 ment to heart and mind. Hence the individuality of the Span 
 iard ; his reference of all things to self; his swelling pride ; his 
 stern magnificence; his audacious courage; the unfailing hardihood 
 of his adventure. How should a character such as this be sensi 
 ble to the unobtrusive beauties of the natural world to the in 
 sinuating sweetness of breeze and zephyr to the charm of flower 
 and landscape 1 ? How slow will he be to value that soft repose 
 from all excitements, in which we are required to share, which 
 belongs naturally to such a life as that of the Cuban, where the 
 earth is always a bloom, where the air is always fragrance, where 
 the skies give out forever an atmosphere of love! Flowers and 
 fruits, the sweets of sky and air, and forests and oceans, all beau 
 
LAWS OF PROGRESS. 181 
 
 liful in turn, all linked together by assimilative beauties, and all 
 blessing, singly and together, all nevertheless fail perhaps, 
 fortuuately then, to supersede, in the minds of our Spaniards, 
 the habitual desires of their hearts. Still, the heroic pageant is 
 in the ascendant; the human passion. The crowded spectacle, 
 the strife of violent forces, the eager scene of human struggle and 
 conquest, make them heedless of all that is simply sweet and 
 lovely in their possession. Even women share the tastes with 
 the passions of the sterner sex, and turn from their groves and 
 gardens to the gory terrors of the bull-fight. 
 
 But why chide 1 These people are simply the pioneers for 
 other races, who shall more securely enjoy what they neglect 
 and despise. They work in obedience to laws of nature, which 
 regard rather the uses of men than their pleasures. One race 
 but paves the way for another. We blaze the pathways for fu 
 ture generations, happy if they should be the children of our 
 loins, for whom we win empire and clear the way. The Span- 
 inn Is of the time of De Soto, in consequence of a fatal defect in 
 their morals, did not always conquer the inheritance for their own 
 children. But of this they did not dream ! How should they 1 
 Let us now return from our wanderings, and make generaliza 
 tion give place to detail. 
 
 Following out his plan, for increasing the enthusiasm at once of 
 his own followers, and of the people at large of the island of Cuba, 
 II ernan de Soto was now busied with his preparations for the public 
 sports which he had appointed, and with which he was to delight 
 the fancies of the Cubans. It was good policy that he should do 
 these things ; for it must be remembered that he was not mere 
 ly Adelantado of Florida, and of its imaginary treasures and 
 empires but governor also of all Cuba; which beautiful and 
 prolific island was to be left in charge of the Lady Isabella while 
 he pur-ued his toils of conquests in the wild recesses of the 
 Apaladiian. 1 Ie had designed his preparation on no ordinary 
 scale of magnificence. Though reputed to be a close and avari 
 cious general proverbially so he was yet fully aware that there 
 are periods vthen i 4 is necessary to be lavish and even profligate 
 
182 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 of expenditure. The objects which he now proposed to attain 
 strongly urged and fully justified a large departure from his 
 usual habits of economy. His wife, the noble Lady Isabella, 
 was, however, in some degree the prompter of this liberality. 
 She was no common woman, but one born with a princely eye 
 to whatever is noble in the regards of man, whether in the ex 
 ternals or the substances of society and State. A generous im 
 pulse, at all times, made her anxious IM satisfy the popular de 
 sires that is, wherever their cravings led them to the appiecia 
 tion of great deeds and graceful performance. Her knowledge 
 of the present objects to be attained by her lord from the com 
 mon sympathies, increased, in considerable degree, the naturally 
 gracious and free affluence of her disposition. She bent her 
 mind to the object, and consulted with all round her the various 
 schemes by which to render the projected display one of a 
 magnificence never before paralleled in Cuba ; and though the 
 Adelantado groaned in secret over the excess of expenditure 
 which naturally followed from her plans, he was yet fully con 
 scious of the good policy by which they were dictated ; and his 
 tastes readily acknowledged the beauty, skill and splendor which 
 promised to be the results of her exertions. 
 
 The day was at hand, set aside for the commencement of the 
 public sports, which had become official, and were to last three 
 days. We are not to suppose that, because the higher forms of 
 chivalry were dying out in Europe because, in fact, the insti 
 tution no longer cherished there any of the nobler objects of 
 the order, and had sunk, from a social and political, into a mere 
 military machine, that its displays had become less ostenta 
 tious or less attractive when attempted. On the contrary, it is 
 usually the case that, with the decay of an institution, its efforts 
 at external splendor, are apt to be even greater than in the hour 
 of its most unquestioned ascendency ; even as the fashionable 
 merchant is said to give his most magnificent parties when he 
 has made all his preparations for a business failuro! In the new 
 world, in particular, where we might reasonably suppose that 
 the imitations were necessarily rude and inferior, of all these 
 
PREPARATION Foii 1 1 1 K Ti l i:NKY. 183 
 
 pageants, which seem, over all, to require the highest finish in 
 art and the utmost polish in society which seem, in fact, to 
 belong only to an old civili/ation, su Mi as that of Christian 
 Europe, it was ordinarily found that the ambition for display 
 ua> more than commonly ostentatious and expensive. Certain 
 it is, that nothing of the sort in Spain, for a long time In-fore, Mir 
 ed the promise, whether as regards the taste or the splendor, 
 of the great preparations which had lieen made h\ 1 >e Soto for 
 his three days of tourney and feats of arms, in the infant city of 
 Havana. The lists, as our fair gossip. Donna Leonora de 
 Tobar, has already told us, were erected in the beautiful amphi 
 theatre just without the suburbs of the town. 1 [ere scaffold 
 had been raised for the spectators, running half way round the 
 barriers, inclosing a portion of the area. T!ie>. ., h,. 
 
 draped with showy stuffs. On some slight elevations, along the 
 opposite space, a ruder sort of scaffoldings were reared for the 
 common people. These, in those days, did not a^ume that what 
 was given them in charity should be of a Duality to compare 
 with the best. There was yeta third distinction made in behalf 
 of the persons in power, and their friends the per^m*. of noble 
 birth and high position. Their place was snm.-thii-g h -_ f h-r than 
 the othtrs. built of better materials, and in more earet u! manner. 
 In the centre was a gorgeous canopy, which might have served 
 a prince of the ulood. .-hioned. 
 
 This was de-i-jii -l for the Adelantado and his nob || . 
 
 immediate friends and chief s, and tli . 
 
 rvd with private places on either hand. 
 
 painted the arm- of Span-, on a rich shield or eseiitch 
 jjvat golden towers, -ignilicant t-ijually of it> pride 
 
 tronting the li-ts and tli- 
 
 tiful exhortation to the Indulgence -f tin- " ,i\ I )i- 
 
 . and streaming proudly frm a staff that 
 
 Iro ii behind it, flaunted, in ni u Ji v t -ld- .f -.ilk heavily 
 
 wrought with gold tissue, the arm-. rial \ 
 
 long : a smaller >i/e, Uit similar in shape 
 
 to that in the centre, and not inferior in workmanship, formed a 
 
!84 V-ASCOSSKLOS. 
 
 tier of very superb panels along the scaffoldings. These denoted 
 the. seats which were assigned to the noble families, whose arms 
 they bore ; each placed according to the rank of the owner, or 
 the degree of power, or influence, which he possessed in the 
 colony. Banners and bannerets, pennons and pennonceles, waved 
 from spears whose broad and massive darts were fashioned some 
 times of solid silver. The seats were cushioned with rich dra 
 peries; with shawls of brilliant colors, and cotton fabrics dyed in 
 various unrivalled hues, such as the people of Peru and Mexico 
 had learned to fashion in a style superior to anything beheld in 
 Kurope. Bright armor of various kinds, employed for orna 
 ment, glittered and gleamed at proper intervals, along thesplen 
 did scaffoldings; from which, at an early hour of the morning as 
 .signed tor the sports, choice instruments poured forth peals of 
 th.- most gay and inspiring music. The plan of the festivities re 
 quired that the cool hours of the day only should be employed 
 lor the more active exercises of the combatants. The heat of the 
 i unday sur. ir. that ardent clime was, even at this early period 
 of tin- year the close of April too intense to render agreeable 
 any violent displays of agility, under he;*vy armor, for mere 
 amusement. The first day was assigned to the young knights 
 and squires, who were to run at the ring, joust with blunt spears, 
 and smite the Turk s head the English Quintain. There were 
 to be sports also for the arquebusiers, and the crossbowmen, 
 the latter instrument of war not yet having been superseded by 
 firearms. To these a certain time was to be allotted, and Ixill 
 fights were to follow, and to close the day. The amusements of 
 the evening, though all arranged, were yet of a private character, 
 and did not fall within the plan of the Adelantado. They were 
 also on a scale highly attractive and magnificent. 
 
 With the first glimpses of the dawn the spectators were to be 
 seen assembling. The citi/ens were turning out in all direction. 
 The people were crowding in from the country. The whole 
 island sent a delegation of eyes to see, and hands to clap, and 
 hearts to drink in and remember, lonr afterwards, the wondrous 
 sights presented in that memorable spectacle a spectacle which 
 
nit: GATHERING. 185 
 
 be not unworthy of the future conquests, in the country 
 of the Apalachian. Very curious \vas the motley crowd that 
 1 itself on all the streets and avenues leading to lh< 
 
 ii. There were muleteer* from the mountain; 
 
 wandering tribes akin to tin- gip-ies ; retired soldiers; and half- 
 groups, in whieli it was difficult to discern which race pre 
 dominated most, tin- white man. the red man, <>r the negro. They 
 constituted a curious amalgam ; each exhibiting some traitor 
 characteristic, pieture-x|ue, wild, individual, such a> Murillo 
 would delight to paint such as would have ri>eii into dignity 
 under the brush of Rembrandt. Girls came bounding 
 with the castanets by the -ide of mules on whi<-h sat tottering 
 grandmothers; buys loitered \\ith the cro.^sbou . o pi<-k 
 
 up :i rtal b\ -hootm- it .!.,\\n at twenty parrs. ( ..nirabnudists 
 ! ..pen facev. as, on park mules, they brought the Aijnar- 
 
 iale, in atone ju on la.-h >ide ; its month p.-n- 
 
 "f a panier. The stately ov.iier of 
 
 he marked hi* hunlred ealve* each -prini:. r^de 
 
 MI a brave .>arb by the >ide of his family. nr,-up\ing a vehicle 
 
 still in u-e. cuml)rous but delightful of motion beyond all others, 
 
 tli 1 volan 1 . . \\ -must not stop to describe it. A* at the 
 
 1 >ld Spain, in the rural di>tricts nothing wa^ more 
 
 curious than the vai and characters exhibited bv the 
 
 f the people from the country. Every department, 
 
 in the old country had it> fittin- representative, tenaoiooa, in the 
 
 .rrw world of all that (listing. ii-hed his province in the old. The 
 
 \ndalusian. ribanded at wri-t and -lioulder, 
 
 aid shoe ; the confident and n Ui-ea\an; the 
 
 dull native of Valencia; the haughty Catalan ;yoii might 
 mark tlu-m all <lroups wandered .,1, together, the 
 
 highways to the city being tot b DTI never without iN >tro!U-i>. 
 Old songs \\ ; -re to be hrard,a- they went,from natural mu^ciaiis ; 
 sad touches, oddly mingled with lively /W.W/M/.v, and 
 timev. from some rude crowder, half soldi.-r and half pri- 
 poet, you might h.-ar r\t,-mpo rr ballads dr\ot-d 
 arms of G>rte/ and Pixarro. M .. in strings came down with 
 
186 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 fruit to the great market ; lines of vehicles of all sorts, all add 
 ing to the clamor. Sometimes, but rately, the beggar held out 
 his eap for charity, and was laughed at as a cheat ; for beggary 
 in the new world must needs be so always. TluTr was room 
 and fruit tor all. Sometimes the beggar, however, was a manola 
 of the lowest elass, who never asked for alms, but got hrr fee 
 for the doleful ditties, which no one steppe.! to hear. There was 
 better music forward ; and the er<>\\ d> hurried <.n their march. 
 But, to enumerate is impossible. Fancy the mo-t picturesque 
 region of the world, filled with the most picturesque of all peo 
 ple, and the most contradictory; too proud for restraint, yet 
 with a curious conventional arrangement, which, making every 
 thing grave, admirably allowed of the mingling of the grand and 
 the ridiculous; all at once thrown into disorder, under condi 
 tions the most exciting; all in highest state of emotion, yet all in 
 the m<M amiable temper; happy in the moment, and prepared 
 to gather happiness from all possible sources. 
 
 Already, at early da\\n. the. trumpets began to pour forth ll.eii 
 nio>t lively fanfares. Already, a thousand cries of hope and 
 expectation arose from the gathering and rapidly increasing 
 groups. Some of the young champions we re already on the 
 ground, prepared for coursing, for shooting, for running \\ith 
 spears at the ring, and with swords upon the Quintain. Others 
 were busy raising butts and preparing their shafts tor the spoils 
 of archery. Some had chosen their rivals, in pa-sages with blunt 
 lance and mullled rapier. Jugglers and buffoons \vere on the 
 ground tumblers began their antics, and. ever and anon, a loud 
 l>ur>t of clamor from the crowd announced >omc clever perform- 
 OT the appearance of some, favorite champion. Murmurs. 
 ually rising into shouts, declared the emotions which 
 -ly in the bosom < of the multitude, like the billows 
 of the troubled sea heaving up in the glorious sunshine. Hut we 
 have to describe for the present, not anticipate. 
 
 The li-ts were made -iifl icient ly ample for the conflict of horse 
 as well as foot, and for the pa^ges-at-arm> of several as of single 
 combatants. But these did not confine the various exercises of 
 
THE PROGRAMME. 187 
 
 many who aimed . -"d who found favorite 
 
 apots tipon the sides of the surrounding hills. Rules had been 
 publUlu d, prescribing the v;iriuii> forms of combat which \\ 
 
 within th - i the manner in which :: 
 
 tn 1. 1- roiidueted. The-c were all to be pacific in character, how- 
 
 deadlv might be tin- weapon- which tl. thought 
 
 proper to employ. In the hands ui the good knight or squire, it 
 
 Od tliat the >harp >|>ear. the >wrd. and the battle- 
 
 . !ni;ht be u>e<l with the nob- all and power, 
 
 without hurt to life or limb. Hi. TO were tiits appointed with the 
 lance, and duels with th.- -u . -rd : ->be 
 
 tried with the maoe and !>attle-a.\e, and of dexti-rity with 
 
 roi and tl,.- knife. But, in each case, tin- .-onte-t wa* inva- 
 
 rial lv to ln decided. wh-n one of the cotnbalaiiN -hoiill be put at 
 
 Ai.nld place him at t!,< f his op- 
 
 T r.-n.l.-; ; a battle a I outrance. 
 
 .;..!! \\a- ii" t a;\\ \vhen 
 
 the pride f ih- .-hampi .!! \va> mortified, and h ; 
 
 but De Soto had reserved to himself, as ol \^ tia- j 
 
 md lii-i warder wa- D-.n ! 
 
 mtliority, and 
 
 tjnite h-anicd. a- well . :ie, d in tin- b -.iur- 
 
 nam.-nt. It 
 
 ti tip- iv<nil;itioi!^ whieh had b Idled wou . 
 
 ? the combatants, ofth- m^ 
 
 for th- 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 " Furious to the last, 
 Full in the centre stands the bull at bay, 
 Mid wounds, and clinging darts, and lanci-s blast, 
 And (bus disabled in the brutal fray : 
 And now the matadores round Lun play, 
 Shake the red cloak and poise the ready Lraad : 
 Once more, through all, he bursts his thundering way 
 Vain rage I the mantle quits the conynge hand, 
 Wraps his fierce eye tisporf he sinks upon the sand i" Unuu. 
 
 CHIVALRY is only another name for enthusiasm. The oue 
 never dies out in a community where the other may yet be 
 found. Enthusiasm must exist where there is enterprise and 
 courage; where there is zeal and sympathy; where the virtu us 
 essential for performance do not entirely stagnate. We do not 
 make sufficient account of this great leavener of the passimis and 
 the virtue-, which purifies the one and stimulates the other. 
 When a people too greatly refines itself, it sneers at zeal and 
 enthusiasm. fimjitrwjmnt is vulgar in the eyes of an ar! 
 ey ; and an aristocracy thus sinks into contempt! AVli Hcvr 
 the tastes show themselves wanting in enthusiasm, they are ab") 
 to destroy their possessors. 
 
 The Spaniards had not yet reached this condition in Cuba. 
 Nrvcr were people more easily aroused, or more enthusiastic. 
 T> see them weep and smile, and shout and sing, without any 
 moving cause, apparently, you would suppose them >implv 
 era/y ; but their madries> had its moving cause, however latent. 
 arising from the a--tive sympathy of th" real life within their 
 souls, and the grand and unmeasured pa^ions which they dailv 
 exercised. Give me a people for performance, who have not 
 
 ye* learned to conceal their emotions. 
 its 
 
THE CROWD. 189 
 
 Havana swarmed with life. At an early hour of the morning, 
 as we have said nay, long before the dawn the hum ai d buz>, 
 of preparation were to be heard in every quarter. The country 
 had poured itself into the city ; the city had suddenly taken the 
 voice and wing of liberty, Mich as the country usually enjoys. 
 You might see, all night, the gleam upon the hill-sides of torch--* 
 guiding the footsteps of long cavalcades over all the routes from 
 the interior. Knights, nobles, arti>ans, peasants and moun 
 taineer-, UTteroa and contrahandi-tas banished rogues, outl;. 
 returning in disguise, and reckless of danger, in the passion which 
 the tournament inspired ; we have seen already how motley and 
 variou- were the groups Crowds, from far and near, came on 
 foot. A Dingle mule sometimes contrived to bring a family ; 
 the cart, the s.-dan, the volante. were all in iv.jui-ition ; and < 
 
 [U6 and beautiful wa* it to see the lung trains, seeming, 
 for a!! the world, one great continuou ion. win. ling along 
 
 the circuitous path-; climbing suddenly to tin- hill-top, streaming 
 through the pi;;in. and vaguely reappearing recogni/ed by 
 tlu-ir tor.- -in the deep dim avenues of the >i!ent foiv-t. 
 
 r a group on loot, gay and rambling, would you B66 the 
 
 ::id Dwelling hidalgo, on hi- . ; ari- 
 
 . Noble ladies in their ear- 
 
 Letimea in litters borne on the 
 
 .iders of the -lender natives of the i>land followed under 
 the guidance of the I Vn. At R 
 
 ess of all. ran 
 
 ward a i.rarded mountaineer upon a d- .nk.-y, \v : 
 
 horrid -creams at interval-, causes the gorge of th- 
 \vitli the puni>h tl. 
 
 lv with Mich a be;. 
 
 with the -pirit of tin .d the mountaineer rid- 
 
 and nearer, without Millerii he wrath whieh. at 
 
 time, his appr rovoke. 
 
 1 ut day "1" Dfl the tnight; i g ant. and 
 with his purple ta 
 the conflicting but miri pieturesijue and 
 
190 VASCONSELOS 
 
 sorted costumes ; the wild, but exhilarating mixture of voice* , 
 the hum, the stir, the billowy swaying to and fro, with roar and 
 scream, and crv and hiss, and shout andlaugh that, however vari 
 ous, all fuse themselves together, as it were, into one universal 
 i hope and enjoyment. The hills surrounding the amphithea 
 tre are already covered wit .i tents and booths of reed, thatched with 
 straw; with vehiclesof allsort; groupsof mules and horses ; stands 
 f>r food, and fruit, and liquor ; shows of mountebanks, and tables 
 for the iMiiiester. Gay steeds are fastened, and watched by 
 liveried pa^es, under clumps of palms affording shelter. Gay 
 banners stream from every tent or lodge, assigned to knights 
 and men-at-arms. These, raised as if by magic, during the pre 
 ceding night, occupied the more eligible vacant places contiguous. 
 Each bears without the armorial insignia of the noble, whether he 
 held due warranty from the legitimate herald, or owed his rank 
 onlv to the persevering ambition of t\iu parvenu, who seeks, un 
 der the shelter of a gray antiquity, to hide the short frock and 
 eoar-e frame of the adventurer. 
 
 At intervals a sweet strain of music rises from a curtained 
 verandah, and an occasional shrill blare of a sudden trumpet an 
 nounces the Netting up of some banneret, or the arrival upon the 
 ground of the followers of some one of the many bold cavaliers 
 who designed to take a part in the business of the tourney. 
 Some of tin- pavilions of these knights are of silk, ornamented 
 with figures of gold-thread and brocade; not less, splendid to the 
 : others, though made only of the cotton stuffs of 
 the island, of Mexico and Peru; but these are all glowing with 
 rirh and living dyes of the new world, the art of preparing and 
 using which was peculiar to the country. The pursuivants are 
 busy, _ r "ing lorcver to and fro, assigning places, aerording to dc 
 nid rank, for the pavilions of the several champions. 
 Troops of cavalry flourished around, as a police, coercing order. 
 SIMM.! detachments ,,f infantry march to and fro, their matchlocks 
 shiniiiir in the sun. The raided centre of the scaffolding around 
 the aniphitln-atre, which is assigned to the Adclantado and his im 
 mediate circle, is already pavilioned with a gorgeous canopy 
 
DK BOTO fl M01TO. 191 
 
 The banner of Castile an. I Leon is already rolling cut, with its 
 great, gorgeou> ami gold folds above it. Not s-j loftily raised, 
 hut yet so placed in the Ion-ground as to attract all eyes, is the 
 personal banner of De Soto : a sheet of a/ure, on which is painted 
 a spirited picture of a cavalier, mounted on a fiery charger, both 
 armed to the teeth, and ahout to leap a precipice. The picture il 
 lustrated one of the AdelantadoV great teats in IVru. The motto 
 is Italian, in gold letters - Fidati pur; che a trionfar ti guido" 
 When DeSoto was a>ked l.y Don Balthazar why he put so prom 
 isingamotto in a foreign language, which was known to so few of 
 his people. he an-wen-d "That it may he more impressive !" The 
 Adelentado was something of a philosopher. Hardly was the 
 banner seen to wave than some one was ready to translate for 
 the curious multitude the mysterious promise. When told that 
 the gallant cavalier only IWOIN in Italian (hat he would conduct 
 them toeonme>t, there was not a syllable of the inscription that 
 not gotten instantly l.y heart, and that night it WW -ung as 
 the burden of a ivfrain, by a native rhymester, who was content 
 to encourage the enterprise upon whichhe did not go himself! 
 \ v to the pavilion of De BotO, on the right, was that of the 
 Captain (iem-ral. Don Poreall" de Figi eroa, his banner shining 
 abo\ .Miing with a sun of <r,,ld. D..II I althaxar de Alvaro 
 
 had his place on the left of the Adelantado. wlmm lu- was to:is- 
 si>t M Ifarder or ma-tcr of t!ie tonnic\ . \Y. m , ,| not ramie the 
 places of th-- r.-^t. nor mumi-rate the g,..,d, the old. and the in- 
 fhientia] Iamili-s. to whom eonspii-in.u< seatfl jned for 
 
 the survi-y .f ih,- Bpectadi . - . - \vithmit the larri.-r-. we ap- 
 proach tl, : pavilion^ of the knights who \\ cted 
 
 to engage in the >e\vral p.- trma II. -re they were to 
 
 drew and npiip themaelTw; hither they irere to reto I 
 
 \\h--n w.-ari. d, and take refreshment K;..-h 1 to its 
 
 owner, and great care was taken by " of the field that 
 
 ihry \\ere n- -passed up..n by li n the : 
 
 "f . aeh pavilion %\as a . rial, 
 
 where the horse or horses of the cavalier were kept and groomed. 
 
192 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 Sonic of the knights, as the \\v:ilthy Sefior Don Poivallo de 
 Figueroa, for example, had a score of horses; but the greater 
 number, like our poor knights of Portugal, had a single ste 1 
 only. But he was generally a good one, of great strength and 
 endurance, and admirably trained. \Ve pass, in review, tin- S8V- 
 eral pavilions without the barriers, of the knights first mentioi 
 of Nuno de Tobar, of Balthazar de Gallegos, of Juan de K 
 lante, of Christopher de Spinola, and many others, each of which 
 bears the especial shield and insignia of its proprietor. More sim 
 ple than all the rest, made of crimson cotton, were the tents of 
 the Portuguese brothers. It was remarked by curious obsen 
 that thc->e teiiN were no longer pitched side by side; they v. 
 now opposite oteh other, one on the right, the other on the left 
 of the centre. The banner which floated above the pavilion of 
 Philip, bore the image of a ruined castle, from which a falcon 
 had spivad its wings and was away. That of Andres exhibited 
 a flight of meteors in a stormy sky. Both were significant. The 
 shields of the several cavaliers hung each at the entrance of his 
 rent, and in a situation iavorable for that utteint, or stroke of the 
 adversar ; <!unt or sharp, which was the i-u.-tomary mode ..t 
 
 .oi.veyinin the challenge. At the opening of the pa 
 were transferred to conspicuous places within tlic area. As yet 
 none of the knights, challengers, or defenders, were to b.- seen 
 bv the multitude. Sipiires, leading horses, or pages loitering 
 ;ib,.u! the tents, alone were visible. It remains to mention only 
 that the torri/, or pen for the bulls, was constructed beneath the 
 tiers ..f seats a^i^ned to the eominon people. From this a 
 elose.l passage, ih-- <1<!- njiening right upon the area, << ndin-trd 
 directlv t.. the rini:. In he rear of the torril, [.avilions W6TC 
 raisrd tor \\\> c///./. .s ;:ii.l matttdoret t each 
 
 class M-|i;irat.-!v : and these pavil mn- riiga^-d no small 
 rji-cc of the mrioxif v i.-f l!u- people. From tlicM- jiarlii-s tlu-y 
 !,,,! r,:r their i , tu! .-njoyiu. i ! . ! !i.-y knew the mo.>t 
 
 t:iiiiou- b^ n-Miie ; < uba <-<nilil l<M.-.t of 
 
 v% },., A.I. u.ntiis to COIUpATC with n\ .\ | Andali. 
 
TI1K QUINTAIN. 193 
 
 her own mountains who could administer the coup dc grace U 
 
 the hull, while in his maddening hounds, and never exhibit an 
 Hut of these ; 
 
 roll, trumpets sound ; a wild IMM ienic music 
 
 from tlu- amphitheatre ; and theerowds rush fr\\ 
 their phuvs. Th" Adelantado, at tin- head . 
 
 cade of knights, rides into tin- ring. Aireadv have the noilu 
 with their several .ken their seats upon the ele 
 
 :y which lias heen a i^iu d th -m. Tin- jn-. >|.le are 
 .ing uj) the humbler places aivund the harri.-r-s. 1 > 
 
 midst fresh bunts of mu - ate. I)n 
 
 Baltha. bimself below him. Both carry truncheons. The 
 
 i-ts lie-in. A trooj* of \uiinjr s<|iiire^ 
 and jiaiies are running at the ring. The old >.i!diers au.l 
 
 . .iliers loo U on with the natural il -raus; 
 
 curious to so..- who are to \n- their - and di-tine 
 
 tion. Hie riding is \-er\ creditable; some in-tanees j.ai-: 
 
 fill anil spirited ; though <>r t wo hand-ome vouth are 
 
 rolled over in the dust. The rii:g i- i>ornr . .{} triuuij-hantlv - 
 
 . and this anin-i.-me: : -r a while. I hen follows :l l,. S v 
 
 f.xperi th, who rid,, at the Quintain. The Quin 
 
 tain i> a !.t, irmed with a pole, \\hieh is freely painted. 
 
 f n- ito -,-jy. in 
 
 r llelmet. TO 
 
 them unfairly, i :,lo\v from the p>!e of h- lijuiv, 
 
 \sho work- upon a pivot, and is wheeled a! 
 
 . Th.- stroke of hi- j...le leaves its mark l.ehin-l it. It not 
 
 iently tumbles the assailant from his >t 1. and thus iu. 
 
 I the merriment of tin- >j.eetatrs. l\ 
 
 da liagnfmealat th.- end of his |,,,1,.. whieh, 
 
 inafai red lus awkward opponent with flour. <>nthe 
 
 k paint of his ,<, 
 
 lud.-lil.l, 
 
 of his ability, and t!, 
 
 of man\ of lu- \\hieh 
 
 provok laughter, hut did not n. i the 
 
 9 
 
194 VASCOXSKLOa 
 
 spectators, were followed by a very pretty display of archery. In 
 each of these performances there were, of course, champions to 
 be distinguished; prizes were accordingly delivered, and the in 
 terest of the spectators was agreeably maintained to the, close. 
 But these were the mere preliminaries, the opening flourishes of 
 the entertainment ; pleasant enough while they lasted; hut not 
 provocative, nor calculated to appeal to those passions which lift 
 a people to their feet, and force them to cry aloud their exulta 
 tions, or their fears. The runners at the ring and Quintain, and the 
 sports of the archers, were simply the prologues to the crowning 
 entertainment of the day, this was the Bull-right the sport of 
 sports to the Spaniard, one in which all classes delight, which 
 appeals equally to the sympathies and tastes of nobles and com 
 mons, of knights and ladies, and which, strange as it may ap 
 pear to us, is said in no degree to impair the sweetness, the grace 
 and gentleness of nature in the tender sex. 
 
 A few words on this subject. When we denounce the humanity 
 of a people, who relish such an amusement, we commit the simple 
 error of placing our tastes in judgment upon theirs. The. truth 
 is, that the question of humanity is really not involved at all in 
 the subject, even by our own standards. Our opinion is simply 
 superior to our humanity; and while society with us maintains 
 an even course, we are thus critical in respect to its practices. 
 Let events occur which disturb the habitual course of things, and 
 our opinion gives way as readily to our passions as that of any 
 people, and our moral sinks as low as our humanity. Alen are 
 very much the same, in all countries, as respects the appe; 
 and we have in our exercises, equivalent brutalities to th<e <>f 
 any people in the world. A boxing match will appeal to the 
 ta>trs of all of British bl.n.d as readily as bull-fight or knife. 
 match to ths- of the Spaniard ; and a rock-fight, when announced, 
 draws as larije a crowd. We hunt the deer with a spirit quitf 
 as murderous U that which the Andahisian knows when he .le 
 Wends into the bull-ring with lance and rapier ; and we course 
 jnth our dogs after the \\,\ ni-htly, with a pleasure that grows 
 *to a sort of madness, in proportion to the prolongation of the 
 
COMPAItATIVK HI MAMTY. 195 
 
 tortun>u> sp ( , r t. Opinion look- and utters solemn hu 
 
 inanities, when she reads of (Jordon runiming x horrihle hutch 
 ed giratfe nohle creature* 
 
 all, harmie^ uhere the, md hut pa-ion> and appetites 
 
 our /, imun nature. \er the muni, nm^ .nd we 
 
 pass, with keen anxiety, in tlu- foot-teps <,f ti and 
 
 .itatii.ii tlu- crack of his rifle, and rii-li in \\ith wild 
 ii ld lii* victim, i-iv his dn:. 
 
 ike tlu- ii>h hy artful j.n rolong liis 
 
 "iir ddi-hts shall l.c prolonged also; and we 
 (>a11 tllr l/aak, v whilo lu- details the 
 
 t-ral art* hy which a worm may he Ml adi- to WJML-!C, and a trout 
 may In- made to play, in pain. Our naturaliMs a--ert \vith\voii- 
 drous pains-taking, thoir own human ti/. while tlu-y transfix the 
 livil - : ; and opinion, with us, sanctions with this defini 
 
 tion, the Indiscriminate slaughter of innocent son^-hird, and heau- 
 
 tiful fly. and W< t. and curious n-j tile, Vet DOI 
 
 these BpOlta, which include all tin- cruelties which In-long to 
 Sj.ai,i>h hul!-ti-ht, involve tlie nohler con.litions with which the 
 Ilial: i tlu- latter. In the hull fi^ht he makes his man- 
 
 nditioiis ,,n NX hi, h i,,. v e,ufli,-t. He 
 
 perils life upon hb sport Red -laim tlie ri^ht to take 
 
 : ""1 t i tiiiv Ilie life of the animal with. g the he;i>t a 
 
 diance in the miiiiiet. Hie inhumanity in all th.-e |.ra-ti, , 
 
 ] >r{ ; > Btme; hut mu<-h more may he said in favor ,,f 
 
 hull-li.iilit than of all t!. . f ;l, r ,,j>j,,,>ing 
 
 ! ;ll !; -iual in the game. Our opinion, in hiief. i-more 
 
 humane than our humanity. The Knu lUhman ami the Ameri< 
 man or woman. \\1. a hiill-liizhr. disODI 
 
 .iperior in ^tr.-n^tl, t , his morals that his vir: 
 n M llllt little -\\ay in th.- encounter with hi> hhxxi that his 
 "I 1 " - i-tained i "Int iou that hi- o\\n h 
 
 1 wl it i .ful of t!, of the beast, than the 
 
 < ~- I ! h and the B Another; and 
 
 whether he hunts more virtuously than tlie Spaniard, mu^t be held 
 
196 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 very doubtftil where he does not hunt half so bravely or at so 
 
 much peril to himself. 
 
 Our purpose, however, in these remarks, is not to defend the 
 bull-fight as a legitimate or proper amusement of men. We 
 -imply design to suggest to self-deception a little modesty, and 
 !o persuade cant to reconsider its pretensions. Humanity, no 
 where, is equal to the encounter with temptation. Opinion, every - 
 where, is superior to humanity ; and thus it is that the morale of 
 a community will be superior to the sentiment in every individual 
 composing the community. Our opinion excuses our brutalities, 
 while it lays bare those of another nation. So long as this is 
 the common practice of nations, so long shall we perpetuate both. 
 Let us look to what is intrinsic, not what is specious, and we 
 shall, perhaps, discover that in a comparison with our neighbor 
 we have no great deal to boast and something, possibly, to lose. 
 But enough. 
 
 The bull-fight, as we have said, appeals equally to all condi 
 tions, and to both sexes, among the Spaniards. When the sports 
 of the ring and the Quintain were over, and it was understood 
 that those which properly belonged to the amphitheatre were to 
 begin, thrre wasa great increase among the audience. The groups. 
 all of them, deserted the hills. Scarce a vacant seat was to be 
 found in all the three high tiers of scaffolding which surrounded 
 the harriers; and the spectacle became \vr\ brilliant, wild and 
 picturesque, of that great and crowded circle. IJeauty and 
 knighthood were therein all their glory; while the multitude 
 exhibited every variety of eo-tume and character. The scats 
 o dNpoM-d that the entire person of the -pectator in every 
 quarter could be seen; each accordingly was clad in th.- richest 
 - he could command. Banner- and bannerets were waving; 
 cavaliers wore their gaudiest colors; jewels Hashed in <\\c\\ near 
 connection with bright eyes that one could scarce distinguish 
 between them; and ever and anon, long streaming flourishes of 
 MUSIC, passionate phrensies of variously endowed instruments, 
 
 -d soft, melancholy touches, at frequent pauses, from simpler 
 
Tii; v IK WES. 197 
 
 onspired to raise the emotions, to excite the sensibilities, 
 
 to le.-id tlu- hearer iiiii.1 spectator out entirely from that commoL 
 world which swallowed up his ordinary life in one dreary mono 
 tony. 
 
 u l)e*i>tju . " was the -.ingle W0 rd given out by Don Balthazar do 
 Alvar-.. , r , or mast. -r of ceremonies equivalent to 
 
 clear the field" a remove all obstructions from the amphi 
 
 Th.-iv is sufficient reason for this order, which is always an un 
 
 graeious one in the ears ,,f the fancy," "the swell mob," who 
 
 have generally taken possession of the ring. They leave it with 
 
 reluctance, I Jut. at the order of the Corregidor, the splendid 
 
 b .dy of infantry which De Soto had been training for the Fl,.ri- 
 
 ^arched in. to the sound of martial music, and. 
 
 with horizontal lances, swiftly swept the circle. Their niove- 
 
 wm rapid; but the intruders rvtiivd slowly, simply 
 
 elearin: th. barrii-rs. an.iind wlii.-h they continued to cling, anx- 
 
 nightbe he minutest Movements; and 
 
 to take surh part in the allair thi-msdves as fortune would allow 
 
 them ; their delight being f ( , lH1 d in beating the bull with then 
 
 or thrusting at him with iron-poin: .. f rum this 
 
 atrenofament, whenever his course -hould lu-int: him suf- 
 
 :h the l-arriers. This duty done, the inf. 
 
 whom they had driven out. But ti. 
 
 ttt Their places were soon occupi.-.l 
 
 h . v !l cadores,of Chufaor 
 
 1 lA/// f /o;v.v. ] around 
 
 , showing tb ctators ; the PTcador, , 
 
 " lh ; w t 1:"- IT short cloaks, th;.- 
 
 : which ari- partly laid ..pen and left loose. 
 
 >d with a sort of 
 plate iron; 
 
 * hit> ""1 a n.-if. broad, roond hat. in dcd, com- 
 
 iiich is quite fanciful and j.-ckrv-like. 
 Not less so is that of m, : ttnlos. u 
 
 more costly, if not more imp.. >ing. Tlieir .ilk v- irnmed 
 
198 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 with a profusion of ribands ; brilliant scarfs fall over them ; a 
 silken net-work confines the hair, in place of which the fringes 
 of the net stream down the shoulders. Their cloaks are, some 
 of blue, and others of scarlet. In two parties they cross the 
 arena, and make their obeisance to the Adelantado. Thev un- 
 in all the footmen about eighteen. This includes a couple of 
 tnatadores, or killers. With these comes a mediespada, or hali- 
 wordsman, who is not often wanted. The picadores, or lancers. 
 three in number, follow them on horseback, in the performance 
 of the act of grace before the representative of the throne. 
 
 The thread ores take their stations, and declare them>elves in 
 readiness. First, you behold the picadores. These plant them 
 selves on one side of the gate from whence the bull is to emerge, 
 and at a distance of twenty -five or thirty paces. Those on foot, 
 armed with their short javelins, called banderillos, meant to goad 
 and torture the bull, and for their defence, their cloaks of blue 
 and scarlet, take their places also, ready to assist the picadores, 
 but along the barriers. A trumpet sounds; an Algua/il ad 
 vances, and receives from Don Balthazar the key of the torril, 
 or den of the bull. The Adelantado waves his gilded truncheon ; 
 Don Balthazar waves another ; the buglessound ; wild shouts from 
 the multitude declare the acme of expectation to be reached, the 
 gate of the torril is thrown open, a rush is heard ; and u El 
 Moro" " the Moor" the great black bull of the Cuban moun 
 tains, himself a mountainous mass of bone and muscle, darts 
 headlong upon the scene, and hushes all to silence. 
 
 He stops suddenly; throwing up his head. He has pu^-d 
 from darkness into sudden light. The unwonted spectacle for a 
 moment confounds him. He looks up; around; stares with 
 dilating eye on all he sees; and then you may observe his tail 
 .i:l wave, to and fro, the hairs starting up, like those upon 
 his neck, and presenting a ridgy surface, a cre-lcd mane, show 
 ing his excitement, and gradually ri in^ aimer. As yet, he 
 knows not where to look. On all sides. h- sees so much ! But, 
 a tremendous shout from the, multitude seems to decide him; 
 and he answers it with a wild and sudden roar. Then, quick as 
 
THE BCLL FKilU. 199 
 
 a flash, lu; charges upon the nearest picndor. His lance is read) 
 to receive him. He is repulsed ; lie recoils. Hut not far; and 
 with a fresh lound, lie singles out his second enemy. lie also 
 meets him with a cool front, and a piercing weapon. A second 
 time his neck is gored ; but he darts upon the third f.icu . 
 only to meet a froh repulse! He ha- felt his eiiem\ ; and is 
 either cowed or taught by his experience. Which . We shal; 
 He ivonis from all, receding slowly: hi> eyes gleaming \ 
 with tire; his neck and shoulders streaming with blood ; his: 
 to the ground, as if with a heretofore-unknown feeling of humility. 
 But do you think that he is humbled ? No ! He is only m 
 only eontrarting himself to spring; gathering his muscles into 
 fold ; gathering up his soul for newer effort, and growing mo 
 mently more and more vicious and dangerou- from his fort 
 anee ! Some of the spectators are deceived ; u Irilf th w..rld 
 is apt to judge and decide from first impressions, and b< 
 their ign<>ran 
 
 "A cow! a cow!" is the cry "set the dogs upon him!" 
 " Ah, ! que ! no vale na /" " The bea-t is worth nothing. \ Ie is 
 a cow !" 
 
 M A cow, indeed !" cries the experienced mountaineer, who bet 
 ter knows the Mgns which the brute exhibits. D mp.irute ! 
 nonst-ns.- ! Let me B66 the man who will milk that - 
 
 He is light. "El Moro" is a hero, and \\-\- use as wdl as 
 -jth. Hr \v.\-ifelt his enemy; }\>- It. gins to know him. The 
 picadnres understand him better than the mob. They note his 
 immense frame, -the great head, the enormous breadth of 
 tirck, the huge hiva-t. like a rampart, which he spreads b- 
 n ; the wonderful compa ,\ hoK- ligure. llu \ 
 
 ,h- lurking devil in his dilatin - ooking up. though his 
 
 norns seem directed only to the ground. They note other n 
 \\hich escap.- the poj.ii ace. an 1 they prepare th- with 
 
 ."11 their address, for a <econd a-sault. Th -ir h^r-e^, which i 
 heard the roar of the, bull, are trembling them, T 
 
 do not see the animal, as they have been blin-b-d. th better to 
 make tlie m submit to the rein; but they fee I their terrors the 
 
200 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 more. They are not the broken hackneys which arc employed 
 in the cities of modern Spain, not worth their forage ; but brave 
 . of fearless foresters, who have taken up the business of 
 the torero, con amore. Sleek of skin, large of frame, slender of 
 limb, with small heads, arching necks, bright, round, dilating 
 lean fetlocks! You see that they come of Arabian stocks, 
 and are not unworthy to carry fearless riders against the bull. 
 They tremble, but they obey. The picador, meanwhile, carries 
 his well-chosen lance beneath his right arm. He keeps a wary 
 eye upon his enemy. He knows that he is to be expected ; 
 that he must come ; that the struggle has not well begun, and 
 that it will require his utmost skill to conquer and escape! 
 lie does nut mistake the ominous aspect in the sign of Taurus! 
 He has not read the Zodiac of the ampithcatre in vain. These 
 are ail old stagers, these picadures. Each has a reputation to 
 lose. They are known by name among the multitude, and these 
 names have been cried aloud, already, by more than a hundred 
 voices, in recognition and encouragement. "Bravo! I epe !" 
 Bravo! little Juan!" "Bravo! Francisco Dias!" "Now 
 shall we see which of you all will pluck la devisa from the neck 
 of El Moro" "La devisa" is a ribbon about the bull s neck, 
 containing the name of his breeder. 
 
 " \Vhich of you has a mistress with eyes worthy of a death ? 
 Bravo! good fellows! Let us see !" 
 
 The allusion, here, is to the practice of the picador, whose 
 object it is to snatch away the ribbon as a trophy for his sweet 
 heart. This is a great point gained; and a diliicult one. The 
 Bull, who is well aware of the honor of the thing, is, of ooune, 
 always careful to resent, with particular malice, every such 
 attempt upon the badge which proves his honorable breeding. 
 It r.-ijuiivs rare agility which, in such a conflict, implies rare 
 courage to achieve the object. 
 
 But the crowd is clamorous. They are impatient at the delay 
 of " El Moro." They regard him as too lymphatic. They 
 shout to him their scorn, and some endeavor to assail him, from 
 behind the barriers, with strokes of the chivata, orjwrro, sticki 
 
EL MORO. 201 
 
 ating in knobs, with which every rascal of the 
 properly armed to the CM OH. Their auxiliary assaults, in fact. 
 
 . fair j.art of the exhibition. 
 They contribute gteafy I . timid animal to th 
 
 i->p<Tati >n. \\-iirk him up to madness; when, no 
 dreading the prick <>f the lan.-e. though it buries itself an 
 inch deep in the lloh. he phr liong upon his <-i 
 
 not to be again baffled in the assault, not to be turned a>ide; 
 and throwing all his brute t >ive into one coneentrated effort, puts 
 all their arts \], r safety. 
 
 [fl a bull of blood II.- is a bull of dfaw 
 !! \\:i< only pau-fd t> nu-ditati- in wliat manner 
 hi- f.ir.v M jain-t the -kill f his enemies, He has c.in.-linh-d his 
 and, with a terrible >n<rt, wliii-h ends in a mar. he ru>hes 
 ipon the pic i<l<>,;\*. They m.-.-t him hand>c 
 la a little turiU d on one side, their :prar- 
 
 - the ii.-rk and >hnuldiTs of the beast This 
 >* i> ! f salutation. It is apt to turn oil" ten bulls 
 
 all remember, with k 
 
 d, by \vhieh the herdsmen have initiated them in 
 . " HI Mm-,." has not h ^t hi-- sen^ibiji- 
 ! " lia< a | I which 
 
 tells him that 1; ; and th / 
 
 lily to i . . | 
 
 "p t ih.- valiantly. Skulking, he 
 
 A ill avail him n. tlmrj. II , ill no t 
 
 Iy. The -;.e;ir-p..int i- in hi> to 
 
 and -lioul- 
 
 frw:jnl ; h. ad downward ; horns 
 hat (.f the lion 
 in hi 
 
 f the 
 
 mult it;: -un, about 
 
 kill, and sweep* 
 out of the track. 
 
 9* 
 
202 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " Bravo, Pepe !" cry the mob, as they witness this dexterity of 
 the first of the picadore* ; but the bull sweeps on; he receives 
 the spear-point of the second of his foes ; but his own irresistible 
 ruth, his own headlong bulk, prevents his recoil now, even if his 
 spirit quailed beneath the wound: but it does not. The pi 
 cador tries to wheel and escape his assault, but too late: the 
 horns of "El Moro" are already buried in the Hank of tin 
 hi rends his sides, snaps the defensive ribs like glass; steed and 
 rider roll over upon the plain, the latter upon the off-side of the 
 animal. The body of the horse constitutes his rampart for a 
 nioii icnt. It is a fearful moment. Life and death hang on it. 
 An awfid hush envelops the amphitheatre; women shriek, 
 men shout and swear; heads peer over each other; eyes are 
 starting almost from their soekets ; anxiety and appetite, fear and 
 hope, horror and delight, are in wondrous strife in the multitu 
 dinous soul of the assembly. Every body looks to see the bull 
 dash down upon the prostrate horse and rider. The latter lies 
 elose and quiet, expecting the assault : his hope of escape is in 
 his insignificance. But "El Moro" is a bull of magnanimity a 
 heroic bull, worthy of the fierce and feari.-s race after whom 
 they have named Mm. Tie disdains to touch the fallen victim, 
 irns the >ands anew; he dashes after the remaining pica- 
 dores, who course round the amphitheatre, dexterously avoiding his 
 charge, and seeking to double upon and wound him anew at e\ - 
 ery chanc.-. Wonderful is the skill they exhibit, and great 5- the 
 cheering which they receive. Both bull and picador receive it 
 equally; nothing can be more fair than the applause ; it is equally 
 merited : and gratitude for the sport alone requires that merit 
 should be equally aeknowlcdg.-d. M Hrv> toro /" "Bravo I lca- 
 dor/"* " Bravo Lit l* Juan! kl l>r<iv<> Mrof" These and simi 
 lar crieoare heard from all quarter- "f th ring. 
 
 But "El Moro" 1 N not content t. : with others, 
 
 he is greedy of ylory. Another picad </ is overthrown ; horse 
 and man roll on the earth. 1. in, who won the bravos 
 
 lately, is scrambling over the barriers, partly assisted in the 
 effort by the black brows of the, bull himself his horns iust miss 
 
TiiK lil Ll.V PROWI 203 
 
 ing tli- hauncho of the horseman, aii l grazing the larrirrs. ll 
 . The hurst; f th" picador fli.-s wild, with 
 
 his i-iit: :Voiu a horrid wound in the belly. Tin- bull 
 
 pursu. :-\ bound IK- gads tin- blinded and terrified ani 
 
 mal anew. Both are covered with blood. u A<ra/ eric- the 
 . " tin- "swell mob from tin- corridor, ".I/in// i 
 (/p san^rt . what a beauteous body of Mood ! 
 
 Thus goring as he goes, himself covered with gore, snorting 
 witli fury, his r\vs like ivl lin-s, flashing in flight, his month full 
 of f a:n and blood, his head tossing wildly, the blood and lather 
 covering his whole body, the hull keeps on his way of terror, 
 rij l ing ami ivnding the wounded and agoni/ed hor-e. until, with 
 a tenitie rar and etll.rt. he fairly lifts the victim from the earth, 
 ila*h- liim diwn IIJMHI tlie -ands. and strikes his hoofs on hi- 
 :-nls ovt-r him in juir-uit <>\ the remaining jiicador. 
 There is ]\) j.arh-\ ing with so l u -a . ; ;-ut- as that. There 
 
 is no liallliiig him. He i> nt to In- i. -hided of his proper juvv. 
 1 !;it the J ool to put nose to th- ground, a- ordinarv bulls 
 
 i-ting hi-> t ury upon the nn-mies he ha-- a I read \ 
 tlirowii. The fallen lior-e ur liin-st-uiari attracts n,,! K of his atten 
 tion. Efe 8668 and seeks him oiil\ \\-\\ is on toot, in mution; 
 an.l lie gi\e- the surviving : , . 
 
 bull so determined. a;id BO sensible. Il- is not merdv a hero, 
 he is a grin-nil ; and the audit-nee is diilv sensible of his wonder 
 ful merits. Th rjf hand. - L^ny li <e 
 
 El Aforo / he whom the\ ha. i .hal! die th v 
 
 "Bravo tore! Bravo Moor !" T; ,-ir hands aloft; 
 
 they tling up th.-ir c.ip- . r their ap- 
 
 .!uM th-- barri. : 
 apphii: -till hetter to dc-erve it. II.- givea the 
 
 Dl^nf -f delay. I b : . up >n him. Th.- 
 
 doubles with WODdn l\ Pity, and -lu ! k; and ht 
 
 M. Hut the bull : 
 
 II \\ 1 , 
 
 ati"ther IMUIII.I, the />jr but gra/v-. him; tho 
 
 darts away but th- hul , and rends him 
 
204 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 a terrible gash in the rear. Bleeding and torn, the steed 
 rs forward, when a new thrust sends him over, and the rider 
 flings himself off on the opposite side, to escape the inveterate 
 assailant. It is a moment of extreme peril ; every soul is hushed 
 almost to sti!l 7ig in the assembly ; and now the chulus with their 
 gaudy cloaks come fluttering upon the scene. They are to divert 
 the bull from his victim. They glide between, almost like shapes 
 of air. The red shawls flare before the eyea <>f Kl Moro. lint 
 El Moro is none of your common bulls. He is not to be per 
 suaded that the shawl can work him injury. lie has no vulgar 
 bull-hostility to crimson. He darts at the C//U/G, and not his shawl. 
 The bamlerillo flies a little dart, ornamented with colored and 
 gilded paper and sticks into his neck. Another is planted di 
 rectly opposite, buried deeply in the flesh. A third, a fourth, 
 until the beast is fairly covered with these proofs of the dexter 
 ity of his new assailants, who trip along like dancing-masters 
 about the scene ; relying upon their wonderful agility to dart 
 aside from his wild and passionate plunges. They scatter at his 
 approach. He drives them to the barriers, over which the res 
 cued picador has just clambered with a slimy of pain and labor, 
 that proves he has not gone through the fray unseatlu-d. Tin-re 
 is a rent in his leathern breeches ; there is an exceedingly .-ore place 
 beneath it. But the chulos are dispersed, El Moro remains the 
 lord of the arena, lie >tamps as if for a new enemy ; li 
 as if in triumph ! He. darts, seeing no moving object, at those 
 which lie still or writhing upon the plain. lie tramples tin- gay 
 mantles; he rends the prostrate and still struggling ln>r>e. He 
 is impatient that they offer no resistance; for the g -ads -till tear 
 his neck and -ides, and the wounds are a reasele>s torture. The 
 amphitheatre rings with applauses of his prowess; but this Mib- 
 ..nd the appetite of the multitude craves a renewal of the 
 excitement. 
 
 "Caballosf Caballos al torof" U the cry. More hor.-e- are 
 required for the b-,11. Ne\s -liampioiiN appear upon tli.- 
 and the battle is renewed. I Jut we mu>t not enter nmv upon 
 details; "El Moro" maintain* hi> reputation. Another h 
 
THK MATAI 205 
 
 slain another wounded two riders ;uv hurt with broken ribs, 
 and the chains again -catter themselves over the area f>r the res 
 cue of the third. Kl M.ro" them in turn: l.ut he in 
 exhausted by his victories. Covered with wound 
 
 ::tre. of the ring. His , filmy, his head droops, 
 
 his tail but he is thus far the conqueror, and there is a moment 
 of silent admiration in tribute to his prowc--. lint the >iu r i:s 
 show that he can make no more spurt, lie ha- done all that bull 
 could do for the popular holiday; and nothing remain- but to 
 administer the COHJ> dc gr>:ce. and bring on his successors. The 
 trumpet sounds. The matador the killer appears alone uj- ii 
 the scene. On hi- appearanee, \\ith lifted cap. lieirnkoshi 
 siin-e to the Adelantado. In his right hand he holds a 
 a beautiful rapier, of the be-t temper in his left hand he waves 
 a little red flag, not much larger than a handkerehief, called th-- 
 
 muleta. II. receive* the permission which he reijuhv-. K! 
 
 Moro s" death-warrant is iriven out. 
 
 The matador e\hibit>t:. . |H,>turo-ma-ter, with all 
 
 the coolnes- of the exeoiltkmer, He turns toward- the victim. 
 
 ad advances slowly. He is pale; looks anxk>i I.Mitly 
 
 \\ary. Well he may I.e. Such an adversary, -howii .. 
 
 cunning as cou: >t often to be met Th. stops, 
 
 and with all th- ..f which he is capable. -ur\ 
 
 f character, and bulls have a character that iv- 
 ha- a eh -take. 
 
 ii iwned I ibaOS, He has >!ain his 
 
 hundred-, and he mu-t >how him-elf wn-shy of his renown. Hi- 
 icnt- \vere at OO06 L raccful and decided; aid ; ii- thruMs 
 
 
 Snllletillie.-. the m.i>t. T tail-, and I ico \S: 
 
 duel which he i- al |,t. 1 lie hull is .-till ,! 
 
 lly. He ha- lost hi 
 ll - mail... Pico has no shield, nothing bat th. >,d hi-, 
 b -autifi! rapier. Hi- ball di of Ik, Mtu and rlbbi i 
 
 diit\ U) l-e don.-; bu tl 
 ^a 1 " 1 " : I :Mand- hi 1 
 
206 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 retrains hiinself; a thousand -ycs are upon him ; he knows it, 
 but he s^es nothing but the eyes of the bull. Their tame, filmy 
 expression does not deceive him. He fancies that "El Moro" 
 understands the whole proceeding, what is to be done, and what 
 is to be feared ; and that he is preparing himself with more than 
 bull subtlety, to make a fearful fight of it. It must be subtlety 
 now, opposed to subtlety ; the wisdom of the man to the excit 
 ed instincts of the beast. The expectation is, that the bull will 
 run at the red flag; when the matador will receive him at the 
 point of the weapon, which pierces him betwe.en the shoulder and 
 the bone blade. If the bull has much spirit left, he will do this. 
 The presumption is, if he will not, that he succumbs to his fate 
 that his energies are exhausted. 
 
 Pico waves his muleta in front of the animal. "El Moro" 
 makes a single eharge, but recoils stops short, and stands with 
 head down, as if in waiting. A shout of contempt, from the 
 "fancy," assails him for this ignoble conduct. It encourages Pi- 
 eo. He advances, waves the flag anew; again the bull charges; 
 the steel flashes, quick as lightning; strikes; strikes; all see; 
 but it is an awkward stroke! Pico s nerves have been troubled. 
 The steel strikes the bone ; it flies from the hand of the matador ; 
 and, with a roar, the recovering bull is upon him, with a dreadful 
 griding sweep. The brave fellow darts aside, but not unhurt. 
 aggers. he makes for the barriers: the cunning "El 
 Moro," with brightening eye, surges after him. The suspense is 
 awful ; the women scream ; the men shout; the matador staggera 
 forward to the barriers; falls, without catching them; and, but a 
 moment remains for escape ! a terrible anxiety prevails. In that 
 moment, a gigantic form leaps over the barriers from the corri 
 dor, lie is dark like the red man. lie is of that race, mixed 
 with the white and the negro, a most unnatural and atrocious 
 combination. Hut what he is, no one as yet can distingui-h. 
 They see nothing clearly. They only know that he stands be- 
 twe< n the fallen Pico and the charging El Moro. They see a. 
 common red kerchief wav ; ng in one hand. They see not 
 the short, sharp knife in the other. They see, however, that he 
 
TIIK LM) UK El. MUKO. 207 
 
 has 1 in diverting the wrath of the Lull, from the : 
 
 trate matador, to himself. A moment more, and the plunging 
 animal >tand> where the challenged. He has darted 
 
 a>ide like an arrow, leaving hi- kerchief upon the horns of the 
 bull, and waving before hi i he animal shakes his head, 
 
 dJid thru>t- it down. In that moment th . advam, 
 
 lently. A Hash i> seen ; and the machete la ti.tailv buried be- 
 tw.-en th- shoulder^ ..f HI More. A h<>ar>e sound issues from 
 the n.MriU of the mighty beat, and he sinks forward, the life 
 P" :< pot wliere he had nbly, but the 
 
 instant IM : 
 
 Thet-n.wd is relieved They >l, ut their gratifieat ion, and the 
 
 11 mob" with.. ut are particularly rejoiced with the e.\|ui-ite 
 
 feat (.farms j.erfnrine.l by one from am<.n<: themselves. Scarcely 
 
 wa- th- deed don de Alvaro, in 
 
 a whi-pn- to the -.-r-eant of the guard, said, 
 
 that man who slew the bull betaken into eustody. Let 
 
 it !> d.. ne secretij) tiol t.. cause o.nnVion. Bet an 
 
 ujM.n hi- footsteps, and when ti. ajl hi ln 
 
 up. Me i- a -lave an outlawtin- notorious outlaw, Mateo 
 Morillo slave ,,f th.- estate of my ni.-ee. He has 1,,-en in tho 
 mountalnfl for two ya; ,. him. There 
 
 ; r.-wanl to br ^of }.y his oaptivitv ! " 
 
 Th.- sergeant promised ob.-dience ; but when he looked into the 
 amphitheatre, the mai If orfllo, had disappeared among 
 
 th.- throng II- ight for him that day in vain. 
 
 -For much of tin- detail in \\\\< i-h;ipt-r respecting the sports of 
 th.- Sp :l ,,i>!i amphith.alrc. I am in.lrl.u-.l to the volunu-s of Roflcoe, Ford, 
 and the highly int. r D j, y ou ^. own 
 
 countryman. Mr S. T. Wallis. of Maryland. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 The knight of the Redcrosse, when him he cpide, 
 
 Spurring so hole witn rage dispiteous, 
 Gan fairely couch his spt-are, and toward* ride : 
 
 Soone meete they both, both fell and furious, 
 That, daunted with their forces hideous, 
 
 Their steeds doe slugger, and amazed stand ; 
 And eke themselves, too rudely rigorous, 
 
 Astonied with the stroke of their owne hand, 
 Doe backe rebutte, und each to other yealdeth land." 
 
 THE day s sports were by no means ended with the death of 
 " El Moro." Other bulls were brought into the ring, and sev 
 eral fierce fights followed, marked by sundry vicissitudes and 
 casualties. No less than six bulls perished before the day was 
 over ; and twice this number of horses were more or less seri 
 ously hurt. Three were killed outright. As many of the 
 toreadores went off were carried off, rather with shattered ribs; 
 so that, all things considered, the sports were highly satisfactory 
 to the people. That night there was merry-making in all <m:ir 
 ters of the city. The houses everywhere were thrown open for 
 the reception of guests. The country cousins were made wel 
 come. The voluptuous dances of the Spaniard succeeded to the 
 feast, and were prolonged through the night. Wild and smii- 
 mental music burst from balcony and verandah, and the guitar 
 tinkled sweetly in the groves of lime and orange. Olivia <le 
 Alvaro spent the night in the palace of the Adclantado, who 
 entertained a large party. But Philip de Vasoonaelos, though 
 invited, was not among the guests. Where is he 1 Why is he 
 not present? These were the questions which Olivia uncon 
 sciously asked herself. Andre-, his In-other, was there; stern 
 and gloomy; but he did not approach her. She danced and sang 
 
THE SECOND DAY S SPORTS. 209 
 
 at the entreaty, or rather the command, of the Lady Isabella; 
 but her heart was neither with the inn-ic nor the dance. She 
 went through the performances mechanically, sick at soul, and 
 longing to be away out of the painful glare of lighU and com 
 pany, and buried in -the deep shadows of her domestic groves. 
 We have no scene to exhibit, no picture to portray of the per- 
 son - or events of this night. We hurry to the performances of 
 the day following, which more immediately concern our pro- 
 gree*. 
 
 The spectacle of the second day promised to exceed the first, 
 in it- splendor and state, if not in its attractions. It is doubtful, 
 indeed, if any exhibition, short of battle itself, could, in that day, 
 furnish attractions to the Spanish people to compare with those 
 of the bull-fight. This was a strife of certain danger and fre- 
 (jiieiil loss of life. There must be blood-lied ; terrible wounds, 
 great suffering, prolonged agonies, and momently increasing ex- 
 lit. In proportion to the anxiety, the peril, the blood and 
 a-.:ony, were the joys of the spectacle. But the tournament was 
 only a picture of strife; gentle pa arms and joyous, as 
 
 the heralds described it; and, though full of noble dispi ; , 
 
 ngth, skill and admirable horseman-hip. 
 
 failed, usually, to provoke those intense anxieties which charac- 
 tcri/ed the conflicts of the hull with fcfa But bulls 
 
 .aughtered every day. The operation is an ex- 
 pensive one. i he owners of line h.,r- \ ry often wish 
 
 to peril their ribs in ; ;m ,l eyeo the lorry hack has his 
 
 value, to b the first (li^h of excitement U T. 
 
 Hie bull-fiu!:!. though the irivat pas-ion of the Spaniard-, is not. 
 for the- i, an ailair of fiv.juent 
 
 M-nt was held quite sufficient for reasonable p. 
 and the "v,\v!l m<. !y compelled to put up 
 
 with li. :u) inferi- [fl of ehi\ 
 
 With the first flashings of the morning sunlight upon bright 
 shield and glittering lamv \ wild, prolonged and inspirit 
 
 ing burst of music issued from :he am; hitheatre, ann-Minci- 
 resumption of the s \ thousand b xom- thrilled with 
 
210 VASCCLNrfELOS. 
 
 delight, and a thousand voices hailed the signal with triumphant 
 shouts. The sounds and clamors from the spacious area were 
 echoed back from all the little hills around. They were all in 
 motion at the music, and clapping their hands with joy. Soon, 
 the fierce bray of the trumpet was heard mingling wildly with 
 sweeter music. Anon came the roll of the drum ; and steeds 
 neighed, and squires shouted, and the mountain peasant beiran 
 to sing, in his exulting unconsciousness, the rude ballads of his 
 distant forests. There was shouting and clamor on every side; 
 and the rushing of crowds, and the din of conflicting sounds, 
 might have led the unadvised spectator to suppose that chaos 
 had come again, so extreme /as the confusion. But in all this 
 confusion the truncheon of command prevailed. So well had 
 everything been organized by Don Baltha/ar <le Alvaro, and so 
 native were such exercises to the multitude, that no conflict or 
 disorder followed, where all things appeared to promise nothing 
 less. The people knew their places; the, ofliciais their busine . 
 The heralds, and pursuivants, and algua/ils were all in sufficient 
 number and sufliciently active. But, where the popular consent 
 is with the given purpose, it is surprising how multitudes work 
 together to the common end. The officers skirted the barriers 
 within as well as without, and kept them free from encroach- 
 ment ; and, gradually, the thrones, preying forward like crowd 
 ing billows of thc> sea, subsided calmly into their places along 
 the galleries. The seats were filled as if by magic* The family 
 groups, or special parties, carl; unobstructed in its wMi to keep 
 her, formed so many little domestic circles along the im- 
 meiKely crowded tiers; and the hum and bu/x <>f conversation, 
 free and unembarrassed as in private homes, went on. The 
 merry laugh, and the smart je>t. and the careless comment, \\ 
 uttered aloud, as if none but friendly hearers were at hand to 
 listen. It is a common error that the Spaniard is inflexible as 
 well as proud. This is only true of a high state of convention 
 in the old communities. In the new world, where all were 
 adventurers, even nobility threw off some of its reserves, and 
 accommodated itself to a more democratic condition of tilings ; 
 
TIIK si KIT A TORS. 211 
 
 a result, indeed, inevitable from the necessities of the region. But 
 to our progress. 
 
 n!y. the liati-l-; s ruck up the national air, and thi 
 the signal (or the approach and ciitraiiee of the Adelantado, the 
 noble knights and ladies who immediately attended him ami 
 his lovely wife, and > U ch fa vorit es a-> were specially invited to the 
 more elevated platform which Qed to the represents, 
 
 tive of majesty. This plalfl.rm. it may be well to state. though 
 elevated above the lower ranges of the scats assigned to the mill- 
 titude, NN -newhat nearer to the dreus. It was immedi- 
 
 ately al.ove the corridor, which, in all other parN of the area, 
 wa- uncovered. Indeed, it seem-d to hang almost over th. 
 and was not so high hut that it might he easily touched ],\ ;l 
 Ian. v in the hands of a knight on horst/hark. Along this platform, 
 and in the foreground, on well and richly cushioned seats, t he 
 ladie, were - -upying j.ivf.-rivd |. laces ; the gallants in 
 
 ndance taking position in the rear. In the centre of this 
 t; n " r 1 >on P.altha/.ar de Alvaro, acting a> warder ; 
 
 and imnu-diat.-ly hehind, hut on a rfo 
 
 the Adelantodo and his lady 
 
 \\ , f h the entrance of the two last, the virus l.eeame wilder than 
 the music, and DeSoto bowed impressively and unteefullv to 
 
 the popular applause. His noble form and princely carriage, the 
 splendor of his costume, and a prop ; to the imm< 
 
 amount of patronage which he had brought to the island, i; 
 him a wonderful favorite. Nor washi^ noble wife 
 had virtues, indeed, superior to his. though ,,f a tan showy char 
 acter; and her penooal beauty, her noblr carriage, the ri ch- 
 and ex.jui^ite ta-te of he,- dress, th- equal grace and d . 
 hrr ! to make her an object of like and equal at- 
 
 <m with her lord. They to., k t l, :m ,l the , 
 
 followed i,y those u! tpanied them. When 
 
 places wen all filled, th- spectacle wai one of wonderful bril. 
 
 lianey and b-auty. Tl i( . t( .,l a , . 
 
 of the P.TSOTK of those \\1 -if, and tl. 
 
 were all naturally solicitous to appear in their richest habiu. 
 
212 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 Olivia de Alvaro occupied one of these foremost seats, near hei 
 mcle, and a little below, but quite close to, the Lady Isabella. 
 She too was splendidly habited ; but she was perhaps the least 
 conscious of the fact of all in that assembly. She had made 
 her toilet with little heart for it, and little heed to appearances. 
 Her thoughts were of the saddest ; and her face now was pale 
 as death. There was a brightness, however, in her eye, of sin 
 gular wildness, and occasionally it flashed out with a vivid and 
 peculiar intelligence. But she seldom trusted herself to ga/c 
 about the amphitheatre. She seemed to dread the encounter 
 with other eyes. Beside her sate the frail, fair beauty, the wife 
 of Nuno de Tobar, whose little tongue kept up a surprising dis 
 charge of small arms, without intermission. Her supply of 
 missiles seemed inexhaustible, and as they were mostly .address,-, 1 
 to the earsof Olivia, it is not a matter of wonder if she had nothing 
 to say in return. The lack of opportunity, indeed, was rather 
 grateful than otherwise. It saved her from all necessity of find 
 ing apologies for her taciturnity. Behind Olivia stood the pro 
 vincial courtier, Don Augustin de Sinolar, redolent of perfume, 
 and diffuse and gay in silks and glitter. There were other gal 
 lants in waiting : but we must not stop to enumerate. The 
 anxiety of the multitude has brought them to that hush of ex 
 pectation which, even more than military authority, is the best 
 security for order. The Adelantado, like every good actor, well 
 understood the impropriety of keeping the stage waiting. He 
 rose gracefully and waved his truncheon. At the signal, a sud 
 den blare from the trumpets, at the entrance, quickened the pul 
 sation in every bosom. The blast was answered from a dozen 
 quarters all around, the response from the tents of the challengers 
 to the signal which required them to appear. But a few mo 
 ments more elapsed when the trumpets within and without 
 pealed in unison; a lively and prolonged strain of wild and 
 chrrrfnl music; and then was heard he h^avy trampings of ap 
 proaching hor-c. 
 
 " They come ! They come!" was the involuntary cry from a 
 thousand lately stifled voices. Then the heralds and pursuivants 
 
VASCO I)K PORCALLOS. 213 
 
 slowly cantered into the lists, skirting closely the barriers ; and 
 when expectation was at the highest, the challengers, six in num 
 ber, made their appearance. And, truth to speak, they showed 
 themselves right comely chevaliers to the eye, and seemed well 
 able to carry themselves bravely and keep manfully the field. 
 They were headed, as was fitting, by the Lieutenant General of 
 the army, the stout and wealthy Hidalgo, Don Vasco Porcallos 
 de Figueroa. This cavalier, whatever may have been his per 
 sonal merits, was perhaps rather more indebted to his wealth, 
 for the distinction he enjoyed, than to his genius as a soldier. 
 We do not know that, up to this period, he had ever made any 
 remarkable figure in arms. He certainly had, thus far, taken no 
 such place in the popular imagination as was assigned to sundry 
 of their famous men, who had proved even unfortunate such as 
 Alonzo de Ojeda, and many others. But wealth, with frequent 
 largesses, a right generous spirit, and a gracious carriage, will 
 work wonders towards achieving temporary distinction. The 
 reader may not have forgotten the policy of the Adelantado, already 
 indicated, by which he was moved to depose the amorous knight, 
 Nuno de Tobar, from the office which he subsequently conferred 
 on Vasco de Porcallos. We are not prepared to say that he re 
 joiced in the pretext which enabled him to do so. But, it was 
 one certainly which he did not greatly regret. He was not dis- 
 taed at having the means wherewith to buy the favors of the 
 rich cavalier. And Vasco Porcallo.s did not defraud expectation. 
 II.- did not withhold his treasure-, from the expedition to Florida. 
 Ifis castellanos were freely rendered to th f his superior, 
 
 with whose ambitious views no man of the army seemed so 
 deeply to sympathi/c. Vasco Porcallos was s.-i/ed with a new 
 born desire for fame, without foregoing a jot of his old pa 
 for acquisition. !!> was anxious to be known, hereafter, as one 
 of tin- conquerors in Florida; and. at tin- sarn time. he made 
 sundry shrewd calculations of the profit which would en-ne 
 from his landed estates in Cuba, by enncentratini; up->n them 
 the labor of the Apalachian savages whom he expected to 
 make captive in his progress The tw<> paeons, glory and 
 
214 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 gain, strove equally together in his bosoin ; and, with such rare 
 harmony, that neither could be said to be, at any time, in the as 
 cendant. Vasco Porcallos was of a brave temper ; and, though 
 never distinguished in war, as a captain, had yet enjoyed consid 
 erable experience in the new world s conquests. Had he been 
 a few years younger, he might still have hoped great things from 
 his gallant spirit and generous ambition. But our cavalier was 
 on the wrong side of fifty, and few soldiers have ever acquired 
 reputation, or achieved successes in foreign invasion, after they 
 have passed the meridian line of life. It may be reasonably 
 doubted, if his prudence was at all conspicuous in his engaging 
 in a long and hazardous expedition. That he would endure well 
 enough the toils of a single campaign, was not questioned even 
 among those who were jealous of his wealth and great appoint 
 ments ; and still less was it doubted that he would carry himsc l 
 well in such passages of arms as it should fortune him to en 
 counter. He was acknowledged to be a good lance and a prop 
 er horseman, and as now he appeared in the amphitheatre, portly 
 of figure, tall, erect, covered with shining armor, riding a splendid 
 bay, whose form and color were equally free of blemish for 
 the white spot, of crescent shape, conspicuous in the centre of 
 the horse s forehead, was held to be a beauty and not a blemish 
 the loud shout of applause which welcomed him, seemed to 
 give assurance of the popular confidence in his prowess. His 
 steed was gayly caparisoned with his master s favorite colrs f 
 green and gold, and his own bearing seemed to exhibit a full con 
 sciousness of the distinction he enjoyed, in carrying so brave a 
 rider. The portly knight bestrode him with an air and spirit 
 worthy of so gallant an animal ; and, as he pricked him forward 
 with the formidable Spanish rowel and made him caracole to the 
 balcony, where sate the Adelantado and his noble companions of 
 the fair sex, the populace again shouted their nnsnppressible 
 admiration. Vasco Porcallos wore a brilliant armor, which be 
 trayed never a stain of the soil. A rich surcoat of ^ r reen silk 
 (afterwards thrown off) hung somewhat loosely above his armor 
 which was of polished steel, fretted in figures of gold and silver. 
 
BALTIIA/Ai: UK <;ALLK<;OS. 21") 
 
 nnes and flower.- appearing in the sort of jeweller s work which 
 is known as variegated gold. His helmet was of like mat* rial 
 and ornament, surmounted with a bunch of beautiful and e 
 plumes of the heron. The small shield which he carried lightly 
 upon his left arm, was of > . inlaid with a circular bor 
 
 dering of gold, of vines and flowers, in the centre of which, 
 splendidly illuminated, was the armorial ensign of the knight 
 a bright, keen eye, looking out from a sun of Mazing gold. The 
 arrogant motto spoke sufficiently for the insolent ambition of 
 the cavalier. " Es mio lo que veoT ( That is mine which I 
 see!") But this confidence vexed no self-esteem in all the 
 
 rnbly. It was but the embodiment of the national coi 
 and it was perhaps warranted by the fact. They hud made 
 their own all that they had seen. It was an encouragement to 
 valor and enterprise, that the nation should thus believe, that 
 there was nothing, in reserve, which its warriors could not. in 
 like manner, make their own. The faith makes the vi< : 
 Vasco Porcallos, known by his largesse much more than by his 
 valor, was readily assumed to possess a spirit and capacity 
 worthy of his bounty; and his graceful obeisance before the 
 rff/i.v upon which Ilernan de Soto sate, was congratulated by the 
 repeated rtrcrs of the multitude, and acknowledged by the gracious 
 smile and courtesy of the Adelantado. 1 Jack ing his steed with 
 an elegant and mca-ured. \i t free motion. 
 to his brother challengers to conn- forward. 
 
 lie wa- followed by Haltha/ar d i :al 
 
 lant adventurer; who, without being <juite so matured by time 
 as Vasco Porca tot, lud, perhaps, .een quite as nn in 
 
 Indian warfare. Hi- can- ... food, and his -.kill and ^r 
 
 in managing hi- -{,.! freTC <mite equal to 
 sor; but there was a lam.-ntablo disparity in their eqi. 
 The hone WM a fine one. biL.r-linib.-d. y,-t of lively motion; but 
 his furniture wa< rusty; and the armor of th.- rid. -tin- 
 
 guished equally by the antiquity of its appearance, and the 
 numerous dints of ], a tl.- whi--h it -howed. I- VL-II tl 
 orations which Haltha/.n , mploy.-J in honor of the 
 
216 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 occasion, consisting of gaudy scarf and various colored shoulder 
 knots and ribbons, served rather to expose than to relieve the 
 defects and decayed places in his rusty harness. His shield was 
 large and cumbrous, but carried lightly on his muscular arm. 
 It was of a faded blue ground, on which was painted a volcanic 
 mountain in eruption, the jets of fire ascending without falling 
 the. motto indicative of a thoroughly Spanish ambition "Mas 
 bien consumir que no txaltarmeT ("Rather burn than not rise!") 
 A few cheers followed the appearance of this cavalier; but they 
 sounded very coldly and meanly, succeeding those which had 
 honored the man of fortune ; and after making his obeisance, 
 Balthazar de Gallegos, drew his steed into the background, as if 
 satisfied that his mountain would burn rather unprofitably at the 
 present moment. 
 
 Very different was the welcome which hailed the appearance 
 of the third challenger. This was our old acquaintance, the amo 
 rous young cavalier, Nuno de Tobar. Nuno was a favorite with 
 all classes, poor and rich, men no less than women. His known 
 grace and bravery, his frank carriage, easy, accessible, playful 
 manner, the generosity of his heart, the unaffected simplicity 
 of his nature, all combined to secure for him the most sweet 
 voices of the multitude. These became clamorous as the spec 
 tators beheld the elegance and excellence with which he man- 
 ai_ r rd the iron-gray charger wliich he bestrode the dexterity with 
 which he led him, caracoling, almost waltzing, around the lists, 
 to the foot of the gallery where the Adelantado presided. The 
 steed himself was one to delight the eye of all who beheld him, 
 his symmetrical outline, his fiery grace, and the perfect obedi 
 ence which he displayed, even when his spirit seemed eager to 
 burst from the bondage of his own frame. The armor of Nuno 
 de Tobar was bright and polished. lie had taken some lessons 
 on this subject from the Portuguese brothers, whom he aimed to 
 rival. It was not rich, like that of Vasco de Porcallos, nor in 
 such good taste. In truth, it must be admitted that the tastes 
 of Nuno were inclined to be gaudy. The decorations of his 
 armor, due probably as much to his gay young wife, as to hia 
 
MATKO DK ACEYTUNO. 217 
 
 own tastes, were uf a kind to suit the costume of a damsel rather 
 
 than u cavalier. But liveliness and gallantry in youth will be 
 permitted to excuse the offence of foppishness; and, where the 
 a knight showed themselves doubtfully, a gentle judg 
 ment allowed his other personal (nudities to repair the d< : 
 The -peetators beheld nothing but his graces, the known kind, 
 of his heart, the strength of his arm, the spirit and the beauty of 
 horsemanship; and, while the men made the welkin ring 
 with their clamor at his appearance, the dam>els iv-ponded to 
 their welcomes ly a pretty effort at clapping hands, and a 
 naing bu/.z of approving voices; for all which, our young 
 knight exhibited a due measure of the most grateful His 
 
 .uld mention. Lore ih, station of a ship 
 
 ,. w ; ;h : . >. " I ll ma <ierto" (The 
 
 .ved very mueh in tlje -pirit of all the 
 
 SpaiiMi enterprise of that day. Having finished his p and 
 
 ma.le a lauda { > &<* 
 
 iued his steed backwards, and took i. 
 
 bazai de GWlegOSJ being the third of the knight- on the list 
 of ehalleii. 
 
 He was followed by three cavalier^ of g<>o.l repute: (1 
 pher d.- Spinola, (lon/.alo Sylve-tre, (a youth not more than 
 
 : tine figure, excellent >kill and gl 
 
 an.) HIM, a brave knight, who the 
 
 rest in frame <>f all th. n the army. \Vh.-tlu-roii 
 
 <.r iiH-nntr.!, hi- "igantic >tature, like that of S L it 
 
 him to town- above all his ; j irit ami 
 
 prowr were OOl unwortli, 
 
 of movement, ap.ith. 
 
 faiU-d in any .! the dutiefl \\hi- h 
 
 ha\ ;eh alwa\ for him the A] 
 
 hi- >iip-ri"r-. He n-d, a famous -teed, nain 
 
 himself, tliat had a reputation . 
 
 be of direct Barbary orig ni. and greatly value. 1 by h A ho, 
 
 howe\n\ Bllbaeqiientljf j-n-s.-nti-d him to 1 )r S.)t.., iii ooo 
 
 of the fivmeiit an.l warmlv expressed admiration of the latter. 
 
 10 
 
218 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 Aceytuno w:u> b. brilliant animal ; in color something between A 
 sorrel and a bay, hut of a blood so rich that it seemed rather to 
 diffuse itself everywhere beneath the skin, through which it shone 
 fike a purpb dye, than to pursue its bounded course through the 
 ordinary channel of vein and artery. 
 
 Each of these knights had his motto and coat-of-arms. The 
 shield of Christopher de Spinola carried a pair of huge wings, 
 under which was written, "A solas me sostingo" (Alone I sustain 
 myself,) not a bad image for a modest bachelor, who had licit her 
 .ior children, and was not required to feed the orphans of 
 of his neighbors. That of the gallant youth, Gonzalo Syl- 
 , would be regarded in our day as something impious, even 
 for a lover, who is supposed to be excusable, by reason of the 
 amiable insanity under which ho labors, for any infidelity except 
 that to his mistress. His shield represented the face of a very 
 beautiful woman, and the motto, "Sin vos, y sin Dios y mi" (With 
 out thee I am without God and without myself,) was considered 
 by all the young damsels present as the most felicitous of all swi ef 
 sayings, to which, whatever might be ihc objections of the Deity 
 himself, the Blessed Virgin ought by no manner of reason to 
 object at all. The f.gure upon the shield of Don Mateo de 
 Aceytuno was confined to his profei.sion of arms. A mailed 
 hand grasps a lance; the device was. "No hay otro vinculo que el 
 nuestro" (" There is no L^nd of unioo* but ours" or, as uibder 
 stood, if not expressed we part all bonds but our own.") 
 
 Mateo de Ao ytuno completed the number of the challengers. 
 They n<>w rode together around the lists, prepared to undertake 
 all comers. The first passages were to be with the lance ; to be 
 followed by the battle-axe or sword, according to the pleasure 
 of the ci.ntending parties; ami the, breaking of the lance, the 
 blow fairly delivered without defence offered, of the battle-axe; 
 or the sword wrested from the gripe of one or other of the com 
 batant-, in the struggle. wa< u.idcistood to be conclusive of the 
 combat in cadi ca<e. and suflicient for the victory. 
 
 By this time exportation was at the highest point of excitation 
 in the assembly. The galleries were all rilled with spectators; 
 
THE CHALLENGERS. 219 
 
 nridor girdlefl demfely with I reckless and eager j 
 
 tlu- MI. - shone, without vacancy, with beauty and spleii- 
 
 along tin- surrounding hills, groups of the simple 
 natives miuht be >ecn looking on and listening, though unable 
 to catch more than a glimp-e of event-, and depending for their 
 inteiv^t upon th on of emotions among those wl, 
 
 , hilc, the eyes of the knights-challcn- :t naturally 
 
 :ns of the fair ladies in the galleries. Of th< 
 the herald- kept them con-tantly reminded by their cries, cries 
 immemorially preserved by tin- heralds of chivalry -eiicourag 
 ing them to brave deeds foi the reward of iovii: 
 
 " IJriirht eyesl 11 was the quaint form of the apost rophe ; 
 "bright eyes \r tin- bles>ing of brave lances! l>ra\e lai. 
 
 imr of bl . Smilf. fair ladi-s. that your noble 
 
 may take heart! I )o bra\v deeds, Doble lovers, that the 
 adies of your h< arts may smile! a trumpet for brave lan< 
 and thrice a trumpet for ...- honor of bright e, 
 
 Then blared the lively bugles in full bla-t tgrther ! Thi-n 
 burst iu mi^htv gushes the full torrents of the wild barbaric mu 
 sic, whieh the Wisigoth had borrowi-.l from tlie Moor, and the 
 Spaniard from both drums, and flut --. ami cymbals; whih-. the 
 
 relieved by miirmui s of 
 
 delight ; by >uddeii (3168 of exultation --by -hoiit> of aj>plau->e and 
 encouragement. 
 
 tV.-i-t of all th .rkabh upon the knights- 
 
 challengers than upon the crowd. The enthusiastic \. 
 
 mammon. I )<m \". llo, cot- 
 
 keep h o eagerly did his ears drink in the stimulating 
 
 sounds and murmurs, so fondly did hi- eyea traverse ihat fiir 
 i-right glaliee- he \\a- bade to look. .\.r 
 
 wa> the etll et thus stimulating in his iv-p, et alone. Don Nuno 
 >>ir did not fail to not - the perpetual waving towai ds liim 
 of th" ---an of his ne\vly-made and dutifully-lo\ but it 
 
 must be contes-M-d that hi- ; u that 
 
 . with ijui: he paid to the beau 
 
 tiful, but frail. ! ,t. The \oii!i_ k lghte,GhrM 
 
220 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 topher de Spinola and Gonzalo de Sylvestre, were not less heed- 
 ful of charms to which they might more properly assert their 
 claims ; and, despite his rough exterior, Balthazar de Gallegos 
 showed himself as eager of the notice of the ladies as any of the 
 rest. Of whom, indeed, does not beauty, when it smiles, make 
 the fool? The rough soldier, seasoned to ill usage and strife, 
 callous to blows, and sworn to plunder, was quite as solicitous 
 of the approval of bright eve-, a- the young gallant just about to 
 undertake his devoir to secure his spurs of knighthood. 
 
 But a rougher parley awaits all the parties. The Adelantado 
 gives the signal for the assailants to appear. Don Balthazar de 
 Alvaro waves his truncheon; the heralds shout, the trumpets 
 sound, and the tram pings of horse again are heard. Soon, the 
 six assailing cavaliers begin to pass into the amphitheatre. 
 
 We shall be excused from such details, in respect to the 
 \ve have given of the challengers, and for obvious reasons. They 
 do not concern the actual business of this true chronicle, and enough 
 has been shown to allbrd a general idea of the habits, manners. 
 and characteristics of the times. We shall, accordingly, confine 
 ourselves, hereafter, to such persons only as belong to our dra 
 matic perso:>(K. 
 
 Of the six assailants, then, we are required to report that 
 Don Phiiip tie Ya-eoii>elos ranked only as the fifth. His own 
 modesty gave him this position. He might have led the party, 
 had it pleased him to do BO, lint he p referred simply to take 
 his place as one of several. Sis brother Andres was not of either 
 party; but this, it mu>t be remembered, did not allect his claims 
 to take the field against all, or any, of those who might remain 
 the conquerors, 
 
 Philip was mounted upon a coal-Muck >teed of famous nur 
 Cure ; large of frame, strong of mii-de. flei t f foot, hardy to 
 endure, and of a beautiful symmetry. It was a pleasure to be 
 hold his form, simply as he stood, without motion, obcdK nt to 
 therein. Hi- eve, fla-hed fire as he darted into the rii, 
 heard the mingled cries and clamors from a hundred tnr 
 and a thousand voices. Though docile as a lamb, his forefoot 
 
PHILIP IN THE LISTS. 221 
 
 pawed the earth impatiently, as if emulous of the laurels also, 
 and his breast heaved, like a roeking ship, that .-trains upon the 
 cordage, as if anxious to break away upon the billows. Hut 
 the firm hand of the rider was the anchor to hi- will. Very 
 calmly did Philip de Ya.-coiiselos approach the dais, and make 
 his obeisance with lifted lance, and graceful bend of his mailed 
 stature, to the Adclantado. There was no curvetting, no aim 
 to shou either his riding or his bearing. De Soto received him 
 with a graceful, but not a cordial salutation. The smile upon his 
 lips was \eryfaint and cold; very dilleivnt, indeed, from that 
 of the noble lady his wife, who curtsied frankly, and smiled 
 rinnlv. \\hile her eye declared her honest admiration of the 
 character and bearing of the, knight of Portugal. 1 "iild 
 
 give the defection from his rank- .j erieiiced an 
 
 and though very impolitic to discriminate in the 
 tre:itm.-nt of the knigl/ < -ne of th>>e men v. 
 
 but too frequent!^ --cap- the fetter- of their policy. With a 
 further oi.eisinee. Philip dosed his \i-or. and n>de baek to his 
 place in the li-ts a place which brought him to confront the 
 burly form of uno. 
 
 We mu-t not t -rgi-l to mention tliat his person was cased in 
 a beautiful, but ]>lain suit of chain armor, of the pu:v-t fashion, 
 li was ver\ brightly polished, and as free of sj,,t or d 
 
 lie did not wear in Indian battle, but in 
 
 place of it on* i, well wadded, which, strai;_ had 
 
 be.-n loiiii l b jain-t th- : the red man. than 
 
 the vaunted armor of the knights of Christendom. Hi- h Inict 
 siirmount. ,1 by a singlf plume, !ong and waving, ainl b 
 
 
 
 the ci-ntre of wh , t and devi-,-, the li jii: 
 
 ruinc.l : :n which a tale. MI was about to fly. 
 
 . Latin; I 
 
 (Having the \\in-j. I no !-: In- ih st.) a sufil.-ieiit allu 
 
 sion to hi- hom, :md to ti 
 
 which . liable,! him to . ! i. 
 
 1, no ribboi ; but with i.niform c. Attune, there win 
 
^22 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 a sort of sombre nobleness in his aspect that compelled respect 
 ful attention. His known prowess, honored by those who were 
 jealous of his nation, increased the admiration of those who sur 
 veyed his Conn and watched his movements. Of these he recked 
 little, and perhaps saw nothing ; but there were eyes in that 
 great assembly whom it thrilled his bosom to feel were behold 
 ing him also. In the brief moment of communion with the gal 
 lory, where sate the grandees of the island and their families, his 
 glance had encountered with that of Olivia de Alvaro. She had 
 striven greatly to avoid the single look which sh^ gave him, but 
 a terrible fascination forced her eyes upon him. His grew 
 brighter and prouder at the grateful encounter, and he did not 
 perceive that hers sunk upon the instant of meeting, and that her 
 cheek grew ashen pale. But her emotion did not escape the 
 keen glances of her uncle ; and a close observer might have noted 
 the sudden contraction of his brows, which followed his discovery. 
 Sitting where he did, just below the Adelantado, and immediate 
 ly above the lists, he witnessed easily the sudden quickening of 
 light in tlu- eyes of the Portuguese cavalier, and the as sudden 
 paling of the cheek of Olivia. But Philip and Olivia were, at 
 that moment, wholly unconscious of the watch maintained upon 
 them. 
 
 Sici.-, let us pause and breathe. Our chapter is a long one. 
 and having placed our champions in opposition, let us reserve 
 the report of the joyous passage for another. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 4 Son dunque," disse U Saracino, tone 
 
 Dunque in *t poco credito con voi, 
 Che mi stiinmte inutile, e non huono 
 Da polT vi difender da eostui?" ARJOSTO 
 
 THE temptation to describe the scene that followed must be 
 struggled with. It will not do for us to aim at successes, at this 
 late day, in a field which has employed the genius of Tasso, of 
 Ariosto, of Spenser, and Walter Scott, not to speak of hundreds 
 more, whose practised pens have painted for us the full details 
 of many a well-urged paasages-ofc&rma between rival knights in 
 the presence of nobility and beauty. The reader is already suf 
 ficiently imbued with such scenes to require no elaborate details ; 
 and we shall, accordingly, confine ourselves mostly to those por 
 tions of the tournament at Havana which concern immediately 
 the persons of our own drama, making the general description 
 (met as possible. With this caution to our audience, 
 again-t unreasonable fears or improper expectations, we proceed 
 to our task. 
 
 The champions, challengers, and defenders, bring now con 
 fronted, and all prepared, the truncheon of De Soto was raised, 
 giving the signal. The trumpets sounded the charge, ami th- 
 opposing parties rushed to the encounter like so many vivio 
 fla-hev from the cloud. The concussion threw up a sudden whirl 
 wind of dust, while the solid earth >h>k b.-neath the thunder of 
 rtu-ir tread. At the very first encounter two of the assailing 
 party and one of the challengers went down, and were dr 
 off the field by their squires. This result left Nuno de Tobar, 
 whose opponent had been on- of tho-e overthrown, to turn his 
 lance in whatsoever direction he thought proper; but, with th* 
 
224 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 generosity of a noble nature, he preferred to keep himself in 
 reserve for such other inequality in the struggle as might yield 
 him an unembarrassed combatant wholly to himself. New 
 lances having been supplied to those who had fractured them fairly 
 in the passage and without disparagement to their arms, the sig 
 nal was given for a fresh encounter ; the vacancies, meanwhile, 
 being supplied in the ranks of both parties. In this second pas. 
 sage, Don Vasco de Poreallos carried himself so handsomely 
 against his opponent, who was a huge Fleming of nearly his own 
 dimensions, that the latter was incontinently overthrown, and 
 removed almost insensible from the field. A similar fortune, 
 though not with such serious hurt, befell Christopher de Spinola, 
 whose boast " a solan me sostinyo" was not justified by the result 
 of the encounter, lie was handsomely lifted out of his saddle 
 by the lance of Diego Arias Tinoco, a brave captain, rough as a 
 porcupine, who was honored as standard-bearer of the army. 
 The latter, being now disengaged, was singled out by Nuno de 
 Tobar, and his horse failing, and swerving in the shock, he was 
 adjudged to have been worsted, and very reluctantly yielded for 
 the moment to a conqueror. 
 
 Hie success*** of Nuno were welcomed right royally by the. 
 
 cheers of the admiring spectators; whose comments, by the 
 
 way, were administered unsparingly, whether for praise or blame, 
 
 at. every charge in the business of the field. Meanwhile, Philip 
 
 de Vascon.- eloo has borne himself in a second encounter with the 
 
 gigantic Mateo de Aceytuno. In the first, a gent le and joyous pas- 
 
 8, as the heralds styled it, the advantage was decreed to rest 
 
 with neither. Their lances had been mutually well addressed, and 
 
 had shivered at the same moment, both knights preserving their 
 
 scats handsomely, though not, perhaps, with equal grace; for 
 
 Philip had few equals in mere carriagi and recovered their 
 
 places in an instant; but proper judgments remarked, in the 
 
 str. HM ///</.% of the mountains, that the h<>r>e of Mateo had ton 
 
 little h<>,,c for his master s h,rf. In this, he certainly MilK-ivd 
 
 souie disadvantage, liut, the second conflict \\a> deeisi\ e ; ami 
 
 Oie knight of Aceytuno went down before his more adroit aiilago- 
 
TIIE TOURNAMENT. 225 
 
 nist his huge bulk thundering upon the earth like the concussion 
 of some mighty tower. Something of this advantage \v:i 
 to be ilue to a loosening of the girth, by which the saddle of the 
 heavy knight was secured; but others more liberal, perhaps just, 
 ascribed it to the better skill of Philip; at all events, the MI.- 
 opponent disappearing from the field, Philip de Vasoonselos lo-md 
 himself in the presence of another, in the per*n of hi, friend, 
 Nuno de Tobar. 
 
 Perhaps, the whole tournament exhibited no two wurri< . 
 ter matched in most respeets. They were nearly of th sanu- 
 si/e and age; of strength apparently nearly eijiial, epia!ly 
 in the use of weapons, and equally ace miplishcd in the manage 
 ment of the horse. The-e were the comparison^ made by most 
 persons; and as the two combatants, now almo>t alone el j 
 in the area, confronted e: ,-h other with fresh lances, the people. 
 and after them the heralds, sent up fresh erics of admiration and 
 
 encouragement, 
 
 IIo! brave cavaliers, for the honor of your ladies! Ib>! 
 bright lances, for the glory of the conquest !" And, sometimes, 
 the cry, " II"! Santiago, and the lance of Spain!" Indicated the 
 working of that feeling of nationality, which did not forget that 
 the opponent of Nuno de Tobar was from another, and, at that 
 time, a rival nation. The occasional murmurs, and >natche< of 
 dialogue amonir the crowds, declared this prejudice more strungU . 
 
 "I like not that the-e Portuguese should come hither to glean 
 of our content*! Shall we find the countries and make tin- e.n 
 cme-t of the natives, that these should gather the gold ? Now, 
 may the good lamv of Nuno de Tobar send him from the sad- 
 die with such shock, a- >hall make him think no more of the pearls 
 
 of Florida!" 
 
 Such was the -c*rt of murmur occasionally spoken aloud. 
 
 "Out upon thee!" wa^ the reply of >ome le*s selfish spirit. 
 
 "There is room for all, and gold for all, and there need* all the 
 
 brave men that we can mu-ter for the-e wars \\itli the Apaht hian 
 
 i hev are no Midi feeble wretches as tlu-s of Cuba, or 
 
 even of P^ru, wh-re Pi/arro, 1 warrant you, -Mid our Adehmtado 
 
 10* 
 
226 VASCO.\3KLOS. 
 
 here, had work enough. They will make us glad of all the good 
 lances that will crowd thither under our banner. The Portu- 
 guese is a good lance, and his brother, the younger, is a good 
 lance ; though where he hides himself at this time, and wh.Te- 
 fore, I cannot guess. I had looked to see him here. Had he 
 been opposed to our fat Vasco Porcallos, instead of that clumsy 
 Fleming, I warrant you that he had made the other sweat ! But, 
 hark! they prepare! Go to it, good knights! Go to it with a 
 stomach! Show that ye have fed on lances! That your daily 
 meat hath been bolt and spear-head, and your drink hath been 
 sword-blades, and Moorish scimitars ! Ho! brave lances ! Ho! 
 brave steeds ! To it ! to it ! brave lances, noble steeds !" 
 
 This was one of a hundred voices, eagerly urging the cavaliers 
 to the conflict which was held so equal. Equal in many respects, 
 there were yet some, in which the knight of Portugal. <>r as they 
 called him, " the Knight of the Homeless Falcon," in allusion to 
 his crest had much the advantage. His steed had been better 
 trained for such encounters ; he himself had seen more various 
 service ; and he possessed a sedate and temperate coolness of 
 mind, to which the somewhat mercurial nature of Nuno de To 
 bar could not lay claim. Above all, he knew just in what 
 particulars he himself was strong and his opponent weak, and 
 he prepared rather to exercise his patience and watchfulness, than 
 his strength and skill. Nuno de Tobar, ambitious of excelling 
 fighting in the presence of the army, and of that beauty which 
 was usually the source of his inspiration resolved that Philip de 
 Vasconselos should have need of both. Besides, he was to fight 
 for the honor of Spanish lances. Though, personally, a devoted 
 friend of his present opponent, he had heard the popular cries 
 which insisted upon their Cast dian representative, in opposition to 
 the foreiijn knight ; and he was determined that Spain s honor 
 should suffer nothing at his hands. 
 
 But Philip de VasmiiM-los had also heard the.se erics. Ho 
 had long since been bitterly made to feel the jealousy and preju 
 dices which existed aiimiig-4 the < Vtilians towards himself and 
 bis Portuguese associates, and the pride of self and nation, which 
 
THK ADVKK.SAK: 227 
 
 rendered resolute his courage, was mingled with something of 
 bitterness, which made him half forgetful that Xuiio de Tobar 
 was iiis friend. Thus it was that, as if in recognition of the pe 
 culiar wi-hcs of the multitude, each knight was prepared to en- 
 i tlie struggle with a sentiment approaching that of a real 
 hostility. We have said nothing of the influence which the pre- 
 Uvaro had upon tlii.--. feeling of Philip. It is 
 enoug 1 . :KI! it did not, ly any means lessen his fixed re 
 
 .solution to employ all the prowess of which he was master in 
 the approaching controv> 
 
 The interval i. \n providing the champion* with fiv>h 
 
 girth^ of their saddles, and otherwise making 
 
 them ready for the combat, was consumed in much less time than 
 
 vse have taken in describing it. The knights were both in their 
 
 . and the trumpets sounded tin- charge. The passage was 
 
 beautiful one, which greatly delighted tin- heralds. Both 
 
 -hivered equally, the strokes being made at th. 
 
 at, and each delivering it fairly upon the shield of his 
 
 Newly supplied with weapons, the encounter was re- 
 
 : with the same result*, IJy this time, however, Nuiio 
 
 jrowing impatient. He felt, rather than beheld, 
 
 of his opponent ; in which he knew lay the chief ad 
 
 the latter; and with this feeling, it -eemed quite in 
 
 vain that he strove to piv-crve his <,\\n. Philip de Va-conselos 
 
 -d the roll. his adversary, in a little circum- 
 
 which drew down upon theSpanMi champion thethoiightless 
 
 applauses of the multitude. In receiving a fresh lance from the 
 
 . and while wheeling about I his portion in the 
 
 bar hurled the lance no less than three times into 
 
 hing it dexterou^! \ t . h time by the 
 
 b agility, which seenu-d conclusive to tlu> 
 
 i .ial confidence and .-kill, appeared in the eyes of 
 
 Philip de V fa in rvous excitation, rather than 
 
 :i <.f will, or cooln.-ss; aii.l he pn pared him- 
 
 / his plan of combat. Hith.it->. \shen 
 1 hail rush.-d to the ciicoiiiit. r, hi- lance, like that of 1 )? 
 
223 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 Tobar, had been addressed to the shield of his opponent. This 
 was the common mark in the tournament of that day ; the want 
 of exercise making the atteint more difficult when addressed to 
 the gorget, or the helm ; but the cavalier of Portugal had prac 
 tised the one method as well as the other, and not designing a 
 surprise upon his opponent, he shook out his lance, ere the trum 
 pets sounded, and levelled it in the direction of De Tobar s visor. 
 The hint seemed to be taken, for the lance of the latter was at 
 once slightly elevated, receiving a new direction in his glance. 
 Thus prepared, the signal was given, and they hurried to the 
 shock. At the moment of crossing spears, his point still ad 
 dressed to the visor of his opponent, Vasconselos threw suddenly 
 the lower edge of his shield forwards, inclining it over his own 
 head, and watching the object of his aim from beneath the very 
 rim of the buckler. No time was left the other for providing 
 against this peculiar interposition of the shield, which required 
 him to have aimed so truly as to thrust his lance directly against 
 the visor of his antagonist, the crest of which was totally covered, 
 leaving the mark aimed at reduced to the smallest possible size. 
 The skill of Tobar was not equal to such a manoeuvre. The 
 point of his lance accordingly struck the tdge of the raised shield, 
 and glanced upward, and onward, over the smooth surface, ex 
 pending itself in air ; while the point of Vasconselos, admirably 
 delivered, was riveted in the bars of his antagonist s visor, so 
 firmly, and so fairly, that there was no escape, no evasion of it 
 possible; and the gallant Nuno was borne, from his saddle, with 
 out seeming resistance. Indeed, the spear so fixed, the onward 
 rush of both steeds gave it an impulse which no skill, no strength, 
 at such a moment, could possibly withstand. It can led him 
 headlong to the ground, and the steed went free from under 
 him. 
 
 There was a cry, almost a howl, from the multitude, at the 
 fall of their favorite, and the national champion. 
 
 " Demonios !" sang out the swell mob in the corridor, who 
 flung up their arms with their voices, and swore, and tore their 
 hair, with as much vivaeity as could be shown by the most mer- 
 
THE LAST uK THK CHALLENGERS. 226 
 
 curial Frenchman. A few voices shouted their applause of the 
 conqueror; not able to resist the emotion, more strong than 
 nationality, in favor of a deed of manhood. But these soon died 
 ; and then could be heard that angry sort of discussion, in 
 all parts of the amphitheatre, in which, though all persons were 
 agreed, there was yet no possibililty of settling upon the reason 
 which should justify their anger, or soothe their disappointment 
 Meanwhile, Philip do Yasconselos had thrown himself out of the 
 saddle, and was the lir>t to hurry to a^>i->t and extricate hN friend 
 from helm and gorget, and raise him from the ground. The 
 squires, however, were soon in attendance. The fall had been a 
 really severe one, and the Spanish knight was somewhat stunned 
 by it ; but, otherwise, he \va> uninjured. But his head felt the 
 Ot his heart. His gloved hand, as soon as he had 
 sufficiently recovered to recogni/e his opponent, clutched that of 
 Vasconselo-. in token of that friendly sympathy between them, 
 which >uch an event could never interrupt. lie was assisted off 
 from the field, and Philip now rode back to his place, prepared 
 for the next encounter. 
 
 The oaprfoe* of the day had loft him without other antagonist, 
 of all thi- challengers, than tile portly Hidalgo, Don Vasco For- 
 rallos ,]* l-"iin;,To;i. In him. the Spanish multitude were dis 
 quiet. -d to think, that they beheld the only obstacle, now, in the 
 <: the knight of Portugal; who, if sueoessful in this pas- 
 . . ould remain the master of tin- field. The vain and wealthy 
 cavalier, thus distinguished b\ - was Ulysses, to be "de 
 
 voured the last 1 of bis comrades, had hitherto maintained him-df 
 with equal spirit and II had been fortunate, perhaps, 
 
 in not having been eonlYoiivd with the mot formidable of the 
 knihts by \\honi the dull. npTs had been 60 L He 
 
 \s;i-. perh.ip-, not wholly uneoii-ciou- of this fact; and it was 
 with some misgivings, accordingly. which he shared equally 
 with his Castilian friends,- that he pr, pared to contend, not so 
 much for new oonqv Ah hh his lance 
 
 had already achieved. He 1,. :h of the prowess of 
 
 the knight of the Falcon, by whom the favorite of the Spaniard* 
 
230 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 had been so roughly handled, to entertain a reasonable appre 
 hension of the consequences to himself; and, if the truth were, 
 known, he was in little humor for this last grand passage. Could 
 he have retired from the contest without discredit, and without 
 utter forfeiture of the honors he had already won, it is perhaps 
 doing him no injustice to say that he would most certainly have 
 declined it. He had not gone through his fatigues without suf 
 fering. His portly frame, for a long time unused to harness. 
 was now shrinking beneath its incumbrance. He was reeking 
 with perspiration, which a brimming goblet of cool wine of Xeres, 
 which he had just swallowed, had not tended to diminish. But, 
 with all his annoyances and doubts, he put on a good countenance, 
 and, closing up his visor, prepared for the encounter, with his 
 best hope and spirit. 
 
 " The fat knight adds but another to the trophies of our Por 
 tuguese cavalier. Philip de Vasconselos will remain master of 
 the field ; certainly, he hath most admirable skill of horse and 
 weapon. He hath but a single joust before him, and then he 
 may elect the Queen of Love and Beauty !" 
 
 This was said by Don Balthazar de Alvaro. It was addressed 
 to the lady of the Adelantado. But it was meant for other 
 ears. At a little distance, on the left of Hernan de Sotb, stood 
 Andres de Vasconselos. He had been a witness of all that had 
 taken place ; and had heard the significant words of Olivia s un 
 cle. For a moment he gazed steadily upon the field ; then, giving 
 a single glance at Olivia, whose color had been great 1 v heightened 
 by her emotions during the scene, he was about to leave the 
 scaffolding, when the words of the Adelantado reached his ears, 
 not spoken aloud, but rather as if giving expression to a feel- 
 ing which he could no longer suppress, and which was stronger 
 than his policy : 
 
 " Now, would I give my best steed could Vasco Porcallos 
 maintain himself to the overthrow of this Portuguese cavalier. 
 It were shame to the lances of Spain should he bear away the 
 palm; and 1 would gladly see that arrogance rebuked, vvliieh hut 
 too much distinguishes this stranger. Were it not for the j><<i- 
 
TORMENTS OF JEALOUSY 231 
 
 don which I hold, I should myself take up lance, and mount 
 steed in this combat . 
 
 " To be thyself overcome," was the secret thought of Andres 
 de \ ..v, -onselos, which he found it difficult to suppress. Hernan 
 If S,,to had not noticed the near neigborhood of the younger of 
 the two Portuguese knights, as ho made his indisenvt remark ; 
 but Balthazar <lc Alvaro was well aware of his presence. II 
 saw, too, the meaning of that fierce glance which flashed from 
 the eyes of Andres, when the speech of the Adelantado 
 made. It was his policy to divert the anger of Andres de Vas- 
 eooseloa from every but one object, and he quickly remarked, 
 still seeming not to perceive the youth : 
 
 " It were no easy matter to wrest the victory from (his knight 
 of Portugal, at this moment. There are, if I mistake not, bright 
 - in this asseml.lv, the favoring smiles of which will arm 
 him with invincible power. He who fights in the sight of beauty 
 A ays brave ; but he who fights in the eyes of a beloved < 
 at the same time looks love in return, is uiu i>n<[uerahlf." 
 
 This was carelessly said, but the glance of the uncle led the 
 eyes of Andres de Vasconselos to the spot where sate the ni- 
 She saw nothing but the one presence in the field ; and in her 
 ta.v, more than ever beautiful, glowed the fires of an affection 
 which was not to be misunderstood. Her cheek was no lor 
 sad an I pale, as Andres had usually beheld it. It was now 
 flashed with an emotion, betraying a joy and a triumph which 
 \\as f.-r-ri tful wholly of itself. Andres followed th-- direction of 
 her eye, and he siw his brother, proud and eager, with visor up 
 lifted, and ga/ing. with the most intent delight, upon the beautiful 
 
 ure whom he had loved in vain. Bitter was the 
 his heart, and. with emotions of hate and envy, which could not be 
 controlled, he da-h. d away from the Stage, and disappeared 
 among th<- pavilions in the rear. Balthazar de ANaro beheld 
 his departure, almost the only one of the assembly who did 
 with .t keen feeiini: of gratification. 
 
 "II- has it!" in itten d the wily politician to himsrlf, as ho 
 once in,. re addre.->- d h -he business of the tourney : 
 
232 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 " He has it and the time is not distant, when he will make 
 another feel the fury of that dark passion which is working in 
 his heart." 
 
 Don Balthazar judged rightly of the feelings of Andres, when 
 he allowed his own nature to provide the standards of judgment 
 Why had Andres gone to his pavilion 1 we shall see hereafter. 
 Enough, that he summons his squire to his aid ; that he cases 
 himself in armor ; that he bids them get ready his destrier, that 
 he buckles sword to his side, and shakes aloft the heavy lance, 
 and tries its burden with his hards. Let us leave him, at d re 
 turn to the amphitheatre. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 1 Gashing of sword*. Brother opposed to brother I 
 Here is no fencing at half sword. Hold I hold I" 
 
 BKACHO.TT AXD Puraaoe. 
 
 THIS episode, between parties not mingling with the action, 
 
 offered ii > obstruction to the progress of the tourney. The pre 
 parations still went on for the pas<age-at-anns between our knight 
 of the Falcon, and the redoubtable millionaire, Don V;i 
 These irere soon completed, and the knight 
 their places. " Lai>-ez aller!" The signal being given, the two 
 champions dashed forward to the encounter with a desperate 
 speed that threatened to annihilate both combatants. Tln-iv H-.-IS 
 no ivluctanec in tlu- carriage and conduct of the rich cavalier, 
 however nival m j,rht have been his secret iiii-i:iviji;i. While 
 he, no doubt, ji; Wa own r nf skill and strength 
 
 against an opj.oiient who had always proved himself m<>-t formi 
 dable, yet the doubts of P>n V.-i .-it.nrd any 
 in 1 i^ bosom. lie \\ ,. lirave oiiough when tin- trial was 
 to be made. II . :i ,) de-tined to be sncce^ful, but !. 
 
 of the Tnorti. ieations , A mMortune liap. 
 
 to him. while in mid Otreer, which probably 
 corpulent cavalier fr. .in a much worse evil. 11 \vhi. h 
 
 8 hiirh-spirited a> he was pr.werful. tn.d iihoii t 
 fa broken lance which had been partlv bu: 
 
 .ds of the arena. Hie -harp point of t!; 
 toiiclh-d the ijuick <.f the aiiimal s f ,ot. and. with a >nort - 
 nr. lie wliedcd ab, nit at the \-( ry moment \\lxn the la; 1 
 have crossed, lie b -iddt-nly nninana^eabl . 
 
 lightning, as h. beheld the straits of his opponent, the knight of 
 
234 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 Portugal elevated his own lance, and, having full control of his 
 steed, drew him suddenly up, arresting him in his full speed so 
 admirably, that he stood quivering upon the spot ; the unexpended 
 impulse which he had received now shaking him as with an ague. 
 In another instant, Philip de Vasconselos was on his feet, and 
 had grasped the bridle of the unmanageable steed of his rival, 
 which, by this time, was in a state of fury, occasioned by the 
 agony of his hu^t, which threatened momently to unseat his 
 rider. The timely service enabled Don Vasco to alight, and 
 gratefully acknowledging the assistance rendered, he at the same 
 time acknowledged himself vanquished. The courtesy of his 
 opponent, indeed, had alone spared him this misfortune. Don 
 Philip gracefully rejected this acknowledgment, and, ascribing 
 the event solely to the sufferings of his rival s horse, proposed 
 that Don Vasco should find another. But, by this time, the 
 chivalrous feelings of the latter had somewhat subsided. lie felt 
 much less enthusiastic than before, and was rather pleased now 
 at a means of evasion, which, while it lost him the final honor of 
 the day, at K-ast left him in possession of the credit which he had 
 acquired in the previous passages. The knight of the Falcon 
 remounted his own steed, and resumed his place within the lists. 
 He stood alone, and in expectation. No champion stood before 
 him, challenging the triumph which he had won, the crowning 
 triumph of the field. There was a sudden and deep silence 
 throughout the assembly. The feeling was everywhere adverse 
 to his claims and expectations; and it was with something <f 
 contempt, not unmixed with bitterne^. that our knight of Por 
 tugal was reminded of the national prejudice, which felt reluc 
 tant to do justice to the a<-hie\ MI. -nt ; of the stranger. There 
 was no other reason for the silenre ami forbearance of Don 
 Hernan de Soto, who, in the case of a Castilian champion, or 
 in that of one to whom he felt no personal prejudice, would, no 
 doubt, have promptly ris n in his place, and summoned the suc 
 cessful knight forward, to choose the Queen of Love and Beauty, 
 and to receive the chaplct of honor at her hands. Then- was no 
 reason why the award should not be promptly made. There 
 
A NEW CHAMPION. 235 
 
 was n<> challenge pending. No opponent had announced himself 
 for tin- combat. All who had presented themselves had been 
 disposed of. Yet the knight of the Falcon was allowed to stand 
 in waiting, unemployed, alone, for a space of several minutes, 
 not a word being spoken to him, and a dead silence hanging over 
 the multitude, significantly declaring the general reluctance to 
 make th y award. In the silence of the crowd, De Soto 
 
 felt his justification. But the gallant Xuno de Tobar, who had, 
 bv this time, joined the ladies about the Adelantado, warmly 
 interposed to demand that justice should be done to the eommer- 
 ing champion. It was with a cold severity of look that De Soto 
 prepared to comply with a requisition which he could not longer 
 q>e with decency, when Don Balthazar de Alvaro interposed. 
 
 But a moment more, your excellency." 
 
 u \Vheivf..iv . " demanded Tobar. "Will you keep the knight 
 of Portugal in waiting all day, without a ea 
 
 Let him wait!" Soto, sharply, though in subdued 
 
 "Thi- warder hath a rea-on for it." 
 Balthazar whispered to Tobar: 
 
 "There is cause, The, tourney is not yet ended. There is 
 .noth T ehalleiiL r T. He will soon appear/ 1 
 
 " Ha! wh 
 
 How did Don Baltha/.ar know that there was another chal- 
 The .simple Nuno de Tobar himsrlf n.-ver dream. -d of 
 it; still less did he conjecture in what guise the new claimant 
 for the laurels >lu>uld appear. At that moment, silencing all 
 further conversation and -peculation, a sudden sharp flourish from 
 a trumpet without awakened Philip do Vascon^el. > 
 viction that hi> crown wa- nt ecure. 1>. this tim 
 had become Mifliciently embittered for geiiuin. d a ival 
 
 conflict. He turned hi M he heard the tread of 
 
 the ap| : ler, and bcht Id eiin-rgiiiL r into the amphi 
 
 theatre tlie t"rm of Andres his brother. 
 
 of extreme arrow and mortifi ; he elder brother. 
 
 moment h- b.-h.-lj him, i hilij) muttered to hiniM-lf, closing hi 
 viaor: 
 
236 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " Thou too, my brother ! Thou hast then joined with mine 
 enemies ay, and thy enemies too against me !" 
 
 The visor of Andres was already closed, and Philip could not 
 behold ms face ; but he could readily conjecture the crimson 
 flush which covered it, the usual sign of his intemperate pas 
 sion. He had been somewhat surprised, that Andres had taken 
 no part in the tournament before ; but the feeling was not one 
 of regret, since, as we have seen, he had already entertained som> 
 misgivings that his brother might take the field against himself. 
 We have not forgotten the fierce dialogue which had taken place 
 between them on this subject. Of course, Philip de Yasconselos 
 entertained no personal apprehensions from the encounter. His 
 pride was in no way alarmed, lest he should meet with over 
 throw, in the passage-at-arms with his brother. Indeed, to speak 
 plainly, Philip knew too well Ins own superiority of training, 
 art, and muscle; though the vanity of Andres was such that lie 
 had persuaded himself to a very different estimate of their mu 
 tual powers. He was yet to be taught a better knowledge, of 
 their disparity. The reluctance of Philip to engage in such a- 
 contest, even though the tournament implied neither strife nor 
 malice, was based upon his just knowledge of human nature; 
 upon his thorough experience in respect to the mood and char 
 acter of Andres his passionate blood ; his disappointments of 
 heart; his jealousy of the superior influence and reputation of 
 his brother. We can readily divine the several reasons which 
 governed Philip in his anxiety to escape a conflict, in regard to 
 which he yet entertained no fears. Now that they stood con 
 fronted, and the contest was inevitable, he endeavored to calm 
 his own blood, and control his temper, somewhat excited by the; 
 circumstances which had marked his treatment by the Adclan 
 tado and the assembly. But this was not so difficult. Tin- re 
 ception of Andres, by the audience, was of a sort to kindle in 
 the elder brother a sentiment of passionate indignation, as it 
 declared how grateful to the common feeling would lie hN over 
 throw. The multitude hailed the entry of the new champion 
 with the wildest plaudits, not simply as he promised to prolong 
 
OLIVIA S EMOTIONS. 237 
 
 their sports, but as he afibrded still another chance for the d- 
 of the person whose- triumph had chafed tlie national p: 
 It was true that, even if Andres should succeed against J ii dip, 
 the honor would be lost to Castile; but to this finality, lln-ir 
 vision did not extend. All that they now required was the 
 defeat of the one cavalier, to whom their own favorites had been 
 compelled to succumb. 
 
 There was >till another reason for the excitement of the mul 
 titude, on the unexpected appearance of Andres de Ya>cn.-, 
 It is a curious fact, that the instincts of the vulgar rareh err in 
 ropcct to the passions which goad and afllict the natures of dis 
 tinguished men. The common people seem readily to conjecture 
 in what points superiority is weak. They all knew, by sure in 
 stinct, that the brothers were rivals. They had seen and h. 
 enough, touching their mutual attachment to the fair beauty, 
 Olivia de Alvaro, to imagine that the approaching conflict 
 to be marked by other feelings than those of chivalrous ambi 
 tion, and the pride that looks only to the momentary triumph. 
 They guessed all the bitter vexation that stimulated the one 
 champion, and they inferred like feelings in the bosom of the 
 other. And the two were to tight in the presence of tin- woman 
 whom they both loved. A thousand eyes turned involuntarily 
 to where < Mivia sate, pah- and breathless with anxiety and appre 
 hension. Sli.-, too, partook of the convictions of the multitude. 
 They were- brothers ; they were rivals ; and she had iva-on to 
 fear that they \sereeiiemies. She had heard of !i>- separation 
 of their tents; and that there had already been sharp words be 
 tween them. And now they stood, face to face, front i: g each 
 other with sharp weapon*. What had she not to fear . 
 very manner in wfaioh Andres de VftSOOOSelCM appeared \vi-hin 
 the field ; the moment chosen, when his elder brother u,. 
 full i !i of the victory ; when but a moment wa- needed 
 
 to atl ord him the laurel crown for which he had striven! 
 was a circumstance full of significance. That Andres had nt 
 
 sought the conflict with other champions, or prc\inu-i 
 
 period, was a sufficient proof that iu honor* were not Uie <>bj. --U 
 
238 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 of his desire. Why should he take the field now, unless with 
 the aim to pluck them from the brow of his brother 1 It was a 
 bad passion hate, revenge, anything but an honorable ambition 
 which prompted his appearance now, at the last moment. 
 
 Olivia thought all these things. Such were the thoughts of 
 Philip also. But he strove to restrain and silence them ; and, in 
 the brief interval allov ed him, his inward struggle was to subdue 
 himself, to keep his own bad passions in subjection, and to offer 
 no such provocation to those of his brother, as would place him 
 entirely beyond control of human reason. He resolved to be 
 forbearing in all respects. But this did not imply that he would 
 forego any of his resources of skill or strength in the conflict. 
 He was not, by any means, to yield his claims to the honors of 
 the field, in favor of any opponent. On this point he was reso 
 lute ; and, thus resolved, it became him, if he would effect his 
 triumph, and avoid giving unnecessary provocation, or inflicting 
 mortification upon his brother, that he should maintain the cool 
 est temper, and suffer nothing to disturb his passions. It re 
 quired some effort to do this, for he had felt bitterly his isolation 
 in the last few moments, a feeling sadly increased, when, as he 
 phrased it, his own brother had joined his enemies against him. 
 
 We must not allow it to be supposed that the Adelantado 
 beheld the opening of the new issue between these parties, with 
 out being somewhat sensible to the strangeness of its aspects. 
 1 1 is instincts, too, were at work; and remembering to have 
 heard of the quarrel between the brothers, he began to think 
 there was something unnatural in the approaching combat. His 
 conscience reproached him for the ungenerous delay which had 
 kept Philip de Vasconsc-los from the crown of victory, and af- 
 fnH -d the opportunity for the event, of the results and character 
 of \vhirh he had grown apprehensive; and he looked dubiously 
 at tin- warder of the field, Don Balthazar de Alvaro, and for 
 
 :hc fir-t ti frit suspicious of those motives, on his part, which 
 
 had moved him to urge the delay in closing the lists. But there 
 was now no moment for arrest and interposition, unless by the 
 exercise of a seemingly arbitrary authority, which would show 
 
KN COUNTER. 239 
 
 ongraeiously in all eyes. Accordingly, the affair was suffered to 
 go on. Roth champions were already prepared for it. 
 
 Andres de Vasconselos, as we have already described hin\ 
 was a hand-ome and vigorous vmth, well made, of considerable 
 muscle and agility, well skilled in anus, an admirable rider, and 
 utterly tearless of soul. II lounted on a fine blooded 
 
 mare, of great hardihood and lit . . His armor, though sombre 
 also, was more gay than that of his brother, and he wore a rieh 
 ehain of gold, with a medallion pendant, around his gorget. A 
 gay crimson si-art* cn.-sed his bosom, and contrasted effectively 
 with his sable armor. His shield was very much like that of 
 his brother ; and crest and deviec equally declared that haughty 
 ambition, which, in that day, marked pretty equally the Spanish 
 and Portuguese adventurer. It bore for figure, a shower of 
 meteors amidst eloud and storm, with the Latin words "Inter 
 turbas illnstris " " Glory amidst the storm." He was certainly 
 the man to prefer always that his si: ; iould be the fruits 
 
 of the ]\K^( unmeasured conflict. But we need linger no more 
 in our preliminaries. The signal sounds; the truncheon of the 
 warder i> wared aloft ; the trumpet sounds the charge; the 
 heralds cry their encouragement. 
 
 "To it, gallant gentlemen! honor awaits br.i\ ; your 
 
 ladie^ look on \u with smiles. Glory is for him that conquers, 
 Glory amid the storm The falcon has her wings; why 
 should he in it soar to the heights of g 
 
 The--, and a hundred other cries, from the audience as well 
 as the neralds, rang throughout the amphitheatre, as the brothers, 
 parting from their places, rushed to the encounter with a shock 
 that thundeivd along the ,-arth. Th.- lance- were shiver, d fa. 
 mou-ly ; new ones were <upplied in a moment; again, the wild 
 rush wa- heard, rather tha- md again came the fearful 
 
 eoncu-sion. The lane.-s \\.rc a jain -hivered at the encounter, 
 but it \\ 1 that Andres de Va>conselos was nearly un 
 
 seated in the -h<>ck. In truth, he had a narrow 61 i he 
 
 felt it ; and his anger .nd. as he stood a_ 
 
 confronting his opponent, a bitterer feeling of hostility than he 
 
240 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 had known before, worked within his bosom ; and his teeth were 
 gnashed together ; and grasping the new spear with which he 
 nad been furnished, he muttered to himself, as he shook it aloft, 
 " If thou fail me, I will look to surer weapon." 
 
 The third passage was waited for with great impatience by the 
 multitude. The previous combats seemed to have been mere 
 child s play to these. Every one felt that the present passages 
 were marked by passion much more serious than those of chiv- 
 alric courtesy, even when stimulated by ambition, or urged 
 by the desire of doing greatly in the eyes of love and beauty. 
 The spectators were now hushed and breathless. The occasional 
 cries of the heralds, repeating the old formulas of encouragement, 
 seemed very unmeaning sounds in respect to such a conflict. 
 They were felt almost as impertinences ; and, indeed, by this 
 time, the heralds themselves seemed to arrive at this opinion, for 
 they suddenly became silent. All now was eager expectation. 
 The signal followed, and the passage. There was the same 
 fearful concussion, as before ; the clouds of dust ; the confusion. 
 But the results were more decided, and the encounter was fol 
 lowed by a wild, sharp cry, full of rage and fury. Soon, Philip 
 de Vasconselos emerged out of the dust-cloud, and coursed once 
 round the ring ; a moment after, Andres was beheld, on foot, 
 with his battle-axe in his hand, and darting after his brother with 
 the ferocity and speed of a tiger. The steed of the younger 
 knight was down, rolling over in the sand ; by what hurt or ac 
 cident, no one could conjecture. He, himself, had all the action 
 of a madman. His fine scarf was riven ; his armor covered with 
 dust, and his helmet thrown off. His hair, which was long, 
 floated wildly ; his lure was crimson with passion, and his ryes 
 glared with u fury which threatened to destroy everything in his 
 path. Il<- made headlong way towards Don Philip, who had 
 now drawn up his steed, and stood quietly, if not calmly, awaii 
 ing him at the barriers, which was as far bark as he could re 
 cede. Here he must stop and encounter what should happen, 
 if he would not incur the di-ji: ming to fly, which would 
 
 have befallen him should he again put his horse in motion to 
 
A BROTHER S STRIFE. . 241 
 
 escape from further assault. He had not long to wait. Blinded 
 with rage and mortification, Andres soon made up to him, and 
 at once sprang towards him, swinging the battle-axe above his 
 head. Then it was that Philip exhibited, in highest degree, the 
 wonderful spirit and activity which he possessed. In an instant 
 he threw himself off from his steed, and, without weapon of any 
 kind in his grasp, confronted his brother. The latter at first 
 i not to perceive the unarmed condition of Don Philip, 
 and all expected that he would strike, from the manner in which 
 he -hook his battle-axe and pushed forward. But, seeing ere he 
 struck that his brother was unarmed, he cried out hoarsely 
 
 " Get thee thy weapons !" 
 
 " Put down thine, Andres !" was the calm reply of Don 
 Philip " wherefore this mad . 
 
 " Madness / cried Don Andres ; " if thou darest call me a 
 madman, I will brain thee as thou stand st ! Get thy weapons, I 
 tell thee; thy triumph is not complete. There must be other 
 trials between us !" 
 
 " Go to, Andres : thou art foolish ; thou art fevered ! would st 
 thou strike at thy brother in anger ?" 
 
 " I see no brother ; I know no brother ! I know thee as mine 
 enemy only, and I will slay thee as a dog. Thou shall have no 
 triumph over me /" 
 
 With th- .Mate words, Allowing him entirely beyond 
 
 control of iva^m, hi- at once strode forward, and struck, with 
 
 deadly and determined aim and stroke, full at the ored >f Don 
 
 Philip! But tlie latti-r was prepared and watchful, though un- 
 
 1 Ie lightly stepped a>ide from the blow, which was >u.-h, 
 
 If it had i-nronntrivd his head, had certainly brought him 
 
 powerful as he was. Il<- rtepped aside and escaped it; 
 
 the younger brother could ree,.\cr his position, he gj 
 him by the arm ; and with such a vigor as no one deemed him 
 to possess, h<- mreetod ih tfc --.isp <>? he infuriate 
 
 \outh. with a- little teeming .-llort as if the latter had b.-eii only 
 a child in his hands. All this oeeupied fir less time than we 
 have employed in telling it; but the interval had been sufficient 
 11 
 
242 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 to have allowed the warder of the field to have thrown down 
 his truncheon if he had pleased to do so, and for the heralds and 
 guards to have interposed. Nuno de Tobar had entreated Don 
 Balthazar to arrest the combat when it promised to be bloody, 
 but he was unheeded. 
 
 " There is danger, I tell thee, Don Balthazar ! Don Andres 
 hath no control of himself in his passion, and see you not tl , 
 the victory already rests with Don Philip ?" 
 
 " Nay," said the other " three strokes may be taken with 
 the sword or battle-axe, according to the wishes of the combat 
 ants, after the passage with the lance." 
 
 " Only where the passage with the lance results in no advan 
 tage to either," was the reply of Tobar. 
 
 "Yet, I see not why they should be checked in a new passage, 
 if the parties desire it." 
 
 " But Don Philip, you perceive, does not desire it." 
 
 "Then, by my troth, he loses some of his renown as a war- 
 rior. He should face his foe with any weapon." 
 
 Nuno de Tobar was furious at these words, and greatly appre 
 hensive; and his passion might have exploded in a violent 
 challenge of the justice and magnanimity of the Adelantado 
 himself, to whom he now turned in impatient appeal, when he 
 was arrested by the sudden termination of the combat, as wo 
 have described it. The next moment beheld Don Andres dis 
 armed, and the battle-axe in the grasp of his brother. Thru it was 
 that Don Balthazar threw down his truncheon, and the trumpets 
 sounded the retreat. But Don Andres heeded not these signals. 
 He confronted Don Philip with a passion as reckless as before, but 
 this time with the feelingsof despair and shame, rather than of rage 
 and hate. 
 
 " Slay me ! " he cried, " strike, Philip de Vasconselos, as at 
 thy enemy ! Thou hast the weapon. Thou hast disgraced me 
 eternally. Put a finish to thy work. Smite ! my head is un 
 covered to thy blow ! " 
 
 "Go to, Andres; this is folly ; thou hast fever in thy veins, 
 my brother. It is the madness of thy blood, not thy heart, that 
 
THE END OF THE CONTEST. 248 
 
 has wrought thee to this unhappy conduct. I cannot harm thee, 
 Andres. I love thee, my brother, whatever thou ma* *st do, or 
 feel, <jr say ! " 
 
 With these words, Philip flung the battle-axe to a distance. 
 Andres cast himself down, with his face upon the earth ; but, as 
 tin- heralds and squires came up, he rose again quietly, and suf 
 fered himself to be led out. He wa^ buriic away with a raging 
 fever in his veins, and that night was in high delirium. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 We charge the women leave the 
 Lest they should swoon." 
 
 . THK OLD LA 9 
 
 effect of this scene was prodigious upon the whole assem* 
 bly. Its events were just of that sort to fill the minds and excite 
 the imaginations of such a swelling, earnest, grave yet passionate 
 people as the Spaniards ; and, for awhile, they were all hushed, 
 as if overwhelmed with emotion, and still expecting other events 
 of even greater excitement to follow. They were conquered by 
 the Portuguese. The deportment of Philip de Vasconselos had 
 been such as to impress every spectator with the full sense 
 of his noble character and perfect heroism, and there were 
 none now so bold as to challenge his triumph or his lame ! 
 Verily, he had gone through the most fearful of all trials for such 
 a soul. He had survived them, though he suffered from them 
 still. He had overcome those worst enemies, his own passions, 
 which, wronged on every hand, and fiercely assailed by the one, 
 above all others, who should have approached them with nothing 
 but love and veneration, had been able to subdue themselves 
 within just limits, and permitted him to rise equally above his 
 enemies and his own rebellious blood ! This was not lost upon the 
 spectators. Their hush was only the prelude to their applause. 
 Their instincts, kept in lively play all the while, and making them 
 forgetful of all their former dislikes and jealousies, hail brought. their 
 final judgments right. Their souls, as they brhdd. brraine fully 
 conscious of the rare beauty of his carriage and his performances 
 
DON PHILIP S TRIUMPH. 246 
 
 throughout ; and the gentle humanity, which, at the closing 
 scene, had appeared so conspicuously in unison with the most 
 determined courage and the coolest conduct. The wildest shouts 
 testified their admiration, and declared the complete triumph of 
 the hi TO of the day, not only over all opponents, but over their 
 own stubborn and ungenerous prejudices. They did not see the 
 bitter smile that mantled the face of Philip as he heard these up 
 roars of admiration. He knew the value of popular applause, 
 and quietly remounting his steed, he stood in silence waiting for 
 the summons of the warder, to the foot of the dais, where the 
 Adelantado was to place the crown upon the lance of the con 
 queror, who was required, in turn, to lay it at the foot of the 
 lady whom he should designate as the Queen of Love and Beauty. 
 It was her task to accept the tribute, and, lifting up the trophy so 
 deposited, to place it on the head of her champion. 
 
 There was no reluctance, now, on the part of the Adelantado, 
 to do justice to the knight of the Falcon. De Soto, it is true, 
 had his prejudices as well as his people ; and his pride had been 
 somewhat stung by the reserve which had been exhibited towards 
 him by Philip de Vasconselos ; to say nothing of the offence 
 which the latter had given, in announcing his doubts in respect to 
 his farther connection with the expedition to Florida. But, 
 though a proud and selfish person, De Soto was not a base one. 
 He had his moments of prejudice and passion, but was by no 
 means insensible to greatness of soul and heroic character, even 
 in the instance of an enemy. He was thoroughly disarmed by 
 the conduct of Philip; and some compunctious visiting* O f con- 
 seirnce now made him anxious to atone, as far as possible, by 
 the moxt prompt acknowledgment, for his past coldness and ne 
 glect. He bade the warder do his duty, and, at a signal given, 
 and amidst a passionate fnnfarr. from the whole corps of trum 
 peters, the knight of the Fall -on was led up to the foot of th </<//>. 
 Here h dismounted, uncovered his head, ascended the rude 
 which had been hastily plueed tor the purpose, and pre 
 sented his lance at the bidding of De Soto, who, in a warm and 
 graceful speech, of a few sentences, placed upon it the trophy as- 
 
246 7ASCONSELOS. 
 
 signed to the conqueror. This was a beautiful coronet, or cap, 
 of rich purple velvet, encircled with a chaplet of pearls, in the 
 centre of which flamed a single but large diamond, surrounded 
 by rubies and other precious stones. Don Philip received the 
 prize with the most graceful obeisance, but in profound silence , 
 then advancing to the foot of the seat occupied by Olivia de Al- 
 varo, he knelt, and laid the coronet before her, dropping his lance 
 at the same moment beside him. Again the trumpets sounded 
 in a soft but capricious Saracenic strain, while the heralds cried 
 aloud the name of the lady ; and De Soto, rising, proclaimed 
 her the Queen and Beauty of the tournament. We shall say 
 nothing of the envy sparkling all the while in the eyes of the 
 other fair dames in that fair assemblage ; in the breast of each 
 of whom, no doubt, there had lurked hopes more or less lively, 
 during the progress of the day. However slight then* hopes, 
 when it was seen who was to be the successful champion, we can 
 still easily understand how there should be many disappoint 
 ments. Of course, there was much criticism, also, upon the choice 
 of the knight of Portugal ; and while most of them could ad 
 mit cheerfully his superior claims as a warrior, his skill, spirit, 
 and address, in the tourney, there were not a few to regret 
 that so much heroism should be accompanied by so very l>a<l a 
 taste. But the multitude applauded the taste, no less than the 
 valor and conduct of the knight. 
 
 It was now the task of Olivia de Alvaro to place the coronet 
 on the brows of her champion. This was no easy task, however 
 grateful. She had been an excited spectator of the scene ; she 
 had felt, with constant tremblings of heart and frame, all the 
 vicissitudes of the conflict. These were rendered trebly acute in 
 consequence of that secret history of grief of which we know 
 something already ; the action of which, on a system whose 
 nerves were all disordered, was of a sort to enfeeble and excite 
 at the same moment ; so that but little strength was left her for 
 the performance of her task at the closing scene of the day. But 
 she arose, after a brief delay ; the Knight of the Falcon still on 
 hii knees before her. There was a dead silence now in the as- 
 
THE QL KKN OK LoVK AND BEAUTY. 247 
 
 sembly. All were curious to hear \vh:it she would say ; for she 
 was not simply to place the crown upon the head of the cham 
 pion, she was to accompany the act with words of acceptance 
 of the honor conferred upon herself, to bestow applause upon 
 his performances, and to utter those exhortations to future deeds 
 f chivalry and valor, which are supposed naturally to follow, 
 where Beauty encourages, and Love is the gentle counsellor. 
 She arose slowly, amid that general hu-h of expectation, which, 
 by the way, increased her confusion ; stooped to the crown which 
 rested upon the footstool where Philip had laid it; lifted it. and 
 advanced a step, in order to place it on his head. At this mo 
 ment their eyes met ; a sudden and ashen paleness overspread 
 her cheeks; her heart, beating wildly but a moment before, 
 seemed at once frozen within her; and she tottered, sunk fi.r- 
 wards, and would have fallen to the floor, but that the swift arms 
 of her lover caught and sustained her. She had fainted from the 
 conflict of emotions which she cculd no longer sustain and live ! 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " Invention is ashamed, 
 Against the proclamation of thy paMion, 
 To say thou dost not . . . thy cheek* 
 Confess one to the other." 
 
 ALL S Wnx THAT Euros WILL. 
 
 THEN it was, while all was commotion in the assembly, that 
 the passionate love of Don Philip for the unconscious damsel in 
 his arms, overcame and banished all the previous calm and 
 steadfastness in his manner. He thought her dead. There was 
 no color in her cheeks, no life in her eyes, no pulsation in her 
 veins. He cried aloud for succor, while drawing her closely to 
 his bosom, as if to warm her anew with his own tumultuous 
 fires. Before any one could interpose, he had borne her back to 
 the seat, supporting her with vigorous arm, and appealing to her 
 consciousness by the most endearing efforts and expressions. He 
 was at that moment freed from all the conventional restraints 
 which had hitherto made his passion cautious, and taught con 
 cealment as the proper policy of love. He was now not unwil 
 ling that the world should hear what he had hitherto never de 
 clared to her, and with the sense of her danger and his loss, he 
 became indifferent to the opinion of those around, a regard to 
 which is so characteristic of the proud and sensitive nature. But 
 he was not suffered long to indulge in a situation which he found 
 so painfully sweet. He was brought to consciousness by the in 
 terposition of other persons. Don Balthazar de Alvaro was soon 
 at his side, and, laying his hand with rather a rude grasp upon 
 the shoulder of our knight, he bade him release the lady to those 
 who could better effect her restoration, and who were the most 
 proper persons to attempt it. Next came the wife of Tobar, followed 
 by the lady of the Adelantado and others, to whom Philip was 
 
 241 
 
ANDRE S ILLNESS. 249 
 
 compelled to redgn her. To these he yielded her, though with 
 reluctance. He shook off the grasp of Don Balthazar, and an- 
 1 his looks and words with an abruptness of manner, and a 
 glance of fire, which declared the hostility and scorn which he 
 truly frit, and in which the uncle was taught to read the language 
 of defiance. Olivia was borne away by the female attendants. 
 The Lady Isabella would have had her conveyed to her palaee. 
 but Don Balthazar, in a very resolute manner, resists 1 this ar 
 ran^ement, and she was conveyed at once to his own residence. 
 The amusements of the day were over. The trumpets sounded the 
 retreat; the audience slowly melted away; but long before the 
 assembly was dispersed, Philip de Vasconselos had disappeaied 
 from the p;:i/iic sight. 
 
 II prooeede I to the lodgings of his brother, but did 
 
 . that his j : uotild only i:. 
 
 the dUorder nf the latter. IK- a-certained, however, that his de 
 lirium and fever did not increase, and that he was well at 
 tended. The phy.sieian of De Soto himself had been sent him, 
 and had administered some soothing drugs, after taking from 
 him a goodly quantity Of blood. He still remained with him, 
 and would not sutler him to be disturbed. Tin- attack had been 
 ;ddeii. but it was not of prolonged duration; and judi- 
 i by the youth and viirorof his constitu 
 tion, enabled him, after a few days, to rise ajain to his feet. In a 
 week lie \va< able to re-nine his armor, and t<> exeivise at the 
 h- ad of his little company. Hut lie remained comparatively fee 
 ble for some time, and the mortification which he had, Mitl ered 
 hung like a dark shadow upon Ids sotiL He be.-ame habitually 
 ;. and moro-e ; .-iddiv ini: him-elf wholly to milita; 
 
 -utfering him>elf to in so- 
 
 vrtain more j . ,enu9 
 
 anU hi- brother, though from this period the: 
 no longer any cordiality between them. Tl. .\hi.-h w,-ro 
 
 yet to occur served, in m . - m him of that 
 
 jealous hostility to Philp whieh had been the sole cause of his 
 recent . Philip, though solicitous of his health and 
 
 11* 
 
250 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 safety, never obtruded himself upon him. He was content to 
 leave to time the work of repair. But we must not anticipate. 
 
 The recovery of Olivia do Alvaro was much more rapid than 
 that of her rejected lover. What remedies were employed 
 in her case, were not suffered to be known ; but the very next day 
 found her able to sit up and converse. Leonora de Tobar sate some 
 time with her. Donna Isabella was also pleased to visit her, 
 and other ladies shared in their friendly attentions. Hut while 
 recovering her consciousness, and in some degree her health, Olivia 
 sank into a sort of sober melancholy, which no arts or attentions 
 of her female companions could possibly reach. An exterior of the 
 most stolid indifference encountered the friendly solicitude which 
 sought to soothe and heal ; and while her deportment was all gen 
 tleness and meekness, her heart was yet closed against all efforts to 
 probe its secret, or ascertain its apprehensions or its wants. To Le 
 onora cfe Tobar her case seemed a singularly mysterious one. She 
 knew that she loved Philip de Vasconselos beyond all other men. 
 She was now sure, as was all the world, that he loved her beyond 
 all other women. What more] Why should either of them be un 
 happy ? The whole affair was very incomprehensible to her, and 
 afforded her a fruitful and constant subject for expostulation with 
 the sufferer, and speculation with all other parties. 
 
 Don Balthazar was the only person who properly understood 
 ;he whole difficulty. He had his fears of the case, as well as a 
 full knowledge of its peculiarities. His hope of security, strange 
 to say, was based upon what he knew to be the virtues of the 
 damsel. He relied wholly upon her justice and magnanimity, to 
 defeat the suit of the Knight of Portugal. But Ins fears were still 
 active. lie apprehended that the weakness of the woman would 
 get the better part of her sense of justice. He knew the 
 ous nature of the sex, and the paramount strength of their feel 
 ings. Could Olivia really be capable of rejecting the lover whom 
 she preferred before all others, simply bc.-ause of a cold senti 
 ment of honor and propriety ? Why should she not keep her se 
 cret, and thus secure her triumph? He still dreaded that she 
 would resolve on this. He had too b ttle nobleness himself to 
 
THE GUARDIAN S AITRKHKNSIONS. 251 
 
 rely upon that of another; and the recent event levelled mate 
 rially his Confidence in the firmness uf JUT virtue, which was at 
 of course ii is understood that he can 
 i .ed to her union with Philip, or, indeed, withanv 
 iiiaii. \Vt- have but imperfectly unfolded our narrative Urn-far, 
 if it be ;.w necessary that we should endeavor to e-tabli-h tliis 
 faet. Ilis selii-i. .varice and pa>-ion. was a let- 
 
 tied neee>sity, and utterly adverse to her finding happin- 
 
 ;ig to the dielates ( ,f her affections. 
 
 But it was necessary to confirm her in her previously exp; 
 
 and virtuous resolution of self-denial. lie was required to 
 
 ;ieii her determination against the pleadings of her own 
 
 M well as of her lover, to lessen the stivngth of her ll-el- 
 
 inu r s ly stiinulatiiiLi her j.roju-iety. and to keep her virtuous maj;- 
 
 naniiuity active, as a barrier au .tin-t lier pa i.n. This he now 
 
 jM-reeived to be more jiowi-rful tlian he, or even she. had pivvi- 
 
 Bospeoted. Be had watched her through all the carriers 
 
 of the tournament, and had seei; the warmth and violi noe ot h-r 
 
 ; tten in li.-r fiT and action amid>t all (In- dial _. 
 tl- st: la not to be tru-ted to her own sentiment-/ 
 
 \\as liis rellfrtiou. M Sh ma\ M she plea-fS. in hel" (juiet 
 
 moments of thought ; but let Philip de Vasconseloa kneel im- 
 
 g at hi-r feet, and >h- will probably fnr-rt all her honorable 
 
 .vill yield to his entreat! 
 mity of her admMona. I mu-t pn.vi : this." 
 
 Ifl >ee wha* ::I-etinu r lii 
 
 linini: UJM-II a couch in the apartnie: 
 upon the verandah. There Don 1 
 
 oked \i\t at his api ... full ,,f BO 
 
 sad a reproach, that, had he been capabl. of a j^ein-rous impres 
 sion, would hav.- made him instantly contrite. Hut h,- \\ 
 capable of 
 
 of man. He took 
 
 :. 
 
 * W.-ll, my eliiid. 3 
 /ou have (ujite to,- m.in;, They will onlj 
 
252 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 weary and distress you. The tongue of that silly wife of Tobar 
 is enough to madden any invalid, and there are others of like 
 sort, who do not so much desire to soothe or amuse, as to ex 
 ercise their tongues and curiosity. What you want is peace and 
 quiet." 
 
 " Peace and quiet ! where am I to find them ?" 
 
 " Why not ? There is no reason why you should not find both, 
 if you are only moderate in your expectations. It is the unrea 
 sonable and extravagant hopes of youth alone that keep peace and 
 quiet from any bosom." 
 
 " Hopes ! Do you really suppose that I entertain any hopes ?" 
 
 " Indeed ! Do you not? and why, if you entertain no hopes, 
 do you encourage these painful and oppressive sensibilities, that 
 keep you only in a continual agony ?" 
 
 " It is for this very reason, that I can entertain no hopes, that 
 these agonizing sensibilities are mine. But I surely need not say 
 this to you " 
 
 " My dear child, do not deceive yourself. You do entertain 
 hopes and expectations, and it is these that keep alive and active 
 these moods and sensibilities. I know you better than you do 
 yourself. You may deceive yourself, in moments of solitude, 
 with the idea that you have nothing to live for. But events will 
 bo apt to put all these notions out of your head. You are now 
 so much better that you will soon have other visitors." 
 
 Who! what mean you?" 
 
 "Your Portuguese cavalier will soon be here, no doubt, and on 
 his knees before you. It is inevitable, after what has taken place. 
 that lie will come, and must. He has fairly committed himself 
 in the eyes of the world; he will soon find it necessary to corn 
 plete his progress by a formal oiler of his hand." 
 
 "And you think 1 will aeeept him?" 
 
 u Well; there is some danger of it. The truth is, my dear 
 child, von are not tin- mistress of your own affections, He ha: 
 too much eii>laved your imagination to Miller you to cscapr him. 
 fou love him quite too intensely to reject his prayer." 
 
 "Alas! It is because 1 so much love him that 1 will reject him 
 
THE EVIL GENIUS. 263 
 
 I may be degraded, uncle I am and you well know why I am, 
 and wl\p has degraded me ; but I am not base ! I will not sink 
 lower in my own esteem, in doing such a terrible wrong to a na 
 ture so noble us that of the knight of Portugal, by uniting his 
 honor with my shame !" 
 
 " Who knows that there is any shame ?" 
 
 " God !" 
 
 " Ah ! perhaps ! But you have no apprehension that he will 
 be at any pains to make it known ?" 
 
 " I know not that. Guilt is ever in danger of exposure. 
 Shame is like the cloud, that, whether the star will or will not, 
 rises at any hour, with the winds, to blot its beautiful surface. 
 Hut whether the world knows or not whether God permits the 
 truth to be revealed or not alters not tl. mo. It is 
 
 enough that /know the terrible >hanie that hangs upon i:. 
 like night. Enough, that I too much love Don Philip de 
 
 los to bestow my consriou-nc^ of ignominy upon him." 
 
 "This is all mere sentiment, rnv child." 
 
 "Sentiment! Hut y-u >peak as if you really desired that I 
 should wed with the knight of Portug I 
 
 "No! By Satan, no ! I hate, 1 loathe the man, and I love 
 /ou, my child. Never, with my eminent, shall you take him to 
 your arms." 
 
 Why, then, leave it to doubt ? Why imp<e upon me the 
 task which you \ -t think rue too weak to execute? Forbid hi. M 
 the house forbid him the ipiest and put an end to all your ap- 
 prebefisioos." 
 
 Would that prooea be .tl eetual? No.no! my chil 
 will never answer. Our eu-iom- here, in Cuba. wou!<; 
 it. What would ererybodj -ay of me . It would wrap me in 
 a thousand strifes and eml>aiT. laments. He-idc-. Don Philip de 
 
 Dldbi would not -ntler any >ui-h eva-idi ; and th- A 
 tado would -u-tain liiin in th.- a-M-rtion of the right 
 
 No! no! he miwt not )>e deni opportunity, and UK 
 
 mutt rr nni-t lu- left to \oiir :>!." 
 
 "Thiit is alread\ made! 1 can IU-\\T be the : wife uf Doo 
 
254 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 Philip. Were 1 other than the thing I am, I shculd know no 
 greater happiness. As I am, it is impossible that I should think 
 of happiness, or should so wrong him in my desire for it, as U 
 unite iny grief and shame to his honor and his fortunes." 
 
 And 1 repeat, you know not yourself. You have not the 
 strength for this. You mean as you say, no doubt, now that you 
 are comparatively calm, and when he is not present; but when 
 lie aj >pears, and you see him before you at your feet, where 
 will be your fine resolutions ? You will yield. You will con 
 sent, you will forget all your nice sentiments, and keep youi 
 secret, and be happy!" 
 
 " Leave me," she said calmly. " You do not know me. Still 
 less do you know how you annoy and humble me. Enough for 
 you that you are secure in your wishes, whatever may be mine. 
 I cannot marry Don Philip ; 1 will not ; though I tell you frankly, 
 that I should know no greater secret of happiness than this, were 
 this possible. You have doomed me to loss of all ! Leave me 
 now." 
 
 " But you must take your medicine, Olivia." 
 
 " I will take nothing at your hands." 
 
 " Why not r 
 
 "You have drugged me enough. I fear to drink to eat al 
 most to hivathe knowing upon what poisons you have fed me." 
 
 "This is foolish. On my honor, you have nothing to fear 
 now." 
 
 " Oh! if you asseverate so solemnly, I am sure there is dan 
 ger ! Take it away ! I will not drink, though I perish." 
 
 " Obstinate ! 1 tell you, this is the potion provided by the 
 physician." 
 
 " It has passed through your hands." 
 
 " Am I poison ?" 
 
 " Ay, death ! worse than death ! shame, horror, hell ! Do not 
 vex me ; leave me ! I will trust you in nothing, I tell you ! Is 
 it not enough that you have destroyed every hope ; would you 
 torture me without a purpose ?" 
 
DREAMS OF HAPPINESS. 265 
 
 " You are mad ! Is it torture that I should give you the very 
 medicine which has been prescribed for you ?" 
 
 " I am not sure that it is the same ! You have the art to alter 
 the nature of all things that approach me. You change the help- 
 lil to the hurtful the good to the bad. By the Holy Virgin, 
 uncle, were it not for the wrong that I should do to another, I 
 should wed with the knight of Portugal, if only to find an 
 avenger to be sure of one to whom I might say Slay me this 
 monster, who has destroyed me, soul and body !" 
 
 Don Balthazar hurled the cup of physic to the floor, and with 
 a look of the fiercest anger, and a half-muttered curse, he strode 
 hastily out of the apartment. 
 
 " Thank God !" said the poor girl as he disappeared, " I breathe 
 more freely !" 
 
 And she sunk into a long, sad revery ; and the thought of Don 
 Philip came to her, and brought with it fancies of the most bright 
 and cheering felicity. She fancied him at her feet ; she thought 
 of herself in his arms. The world shut out, in the lone security 
 of their mountain hacienda, she sail to herself Surely this is 
 happiness, this is security ami peace! And why," she a-ked of 
 f, sh>uM I ii<>t enjoy this peace. thU security, this happi- 
 What have 1 done that I should deny myself to live? Am 
 I guilty of this crinu this shame? Is it mine? Am I not a 
 wrrtrhed victim only of the toils and the arts and the superior 
 power-; of another? Have I, in my own soul, consented to this 
 surrender of my innocence to the spoiler ? Wherefore should I 
 sutler more J Have 1 not su lie red enough ? Why should I not 
 be happy with him 1 love, true to him ever, and never willingly 
 fuNe to Heaven or myself? It i-> a leord from all but one. this 
 shame that is my sorrow; and that one. for his on . dare 
 
 not whimper it to the bird that flies! Ala-! alas! my h-- 
 whither would you carry me? Would you have me abu-e 
 his noble trust for your ple.-iMiiv Oh! be still, lest in my 
 kneM I commit a wrong as great as that which I have eut 
 fered !" 
 
 Such, in brief, were the prolonged meditations .f ti 
 
256 VASCONSELOS 
 
 woman throughout the melancholy hours of her solitude. Her 
 passion for Philip de Vasconselos was now perpetually suggest 
 ing to her mind fresh arguments against the virtuous resolution 
 which, in cooler moments, had been the conclusion of her thought. 
 She felt that her resolution was growing momently more and 
 more weak; but still she combaU-d herself; argued with her 
 own thought, strove nobly against her heart, and all its really 
 innocent desires, and bewildered finally, and exhausted, she sur 
 rendered herself at last to the dreamiest revery, such as naturally 
 occurs to the sensuous nature, in the delicious climate in which 
 she dwelt. In this revery, in which every breath was soft, every 
 glance fair and wooing, every influence possessing the magic of a 
 spell upon the affections, she found temporary refuge, against 
 that severer virtue which counselled nothing less than self-d< ni il 
 and sacrifice ! Ah ! who is strong for such a sacrifice when every 
 passion of the dependent and loving nature wars against it ! 
 Will Olivia de Alvaro be able to keep her vow, when Philip de 
 Vasconselos bows before her ? She trembles as she thinks of it ; 
 but still she thinks of it! Her thought evermore recurs, after 
 long wandering, to his expected coming ! Will he come ? will 
 he not? Can he otherwise? And, should lie come, and when 
 :ies, - then shall she find the strength to say to him <le- 
 part !" And should he linger should lie deny to go should 
 he a- k" wherefore ? " what answer shall she make 1 Can .-he >a \ . 
 1 have no love to <jive in return, when she really lias nothing in 
 her h<-art but love for him? And if she cannot, in truth, and 
 f loin her heart say this, what pica >hall justify her denial of his 
 |-r:i\i-i ) It i> thus that she begins t> ei.iijim- nj>, l-i her OWO 
 conscience, the ditlienlties which >tan<l in the \\ a \ of IXT o\\n 
 ?>< if-s;i< rificc. It is thus that the inp-nioiiv uriMie the 
 
 Cftse with the honest thought. Which >hall triumph in the -nd ? 
 Olivia ie Alvaro i> a mo^t weak, most loving woman >he is 
 :ate. too. with all the intense tue> of the >>uth. Sim 
 mc;n nolily, her tln-n-ht i> rin!ni\ advised ; an- 1 -he would act 
 iieeonlmn to the dictates ,! a ju-tl\ gOVCH , but, 
 
 when the p;^M >n> -ii-ive. what mind i> -tr ii^ ..^ain^t theiu ? 
 
THE STRUGGLE. 257 
 
 when the heart loves, with entire devotion, where are the thoughts 
 which shall extinguish its glowing fires ? As well say to the rising 
 floods of ocean "Sink back, with all your billows, ami rest 
 calmly in the bosom of your floods." The struggle between soul 
 and heart, in the case of Olivia de Alvam, is but begun. II.,* 
 will it end ? Verily, there is very good reason why Don Ual- 
 thazar should be apprehensive. Truly, he knows, better than 
 his niece, how great is her weakiM-> ! I .u; he will not leave 
 her wholly alone, to fight the battle with her p:is,im ls . IK- \vill 
 frequently come mockingly to her succor, ai,.l, by torturii.g her 
 pride into pas- ion, will seek to subdue, the force of other ; 
 MODS. He lias all the subtlety of the serpent : will he u - 
 UOOesalillly 1 It is very certain that he will spare, no art- o 
 . the hopes of the two young heart-, who, but for his cvi 1 
 working, had long since been reiuK-ivd happy. 
 
 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " Hold Ihee : there s my purse. I give thee not this to suggest thee iroin Uiy niA>i 
 thou talkest of : serve him still." 
 
 ALL S WKLL THAT F..M>S WKI i. 
 
 THE public sports which the Adelantado had provided for the 
 gratification of the people of Cuba were nil finally ended. We 
 have not thought proper to describe the amusements which fol 
 lowed on the third day, however interesting to the spectators ; 
 for the simple reason that they do not immediate!/ affect the con 
 dition of our dramatis persona. They still demanded the per 
 sonal attendance of Don Balthazar de Alvaro, however, as war 
 der of the field ; and this gave a little respite to the suffering 
 Olivia in her solitude. We have already noted an interview be 
 tween the niece and her uncle, after the third day of the tourna 
 ment; but there was one event, occurring at the close of that 
 day, which it becomes us not to suffer to pass unnoticed. After 
 the passages-at-arms, of all sorts, were fairly over, and the 
 trumpets had merrily sounded the signals for the dispersion of 
 the assembly while the crowd, moving to and fro in all direc 
 tions, resembled the shifting scenes of a panorama Don Bal 
 thazar called to him an officer, and, speaking aside, said : 
 
 "Has the slave, Mateo, been taken the mestizo, the rnata- 
 or, whose capture I confided to thy hands ?" 
 
 * He h* * xrk " ^enor. Tie has rinded all our efforts." 
 
 Thou na*t suffered these sports to keep thee from thy duty; 
 dse, how should he escape thy search ?" 
 
 " No, Sefior " 
 
 "It must be so, I tell thee; for the fellow is not likely to 
 leave Havana so long :i< these amusements last; and there 
 should be no places of hiding in the city which should be be 
 au 
 
TIIK AUil AZIL. 269 
 
 yond the reach ot a good officer! See to it! This night is all 
 
 that U left thee to effect his capture. Half of these people will 
 
 t<> the country by tin- dawn; hr. probably, among them. 
 
 him at the tents and tables where they game. All of 
 
 . terrible \ assiOO tor cards and dice. At th- 
 
 |>i:-li- m.- .y he found. lie hath pos>ihly brought with him some 
 favorite birds from the country, lie drink-, t no. \\ith a rare 
 pa i.-is. whieh will no doubt carry him to the >hips where the 
 
 lienU is to be had. Get thee a do/.i ii of thy fellow 
 (ouiiM-;!, d. \\ 1m know the man, and set them on the quest t\>r 
 him in all tin-so places. If you take him. you -hall all be well re 
 warded. If not. I shall endeavor to find officers who i 
 exhortation to their duty. There is no reason whv lie should 
 not be found. lie flowed himself (juite freelv and f-arl -! v at the 
 btill-fiL L r . I suppose, on certain changes of dress and 
 
 costum- . II is hardly in hiding any where, and, while in 
 : ":1 no doubt be found . r other of the places 
 
 I have mentioned. Stint not your cflorls. nor the numbersof your 
 men, imr tin- needtV and. if you take him, bring him to 
 
 midnight, even ; so that ye delay 
 
 not arter you have taken him. Kimu^h ! 86 to it, Die:<, as you 
 would be sure of my favr- !" 
 
 . I will not sleep in this >earch/ 
 
 QOe, tor he will doubtless soon leave Havana 
 }r the mountains/ 
 
 The Hi, I. -,ited from the Al.Lnia/.il, and both di<ap- 
 
 from si-ht. Within the same hour Don Haltha/ar mi^rht 
 
 i :-i !iiiL r . on a famous black charter, towards th- r 
 without the city, wh ^.-n.rita, his niece, maintained her 
 
 olitude. It was but a little before this, that the very outlaw, 
 . miirht h . i ur> i- 
 
 inu r the tame route, Tin- la ter had fairly i-nten-.I the-. 
 when he heard th.- s.>und of h iiind him. II 
 
 1\ shelt.-r.-d himself from si-rht in a den-c thicket of 
 bambo... and. from his pi.,.-,. ,f n-treat. beh- Id the knight ride 
 - y by. The outlaw griini- , ed his old 
 
260 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 master, whom he remembered by numerous cruelties, such as, in 
 that day, but too much distinguished the fierce warriors of Spain 
 when dealing with their Indian and negro slaves. We have already 
 mentioned that Mateo was a fugitive ; having fled, not simply from 
 the cruelty of his master, but from the consequences of his own 
 crimes. He had murdered, in a sudden broil, one of the officers 
 of the estate of the Seuorita Olivia, to which, indeed, he belonged : 
 the control of Don Balthazar over him resulting only from his 
 being the guardian of his niece. From that moment, Mateo 
 disappeared, having sought shelter in the contiguous mountains, 
 which were, at that early period, entirely unexplored. lie had 
 been subsequently heard of, on several occasions, but only in the 
 character of a robber. A price had been set upon his head, but 
 he had always contrived to elude the pursuit of justice. His 
 mother, the old woman Anita, in the employ of Don Baltha 
 zar, as we have seen, and the willing creature of his infamous 
 arts and practices, had not forborne to plead the cause of her 
 son ; and she probably would have succeeded, long before her 
 death, in procuring his pardon, could she have been successful in 
 persuading Mateo to take the essential initiative in such a matter, 
 by surrendering himself to the estate. But Mateo was not 
 ready to incur such a peril, and distrusted all the assurances of 
 the Don, whom he too well knew readily to confide in. Bc^.. 
 the violent and brutal character of his passions kept him con 
 tinually working against his own pardon, by the commission of 
 new crimes and misdemeanors. Like all of his race, he was too 
 fond of the pleasures of the crowd, and such as were promised 
 by the exhibitions of the bull-ring and the tournament, to 
 forego the temptation, at whatever hazard, of beinir a witness of 
 the grand spectacles offered to the public by tin- magnificence of 
 Don Ilernan de Soto. But Mateo relied upon his disguises ; 
 upon the shaggy hair, the wild beard, and the, strange costume 
 which he wore ; and upon the fact of a three years absence from 
 all the eyes that knew him. lie felt himself sufficiently estranged 
 from all eyes, and did not doubt that even his mother would 
 fail to recognize her son. But he did too little justice to the 
 
THE OUTLAW. 201 
 
 keen sight and tenacious memory of Don Balthazar. Of the 
 death of the old woman, Matco had learned nothing until he 
 reached Havana, a few days before. But, in that time, he had 
 seen his sister, the sullen girl, Juana, on several secret occasions 
 had heard all her tidings; had listened to all her complaints, and 
 had decided upon the course to be pursued for attaining all 
 iry remedies for his own and her alleged wrongs. Of 
 remedies we shall learn hereafter. We need not say, per 
 haps, that he laughed at all the labors of his mother, in striving 
 to procure, his forgiveness, as a fugitive slave. He was one >f 
 tho-se iv.-kl- is, too savage lor subjection, too indolent lor 
 
 toil, who prefer to appropriate the labors of others to the exer- 
 : any of his own ; and, by the strong hand, or sleight of 
 hand, contrived to extract a very comfortable living out of a 
 world which he thought good for nothing el<e. Now that he 
 was in Havana, he was resolved to bring about the settlement 
 of all his atlairs in that city; and his own and sister s accounts 
 promised to employ him actively for a time. His old master 
 wa- his chief debtor ; and, that he did not emerge from his bamboo 
 shelter, and in-Ut upon immediate payment, while the knight 
 was passing, was simply beeau-e he thought it very possible that 
 Don Baltha/ar did not carry a sufl n-ient amount in funds about 
 with him, to enable him to make satisfactory settlement. It 
 would have been, otherwise, <mitc as ea>y to spring out from his 
 j laee upon the 1 ><>n, as. from the corridor into tin- bull-ring, 
 de grace to El ^foro ! The knight was suffered 
 to pro.v.-d in vifcty to his house, whithi-r Mateo followed more 
 slowlv. and not until the darkness had fairlv covered the hacienda. 
 \Ve -hall sutl.-r Peveral houft <> elap-e without reporting th-ir 
 events; but we must suppose that they have not been sutlered 
 to pas-, unemployed either by the Hidalgo OF the outlaw. 
 
 that both parties have been busy, though we do 
 not just now care to go into a narrative of their several doings. 
 Enough, that towards midnight Don Balthazar e.-a-c-d from his 
 labors for the night; and in his chamber, with his dressing-gown 
 about him, and his limbs released in some degree from the gar 
 
262 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 ments worn throughout the day, he rests at length jpon a wicker 
 settee of bamboo, and meditates through the graceful clouds of 
 aromatic smoke that ascend volume after volume from his much 
 beloved cigar. Don Balthazar, though somewhat Maze , i> yet 
 not wholly insensible to the yood things of this life, speaking 
 only of the physical enjoyments. Indeed, it is to the bLi~, 
 chiefly that the " creature comforts " rise into paramount value 
 and estimation. It is when the purer tastes and the proper de 
 sires of the mind have been perverted, or abused, or lost, that 
 one seeks recompense by appeals to appetites which, until then, 
 are kept in honest subjection. Don Balthazar did not rely on 
 his cigar wholly for his happiness; a flask of generous wine 
 rested on a table beside him, from which, ever and anon, he re 
 plenished his goblet. He emptied it, perhaps, much more freely 
 than he was aware. The troubles of his mind made him some 
 what unconscious of the frequency of his potations, and their 
 effects working favorably upon his mood, seemed to justify the 
 appetite in still further seeking succor from this source. Don 
 Balthazar had survived all the j -.roper taste-. "His appetites 
 were wholly artificial. His tastes had become prurient; his 
 passions had been succeeded by mere desires depending upon his 
 diseased fancies. These, as chronic, always exert a tyrannous 
 power over their possessor, and compel him to pursuits and ob 
 jects which, in calm moments, seem wholly undeserving of any 
 effort. A thousand times did the mere reason and common sense 
 of the knight counsel him to throw oil habits and desires which 
 were equally evil and profitless ; but in vain. A single moment 
 of dreaming revery brought back the tyrannous fancies in all 
 their power. The cigar, the wine, these were potent influence-. 
 though unsuspected, in behalf of hia evil moo. Is; and his will no 
 longer seconded the suggestion of his better moments. It 
 would be doing him great injustice to sav that he did not repeat 
 edly deplore the weaknesses ofhis nature, and the crime and the 
 cruelty of which it was the source. But his strength was not a 
 strength in behalf of virtue. It was the strength of evil passions 
 only of passions arriving at sole power by reason of their un 
 
CONSCIENCE AND I lll L< >SO1 H V. 263 
 
 scrupulous exercise, and in their dying embers exerting a ne* 
 and more evil sort of influence in consequence of their very do 
 cay and feebleness. lie knew, and frit, and reproached 1, 
 at moments for his terrible abuse of authority and advai,; 
 : his unhappy nicer. Hr was somrtiinrs mad. 
 sci.us of the awful spectre of his decease*! brother, !. 
 upon him with loathing and anger, and the saddest repma h ii; 
 hi- fare; sometimes he faiu- u d his voice in his ears, and at Other 
 times he beheld suddenly, as it were, a glimpse of the !i : -e 
 visage of "the Biscayan mother" of Olivia, flaming with in 
 tion, before his eyes. His conscience thus, at times, came to the 
 a^istanrf of his better reason, and filled him with virtuou 
 lution. But it is not easy for one accustomed for thirty years 
 to give the full reins to his moods and passions. t> re-n.injuer 
 
 and recover the ascendency of thought and will <>\vr habit. 
 Habit is the most unbending of all mortal tyrannies, and the 
 better geniu> of Don Balthazar struggled vainly against the aj - 
 
 I which he had so constantly fed in its despite. And now. 
 wh -n some better feelings were endeavoring to assert tlieinscl vrs 
 iu his bosom when a lingering feeling of commiseration for the 
 po,,|- child whom lie had so cruelly abused had prompted him to 
 reflections upon his own selfishness, which, seeking a momentary 
 and even mocking gratification, was de-troying the very life of 
 hope in the bosom of the girl destroying her pa r. and 
 
 all the gladdening impulses which make youth happy he harden 
 ed hiniM !f against the kindlier impression by a n soin. 
 of those hard phOoBOphiefl, which, in his caM-. had ahvad\ 
 thrown all tin- authority as well of humanity as religion. 
 
 " What matters it," said he t.o himself, filling his g,,b!et with a 
 ipply from the wine-flask, "what matters it in the end ? 
 These passions of love are in tact nothing but the capr:< 
 fancy ; a brief space will reconcile her to the loss of this 
 of Portugal. \\hos. youth, grace, and noble bearing are th 
 attractions; when he has (airly embarked for Florida she will 
 
 him, and she will thru rrm.-mbrr me with a< much b 
 ness as any other lov.-r. She will feel that, though I hav 
 
264 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 wronged her, it was because of my passion that I did so ; and 
 my love will justify in her mind the exercise of the power which 
 I had upon her. If not, what is she but a woman, created for the 
 pleasure and the delight of man ; and why should she not min 
 ister to my delight as well as to another? Women, if well 
 treated, kindly, and without neglect, readily reconcile themselves 
 to the condition from which they cannot escape. She will here 
 after consent willingly to that which she has vainly thought to 
 oppose ; and in the necessity of her case will become aware of 
 what is grateful in it. Already, 1 think, she begins to improve. 
 She grows milder every day. For a week she has exhibited 
 none of those fitful bursts of passion which she inherited from 
 that tigress mother ; and her eyes, though they still look sadly 
 and reproachfully, show no longer that fierce hate and loathing 
 NY Inch distinguished them before. She grows pliant she is 
 yielding. Let me but baffle this knight of Portugal, and I have 
 her wholly in my power. He must depart. She must reject 
 his petition ; and if not, then I must find a way to silence him 
 forever." 
 
 Don Balthazar deceived himself in one thing. The mildness 
 of Olivia s present aspect was scarcely in proof that she was now 
 more reconciled *o his power than before. We may say, in this 
 place, that she ^as schooling herself to a more cunning policy 
 that she was opposing art to art, and was never more resolved, 
 against her uncle, than at the moment when she appeared most 
 resigned to her fate. Her game was to lull to sleep his vigilance 
 by appearing more submissive. She was resolved to escape from 
 his tyranny as soon as she might hope to do so with safety. As 
 yet, however, she had formed no deliberate plan for doing so. She 
 had vague projects and purposes in her mind, ill-defined and aim 
 less at present ; but, in any scheme, to quiet his suspicions and 
 disarm his vigilance, were the first objects, necessary to the suc 
 cess of any other. These, in the end, might ripen into something 
 definite and clear, and in the meantime, her policy was single, 
 and thus far evidently successful Don Balthazar was fatigued 
 with a struggle which brought only fear and exhaustion even witb 
 
MATKO AND JUANA. 266 
 
 its successes; and WHS c^uite willing to believe in the shows of 
 resignation, on the part of his victim, by \*hich he hoped to en 
 joy more easy triumphs. 
 
 As thus he lay, weaving conjectures, and hopes and doubts, in thu 
 moxt intricate meshes for hisownfancy,he was surprised by a sud 
 den and most unexpected vi-itor. But it becomes us to -peak of 
 the proceedings o f this visitor, before we formally introduce him 
 to our Hidalgo. We have seen that the fugitive, Mateo, was n 
 ;.. pursuing a like route with Don Balthazar, when the ap- 
 pearnmv of tin- latter drove the outlaw into shelter. He saw his 
 ancient master sprrd forward, and followed him at his leisure. 
 A little after nightfall, stationed in a lemon thicket near the dwell 
 ing. Mat-.-o L M\V ;l signal whistle, and in a few minutes after, was 
 ioincd by the servant girl, .Juana. She was his sister; and. rude 
 uiid sullen in her intercourse with all other persons, on him she 
 -. ed nothing but tenderness and atlection. Her whole de 
 portment and character seemed to change on their meeting. She 
 chini: fondly to his i u .<-k ; kis<ed him repeatedly ; called him her 
 dear In-other, and v. ould have continued her transports, had he 
 not, with a sort of good-natured violence, shaken her oil*. 
 
 "That will do, that will do, .Juana. There s no time now fbi 
 ki-sing and foo|i>hne-s. I have come for work. What can be 
 done . Is tin-re a good chance? Is there anybody in the hou>e, 
 any man body 1 mean, besides Don Baltha/ar . " 
 
 \.! nobody ! There s my young lady, and the old hound, 
 Sylvia : and there s the cook and Pedro ; but she s in the kitchen, 
 and Pedro is gone off -omrwhcrc. There s nothing to p- 
 BOW." 
 
 " Well, you mu-t show ITU- a way to grt in, and c >nie suddenly 
 upon the old woman. The ma-ter"-; in his room, eh . " 
 
 ^ , h - s planning -ome more wieke.lm^s. all t> I, 1 
 Even if Sylvia was to cry out. he could hardly hear where he is; 
 and you needn t go near him at all." 
 
 "Ay, ay; but I mutt go near him. I ve got some accounts to 
 settle with him. now I m here. 1 
 
 a Don t tr i-t ,\ 5th him, dear Mateo. He s got arms 
 
 12 
 
266 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 in his room ; matchlocks and guns, and sharp, bright swords 
 He s never unprepared for mischief; and if he sets eyes on you, 
 he ll shoot you." 
 
 " If I don t shoot him : but that s a game that two can play at 
 just as well as one; and I hope to take him by surprise. I must 
 try to do so. Don t you fear. I have arms too, just as well as 
 he, and I know just as well how to use them ; and I m not afraid 
 of his wickedness. I ve got some of my own." 
 
 "And you will get all the things of poor mammy ?" 
 " Won t leave a hair for the old hag that robbed you. You 
 shall have everything. I ll have them earned oil and hid away 
 for you, where you can get them when you want them." 
 
 " But you will carry them with you to the mountains, Mateo." 
 " And how will you get the use of them there?" 
 " Why, ain t I to go along with you, brother"?" 
 "You go along with me? to the mountains ? Why what 
 would you do there, poor child f 
 
 "Why, live with you, and tako care, of your home for you. 
 " Home !" with a fierce chuckle. " I have no home. I am 
 never a week in one place together. I pass from mountain 
 to mountain; and hide in one cave after another; and go in all 
 sorts of weather; and sleep twenty nights under the open sky, 
 where I sleep once in a human cabin. The outlaw has no home, 
 no place where he can sleep in safety ; except where the wild 
 beast keeps watch for him along the mountain-top, and frightens 
 off the pursm r." 
 
 "I don t care, Mateo! I am not afraid ! I want to go with 
 
 you wherever you go, and I ll live with you, and work for you, 
 
 (U\(\ fight for you, too; just as if I were a man and not a woman/ 
 
 "Well, I suppose you can fight ; you ve got the strength for 
 
 it, and I reckon you re not afraid ; but " 
 
 "And I may go with you?" eagerly. 
 
 "No, Juana, child. Not just yet. I ll come for you, when 
 ever Fm ready for you, and can fix you in some certain place." 
 
 "Oh! but I do so want to get away from this place. You 
 don t know win! I -utT<-r. It - only a w-k ago that my Lord 
 me with his whip over rny face and shoulders." 
 
ADVICE. 267 
 
 I ooh ! Pooh ! what of that ! Do you suppose if you were 
 will, me, I shouldn t beat you too when you deserved it 1 ?" 
 " But 1 didn it, Mateo." 
 
 "Oli! that s all D< \Voiueti always deserve a whij>- 
 
 :id should get it onee or twice a week to keep Ym M-nsihle 
 
 and proper. You don t know when you iv well oil . With me, 
 
 you d want bread often enough ; and there would IK- no safety. 
 
 You d have to start nut of your bed at midnight, to fly. \s In-u 
 
 you hear tin- bloodhounds barking up the hills. Y> -oinetimes 
 
 inonstrous hard for me to get oil . How would it IK- with you ! 
 
 You d ho eauiihl ly the dogs. You d lo torn to piee.-s ; or I d 
 
 have- to H>k my o\\n lite to save you. Thou, it you fell into the 
 
 hands of the hunter>. you d IK- a tlnm^nd tinu-- :f than 
 
 c\er. The/d .-.-lid you to the Caiaboo/a. and >!! you to a liard 
 
 ma>tor, \\ho"d jit you into the fields, and whip the blood out of 
 
 your body, and the very heart out of your bo-.;ii. Yoii r well 
 
 you are. You ve L r ot a good mistress, and a e>infi,:-tahlo 
 
 and plenty to at ai;ddih:L Uut the master beats you, 
 
 you >ay. Wei!, oiiee in a way, perhaps he docs; but that does 
 
 you no harm. IM have to beat \ <>u ten times a^ niueli. .luana, 
 
 with mo. Twould be for your goo. I. I d do it. I d 
 
 know you wanted it; I know yoiiofoM. YouM be the last 
 
 in the \\urld to try and ijuii thi- j>laoo. if it hadn t spoiled 
 
 y on. You ve I the who!. 
 
 oil \\hciv you are; I know all about it. I d have 
 oil at the haeieiida from \\hi-h I ran .t that. 
 
 : fellow. \\ho couldn t be -;ttMh -d any \\ hen-. ainl would 
 rather Mtal than \\ork. It - . md 1 feel ln-ttor after 
 
 it. Hut 1 know it s irt.t the le>t thing for me; and I .-. 
 would be the very WOTSl thing tor yOU. I B! 
 
 a> m\ UUia, that I d i .\ \\ith ti 
 
 and be l::me-t and qv 
 
 you oai A. \ ni d only In- in n. 
 
 and in the \%ay ! danger and all BOfU of trouble. Hut I hope 
 oon to get a safe hidin nd thm, if you r reody and 
 
268 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 willing, I ll take you off. For the present you must keep where 
 you are." 
 
 It was in this way that the outlaw answered the entreaties of 
 his sister. He, no doubt, came to a right conclusion on the sub- 
 ject. But she was not satisfied, and submitted sullenly to the 
 authority with which she had never been accustomed to contend. 
 
 " But," she added, as a last argument, " it s not the Senorita 
 only ; she s to be married, they say, and there s to be a new 
 master." 
 
 " Well : he won t eat you ! There can t be any worse than 
 Don Balthazar ; and no master in the world will hurt the slave 
 that serves him faithfully. He d be a fool to do it." 
 
 " But I don t like a new master ; and I don t like to be under 
 a master that s a Portuguese." 
 
 " Ho ! it s one of the Portuguese that she is to marry ! 
 Well, if it s the one that tumbled the handsome Cavalier, Nuno 
 de Tobar, she d be well officered. He s a noble soldier, I war 
 rant rides a horse, and handles a lance, as if he was made for 
 nothing else. If I were sure that Don Balthazar would not go 
 to the country of the Apalachians, I d volunteer to go in this 
 same knight s company. But if he went, he d be sure to find 
 me out in time. I could serve such a man as the Portuguese, 
 and cheerfully acknowledge him my master. Every man, I 
 think, is born to have a master, and is never quite happy till he 
 finds the right one. I like this knight of Portugal. I don t see 
 what you ve got to be afraid of if he marries your lady." 
 
 " Ah !" said the girl stealthily, " he d never marry her, if he 
 only knew whafe I know." 
 
 "What do you know? But if it s any harm of her, Juana, 
 don t say it, for your life. The Senorita, you say, has always 
 been good to you. Don t you turn upon her like a snake. Hush 
 up, and keep her secrets, as if they were your own." 
 
 " Well, it ain t so much her secret as my Lord s ! Oh ! Matro, 
 if you kiK w what a born devil he is, and how he s killing the 
 poor young lady murdering her very soul and body ! 
 
 "Ha!" exclaimed the outlaw, musingly "Ha!" A new 
 
A SUDDEN THOUGHT. 269 
 
 ight seemed to dawn upon him ; and he paused, and laid his 
 hand upon J liana s shoulder. " I see ! Don t you say a word 
 more! Don Balthazar but no matter. Show me now how to 
 muzzle this old hag, Sylvia." 
 
 In a few moments, the two had disappeared within the dwell 
 ing. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Here be rare plotting*. There s more mischief in that one head, and that oily tongve 
 in all the country." 
 
 SYLVIA, that arch beldame, as Juana esteemed her, in the sov 
 ereignty of her domain, below stairs, was, at this moment, in the 
 enjoyment of her highest felicity. She had a good supper be 
 fore her ; her toils of the day were ended, and she was congrat 
 ulating herself upon the ease and security with which she could 
 command all the comforts which were necessary to the creature. 
 Supper over, she would sleep, and the dreams that would 
 follow might reasonably be expected to be all very pleasant ones. 
 But Fortune plays fine tricks with human securities, and the 
 Fates are always busy to thwart pleasant anticipations; making 
 no sort of difference between those of the nobleman and those of the 
 drudge. Humble as was Sylvia s secret of happiness, it was des 
 tined to disappointment; and care nestled in the cup, the grate 
 ful beverage of which she was about to carry to her lips. In this 
 very moment, the cruel and capricious fortune, in the aspect of 
 the mestizo, Mateo, stood quietly behind the old woman, prepared 
 to cast the sack over her head. Suddenly she felt a rude gripe 
 of huge, strange fingers about her throat, utterly denying her 
 the privilege to scream ; almost to breathe ! Hardly had she 
 been thus surprised, when a shawl was passed about her jaws, 
 effectually shutting out the supper, and just as effect ually shutting 
 in all sound. She strove desperately In shriek, but the voice <lird 
 away in a hoarse but faint gurgling in her throat. She was in the 
 hands of an adroit enemy. Mateo was dexterous in his vocation. 
 He had enjoyed some practice in his outlawed life. The eyes of 
 tfce old woman were soon enveloped in another bandage^ and a* 
 
 70 
 
THE IIEIK.S TAK1NCJ POSSESSION. 271 
 
 completely denied to aer, as her month to speak ur swallow. A 
 ftOUt OOrd WM then passed febout her arms, and thus rendered 
 korsdu combat, she might be trusted safely. Every obstacle was 
 thu> removed from the way of the conspirators, and Mateo now 
 gave the >Lmal tor the appearance of Juana, who, till this mo 
 ment, had kept in the background. She was not long in show 
 ing herself. Mateo, in the meanwhile, coolly took his place at the 
 table which bore the supper of Sylvia, and his appetite being in 
 vigorated, we may suppose, by long abstinence and previous toils, 
 he proceeded to its demolition in a manner which would have 
 shocked the true proprietor, could she have seen. She suspected 
 no doubt what was in progress, but there was no remedy. She had 
 to submit whh as much resignation as she could command. 
 
 iwhile, Juana was otherwise busied in making inquest into 
 the secrets of the prison-house. Mateo soon joined her, and the 
 leading purpose of the conspirators was soon made apparent. 
 There were elosets thrown wide, and boxes torn open. All the 
 goods and chattels, the accumulations of old Anita, to which Syl 
 via had so iniietly succeeded, were brought out from their hid 
 ing-places. One may conjecture tin- variety of trea>urcs which 
 had been aceiimulatcd by both these ancient beldames, in the 
 cour>e of half a century of peculation. But the details must be 
 left to conjecture. Our purpo-c is not a catalogue. Mateo and 
 .Juana were equally busy. The latter knew where to look, and the 
 former how to secure. His machete did good service in forcing 
 open boxes; and every sick \\hiehcoiildbe found, was appro 
 priated to the compact accumulation of the scattered treasurer 
 Slung upon the ln>ad, >tn>ng shoulders of the outlaw, they dis 
 appeared one by one; tran>ferr.-d, in brief space, from the h< 
 to the adjoining \vooK } when-. It the mestizo had season 
 
 ably provided a sort of cart for their better conveyance toother 
 hiding-places. The work was done by a practiced hand, and very 
 effectually. 
 
 Silvia could readily conjecture what was going on, but she was 
 only able to groan and grieve internally. She did not remain 
 passive, however, and rose up, blinded and muzzled, and corded 
 
VASCONSELOS. 
 
 as she was, with more than one effort to interfere. It was onlj 
 by one or two emphatic exhortations from the heavy fists uf the 
 outlaw, that she was persuaded of the better policy of submitting, 
 without farther struggles, to her fate. 
 
 Supposing this work to be fairly over, and Mateo in full p<>s 
 session of all his mother s chattels ; perhaps of others also, to 
 which that amiable woman could never assert any claim, the out 
 law found it becoming to transfer his attentions to another of tin- 
 household. His next work was with the master. 
 
 We have seen that Don Balthazar de Alvaro was disposed to 
 indulge in a somewhat meditative mood ; one, however, in which 
 conscience was allowed to play only a subordinate part to philos 
 ophy. The pleasant fumes of the cigar, the grateful potency of 
 the wine-flask, the genial sweetness of the climate, had together. 
 as we have seen, induced finally a very grateful condition of rev- 
 cry, in which the thoughts of the mind accommodated themselves, 
 with a rare condescension, to the humors of the body. The re 
 sult was a condition of complacent happiness, which was stripped 
 of all apprehensions. There w r ere no clouds in his sky, that he 
 could perceive ; and for the troubles of his hearth, it was sur 
 prising how slight they seemed, and how soon they we. re dis 
 persed, as he meditated his good fortune, his own resource^, and 
 brought the energies of his will to bear upon the future. It was 
 only to get Philip de Vasconselos out of his path; and for this 
 object he had several schemes, even if the love-sick damsel should 
 fail to assert her virtuous resolution to reject him ; to get ( >!ivia 
 out to her plantation, and under proper surveillance there ; and 
 then for the gold regions of the. Apalachian, and one or two cam 
 paigns. His ambition was not asleep during all these speculat iims. 
 His appetites demanded free floods of gold ; he required eaptivu 
 red men for slaves ; he had fancies of royal favor, aiul did not sec. 
 why he, too, should not become the Adelantado of newly-dU-.-v- 
 ered and treasure-yielding provinces. It is rarely that ambition 
 is satisfied with a single field of eon<jiie>t. It throws out its c/n- 
 tennce in all directions; it grasps wide, right and left, and baits 
 for all the fish in the sea ; is a>> ea^-r after power as money ; 
 
THE RE VERY DISTURBED. 273 
 
 after slaves us conquest ; after love, or lust, as in the soul-starv 
 ing search after gold. Don Balthazar, reclined on his cane sofa, 
 
 1 thrown back, cigar in mouth, and wine-flask at his elbow, 
 was in the enjoyment of a great variety of very grateful antici 
 pations. How the coldest and sternest of men may become 
 dreamers, it is scarcely necessary to insist, with the experienced 
 
 ler. 
 
 It was the very moment when his dreaming mood was most 
 active, and must serenely MM-UIV in the possession of the most 
 teeming fancies, that Mateo, the outlaw, chose for appearing in 
 the presence of the knight. Now, we must do the mestizo the 
 jusiii-e to say that it was no part of his design to disperse the 
 pleasant fancies of the Don, or to overthrow the castles of delight 
 and strength which his imagination was riveting. To Mateo it 
 would be of no sort of moment, how wildly, or how pleasantly, 
 the knight might dream. He might smile contemptuously 
 upon such employments, but that he should deliberately set him 
 self in hostility to the worker for their overthrow, is really not 
 to be thought of. Bad fellow as he undoubtedly was. ^fateo 
 was not so malicious. He had very different, and more solid 
 purpose*. If, in his prosecution of these, the dreams of Don 
 Balthazar happened to be dispersed, the evil was unintended ; 
 and, we have no doubt, if properly apprised of what he had un 
 wittingly done, he would have expn ><ed his devout contrition. 
 
 duly he little conjectured of what a golden domain he dis- 
 i his ancient master in the course of a very little space 
 of time. 
 
 enteivd the apartment of the Hidalgo without disturb 
 ing hi- revery, He did not enter, after the fobioa of ordinary 
 
 visitors, through the door. Mateo was no ordinary outlaw. Not 
 that he preferred the more laborious process of ascending a 
 in of the verandah and climbing in through the window, 
 lint simpU because the do<r was bolted .n the in-idc. I>. -n 
 Balthazar wa> a man of precaution- a politician who knew that 
 WT< ri I . . tpro rly to be enjoyed. imle with a] 
 
 ble securities first taken. That he left his window unfastened 
 12* 
 
274 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 which opened upon the verandah, was simply to admit the breeze, 
 and he never once fancied that his reveries could render him 
 oblivious to the approach of any less light-footed visitor. He 
 was mistaken. Mateo made his way in, without disturbing his 
 sense of security. Not that he was not heard. Don Balthazar 
 was sensible to the rustling of the orange-tree beside the veran 
 dah; he heard the branches scrape rather roughly upon the 
 column. But that might be occasioned by the puff of wind that 
 smote just then gratefully over his brow and bosom ; and so 
 believing, his eyes were shut, and the thick volume of smoke 
 went up from his cigar, increasing in nlHss as the exciting vision 
 of future lordships in Florida rose before his imagination. 
 
 On a sudden he was awakened to full consciousness. Ilis 
 atmosphere grew heavier. It seemed as if his fancies found some 
 obstruction, and could no longer spread their wings as freely as 
 before. He felt as if there were some antagonist influence in his 
 sky, which had suddenly darkened all his bright stars. And this 
 consciousness certainly preceded the opening of his eyes. He 
 had not yet opened them, when his ears were saluted with tne 
 tones of a strange speaker, and in language well calculated to 
 startle and drive him from his world of visions. 
 
 "Well, I must say, your Excellency, that you are very com 
 fortable here." 
 
 We have preferred putting the patois of our mestizo into 
 tolerably correct language, taking for granted that the reader 
 will readily suppose that there were certain differences between 
 the speech of the outlaw and his superior. This will suffice for 
 explanation. We have no taste for that sort of literature which 
 makes the vulgar speak viciously, when what they have to say 
 can as well be said in tolerable phrase and grammar. 
 
 Don Balthazar forgot to smoke. The cigar dropped from his 
 opening lips. His eyes unclosed. His head was partly raised. 
 Never did visage more express confounding wonderment. There., 
 quietly seated on the settee directly opposite, was the outlaw, 
 whom he had given it in charge to his alguazils to arrest. How 
 came he there 1 ? Was he not in bonds? Were the alguazils in 
 
AN i MK VISITOR. 275 
 
 waiting? IVy had probably taken the fugitive, and were at 
 hand. All those conjectures, and many others, passed through 
 the brain of the Hidalgo in a single moment of time. But they 
 were dismissed a- rapidly as conceived. The outlaw had no 
 appearance of constraint. He looked rather like a conqueror 
 than a captive. There were no eliains about his body or his 
 wrist. Never sat mortal v,, perfectly at his ease, his great bulk 
 covering half of the slight cane settee of which he had taken pos- 
 
 -ion. There was a good-natured mockery, too, in his 
 that betrayed no sense <! inconvenience. It was evident, at a 
 nd glance, that he \vas not only no prisoner, but not aware, 
 himself, of any risk of becoming one. There wa^ a great knife 
 in his belt, conspicuous, which the eyes of Don Balthaxar fastened 
 upon. It wa< the very weapon with which the matador had slain 
 the bull. The Don began to feel uneasy. 
 
 " Who is that ? " he inquired ; though he need not have done 
 ; (or he knew the intruder the instant he set eyes upon him. 
 
 n t your Kxcelleney know?" 
 No ! who ? " 
 
 Your Excellency has a bad memory for old acquaintance. 
 Don t you remember Mateo, that once belonged to the estate of 
 Don Felix?" 
 " You ? " 
 
 k - Vc S Senor, the same ! I was a bad fellow, you know, and 
 wouldn t ^vork. Work don t suit me. If it hadn t been for that, 
 I d have kept on the otate forever, tor I rather liked the pfe 
 and the li%in.r *U \ery good But it s too hard to have to work 
 for the bread one rat*;, and I always preferred to take it where I 
 could L r, f it without work. I don t object to other people d<in! 
 all the work they can. It - -, . perhaps; some must do 
 
 it, indeed, where all mu>t feed ; but 1 am for leaving it to those 
 tli:it like it. I don t like it. and a* long u* I can get mv bread 
 without digging fi.r it, I ll do 
 "You killed IVdroGutierr. 
 
 ;ly: beOttlM he would make me work! It was all his 
 fault. I warned him that I wouldn t work ; that it didn t agreo 
 
276 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 with me ; that I didn t like it. He tried to force me, and blows 
 followed ; and he got the worst of them. If he was killed, he 
 brought it on his own head." 
 
 " You are a murderer, and an outlaw." 
 
 " Good words, your Excellency, good words ! What s the use 
 of fouling your Excellency s mouth with bad ones ? I don t care 
 much about words at any time ; but sometimes they make me 
 angry. I don t want to be angry now, as I m in a special good 
 humor, and there s no need to quarrel with old acquaintance. I 
 have not seen you so long that it does me real good to look upon 
 you. Your Excellency don t seem to be much changed. There s 
 a little more of the salt in your hair, your Excellency, and it 
 shows a little in your beard, now that you let it grow so long. 
 You should use some of our black root die, which will make the 
 hair as young as when you were only twenty ! " 
 
 The blood of the knight was boiling in his veins. But he tried 
 to be cool, and with great apparent calmness, said 
 
 " Do you know, Mateo, that if you are once taken you will be 
 garoted without trial ? " 
 
 " One must take the tiger, your Excellency, before you can 
 draw his teeth." 
 
 " But they will take you ! You cannot resist a dozen men 
 a troop an army. Now, I happen to know that you have been 
 heard of in Havana, and that the alguazils are in search of 
 you." 
 
 " Ah ! well ! They will hardly look for me here, your Excel 
 lency, and I shall not be here very long. I shall soon be off for 
 the mountains. Meanwhile, I must take my choice. Alguazils 
 are very fine trencher men, but scarcely of much account where 
 the only feed is steel and bullet. I shall probably escape from 
 these of Havana." 
 
 " But what brings you here now 1 " 
 
 u Well, you re something concerned in the affair, though per 
 haps you don t know it. I heard of the death of my pooi 
 mother, Anita 
 
 " Ah ! yes ; true, she was your mother." 
 
SETTLING ACCOUNTS. 277 
 
 " I rather think your Excellency ought to know, since you ve 
 been promising the old woman to get me pardoned for a long 
 time past. I suppose you had good reasons for not keeping your 
 prom 
 
 " Yes ; your mother knew. I told her that no pardon was 
 possible until you should come in." 
 
 " Very clear, your Excellency ; and now that I ve come in, 
 you tell me that the alguazils are already looking after me, and 
 that I shall be garoted if caught. How do the two stories tally, 
 your Excellency ?" 
 
 " To come in and surrender, is quite a different thing from 
 coming in as you do now." 
 
 " Perhaps so ; but it don t matter much any way. As for my 
 surrender, your Excellency, before I have the pardon under the 
 seal of the king s governor, it s not to be talked of, it s so fool- 
 ish." 
 
 " Then what brings you now ? " 
 
 " Ah ! I was telling you. My mother died, your Excellency 
 very suddenly, nobody knows how. I hear that she was poisoned* 
 Senor." 
 
 " From whom do you hear this 1 " 
 
 " That s not necessary to be said. She was poisoned, and 
 have to find out the poisoner and settle with him "here he 
 handled his machete. " It s his blood or mine, your Excellency." 
 
 This was said with significant emphasis, and such a look as 
 showed the Don that he himself was the object of suspicion. 
 
 " But suppose she was poisoned by a woman f 
 
 " Then it s only a little harder upon my conscience, and I must 
 use a smaller knife than this. But what woman, your Excel- 
 lency ?" 
 
 " Nay, I do not know by whom the deed was done. I have * 
 suspicion only." 
 
 " Your Excellency s suspicions are like to be as good as another 
 man s eviden.-e. Was it the woman Sylvia . " 
 
 " No, I think not ; and as I suspect only, I cannot say." 
 
 "The thing mutt be found out, your Excel!. -ncy. I am not tftt 
 
278 VASCONSELOS. _ 
 
 man to let my mother be baited, like a dog we hate, with poison 
 ed beef. Your Excellency will find it necessary to give me help 
 in this discovery. You have not done right by me. You let 
 this woman Sylvia take possession of all m) mother s property." 
 
 " Property ! Why, what property had your mother ? She 
 was a slave !" 
 
 " Yes, by the laws, I know ; but your Excellency knows I 
 don t mind laws, and have my own. Now, 1 have already taker, 
 possession of all my mother s property." 
 
 " The devil you have !" 
 
 " Exactly ; I took possession just an hour ago. I tied up the 
 old hag below " 
 
 " You have not murdered the woman ?" 
 
 " No ! Only tied her up, hand and tongue. You will find 
 her after I am gone rather stiff in her limbs, and feeling the want 
 of her supper, which I have eaten. The goods I have carried ofl 
 already, and the plunder, were worth having, I assure you. There 
 will be fine sights of treasure in the mountains when I get back. 
 
 The knight grew more and more uneasy. The cool insolence 
 of the outlaw was almost intolerable. He looked about him 
 with impatience, and his eyes turned involuntarily to the wah 
 upon which he had hung his sword and dagger. To his surprise 
 they were gone. How had they been taken away 1 It was evi 
 dent that Mateo had been in the chamber already that night, ot 
 some emissary ; and he found himself completely in the powe* 
 of the ruffian. Don Balthazar did not lack for courage ; but tin 
 gigantic frame of his companion discouraged at a glance the mo 
 mentary impulse which he felt suddenly to spring upon am 
 grapple with him ; and he now gazed upon the person whom h 
 feared with an eye of vacancy. Mateo seemed to read hi 
 thoughts. He had followed his glance to where the weapons ha* 
 been wont to hang, and divined his feelings. The outlaw laugher 
 securely, with a bold, honest chuckle of security and triumph. 
 
 v Twont do, your Excellency ; the game s in my hand, 
 could strangle you in a moment, and slit your pipe before y* * 
 could make any music out of it. But that s not what I want 40 
 
THE BARGAIN. 279 
 
 do. I ll not be hard upon you ; that is, if it is not by you that 
 the old woman was poisoned. I don t say twas you, but I 
 have my thoughts. I know you deal in poisons sometimes, and 
 I ve got a trail to some of your secrets. What do you think 
 now of the Senorita, the Lady Olivia? She s a beauty, I know; 
 but what do you think?" 
 
 The knight winced. 
 
 "I certainly think with you. She is a beauty." 
 
 " Ah ! Don Baltha/ar, what a pity it is that you are her uncle, 
 and that your hair is so salty !" 
 
 " Hark ye, Mateo !" said the Hidalgo, suddenly rising to his 
 feet. 
 
 "Sit down," cried the outlaw imperatively, and putting his 
 hand to his knife. "You can talk, and I can hear just as well 
 when both of us >it." 
 
 " Do you think I mean to harm you ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no ! that you can t. I could settle your accounts in a 
 moment; but don t want the trouble of it. I want you to 
 my pardon, I tell you, for I want to be free to come and go where 
 I please. I am sometimes cut off* from a good bull-light and a 
 festa, because of the trouble with the algua/ils." 
 
 " You want a pardon, do you ?" 
 
 " Exactly ; and something more, your Excellency. 1 said that 
 I liked the sort of living at the old estate, and I should like it 
 still if I had no work to do. Now. what I want of you is n..t 
 only to get me a pardon, but to make me ov -r-eer for \\ 
 < of the Senorita." 
 
 " Demonios! What more does your modesty recpiire ?" 
 
 "Very little aHer that." 
 
 " Put the wolf to take eare of the -lu-ep. .1, p 
 
 " Not quite so bad as that, your Excellency. Th, fret i^ 
 can t do a better thing fr the in . It s a good 
 
 rule to set a thief to catch a thief; and the man that won t work 
 is either too la/y or too knowing. Now. your Excellency, it s 
 not because I m la/y that I won t work. I* I m too 
 
 proud; and I m too proud because I m too knowing. I can 
 
280 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 make others work, and I know as well as any man how the work 
 ought to be done. Try me, and you shall see. If you had tried 
 me before instead of putting a blind bull over me, you d have 
 done better, and Pedro Gutierrez would never have had his skull 
 opened suddenly, to his great disgrace showing that he had no 
 brains in the shell. Many a man don t do, and won t do, because 
 the right work is not given him, and the right confidence. Now, 
 do you try me, and you ll see what I can do. Make me your 
 overseer, get my pardon made out with the royal seal, and give 
 my sister to live with me, and you will find Mateo as faithful as 
 a dog. Refuse me, and you keep me the tiger and the outlaw 
 that you have made me." 
 
 Rapid were the thoughts which coursed through the knight s 
 brain. The philosophy of the outlaw began to strike him favor- 
 ably. He reflected " This fellow can be bought. He will do 
 any service in return for these things. He will strike my foe, 
 as coolly as butcher smites ox ; he will obey my finger with 
 out questioning. I leave for Florida. Olivia retires to the ha 
 cienda. There, he is supreme in my absence. Ah ! well ! I 
 see!" 
 
 Then aloud : 
 
 " Ton my soul, Mateo, you are moderate in your wishes. 
 But suppose I comply with them ]" 
 
 " It will be wise !" 
 
 " Perhaps so ! But are you prepared to show your devotion 
 to him who will do for you all this ?" 
 
 " Am I prepared to make a profitable bargain ?" 
 
 " Suppose there be a hateful serpent in my path T* 
 
 " I will put my heel upon his head !" 
 
 " Suppose there be a wolf in my close ?" 
 
 u I will put my knife across his throat !" 
 
 " A mad bull, fierce as El Moro, and as strong ?" 
 
 " Here is the very machete that slew El Moro !" 
 
 " It shall be done ! Fill yourself a cup of wine, and we will 
 speak farther of this matter. We understand each other. It in 
 a bargain between us !" 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " This day 11 ominous, 
 Therefore, come back." 
 
 TKon.ua AHD CHKKDA 
 
 IT will not be difficult to conjecture what were the terms which Don 
 
 Balthazar was prepared to make with the outlaw, or the character 
 of the -ervice- which the latter was to render, by which to se- 
 cr.re the pard>n which he dc-ircd arid (he c.fiicc which he claimed 
 The knight saw. in the appearance of Mateo. the mean- by which 
 to relieve him-e!f from all danger at the hand- .f Philip de Vl* 
 
 consoles. II wa-? one of those person-; who readily adapt the 
 
 tool to their uses which offers itself most readily to their ha 
 and saw. at a iilan-v. in what way the outli w conld promote his 
 purple-. We are not now to be told that he was a man of few 
 iplea when he was eager for his objects; his fears and virtues 
 equally failing to suggest considerations of doubt to a very ductile 
 c.m-ciciiee. Strange to say, the conditions which he demanded 
 f the outlaw, wen- not so readily accepted ly tliis pc: 
 
 rail not without his own rude virtue-. lie had li.-en im- 
 pr.-srd with the kniLdi- and valor of Va had 
 
 with delight hi- wonderful skill in the tournament, and had 
 hailed his Bd< - if he -liai cd in them. I>c-idcs, lie 
 
 aware of the i<.>lation <>f the I ^rtu^in-se cavalier, and well knew 
 the reluctanc,- with which the Spaniards had acknowledged h 
 pi-riority. Mate had ton little of tin- S[>ani-h blood in him to 
 feel with them, and adversely to one whose isolation so much re 
 minded him of his own ; and he pave him his sympathies on this 
 account, as well as because of his valiant b.-arinr. Hut he was 
 a person in a situation which did not suffer him to withstand the 
 tempter; and, though -lowly and reluctantly, he, at length, yield 
 
 (281) 
 
282 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 ed to the temptation. He was bought by the promise of par 
 don, and the hope of reward ; and consented to become the as 
 sassin of the knight of Portugal. That night he confided the 
 whole secret to his sister, Juana, expecting her to be gratified 
 with an arrangement which promised him security and trust, and 
 freedom to herself. But he was confounded to find that she saw 
 the affair in a very different aspect. 
 
 "Don t you believe Don Balthazar, my brother !" said the 
 girl. " lie has some snare for your feet. It was because you 
 had him in your power that he made this bargain with you. He 
 keeps terms with no one ; and I am only afraid that he throws 
 dust in your eyes, while he puts the alguazils upon your foot 
 steps ! Besides, you don t know what a noble gentleman this 
 knight of Portugal is." 
 
 " Don t I, then ! Haven t I seen him with lance and sword ; 
 on horse and foot ; and don t I know how these Spaniards hate and 
 fear him ? Jesu ! It did my heart good to see how he carried him 
 self; how he managed the horse and lance, and made the sword 
 fly, here and there, at every point in the heavens, wherever the 
 enemy attacked. Oh ! but I do know him, and I was very loth 
 to promise to lift knife against his breast !" 
 
 " And why did you do it ?" 
 
 " Demonios ! What was I to do 1 Here was my own pardon 
 offered me, your freedom, and the whole charge of the hacienda. 1 
 
 " You will get none of these ! Don Balthazar means only to 
 betray thee. He wishes, no doubt, to get this knight of Por 
 tugal out of his way; for there are precious reasons, my brother, 
 why he should fear the presence of the Portuguese. Ah ! if thou 
 knew st! But when thou hast done the service, then will he be 
 the first to denounce thee. He is a bit In- traitor. His whole 
 life is a treachery. His heart is full of serpents. He has lied 
 to thee with sweetness, and thou hast tasted of the sweetness 
 till thou dost not feel the poison ! He is a poisoner! Ah! if 
 thou knew st ! Know I not that he keeps many poisons in his 
 closet? Did I not tell thee that our mother died by poison? 
 Whence did it come ?" 
 
ju ANA S SUSPICIONS. 283 
 
 " 1L- .-a\ > ;i woman poisoned her." 
 
 "A woman! lie might ju-t as well liave said that I did it. 
 
 or ilu- I.a-lv Olivia. There was none other to do it; for Sylvia 
 
 rame hither uiily after our muther wa< dead. N>! no! Mateo, 
 
 he was tlie poi-uiier. IK- sure; and thou ha-t .-old thy>e!f to do 
 
 this ha-! man s had work, making the good man thy victim, only 
 
 . on his poison thyself, when thou little dreumVt of Midi 
 
 , r !" 
 
 II i-h up, child! He dare not deceive me! Let him try it ! 
 Let me hut find him at his treachery, and 1 will >lit his throat 
 with a wh 
 
 u Ah! if he *be not too quick for thec. I nothing douht that 
 he will have the ulguazils upon thy step- hcf.nv another day is 
 over." 
 
 " 1 >hall keep mine ryes ahoiit me, girl ; and, hark tliee. 1 >hall 
 
 hide here in these thickets, and thou shalt feed me from the 
 
 house. They will never dream of looking for me here. 1 know 
 
 irs when to steal forth, hut hither will I OOffiB to sleep. 
 
 1 >oM thou hear P 1 
 
 "Yes! It i< hr-t. perhaps. The plan is a good one. Bill 
 thou wilt not kill this knight of Portugal to pleasure this had 
 man 
 
 "It muM. he done! 1 will do as 1 have >aid ; and if Don Bal- 
 tha/.ar. then. do,-> not as he hath -worn to me, I will cut out his 
 lyiiiL r tongue, and hi- >hall see me eat it ere he 43 
 
 \Ve nei d not farther pursue the conference, which ended in an 
 arrangfiMent hy which the outlaw, unknown to any hut .luana, 
 tin-l his nightly refuge, in tin and harhoring places 
 
 hclonging to the ground- of the knight > o\sn dwelling, and lie 
 supplied with food at her hands. He WSU alflO to time carefully 
 his nmm, nt- of >allying forth; and it wa- deemed only a proper 
 . ion that Don Baltha/ar was not to know where lie har 
 bored, -ir he permitted any knowledge of hi- movement-; 
 events, until it was certain that Juana s -u-picioiis were ground- 
 
 This conference took place f tlu- hou-c, and among 
 
284 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 the thick groves by which it was environed. While it was in 
 progress, Don Balthazar contrived *x> find his way into the do 
 main of Sylvia, and five her from her unpleasant bandaging. 
 He affected great surprise at her condition, and gave her no Hues 
 to the secret of it. Nor, while he was present, did she conjee. 
 ture who was the bold rufiian by whom she had been plundered. 
 But scarcely had the knight re-tired, when she received a gleam 
 of intelligence from a simple discovery enough. The bandage 
 about her eyes was a scarf which she had often seen in the j-...s 
 session of Juana--that, or one very much like it. Now, win-n 
 one is disposed to dislike, or suspect, the proofs rapidly accumu 
 late. This discovery, though by no means conclusive since the 
 rufiian might very well have caught up, and made use of, the scarf 
 of the innocent serving-maid yet set the memories and wits ,t % 
 old Sylvia busy. She saw the mystery at a glance. Was not 
 Mateo the brother of Jiiana; was not Mateo an outlaw; and 
 had she not heard that Mateo had been seen in the bull-firht. 
 and that her excellent master ever to be honored had actual! v 
 set certain algua/ils upon his footsteps? Nay, did not Don Bal 
 thazar, only t\vo nights before, give her warning to keep a Hos-e 
 eye upon Juana, for that the outlaw, her brother, was at hand ? 
 And, (), shame to her prudence, had she not been too careless 
 of this counsel ; and was it not for this very incauliuiisness that 
 she had fallen a victim to the robber! Now it was that she 
 remembered the frequent stealthy absences of the girl at night 
 her window open her chamber empty and a hundred other 
 matters; which, in her present keen suspicions, wen- proofs like 
 holy writ confirmations strong not to be gainsayed in any 
 court of justice. 
 
 S)lvia was resolved in her suspicions. They were clear 
 enough as proofs. " And now, 1 mused the sagacious old woman. 
 "how to recover my property how to enjoy my revenge*! I 
 see through the whole aflair. Juana harbors her brother AM 
 Truly, a most excellent notion, that of making the house of the 
 most noble knight, Don Balthazar, the place of renige for thp 
 
SYLV1AV 1 LA.NS. 285 
 
 very outlaw whom he has sent the algua/ils to find! But I will 
 
 o much for them both they sh.-Ul B66l they shall 
 Her plans were soon devised, and the very next, morning, 
 bright nd early, she sallied forth on sonic professedly innocent 
 pretences. We need not foll<.\v her footsteps, but content our 
 selves with reporting, in brief, tin- object of her expedition. It 
 was to seek out the algua/ils the chief of them, rather and lie- 
 stow upjm him the benefit of her discovery . She made an effort 
 to see Don Balthazar, and to enlighten him on the subject; but, 
 to her surprise, he s -eined to have left the hacienda after reliev 
 ing her of her bonds. He did not again, that night, occupy his 
 own chamber; possibly, localise of its assumed insecurity; and 
 during the day following, he did not re-appear. He was busy 
 in the city. 
 
 while, what of Olivia the poor victim, torn by love on 
 the one hand, by a bitter consciousness of wrong and shame on 
 the other; by passions which she could not control, by t 
 which she dared not name; by vague, vain hopes, which fluc 
 tuated in a sort of shadowy existence in her soul, keeping her 
 restless, dreaming of povsibilities, and the most mocking fai 
 which left her, half the time, in the greatest uncertainty of reason! 
 HIT health seemed to improve, however, and, though pale and 
 sad as ever, then- were symptoms of better spirits ami a gr 
 chei-rfulne-v I.ove itself was her only stimulant, while it was 
 al-o one of her ino-t dNturbim: griefs. The image of Philip de 
 
 YT present to her imagination, comir, 
 
 clothed with promise. The more -he ivtleeted upon the p: 
 bility of his addressing her. the more she iM-iran to doubt of her 
 own strength to say him nay. lint, even then, her eon-denee 
 smote her with the criminality of consent; and she would thus 
 sink back into hopeleasoeM and sorrow. Hut why VTM i that 
 he came not? To this inquiry, which again suggested a painful 
 doubt of her conquest painful still, though she had resolved to 
 ct his suit her lively friend. Leonora de Tobar. bn-u-ht a 
 sutlicicntly explanatory answer. He was close in attendance 
 upon, and anxious for the -at.iy of, his sick brother. Now, how 
 
28(j VASCONSELOS. 
 
 <;ver, that Andres was out of danger, Olivia might look to see 
 him soon. She spent that morning with the unhappy damsel, 
 and her lively prattle alternately cheered and depressed her. 
 When --he was gone, Olivia made her toilet with more than 
 usual rare. Why ? The words of Leonora assured her that she 
 might surely look for Don Philip s coining soon that very day 
 perhaps ; and it was with an interest which the poor girl dared 
 not acknowledge to herself, that she arrayed her charms, to the 
 best possible advantage ; and gazed with a sorrowful sort of sat 
 isfaction into the mirror which reflected them to her eyes. Then 
 she sighed, with the sudden rush of her fancies from the seat of 
 conscience, rebuked by the stern judgment of that sacred mon 
 itor. 
 
 "Wherefore," she murmured to herself; "wherefore this 
 beauty this solicitude to appear beautiful in his eyes ? Alas ! 
 my soul, I cannot do him this great dishonor. I can never 
 doom his noble heart to such infamy as embrace of me will 
 bring !" 
 
 She sank away from the mirror she threw herself upon her 
 coueh, and buried her face within her hands. The next moment 
 the girl, Juana. was ga/ing upon her with a look of sympathizing 
 nte. vst, which touched her soul. The girl looked into the cham 
 ber only to disappear. 
 
 " Mtulre <le Diosf" Olivia murmured to herself: "Can it be 
 that she knows that she suspects ?" 
 
 And with the doubt, the apprehension grew to terror. 
 
 " 1 am at the rnercy, O! Heavens, of the meanest slave !" 
 
 Tin; fear was followed by an agonizing burst of grief! The 
 day was one of perpetual doubts and apprehensions. But it 
 pa-<ed away without events. Vasconselos did not appear, as 
 L"nora had conjectured, and as Olivia had hoped and feared ! 
 Her doubt* and fears grew strengthened. If her secret was in 
 the possession of the slave, Juana, it was a secret no longer! 
 That it should have reached the ears of Philip, was her new 
 terror ! It pro-t rated her for awhile ! Half the night was passed 
 in tears and terrors, which were so many agonies. She could 
 
OUTLAW S HIDING PLACE. 287 
 
 oear his loss she could be content to give him up forever but 
 th;it he should know her shame ; that his noble soul should be 
 come conscious of the deadly stain upon hers that she could 
 never hear, and live! She prayed for death. In her secret 
 thought Arose a vague feeling, which brought, and commended 
 to her, the fatal poison, with which, unwittingly, her hand had 
 red death upon Anita. Were, there not other drops of 
 silence, and sleep, and safety in that fatal phial ? Where was it 1 
 She would look for it ! She would find it, and at the worst, she 
 would sleep; and all these terrible agonies of thought would 
 have an end ! In the deep stillness of the midnight hour, the 
 unhappy damsel resolved on suicide. But there were other 
 drops of bitterness in her cup of misery, which she was yet to 
 drink to the dregs. Let us not anticipate, but follow the fortunes 
 of other persons of our drama. 
 
 Sylvia had made her way to the alguazils, and had put them 
 in possession of all the clues which she had procured, leading to 
 the pathways and hiding-places of the outlaw, Mateo. Once 
 roused to suspicion. >he had found numerous reasons t*.r con 
 firming her in her conjectures. She noted all the outgoii 
 Juana. She watched her with lecrecy, and comparative su 
 and though she did not see Mateo. >he yet arrived at a \vr\ 
 -hre\\d notion of the thickets in which he might be found. The 
 haiienda which Don Baltha/ar and his niece occupied, though 
 smaller than the .->tatc which he cultivated tr her. was \ 
 of considerable ran^c in Lrr<>ve and forc-t. It had numerous dim 
 avenues of shade and silence. There were military walks which 
 frequented. Th-Te w.-re hollows aiming the wooded hills 
 which might have harbored a hermit. It seems that M . > 
 knew the place. He possessed hi m-cif >f i; - \ ari< us h;umt> ; 
 :uid. but for the too eager de-ire of .luana to seek him out, and 
 be with him when there was no necessity for it, the old \\ 
 would probably neve- hi .! his propinquity. Had th* 
 
 girl been content to seek him only at night, and t> carry him 
 food but once in the twenty-four hours, and then und. 
 the darknesa, he had been safe. But the girl loved h-r kn 
 
mil was very proud of his prowess. Besides, alter the death of 
 Anita, she needed the solace of association with the only kinsinau 
 left her. She gratified this desire, and sought to gratify him, 
 twenty times a day, perhaps ; stealing forth with fruits and deli 
 cacies, with nice morsels from the kitchen, and with an occa ion.il 
 vine-flask, or the remains of one, whenever she could appropri 
 ate it with impunity. But the eye of Sylvia was upon her ; and 
 she noted the direction taken by the footsteps of the girl. It was 
 surprising with what correctness she conjectured the harboring 
 places of the fugitive, from these observations, and lu-r own 
 knowledge of the grounds. She put all her clues into the keep 
 ing of the alguazils-. The result was, that before sunset, some 
 half do/en of them were quietly skirting the hacienda, divided 
 into two parties, and gradually contracting their circuits about 
 the suspected place of refuge. 
 
 Mateo, meanwhile, never dreamed of danger from this source. 
 It is true that Juana had her doubts of the good faith of Don 
 Baltha/ar, and labored to inspire him with similar doubts. In 
 some degree she succeeded, so as in fact to make him circum 
 spect as possible. But the great gain of security, of freedom, 
 and high trust, which the Hidalgo had promised, were considera 
 tions quite too grateful and tempting not to prevail in the argu 
 ment addressed to the confidence of the outlaw; who, besides, 
 seemed to understand very well why the uncle of Olivia should 
 desire to get Don Philip de Yasconsclos removed from the path. 
 
 It was not with any satisfaction that Mateo contemplated the 
 
 luty assigned him. lie would rather have killed any two other 
 ;iicp in Havana than this one Portuguese. But, as he said, 
 k What am I to do? I can t be a fugitive always, flying for safe- 
 >\ ; aii<! to be my own master is a great deal to one who don t 
 like to work ; and to rrt into a snug ofl n-e. when- I can compel 
 .ithei-s to do the thing \\hieh 1 don t, like to do mvseU , is eeruiinly 
 
 \e-\ |. !-:i-. u:t IV-id. -. it I d>u t tak- ih" 1 ort H^u- -sc. in hand, 
 :i Ualth-j/ar will only employ som-b^h , ! :, II 
 
 , , will no! do it half BO \\vll . v, ho \\ill botch the 
 
 si.o vsil! give the g Mjd knight tiiinccefce au-l p<rhap* 
 
riiiui- s VIMT. 
 
 p him lin.urrin.LT. Now / will dNpatch him at a blow. It is 
 but a stroke over tin- xhoiiMcrs. and j,,. j s ,. au .r|, t U[ , j, v ,J M . 
 
 ir 1 yoiiiiir man, and in a very proper >tate 
 
 to die! It must IK- done and shall In-! lint let Don P.altha/ar 
 beware how he play, me f ; ,ls<-. If I have one death for Don 
 Philip, whom I rather love. I have a do/en deaths for him whom 
 I hate; and he shall taste them all if he tries to make a fool of 
 me " 
 
 In this state of mind was he mu-iiii:, while tin- alirua/.ils were 
 skirting his hiding-place; which happened, at this moment, to be 
 on the verife of the hacienda, the point ii -aivst the city. Here 
 the thicket was most dense; without pathways or avenm - 
 ccpt such as nature had left in a very tan-led piece 
 portions of which were clothed in a mass of brush and vin- 
 almo.xt loorlosrly for the prOgTCffl of a wild cat or fox, l>ut thr- 
 which Mateo fancied lie eoidd burrow with tolerable ease, ftgSJ 
 by a f. -w Itrokefl of his i ri, ( . ,.,, pathway from 
 
 the city to the hacienda ran al-.n- thr mar-in of this thicket, and was 
 skirted by >..m- very lofly IP 
 
 It happened that Pliiiip <!, i,,s had taken this ver. 
 
 evenin- f. visit the damsel \\h..m hK admirin- fancies had c!i 
 as tlir ()iKcn of the tournament. The duty would have i 
 
 lone before, but for her indi>po>ition. the reports of which, 
 a! r " :l(1 . ll:l(1 \"y contradictory. Philip, thou-h Aiudoas, 
 
 ;Ul(1 llnu l "|"-t ul. Wl BUerOOS, whatc\.-r his anxiety, 
 
 to appear before her while xl, r sulTeivd. He had learned that 
 day. bOWever, from Nun., de Tobar. that ihfl IfM at Irn-rth well 
 
 ( " ( " ; ! ( l ! li.-id choaen ihe mo-t ddi, 
 
 of thrhouixof the day. in that clime and BettOO, to appro.-,,-!, her 
 will, his conirralulations. i,;, |] 1;m Us, :m ,l p<,^il,ly with the | 
 
 mpnlhy. far he^nd any Ihin- implied by !].. i,, 
 
 :llltl dmlwtkml The purpose, n.-t uhoiiy de,-i,ied 
 
 for Hie truly chlvalpOM are ftlwayi timid in an alV.-.ir of th- 
 
 flections of offering i.e.- hi. i.an.i. a i..l impio,- - hl( . 
 
 impuNr in hi, bosom. It would be id!, 
 
 hat he did not hojH.. and 1: 
 13 
 
290 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 the modesty of his character could not be deceived on a subject 
 on which the common voice of society allowed no doubts, and he 
 was resolved to bring his own doubts, if any, to a close, as soon 
 as possible, and terminate a condition ol suspense which had 
 many vexations. But, whether he should address Olivia that 
 evening or not, was to depend upon his reception, her health, and 
 other circumstances which need not be mentioned. Enough, 
 that he is at last on his way to her hacienda. 
 
 He had just entered upon the estate, and, with slow step, and 
 musing spirit, was penetrating the avenue of great trees which 
 led to the dwelling, when he was startled from a pleasant reverj. 
 by a sudden outcry from the depths of the thicket on his right. 
 There were clamors, as of threatened violence; the shouts of man 
 to man ; a rushing and crackling among the shrubs and branches 
 of the wood, followed by a fierce, wild, savage oath or two, 
 which came very distinctly to his ears, and which declared for 
 angry passions ready to do mischief. The sun had set. The in 
 terval of twilight is brief in that region. A sudden glory suffuscS* 
 the sky, as the groat eye of day is about to close ; the glory 
 disappears, a faint misty light lingers in the sky, which gradually 
 deepens into dusk. Such was the hour. The dusk was nearly 
 darkness in the wood ; and, for a moment, Don Philip could 
 see nothing, though he impulsively took a few steps into the 
 thicket in order to trace the secret of the outcry. He was not 
 left long in doubt. Suddenly, a gigantic figure, that seemed to rise 
 from the earth where he had fallen, bounded close beside him. 
 He was followed by three others, who now rushed out of the 
 wood and made after the fugitive, armed with -wonlsand knives. 
 They were close upon his heels, and he turned about to confront 
 them. Three upon one ! The struii.u le was too unequal. The 
 chivalry of Don Philip was aroused as he beheld. With the natu 
 ral impulse of a brave man, sympathizing with the weak, he 
 drew his sword, and threw himself in the way of the pursuers j 
 the outlaw, for it was he. being some twenty steps in advance. 
 
 " Stand aside !" cried one of the alguazils, who seemed to be 
 the leader : " we are officers of justice." 
 
mi: iTKsrrr. 291 
 
 " I know not that: " was the answer. " Where is your warrant? 
 Let nic B66 your authority." 
 
 \, nun- for that now! We are under the authority of Don 
 
 Haltha/ar ilc Alvaro, and these are his grounds. We are to anv-t 
 yonder outlaw." 
 
 "Ha 1 II:i II;i " was the fierce ehl ickle of tile outlaw, who, 
 taking advantage of the diversion in his favor, had sheltered himself 
 among the trees, hut who did not serin disposed to tly much farther. 
 He had obtained a momentary respite, which, probably, was all that 
 
 waf non necessary to his safety. 
 
 "Ha! Ha! Ha! ft nd Don Baltha/ar himself tome, and we shall 
 
 see who is the outlaw! 
 
 Don Philip heard the words distinctly. 
 
 "AVho is the man?" he asked. 
 
 <<>. the outlaw, the fugitive, the murderer. Beware, Sefior, 
 how you arre<t the i.flirnx of pi-tiee. and help the escape of the 
 criminal I know you, Don Philip de Vasconselos; you will havrt.. 
 r for it if you delay US." 
 
 " If \ on ki.ow me, you know than I cannot stand liy and see three 
 men oppo-ed to one. Show me your authority for taking this man, 
 before you pasx me. The penalty be upon my head ! " 
 
 It is probable that the algua/.ils would ha\e attempted to beat the 
 kniiiht out of their path, but kniirlitliood had its />,;*?;>/, . ,-md thev 
 Well remembered the potent weapon of the I ortllil UeM-. The ollicer 
 remonstrated. 
 
 Y..II cannot read the paper." he said, " by this liirLt. But it is 
 here. I.et ii- pa--, or there will he trouble." 
 
 them pa.--. Sefior," died the fugitive. * Thej will have 
 Heeler lei> than SpanNh Al^ua/il - usually carry, if thev hope to over 
 take Mateo; and better skill and courage than usual, if they conquer 
 \\hentheyovertake: Come on, rax-als. that I may carry you with 
 me to the devil." 
 
 "nlidence with which the outlaw spoke determined Philip 
 to i.ppi.-e the officers no farther. He probably saw that it 
 \\ould be prudent only to forbear a quarrel with the public 
 authorities knowing, as he did, how doubtful wen his own 
 
292 
 
 lations \\ith the Adel&ntado, and how small his popularity witfc 
 the Spaniards at large. 
 
 " You are right," said he to the officers ; " I have nothing to 
 do with this business !" and he turned aside, and put up his 
 weapon. The alguazils started again in pursuit. A shrill whis 
 tie <ouuied from the opposite quarter. It was the signal of the 
 other part) in search of the fugitive. The outlaw was U-i \\vi-n 
 two squads of enemies, and he bounded away to the e<vrt. both 
 parties after him. For several minutes, Don Philip listened U 
 their outcries, as they severally crashed their way into the 
 thickets. Tie half regretted that he had not still farther delayed 
 the chase after the bold outlaw. In a little while the sound* 
 n-ascd. "Hi.- algua/ils were at fault, bewildered in the wood ; 
 and the fugitive laughed at them securely in its deep recesses. 
 But, of this escape, Philip knew not at the moment. He re 
 sumed his progress towards the dwelling, his mood having be 
 come somewhat sterner by the momentary excitement. Hardly 
 had he advanced a dozen steps, however, wher V encountered 
 the girl, Juana, wringing her hands, and showing many signs of 
 terror. 
 
 "Who is this? 
 
 t; f)li! Senor Don Philip, how I thank you! You have saved 
 my pr.<>r brother. The; will give him to the garote vil, if the) 
 take him; and it is I who have betrayed him." 
 
 " You ! Are you not the girl, Juana, belonging to Don Baltha 
 zar de AlvaroT 
 
 " Oh ! not to him, but to the poor young lady, the Sefiorita 
 Olivia?" 
 
 "And he is yout brother? And why do they pursue him 7 
 What has he done?" 
 
 "Oh! nothing in the world, 8efior j nothing in the world ; only 
 he is too good to do work at the hacienda. They charge him with 
 murder and other things. But it is not true, II> is the bot per 
 son in the world. Senor, and the best brother, and he killed the 
 great bull, El Moro ; and would be as good a Christian as Father 
 Paul himself if they d only let him have his own way." 
 
Till] YI>IT IM.x/rpONED. 293 
 
 Tlit- knight smiled at the moderate conditions which were required 
 for Manteo .s Christianity. 
 
 " Certainly, Juana, they are very unreasonable with your bro 
 ther." 
 
 11 Oh! 1 knew you d think so, Sefior. He is only too good for the 
 like of them. He is the ln-<t brother in all Cuba." 
 
 Well. you are a good girl for believing tlius of your brother. 
 But how is your lady how is the Senorita de Alvaro? I was just 
 g to visit Ii- 
 
 "Ah: "said the girl quickly "But you can t see her thi- 
 ing. She is nut well, and she bade me leave her, and that s Un 
 reason that you see me here. I stole otY. as the S.-norita retired 
 only U) BO and talk with Mateo, and the algua/ils may the 
 Devils burn them in pitch and sulphur: they followed after me 
 and I led them to the very place where lie was sleeping. Oh! they 
 had BO nearly cauirht him; and if they had. and they had put him 
 I" the- I would have drowned myself in the sea. forever and 
 
 fon\ 
 
 The visit of Philip de V.-^.-.-n-i-los was arrested by the intelli 
 
 gence which Juana gave him of her lady; but the girl d> 
 
 him. Oli\ia had not retired: and we may add that she really 
 
 d the cavalier. She had been taught to look for him by 
 
 mil. .us assurances of Leonora de Tobar. who had gathered 
 
 from her husband s report that Don Philip would surely come 
 
 that night. And. but for this interruption, how might the events 
 
 of this truthful history have been altered whether for good or 
 
 evil we do not pn-tend t<> Mjr, Hut altered they must have 
 
 In-en. Don Philip might have made the visit in vain; In 
 
 have Ix-cn denied; probably would have hem; though it is diffl. 
 
 cult to s tv. The task of denial would have been a hard one to 
 
 r damsel. l,,ving him U she did; and reluctant BStheWM 
 
 >.v nay to the pleadings of her own p 
 
 I than his. she had divx,,-l her^lf f,, r Philipshe had 
 l"en M.licitous of ch.-mns wlncli. perhaps, needed little help from 
 art or ornament for con. n:< , ! had adorned herself richly 
 
 with her jeueU; Would ifcfl luivi: had the firmness the virtue 
 
294 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 to refuse the prayer of one whom she was yet so anxious to 
 please ? It is probable that Don Balthazar knew her weaknesses 
 better than she did herself. At all events, the lie of the girl, 
 Juana, told with no malignant purpose, but simply to prevent the 
 discovery of her unlicensed absence by her mistress, changed, 
 very completely, the whole current of our history changed the 
 fortunes of Don Philip, no less than those of the lady of his 
 love. Not that he did not again seek her but this must bo a 
 matter for future revelation. Philip de Vasconselos turned away 
 from Juana, and from the hacienda, and with a parting word of 
 kindness to the girl, slowly took his route back to his lonely 
 lodgings. 
 
 " Praise the Holy Virgin that he is gone ! and the Saints be all 
 praised because he came. If he had not come between these 
 cursed alguazils, they would have been, all of them, upon poor 
 Mateo. They can hardly take him now, it is so dark, and he 
 <nows the thickets so well. He will escape. He is safe. I 
 lon t hear them now. Oh ! I am so glad that the good knight of 
 Portugal came! And Matco wanted to kill him, and all to 
 please that great cayman, my master. But he shan t touch him 
 now. If he s to kill anybody, I know who it shall be. It shan t 
 be the good Don Philip, I know. He is a good knight. I love 
 him. And my fady loves him too, better than all things in this 
 world. But if he knew ! If he only knew what I know ! But 
 he shall never know for me ! And if he marries her I sha 1 be 
 BO glad." 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Now help ye charming upell* and penapU. 
 And ye choice spirits that udmonisli m- ( 
 And give me ugn* of future accident*." 
 
 DAY passed, night came and went, with all her train of thought 
 fill stars, and the hours grew more and more sad to Olivia de 
 A Ivaro, in the solitude of her chamber. The sense of pain and 
 apprehension increased to absolute terror, as it b.vam 
 tain that she was not to see Don Philip that night. She sate be 
 side the verandah In-low stairs till a very late hour; and ()! the 
 hopeleamew and woe of that sick sutlcring soul, left to it> own 
 miserable musings, ami StruggHngagainsI itsown terribleconsi ions 
 Vouth ha- wonderful resources against every evil but the 
 sen-e of shame. Beauty maintains a glorious elasticity in its ,.\vr; 
 168 of hope, provided you do not crush it with a doubt of its 
 own purity. Hut if this doubt be present, it hangs above the 
 heart with all the threatening terrors of the thunder-cloud. You 
 dare not trust the sunshine. You cannot confide to the bree/e. 
 The whi>|>ers of the grove seem to repeat the secret of your 
 fears. The stars seem mournful witnes-,,^ against vou. and sou 
 dread le-t the fierce glances of the noonday sun will suddenly 
 penetrate your privnii-hou-e. and lay bare to the world IN dread 
 ful myst -ries. Shame is a haunting spectre that will down at n- 
 maif> bidding. It is thus terrible to man; but to woman. 
 yoiniL . beautiful, pure in spirit, and hopeful still, in the ^<^ 
 
 roils pa ions and loving sympathies. ] t j^ t ], ( . ( ],. mo n that 
 implies all horrors^ |, ;l -t and future; that mars all felicity 
 voice of doom, and threatens every breath of hop.- and 
 with the tortures of eternal sorrow. The soul thus haunt 
 not well be said to live. It onj< .y s n .thing. It distrusts all plea* 
 
VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 friendships, loves, associations. The eyes that look upon 
 * ,em spies, the voices that address it seem accusers. The very 
 ^ssions and sympathies, thus overshadowed, grow to scorpions, 
 ha* fasten upon the being in whose heart they harbor. To 
 USfiOrP.^e the sorrows of such a being, in detail, would be impos 
 sible. Tills would be to analyze every emotion, thought, fancy ; 
 and to discern the self-suggested doubt and apprehension which 
 the mind continually conjures up for its own agony. If, from 
 ?-jch a knowledge of her situation as we have been enabled to give, 
 *he reader cannot conceive of the miserable melancholy of Oliv 
 ia s mood, nothing now may be said more fully to enlighten him. 
 There are some agencies which are indescribable; beyond which 
 we may not go beyond which we may not see over which the 
 curtain drops of itself, and which we thence only venture to con 
 template through means of conjectures, which still, for the sake 
 of humanity, imply uncertainty. We give to the sufferer the 
 benefit of the doubt, and in some degree feel a relief from having 
 done so. It is a relief not to believe too much. We prefer to 
 suppose that the victim has some alternative " <) which to escape 
 from a situation the agonies of which are co exquisite for en 
 durance. 
 
 How, ir svhat gloomy wakefulness, and torturing thought, 
 Olivia passed the night, we shall not pretend to describe. Nature 
 it last, in her utter exhaustion, compelled thought to silence. She 
 slept, but not till a very late hour. It was midnight when Don 
 dolUiazar readied home. She heard him enter the house, and 
 iin n u < 1 lately proc? 3dcJ to assure herself that her door was fa&- 
 t^iied. The secret door leading to her chamber, of which she only 
 inertly had knowledge, she also contrived to provide against by 
 a heavy piece of furniture, which promised to render it unavail 
 able to the intruder. This done, the eyes of the damel grew 
 weary, and after a sobbing prayer, she soon sank to slumber. She 
 slept late the next day, and was awakened by .Tuana tapping at 
 the entrance. Don Balthazar had already departed f<>r the city, 
 and Olivia felt relieved at the intelligence. She took a light 
 breakfast but was oppressed by heaviness after it. Her evet 
 
JUANA S REVELATION S. 297 
 
 rlrooped, and her <pirits. She looked about her, made efforts to 
 shake oil" the feeling, which slie ascribed to her previous wakeful- 
 
 i:ul bu-tlcd accordingly abo:;t her chamber. Hut the feel- 
 ing iner-a-ed. She remarked with surprise that the beaufet, in 
 whieh she kept certain little delicaeirs.sweetm i. bon-bons, 
 
 r trifles of like >ort, was unia-tciied She had - 
 
 IK: believed, the night In-fore, and as shr had always been 
 tul to do so, she wa< annoyed by the eiieum- 
 s^anee. It flashed across her mind that someone mu>t have visited 
 lier ehamber while >he slept. Hut it was evident that th- 
 
 ..ull not be pi-n-trat l from without, fastened a- it was by a 
 massive piece "f furniture, and the ordinary entrance- had not 
 been disturbed. She was compelled to dismi-s the suspicion, 
 which, muld -he hav Ined, might have led her to another 
 
 >f aeeoiintin_j for lu-r d: . This increased as the 
 
 day proeeed ( -d. She wa<. however. >mewhat kept alive bv the 
 unwonted fr -dom of .luana s communications. Hither- 
 had kept the u i I at a distance; holding her to be an object of as 
 much -uspieion a- her mother, Anita. But of late, and -ince the 
 advent of the hateful Sylvia. Juann had been mo: i m her 
 
 eitous to serve her. and had shown her 
 sympathy on several occasion-:, when sympathy from the hnm- 
 
 gp^eful to the torii and suffering 
 
 heart of the unhappy damsel. .Jnaiia s own heart was too fuli 
 
 wow. any l..nu r er to keep the BOCrel of her brotlu-r. She told the 
 
 . of his presence in Havana, his discovery, the }>ur 
 
 d by \\\ .f the law. at the i 
 
 .iltha/ar. and his lucky 6 Hut she said, not a syllable 
 
 of the interposition of Don Philip de \ log. Her eon. 
 
 i:.iu:ications ,li,l not re-t here. She told most of the particulars 
 of the inidni-r-U OOntl Doc l.altha/ar anl th 
 
 !e of free 
 M.m for hiniM-i! . and the iViire management 
 
 criminal con.lition by which the outlaw 
 
 lied, the stream of rev 
 
 elation wits Miib -.-ken until the whole foiiMt.-iiu was omotiJ Hut 
 
293 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 .here was another reservation which the girl made. She did not 
 say who was the victim whom the hate of Don Balthazar required 
 the outlaw to assassinate. In reply to the eager and apprehensive 
 inquiry of Olivia, she professed not to know. But Olivia knew. 
 Her instincts readily divined the secret, as she, better than any 
 body else, knew well what were her uncle s necessities and danger, 
 and how naturally he regarded Philip de Vasconselos as his worst 
 enemy. 
 
 " Holy Maria !" murmured the poor girl to herself: "Will 
 he murder him because he hath destroyed his hope as well as 
 mine ! Oh ! surely, I must do something here !" 
 
 Then aloud, to Juana, she said 
 
 " But your brother will never do this horrid deed, Juana ?" 
 
 "No! no! Senorita; not now, I m thinking. Tie might have 
 done it yesterday, perhaps ; but now. when lie finds that Don 
 Baltha/ar keeps no faith with hiiri, and puts the alguazils at his 
 baek, just as he has made a solemn bargain with him before the 
 angels, Mateo will never trust him, or work for him in any 
 way." 
 
 " Hear me, Juana! I will give Mateo and yourself freedom. 
 It is to me you belong " 
 
 " Yes, Senorita, to be sure ; but you are not of age ^et, you 
 know, and your uncle is your guardian till then ; and he " 
 
 " I know all that, Juana; but do you and your brother serve 
 me. faithfully do all that I shall require in the meantime, and I* 
 will provide that you shall both have your freedom as soon as I 
 am of legal age. Meanwhile, 1 will see the Lady Isabella, who 
 is very kind to me, and through ho) 1 1 will get Mateo s pardon 
 for the erimes of which he, has been guilty." 
 
 " Oh ! will you, dear Senorita, my most dear Senorita? But 
 what do you want us to do?" 
 
 " I will tell you hereafter. At present I hardly know myself. 
 I must think. I see that there is something to be done, but now, 
 I scarcely know what, My head feels very e<nt u-ed, and I am 
 so drowsy. I slept but little last night. I shall think of every 
 thing during the day. Meanwhile, do you contrive to see your 
 
A (JTOTHJEB 1:1 l> W)B M LTEO, 
 
 brother, and tell him what I have said. Tell him, above all 
 things, not to lift hand or weapon airainst Don Philip 
 
 IJut I didn t say twas Don Philip. Senorita." 
 
 N . ::: rl I know! It can be no other. If he hurts one 
 hair of Don Philip s head. I will have him hunted up in the 
 mountains by all the troops of the Adelantado. ;md I will never 
 sleep till they brini? him to th- Now, warn him. 
 
 Lei him l>e faithful to me. and I will make you both free. 
 him soon. Go now. Hasten! Find him. Do not .rest till 
 you tell him all. But whisper not a word of this to any other 
 living >oul." 
 
 Juana did not need a second command to depart in search of 
 her brother. Her absence was noted by Sylvia, who was furious 
 at the escape of Mateo from the aliiua/.ils. She was soon upon 
 the track of the ser\ in- --irirl. who-e -uperior ability, however, ena 
 bled her finally to elude the pursuit of the old woman. Meanwhile, 
 Olivia had a vi-itor in the i:ay youn.u r wife of Nuno dc Tohar. 
 who found her sinkin.ir b.-tck into that Male of languor and apathy 
 from which the communication of Juana had momentarily arou-ed 
 her. Her ener^ie^ had ri-en. with the temporary excitement, 
 to Mibside as suddenly; and the lively prattle of Leonora Deemed 
 to be wasted entirely upon the ears to \\hich it wa> addre d. 
 The -ax youiiLT woman came in with a bound, full of anticipations 
 in re-peet to her youn;j.- h< t 
 
 Well, my child." said -he, " it i !. [ guppot 
 
 " What i- >ettled. Leon. 
 
 Why. that you are to lie the bride of Don Philip." 
 
 h i- Billed only that I am /,/ to be the bride ot D..n 
 Philip " \\a- the suil reply. 
 
 What 1 Olivia, you ha\e not been s., fooli-li a> to 
 him? You who really love hi:i 
 
 He ha- not -iveii me the opportunity . ! 
 
 Ib.U l.Ul he ha- been ! 
 
 U it pOMfbtel Well, that i- \erv -iran-e 1 I -ot from Nuno 
 thai he \\a- min.li/ 1 . . 
 
SOO VASCONSELOS. 
 
 "He did not come!" was the answer, in sad tones. 
 
 "That is certainly very curious. lie told Nuno that he would 
 visit you in the evening. That was yesterday morning. Nuno 
 spent the morning with him, and said he wiis in the greate.sj 
 spirits ; that he du. nothing but talk of you, and of your beauty 
 and sweetness, and graee and innoeenee !" 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Olivia, with a sudden flushing of tne cheek, 
 while she pressed her hand upon her side as if in pain. 
 
 " What \3 the matter ] Are you sick ?" 
 
 " A sudden pain !" 
 
 " You have these sudden pains too frequently. You keep too 
 much at home. Home always fills me with pains. It don t 
 agree with the health of any young woman not to go frequent ly 
 abroad, where she can sec and be seen. That s what 1 tell Xnno 
 when he wants to quarrel with me for going out so much. 
 Though, in truth, I do not go out so very often. I visit nobody 
 but you, and the Lady Isabella, and Donna Vicente de Ladrone, 
 and the Senoritas Guzman, and dear little Maria de Lcvoine, 
 and Theresa Moreno, and a few others. But I tell Nuno that it 
 is not for the love of it that I visit. ; it is only for my health. I 
 should have just those sort of pains that trouble you, if I did not 
 show myself everywhere every day; and I tell Nui-o I am not 
 going to make myself sick by minding what he says. Oh ! he s 
 like all other men. and would be nothing le>s than a tyrant if 
 IM let him. And do you be warned in time. When you marry 
 Don Philip take your position firmly at the out-et ; and SdUte 
 the first opportunity of putting your foot down so and saying, 
 "Twont do, Don Philip ! You are quite mistaken in your wo 
 man. 1 am my own mi-ire-^. Don Philip, and if ym wciv a 
 ..-nth-man, and a gallant, 1 should be yours also! That s 
 \\hat \ou muM. >a\ an- 1 do. Olivia, if you d be a five- woman 
 and a ruling, happ\ wife. It s the only way!" 
 
 And *hr. stamped \vry prettily, with a properly graceful eni- 
 . with hT pretty little 1. ft tl-ot.aiid tos>ed her tresses with 
 the air of a sullana. But Olivia only smiled sadly in reply, and 
 shook her head. 
 
1IUW Tn MAKi: \N UFFEK. llul 
 
 "Oh! don t shake y>ur head M pathetically. Ymi an- troub 
 led with the blues only, and \\ill PBCOVei as soon a- Don Philip 
 c-i.iuo -inging Will you, will you won t you, Olivia? And 
 he will < Mire you. I only wonder, after what h- .-aid 
 
 rday, that In- was not hen- last evening. He will be - 
 to conic this, so take care and ur toilet. Put on your 
 
 be-t smiles, and be sure to wear your pearK they an- to becom 
 ing to you. oh: when h. < Florida he will send you 
 bushels of them. Nuno promises me any quantity; and what 
 do you think. Olive? he tell- me that, in that country, the Apa- 
 latchies rai-e them from the seed. Think of that. I can hardly 
 Ix lieve him. Only think of planting your garden with seed- 
 pearl, and raising them in any quantity and si/e. He -ays that 
 they can be grown larger than the largest fowl egi;. only by 
 manuring them with star-dust. Hut what i-> slar-du-t? He 
 wouldn t tell }\\r that. Only said there ww a plenty of it b 
 had in every country, and more in Cuba than any other." 
 
 :! this Olivia had to smile only, hut in such a sort did she 
 smile, that even the lively visitor was somewhat chilled by it." 
 
 "Oh do!" -aid she, "Olivia, shaki- oil the-r gloomy tit<. I 
 tell you he //// c,.me, and will he at your feet within twenty-four 
 hours; and you will pout, and hesitate, and tremble and say 
 nothing. Then he will take your hand and he will carry it to 
 hi- lips, and you will tremble more than ever; but you will 
 never think to draw your hand away, which N a thin:: 
 done that it does not -eeiu worth while to do it; and then he 
 will HM- and seat him-elf be-ide you on the Mtt66, and with 
 hand holding yours he will put the other about your waist, and 
 suddenly he will mi-take your mouth for the hand he ha- IM-CH 
 ki in-, ami he \\ill ki that; and after he has gone So 
 will -er th;it there i- M - ii - in refu-iiig him the u-r ot tin- 
 thin::- that he kiio\\- |Q \\dl what to d< \\ith." 
 
 I )o noi -p ak ot it. I do not think that 
 I>MII Philip cares for me. ;md I a.s-uiv you \se -hall 
 man 
 
 I knou g mustn t ivfuae Don J hii 
 
302 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 any account. He will take you out of the custody of your uu- 
 cle, who is only a sort of great Moorish bull, such as fought the 
 other Jay in the ring; and a monstrous pretty fight he made, 
 indeed ! If I could see Don Balthazar fighting in the same man 
 ner, till he was killed, and dead outright, and lying sprawling in 
 red blood, and with his neck and shoulder stuck full of bandcrillas, 
 [ think I should like him a great deal better. But now I don t 
 like him at all. Here he keeps you no better than a prisoner. 
 In fact, Olivia, 1 half suspect he likes you better, as a woman, 
 than as a niece, and would rather not see you married to any 
 body." 
 
 Olivia started at this random shaft, ; rose from the setter ; and 
 with staring eye and flushed cheek, gazed her answer ; vague, 
 wild, utterly unmeaning, as it seemed, to the remark of Leonora. 
 
 " What ! dear child, another of those cruel pains ? I must 
 *end you some famous drops I have. Sit down again ! Lie down, 
 Olive, dear. 1 can speak to you just as well when you lie as 
 when you sit. There, rest yourself for awhile. Poor, dear 
 creature, how your check pales and flushes, in an instant, and 
 what an odd look you have in your eyes ! You must take some 
 of my drops, and take more exercise, and take advice, Olive, and 
 what s more and better, take Don Philip. Oh ! he will cure you 
 of all these infirmities. That s the good of a husband ! Now 
 don t be looking so woeful and low-spirited. Positively, there 
 are big tears in your eyes ! What have I been saying to make 
 you so sad? I m sure I meant to 1m very lively and very good- 
 natured, and to tell you only sua things as would please you. 
 By the way, something odd of your Don Philip. You must 
 know that hi- has the most eccentric tastes in the world. What 
 do you think ? lie gave Xuno ;; commission to buy him a negro 
 boy, a sort of lacquey, tiiteen or sixteen a lad to go on nu-s- 
 ttges, and polish his armor, and help lace him in it, and perhapf 
 Jress his hair who knows what sort of duties the page of a 
 yomm gallant lia- to perform ? Well, Nuno, who knows every 
 body, busies himself to procure this lad for him, and sends him 
 half a hundred, more or less, of the best black boys> for such a 
 
A REFINED TASTE. 303 
 
 purpose, in all Havana. And none pleases our excellent Don 
 
 Philip. lie has a taste, would you believe it, even in the choice 
 
 of a negro. He requires the boy to be graceful and good-look- 
 
 if -uch a thing was to be found ! lie must needs have a 
 
 ver such an absurdity ! Such a whim ! 
 
 So ridiculous ! To one, he object < because he is bowlegged ; to 
 another, beeause he squints ; to a third, because his forel; 
 back of his ears ; to a fourth, beeause his mouth is like a cavern, as 
 hu^e as that of C ovandoiiga. and forever open. He says that sleep 
 ing some night in Florida, a cayman will go down his throat, 
 and he shall lose his negro and his money. And thus, positively, 
 he has refused e\vry nogro that has been brought him. What s 
 to be done with such a man ? But I tell Nuno, these are only 
 his humors, because he s unsettled. He s not thinking of the 
 negro at all ; only of you, Olivia only of you! Now, for my 
 part, as I told Nuno, I don t wish a good-looking negro about 
 me. The idea of a handsome negro is unreasonable and unnatu 
 ral. The uglier the better. Beauty and good looks would bo 
 nth-fly out of place in such an animal." 
 
 We despair fully of success, in the endeavor to keep pace, as 
 a reporter, with the tongue of the lively Leonora. Enough that, af 
 ter a certain period, its exertion- \\viv relaxed. Even she h 
 tired finally of the fruitless ellort to provoke interest or curiosi 
 ty in what -he -aM. in a mind so utterly absorbed, a <pirit so 
 utterly subdued and sad, as that of Olivia. The latter drooped, 
 ai d became more and more apathetic in proportion to the efforts 
 <>f Leonora to arouse her ; and. giving up the task, in no sati-fied 
 humor, she at length took her departure, with a promise to re 
 turn as soon as *he euM hear that Don Philip had made his 
 vi-it. 
 
 Olivia yielded to her apathy as soon us her companion had 
 gone. tO absolute drowsiness, in spite of sundry etlorts 
 
 which -he made to arou<e h.-r-eif ; which she -lid the rather to 
 shake elf a feeling frfa ; her. than with any n 
 
 for doing th things about the house which she undertook. 
 
 But, as tb>} hour for the tittta drew nigh, she yielded to the subtle 
 
804 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 influence which possessed her, and which she persuaded herself 
 was due to the heat of the day, and the absence of the freshening 
 breezes of the sea. She had disposed herself on the settee as for 
 sleep, when Juana reappeared, much flurried and exhausted. 
 She had failed to find her brother, after a long and very fatigu 
 ing search in all the well-known places. It was probable, so 
 Juana thought, that the late pursuit of the alguazils had driven 
 Mateo from the estate. We, however, knew better. He had 
 simply found it necessary to shift his quarters, and to exercise a 
 little more caution. He may have temporarily left the grounds, 
 but he did not abandon them. In truth, to state a fact which 
 poor Juana did not conjecture, he found it necessary for lus own 
 safety to elude her search. She it was, who, with a foolish fond 
 ness, had brought old Sylvia and the alguazils upon his track. lie 
 kept from her sight, and changed his ground at her approach. 
 The girl was very much troubled by the failure of her seaivh. 
 Olivia might have felt and shown quite as much concern on hear 
 ing her report, but for tlve torpor that had now seized upon her 
 faculties. She repeated her commands to Juana to find her 
 brother, and arrest his knife, in so many murmurs. 
 
 " It is very warm and oppressive, Juana. We shall have a 
 thunder-storm. I am very drowsy." 
 
 Juana shook her head. She ascribed her mistress s drowsiness 
 to a very different cause. She had enjoyed some of the experience 
 of old Anita, and she muttered to herself " She has had the 
 spice !" Aloud, she said, 
 
 " It is warm, Senorita, and close, but I don t think there will 
 be any thunder-storm. In a little while the sea-breeze will wake 
 up, and you will feel better, perhaps." 
 
 " I will go to the summer-house, Juana, and take my siesta, if 
 you think there will be no thunder-storm. Carry my dress for 
 the evening over there, and my jewel-case. I will make my toilet 
 there. We need apprehend no visitors now until evening, 1 think, 
 ind you need not disturb me until the proper time to dr> 
 
 She gave other directions had some oraiiin-s, now in their 
 prime, carrtdd to the summer-Koine, and with languid linibi 
 
THE SUMMER HOUSE. 305 
 
 went thither, after awhile, herself; her whole appearance being 
 that f one nut only indifferent, hut insensible to external things. 
 The summer-house was a retreat happily conceived for a cli 
 mate like that of Cuba. It held a neatly furnished, airy apart 
 ment, surrounded by a colonnade which eilectually excluded the 
 sunlight from its floors. It was surrounded by ample thickets, 
 which added to the >hade, and seemed to give security. It was a 
 f solitude, the chosen retreat of contemplation. Here silence 
 had full empire. A happy siicee^j, >i\ of small courts and avenues 
 through the thickets, opening in all directions, gave free admission 
 to the bive/.e. These avenues ran through long tracts of the palm, 
 the orange, the grenadilla, and the anana. Their several fruits, 
 more or less ripe, hung lusciously in sight, in close proximity, and 
 dr. .oping to the hand. On each side, the passages were cut 
 through x cming walls of thicket, affording arched walks of the 
 im>-t noble natural Gothic. These all conducted to the one centre, 
 in the light and airy octagon cot to which Olivia had retired. This 
 y slight, a mere framework of wood; the columns 
 around it being more solid than the structure; and at a glance 
 seemed to be constructed literally of palm, bamboos, and other 
 flexible and tenacious shrub trees, peculiar to that region ; which, 
 lopt from their roots, will sometimes bud and bhSMnn, like the 
 miraculoii^ rod of the prophet. The bamboos were artfully in 
 terwoven, and roofed with the thick leaves of palm, and plantain, 
 and fig. Thr-e were all so many plates and shields, green, broad 
 and with u r l >-\v velvet coating that might etleetually batlle tin- 
 tier, of the sun. even if there were no loftier shadows 
 from great trees, that stretched their broad and ma-sive bough> be 
 tweeii. Art had done its be-^t. within the cottage, to emulate the 
 handiwork of nature without. There was no lack of the n< - 
 . supply of curtains and cushions The former .In -oped it 
 ^ieen or blue before the several openings of the cottage, \\hick 
 was, in fact, only a group of verandahs, placed in parallelism, 
 shutting out the light, but readily vie!. ling to the i : -f the 
 oreeze. Upon one of the piles of cu>hions Olivia sunk down, 
 taking naturally an attitude of grace, and exhibiting an outline 
 
306 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 exquisitely rounded, such as frequently distinguishes the figure of 
 the woman trained in a life of luxurious ease, and in that deli 
 cious climate. She seems, at once, to sleep. Her eyes close. 
 Her sense is steeped in oblivion. She dreams, yet she does n yt 
 sleep. She feels, but she is not conscious. Her blood stagnates 
 in her veins ; yet it works potently in her brain. She is in a 
 morbid and unnatural condition. She is under the influence of 
 "periapts" spells, which steep the sense in oblivion hi un 
 consciousness of evil, making the victim deaf to the very thun 
 ders that roll above his head, and blind to the forms of terror 
 or of danger, that flit before his eye. She has partaken of u the 
 insane root that takes the reason prisoner." The potent medi- 
 cine which now seals up her consciousness was one jf the se 
 crets of her fearful uncle. She has suspected him ; she has, 
 as we have already seen, endeavored to evade his arts ; but they 
 have been too much for her. She little dreams that he possesses 
 avenues to all her hiding-places, keys of power to persuade to 
 yielding, every lock and bolt which she deems secure. At the 
 very moment when she fancied herself most safe, and was begin 
 ning to exult in the conviction that she could baffle and defy his 
 arts, her strength failed her her powers all frozen by his terrible 
 spells. Late that day he reached home and asked for Olivia. 1 Ic 
 was told by Juana that she was in the summer-house that she 
 slept. A knowing smile slightly curled his lip. Dinner was 
 served him in his chamber. The wine of Xeres sparkled before 
 him. He drank with the manner of one who enjoys a tempo 
 rary respite from all the cares of life. He finished the goblet; 
 refilled it; finally emptied the flask, and threw himself into his 
 hammock, with a cigar. He smoked for a while, then rose, drew 
 forth another flask of wine, broached it and drank freely; finished 
 his cigar in his hammock, and after a little while, restlessly work 
 ed himself out of it. His eye was humid, his cheeks flushed, his 
 steps uncertain. He looked about him with an air of hesitation, 
 then repeated his draught from the flask, and, with a sudden im 
 pulse, hurried out into the verandah, and down the steps into the 
 garden. The keen eyes of Juana followed him *rom below. 
 
DAHK DESIGNS. 307 
 
 She saw (hat he ma^le his way towards the summer-house, while 
 h fancied himself unseen. 
 
 l> ( >h ! " she muttered sotto voce, as she watched, " Oh ! if the 
 garoU vil only had its teeth in the neck of the right one, I know 
 who would never drink two whole wine-flasks at a sitting, and 
 
 th.n! " The sentence was left unfinished, unless the final 
 
 i jariilatL>n, after some pause, may be considered a proper part 
 of it : " Oh ! the poor Senorita ! " 
 
 -I tiana NVIS not much given to pity. It was nate to the uncle, 
 rather than sympathy for the niece, that caused her ejacul* 
 fons! 
 
CHAPTKR XXV. 
 
 44 Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight 
 With a new Cordon. M 
 
 MACHKTH. 
 
 THE day had been one of considerable bustle in Havana, and 
 Don Baltba/ur bad been very busy all tbe morning. Juan do 
 Anasco, tbe contador, a brave, choleric little fellow, who united 
 all tbe qualities of tbe soldier, with the experience of (lie sailor, 
 had been a second time dispatched to coast the shores of Florida, 
 in order to find a proper harbor to which tbe expedition might 
 sail direct, lie arrived the previous night, after a protracted 
 voyage of three months, during which great fears were enter 
 tained that he had been lost at sea. His escape bad been a nar 
 row one, and it will illustrate the superstitions of bis lime and 
 people, to show how he returned thanks to Heaven for his resto 
 ration and safety. In fulfillment of a vow, made at a moment of 
 extreme peril, he and all his crew, the moment they reached the 
 shores of Havana, threw themselves upon their knees, and in 
 this manner crawled to church to bear mass. Then be made 
 his report of disasters and discoveries, and described a secure; 
 harbor which he had found in Florida. The armament of De 
 Soto had been nearly ready for several days before. It needed 
 now but little further preparation, and waited, in fact, but a fa 
 vorable wind. The report of Anasco stimulated the industry of 
 all parties. De Soto was impatient to depart, and his de-ires 
 were v ( , many keen spurs in the sides of the lieutenants, keeping 
 them incessantly employed. Don I altha/ar, as we have mentioned, 
 had been verv luisv all the morning, and hence, perhaps, his rather 
 free indulgence in the pleasures of the wine-cup after the toils of the 
 dav were over. 
 
 806 
 
LOVE AND AMBITION. 
 
 That night there was a great feast to be given by th* Adelan- 
 tado, to the cavaliers and chiefs of his army, and the principal 
 ns of Havana. It was the policy of De Soto to keep up 
 the i -nthus-asm of his people in regard to the expedition, and to 
 conciliate the affections of those whom he was to leave behind him 
 under the government of his wife. To this feast, as a matter of 
 course, the two Portuguese brothers were invited, and Andres, the 
 younger, though just recovered from his illness, had resolved to 
 attend. Not so, Philip. II? had fully resolved not to accom 
 pany the expedition ; we have seen with what reason. He en 
 joyed no command, and felt that he had not made himself friends 
 among the Spaniards, and that he could never become the favor 
 ite of the Adelantado. But his chief reason, perhaps, lay m the 
 growth of his hopes of favor in the eyes of Olivia de Alvaro. If 
 >he approved -ad consented to his prayer, the conquest of Florida 
 would pos^-ss no attractions in his eyes. Ilis ambition had grown 
 moderate, as his love increased in fervor. His passion for ad- 
 venture had suddenly become subdued in the birth and growth 
 of a more powerful passion. If Olivia smiled, what was Florida 
 to him? He eared nothing for its golden treasures. The pearls 
 which it seemed to proffer wre worthless, in comparison \, .vo 
 those of love. And he was hopeful. That Olivia loved him he 
 could scareely doubt. Her eyes had shown it her emotions 
 the public voiee seemed to proclaim it; and Nuno deTobar, wh) 
 brought him the tavorablr reports of his ir ;l y young wife held it 
 to be beyond all <me>tiin, -i:id solemnly a-Mi;.vd hi :: t< tin 4 * ef 
 feet. Hut Nuno was not pieparvd to countenance the lover in 
 hi> refusal to take part in the expedition. He himself was aho..t 
 IT leave the youii^ and beautiful creature whom lie had just wed- 
 iud ; why -lioiild Philip de \ :os be mmv anxious than 
 
 himself ? Why -lnuild so lrave a cavalier refuse all opportune 
 on.jmM. tl treasure, and p.iwer, >irn- 
 
 ply !)..< au-c he was a lover ? "H;,- notion se. me-1 to him pT- 
 fectiy ridieulou>, and he gr.-atly resented the absence from thp 
 upon which Philip had r^olved. 
 
VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 " It will never do, Philip," said he. 
 
 "But it must do, Nuno," answered the other fray ly. "What 
 should I do at this Nipper? I shall not be a favorite, if present. 
 I shall win none of De Soto s smiles, and. in truth, I care not to 
 win them; and I shall not be miWd if absent. There will be 
 enough to shout their hopes and desires, and to respond, with 
 sweet echoes, to the line promises of I >e Boto. There uill be 
 enough for the wine, at all events, and I should be only out of 
 plaee in a scene for which my temper doea not lit me. Brsides. 
 my presence will only hav,- the effect of persuading the Addantado 
 that I will yet accompany the exposition." 
 
 "And you must, Philip; we cannot well do without you." 
 
 "I have not been treated, Nuno, as if such were the common 
 opinion/ 1 
 
 "But it is, no matter how they have treated you; such is their 
 conviction, no less than mine!" 
 
 "Then are they the most ungrateful rascals in the world, and 
 the greater foob, too," replied Philip. "But not to vex yon, 
 Nuno (and for your sake I should really wish to go. were it 
 proper that I should, under the present circumstances), I an. 
 grown too tender-hearted for war! Its image now offends me. I 
 nothing persuasive in the aspect of glory; there is noihin- 
 sweet in the music of a trumpet charge, though it leads to victory. 
 My dream now is of repose, of a sweet M.lituile in the shade, with :i 
 pair of loving eyes looking ever into mine, and the voice f a true 
 heart breathing ever in my ear the music of a pa.ssi.m which askfl lir-t 
 for peace peace peace! This dream haunts me ever. It takes 
 from me the passion as the pride of arms. It compensates for all I 
 lose: With Olivia in the country, I shall be too happy to repine at 
 any of your conquests." 
 
 "Now do I almost wish that she may refuse thee." 
 
 "No, thou dost not." 
 
 "Thou deserve^ it!" 
 
 " What, for being truer and more devoted to love than to am 
 bition?" 
 
PHILIP S OIUKC TIOX TO FLORIDA. :n i 
 
 " No, but for thy desertion of ihy comra/ 
 
 "Comrades oh: Lr"<>d friend and brother of mine, as I will call 
 thee. for tliou hast been true to inc. and full of brotherly 1- 
 since I have known thee dost thou not smile within thyself at 
 
 thy own f,lly. when thou Bpeaketi of //.// etunrodet among the 
 
 cavalier- of DC S..to?" 
 
 "Am 1 net thy comrade, and wilt thou MilT.-r me to go alone 
 on this expedition of peril? " 
 
 "Thou gocst with tlnj comrades. Xuno. hut not with mint 
 rtm.i art a favorite. when- they ],M,k upon me with ill favor. 
 They will serve thee with loyalty, and support th,, : and follow 
 thy lance to battle with a joy; and exult in thy victories, lint 
 on mine they look only with evil eyes. Follow thy In-lit. Xuno. 
 and cherish thy passion for conquest; and none will more truly 
 rejoice in thy successes and -,! f,, rlum . ,j 1;m lllt . , ..... ,. i-,,,-^,, 
 of Portugal. But thou ohex-M a (MlfldOD which I d,, not feel, ami 
 
 thou hast encoungemento in which I do ,,.t .hare. Art thou 
 
 not uMivasc.nal.h-. mi ,///>,. in thy d<-maiid that I shall partake 
 (lf th(> l )( ril "f "" -xp-.liti,,n which promis,-, neither pride, nor 
 rewunl. nor t avi.r of any sort? " 
 
 Nun., de Tohar was silenc,-d. Hi, frien.l had spoken but the 
 truth. He changed the subject. 
 
 "So, none of the Kthiops that I s ( . n .l theeuill answer? Verilv. 
 Philip, for a wiv,. ,.., ,),,! ],. Jxt ,,,..,,,,. ,,,,,,., ,,,- ,| lill( . 
 own! Of what matter to thee that a DCgTO sUve xh.,,,1,1 |, ( . 
 
 " Not handsomr, but well-lookin-. N,,w. ;i |l tbofle that \\ere 
 olTered me u . IV allion^r the U-lie-t and in.M ill looking kn 
 in the world mod,- Is,, f def,,rmity an.l u-line-. I confefiB BUCh M 
 tln-e otfeiid my >i-ht." 
 
 It is the common aspect of the ra . 
 
 but there are degrees, in which U - do not 
 
 otrend." 
 
 :irt suited. Hut !he *l\\\ klli-ht. 
 I>- >inolar. hath proini- ,1 DM MOM pa-able urchin^ 
 
 but I.,, will require a .-.eat price fa hi pus 
 
812 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 ticularly when he knows they are for thee. He regards thee as 
 a dangerous rival." 
 
 " What ! aspires he to Olivia ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; and with the approbation, it is thought, of her 
 uncle. De Sinolar was greatly annoyed at thy success in the 
 tourney, and would have taken lance himself he avowed to 
 encounter thee ; but that he had no horse to be relied on, and 
 lances, he thought, were things quite too frail for a man to peril 
 his honor upon. He hath every confidence in his own skill, 
 strength and courage, but doubts if the wit of man hath yet con 
 ceived any adequate weapons upon which these may securely 
 rest themselves in the tournament. He holds himself in reserve, 
 however, when the becoming implements of battle shall bo 
 made." 
 
 " There is wit in the knight s philosophy. Think you it came 
 from himself?" 
 
 " Verily, I do not. He reads much in Amadis and other ad 
 ventures of chivalry, and the excuse hath an antique fashion. 
 And thou didst not see the Lady Olivia yesterday?" 
 
 Philip told of the encounter with the outlaw and the alguazils, 
 and added, 
 
 " But, with the blessing of the Virgin, I will seek her to-day. 
 While you are preparing for your feast I shall speed to her 
 dwelling, resolved to put to hazard all my hopes." 
 
 " She loves thee, Philip ! I know it, if I know anything of the 
 heart of woman. She will accept thee, my friend, and thou wilt 
 be happy ! But should she refuse thee ?" 
 
 " Then, perchance, thou wilt find me beside thee when thou 
 liftest lance against the Apalachian." 
 
 " I could almost pray, Philip, that she should send thee from 
 hef wi h the blessing of Abaddon, which is gaid to be very much 
 like a curse !" 
 
 And he grasped vigorously the hand of his friend. They sep 
 arated after some further conversation, and Philip retired to the 
 recesses of his humble lodging. 
 
 The day passed slowly to our unight of Portugal. He had 
 
THE HOUR OF LOVE. 815 
 
 appointed to himself the afternoon for his purposed visit to Olivia. 
 lie way impatient for its approach. His soul was teeming with 
 delicioas fancies. Truly, as he had said to Nuno ! ! 
 was delivered up to softer influences than those of war. The 
 sweet and balmy atmosphere he breathed, grateful though 
 vating, contributed to the gentle reveries of the lover ! The 
 hour chosen for his visit to the beloved one was especially ap 
 propriate to such an object. Nobody who has not felt, can pos 
 sibly conceive of the balm and beauty-breathing 
 such a climate, of the hour which just precedes th> i sunset ; when 
 his rays, bright without i .un with soft beauty through 
 
 s. and wrap them in a halo, that makes them as 
 
 i-Iy sweet a- L r o!de!i. There is a delirious mystery to the 
 soul that delights in i^enf! in the -hudows at this hour 
 
 in the Miiilini: izlane, in. when he -infuses all thr hori/on 
 
 with the warme>t flu-lies of orange, green, and purple. In a 
 region where the OXMOfoe heat and glare ofhi :i_ r nt at noon are 
 ungrateful to the eye and oppressive to the frame, the day 
 airily ntleii-N, e.veu at early morning; and the soul nr<-e--arily 
 sympathi/.es with its several agents, even as one spare* hi- slave 
 ask which exposes him to pestilriiee or st-rm. 
 Thus the spirits sink as the form suflers. The sun-et hour in 
 /i on n-deems the day. It is tin- day the all >f da\ 
 that thi- e\c require-. It is by a natural in>tin-t that, in this 
 
 . he who seek- for love choo-c-, thi- hour, or tli 
 which i- l;u r ht d by a moon, tor his purpo 
 
 thi-m-elves in all climates as the period- when the heart 
 
 - . forth in <jue-t of its kindred. But here, these are the 
 only | ly could find : love-making in 
 
 Cuba during the noonday. V> dam-id would believe the loy 
 alty of the heart that -o laeks ,li^-relion a- to prefer it- 
 siu-h a time. The day i- nbtru-ive. and \Q\ 
 
 It i- a tliinu of tr. iuors and timidities. It haunt :<. It 
 
 has a conseiousness of something in its <pie-t which it holds .juife 
 too sacred for H or the risk of exposure; and as it only 
 
 u 
 
314 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 when indifference would speak, so it shrinks and hide* 
 when audacity and pride go forth. 
 
 The delicious softness of the hour sunk deeply into his soul, a 
 Philip de Vasconselos passed into the shady and silent defiles 
 leading through the thick woods which girdled the hacienda of 
 the lady of his love. The sweet light from the slant beams of 
 the declining sun flitted from tree to tree before him, like the 
 butterfly wings o^ a truant fancy. The- ^ right droplets fell, 
 here and there, through the groves, lying about like eyes of fairies, 
 peering < trough the thick grasses along the slopes. Philip s 
 heart was fairly open to fairy eyes. His soul warmed and was 
 thawed beneath the spells of that winged and fanciful sunlight. 
 He had thrown aside all the restraints which held him in check, 
 through policy when amid the crowd. Here was solitude, and 
 silence, and the shade ; and the pathway led to love ; and the 
 smiles of heaven were upon his progress ! His step was free 
 as air ; his soul buoyant with hope ! He would soon feast his 
 yes upon those precious features of the beloved one, which 
 seemed to them to make a heaven of the place where they in 
 haVted ! And the great shadows gathered behind him as he went ; 
 ah3 the trees grew motionless ; and the woods ceased to breathe 
 ana murmur ; and the silence deepened ; and the pathways dark 
 ened ; and all was harmony and security ! These transitions 
 increased the sweetness of the scene, and as the glances of tin- 
 sunlight grew less frequent, they seemed brighter, and softer. and 
 more tender and touching in the eyes of the lover. Philip \svnt 
 forward, meeting with no interruption. He passed from pathway 
 to pathway along a route well known. The avenues widened : 
 he was approaching the dwelling. In a few moments he would 
 be in the sight, would be at the fee , of her, upon whose word 
 hung all his world of hope and fear. Well might he tremble 
 with the increase of his emotions. What heart is wholly brave 
 at such a moment ? and who does not feel, with great misgiving, 
 that, where the anticipation is so pregnant with delicious life, 
 its denial and defeat must bring a pang far greater than that of 
 death? 
 
MATi:n i;i;nrni:s \ KAVOK. 315 
 
 It was iu the midst of his wildest anticipations and most trem 
 bling hoju-s, that Philip was suddenly arou-ed to mon- common 
 iatinns. l>y the appearanre of a man suddenly springing out 
 of the lemon thicket be-ide him. He drew hack, and laid hand 
 upon his sword. But the v,,j r ,. of the stran-vr iva-siired him. 
 It was that of the outlaw Mateo, who was almost breathless, e\i< lent ly 
 1, hi- eyes dilated, and his tone- trembling with 
 emotion. 
 
 "Don t be alarmed, Sefior. I am not your enemy! I am 
 your friend! You have done me service, and helped me to 
 cape from my enemies. I would not notr harm a hair of your 
 head . I would serve you ay, do you good service would save \ >u 
 from a great evil." 
 
 What evil?" 
 
 :m- with me!" and he laid his hand respectfully upon the 
 knight s arm, as if to conduct him forward. 
 
 " It is thither 1 am going," said Philip. " but I mu-t go " / "/" . my 
 good fellow." 
 
 alone! I know tlnii . \\\\\ yoll wel e -oiiiLT to 
 the \OUt6. > /" i- not there. She is at the bower in the wood-. 
 
 there you mud toek bar, You wen- ,!_ r oimr pardon me, Senor. 
 
 to declare your love for the Sefiorita." 
 " How, sirrah! " 
 
 :don me, Senor. I -ay airain: but I know it ; everybody 
 in Havai. it. I im an \\\ \<> otl t nd. I tell you I \ 
 
 !< you. I li.vryou and honor you, and OW V"ii gratitude. 
 It is this that makes me -ay \\hat I do, and lead vou this 
 You must nut make l..\v i.iih,- Senorita. Sln-i-n-.t for JOd, SeftaT, - 
 -h- i- not worth\ i,f you! " 
 
 How, fellow! Do not provoke me to aiiir- 
 
 me. Sefi.n-; but irive me time, and irive \fnir-elf 
 time. .lust come with me now; "and he alm^-t draped him 
 foruard. " There, into that avenu, f-.llow it it will had 
 you to the -uiiini.-r hoii-c. (in fOTWW .juickly 
 
 but go rtfy suy nothinir, but M. I ll, n, if 
 
316 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 you will, tell the Senorita that you love her that you come to 
 make her your wife ! " 
 
 There was something in all this proceeding which was so earli 
 est and so startling, that, though it offended the proud knight be 
 cause of the freedom of the outlaw s manner, he did not feel like 
 showing anger. Indeed, he was too much startled, too sensibly 
 impressed with a nameless terror, to be altogether conscious of 
 the extent of the liberty which Mateo had taken. lie fancied 
 that Olivia was in danger, and vague notions of serpents and 
 tigers rose before his imagination. Intuitively, he obeyed his 
 tutor, and darted into the alley. 
 
 " Softly, softly ! " cried tho outlaw, following close behind. 
 In a few moments he reached the summer-house.. 
 
 " Go up the steps in the Senorita is the-*. Go look 
 BOO , but softly, very softly, and do not speak ! " 
 
 Philip obeyed, and ascended the steps of the verandah ; the 
 curtains were lifted ; he disappeared among th^ columns, and 
 Mateo waited without, among the groves. He h^d not long to 
 wait. Scarcely had Philip disappeared from his r^ht, when his 
 form was again seen, emerging from among the columns. A 
 single hollow groan escaped him. Mateo darted forward to 
 mo.et him, and the knight staggered down the steps almost fall 
 ing into his arms. The outlaw hurried him into th- thicket. 
 
 Quickly, quickly ! " said he. " He will have Veard that 
 groan. ! 
 
 Philip staggered away, without oifering oppositioa His head 
 swam ; his knees tottered beneath him. 
 
 " I am very faint ! " said he. 
 
 " Rest here," answered the outlaw, conducting him M a wooden 
 seat enveloped in shrubbery, and almost forcing him <i^wn upon 
 it, while lie plucked an orange from the shrub-tree ah* -e him. 
 .n a second laid its rich juices open with a knife. 
 
 "No I" exclaimed Philip, after a pause-, rejecting the 
 and staggering up from the Mat-"] cannot rest here, ** 
 where ! Let us away ! away from this place ! " 
 
THE SPELL BROKEN. 317 
 
 " You have seen ? " 
 
 " No more ! Do not ask me ; " and the knight of Portugal 
 covered hi> eyea with his hands. 
 
 "Stay fora moment!" Mild the outlaw " while I go back, 
 and give him this!" and he lifted his huge machete as he spoke, 
 and looked the matador about to strike. 
 
 "No!" hastily answered the knight, laying his hand upon 
 the arm of the outlaw. It must not be ! Put up your knife. 
 What is it to us 1 ? what is it to us ? Let us go hence ! " 
 
 And he started forward, blindly, and once more in the direc 
 tion of tiie summer-how 
 
 " That is not the way ! That leads you back " 
 
 With a >h udder, Philip wheeled about, and hurried on" in the 
 opposite direction; the outlaw following him respectfully, and in 
 silence. In tfa lilence thf.y wound their way through tin- 
 
 thickets of lemon and orange. When they approached the \ 
 of the estate. Mateo stopped suddenly : 
 
 " 1 must go no further. Here I must leave you, Senor. I 
 must not ri-k exposure." 
 
 Philip iiraspi-d his iiand. 
 
 Thanks, my good fellow, thanks ! 1 have nothing more to 
 tjive. YOU have done me j^ood service ; but at what expense 
 what su<V. ring ! " 
 
 i : 1-c Othei - . 8 .or?" 
 
 "No! I thank you. It is well! you have saved me from a 
 i me a u reat hurt. I would I had the 
 
 mean : reward you. lint 1 thank you ! I thank you ! " and he 
 groaned heavily. 
 
 1 a-k no reward. S.-fior. I am only too happy \.-> 
 I wish 1 could erve you forever. I feel th ! I could Work foi 
 y<i. and Cr any trm- man like you ! I^ut I can t work foi a bad 
 one ; mid a bea-t ! I would i" happy to ^n wirh y>u to KI tl 
 But tin-re, Don Haltlia/ar would know me through any 
 And yet, I might get O?er :hit. I.- t me go in . 
 
 And a new imjmU- upon the outlaw, the ex 
 
318 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 pression in his face declaring, as fully as words, the renewed 
 purpose in his mind. 
 
 "No! , lot till you promise me you will do nothing in this 
 matter. I see what you mean. But, if you slay Aim, you expose 
 hfr ! Let him live. You cannot go with me to Florida. I know 
 not that I shall go myself. Stay where you are. Get back 
 to your mountains. But, as you live, and as you love me, breathe 
 not a syllable of this ! Farewell !" 
 
 With these words, and having received the outlaw s promise, 
 Philip de Yasc-onselos turned away. 
 
 " It is gone !" he murmured to himself as he went. " It is 
 gone, the hope, the brightness, and the joy ! all gone ! Oh ! Jesu ! 
 what a ruin !" and he again covered his face with his hands, as 
 if to shut out a spectacle of horror. " Oh ! would that I had the 
 monster in a fair field, with only sword and dagger !" 
 
 Thus exclaiming, he disappeared from sight. Mateo sank back 
 into covert, and soon he heard the voice of Juana in the thicket. 
 He suffered her to approach him. She had followed the steps 
 of her brother and the knight. She had seen them as they left 
 the summer-house, upon which it would seem that she, also, had 
 been ki . !!Mr watch. 
 
 "What have you seen, Juana? 1 demanded the outlaw sternly. 
 
 " All !" 
 
 " Ah ! all ! You do not mean that " 
 
 "Yes! I saw when you and Don Philip went towards the sum 
 mer-house. I was in the thicket. When the knight of Portugal 
 came down the steps and groaned so loud, it roused Don Hal- 
 tha/ar. lie I-HIK- out soon after you, and looked about him, and 
 I lay close. But, seeing nothing, he went back again." 
 
 Well ! what s done can t be undone; but look you, Juana, if 
 \ on whisper a word of this to anybody, I ll slit your tongue. 
 DO you hear now ? Well ! remember ; I am just the man to do 
 1 promise, though you are my own sister/ 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 "I ve <lono my journey //< /v ; my day is out, 
 All tha,t the world has else, is foolery, 
 Labor and loss of time. What should I live for? " 
 
 UKAUMONT AND FLETCHEK. 
 
 "WHAT remains, hut that I should seek Florida seek the 
 wilderness the solitude the strife! forget forget! Oh! Lethe-, 
 would thou \vcrt not a fable!" 
 
 Such were the muttered exclamations of Philip do Vasconselos, as 
 he went, almost hlindly forward, on his way to his l..\vly abode. 
 
 "It is all over! all blasted! The dream tin- too precious 
 dream! Jrsu ! that it should end thus! How should it be so ! 
 How should she so fair, so gentle, so seemini: pure and an- 
 gflirlHa : Ha! Ha! It is not wonderful! It is a truth 
 an experience old as the hills! When came the tempter ever 
 
 in irarments of an angel of light ! It i^ the one p< 
 which he possesses, over all others, of seeming, to mortal . 
 the thing he is mo>t unlike! And how nearly had I fallen into the 
 *nare ! How blind, neither to see nor to -u-pect But for 
 tlii> outlaw thi-N slave--! had been a lot man >ild to a delu- 
 sion expending my soul upon a phantom laying my best 
 lions in tribute upon an altar which devotes them all to 
 shame Yd. I cannot thank him! lie hath, at a word, in a mo 
 ment, by a s|M-ll, robbed me of the one ulad. j\"ii> \ i>ioll of 
 my life I had but (.tie hop.-, and he hath destroyed it! I knew 
 but one desire, and he hath made it death! What now should I 
 live for? Of what avail that I am youmr, and fetlkflB, and 
 skilled in arms, and all noble e\en i-i-s . Th. motive tor 
 formance ia gone, and the lite goes with it. All i* a blank be- 
 
 m 
 
320 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 fore me ; dl cheerless, all bitterness ; a long waste of darkness 
 and denial !" 
 
 And he threw himself down hopelessly by the way -side. 
 Darkness had settled down ; but the stars were coming out, si 
 lently and palely, looking like the spectres of past pleasures. 
 The distant lights of the city were present to his eyes also. There 
 were torches flaming upon the farthest hills, and pyres were burn- 
 irg before booths and camps, from which rose faintly, at inter- 
 vals, the sounds of merriment. Gay laughter and shouts, he 
 heard, or fancied, rising from rustic groups engaged in the fan 
 dango ; and anon, but more faintly, he caught the tinkle of a 
 guitar rising from some bohio or cottage, in the contiguous hol 
 low of the hills. 
 
 " They laugh ! they shout ! they sing ; as if there were not 
 a shadow upon the earth as if guilt and shame had not fouled 
 the fairest aspect under heaven ! Jesu, to be so beautiful and 
 sweet to the eye to acquire such power, through sunniest charms, 
 over the soul, and yet to fail in the one great virtue which alone 
 makes all dear things precious to the heart ! But, is it so] Is 
 it true 1 Have I not been deceived ? Am I not betrayed by 
 treachery and cunning 1 May it not all be a delusion of the 
 senses ? Is it sure that it was she ? Did not mine eyes deceive 
 me ; and, while there is a doubt, shall I give faith to an assurance 
 so terrible so revolting so fatal to the loveliest work of heav 
 en ! It was dusk the woods were thick the sunbeams did not 
 pierce them the curtains hung around, darkening the chamber! 
 there was a woman, but is it certain that she was Olivia my 
 Olivia! the pure, the proud, the beautiful ? Was 1 not too ready 
 c, believr the aeciirsed suggestion of the outlaw ; was there. no 
 eontrivanee for rny ruin- for her ruin? What if I return and 
 and. it it I.e true, what should keep mr from slaying him, at 
 least, and looking her to stone with eyes of s.orniulness and 
 hate !" 
 
 Hut he did not rise. He could not doubt. He could not de 
 iude himself into the thought that what be had seen was a mere 
 delusion of the sense* It was too true too rail and the more 
 
321 
 
 he strove to dispel the conviction, the more it grew t3 strength, 
 and took posses-ion of his soul ; filling it with u nameless and 
 mdescrihable horror. For an hour he lay thus upon the earth, 
 delivered to despair. There was ,, refuge f >r hope in thought, 
 and he lay brooding, with an aimless mind, and an agoni/ed 
 spirit. At last, he rose. The strong nian rarely sinks below a 
 iiii point. lie may he overwhelmed, like the weakest. l>\ a 
 U, it once terrible, revolting, and nnexpeeted : but the In-art 
 gathers its forees after a season, ami natuiv. compels the proper 
 : her own reeo\ery and repose. The grief may remain, 
 Imt it does not overcome. It may prove a lasting blight to the 
 hope, the fancy, the allcctions ; but there is a calm roolution 
 which enables the sullerer to live and to perform; for perform 
 ance i<. beyond all otlier things, the natural law, and the !;> 
 sity of the true man; and even the sorrow, which wounds and 
 blig 1 _ r lhen the noble courage and the 
 
 indomitable will. Philip de V . - rose tVm the eartli 
 
 at la-t. lie had become >- in--what more composed. His will 
 and character were beginni* . : themselves. He wa- >till 
 
 the master of /;/,-. sr//V lie rose and went forward. >ad!y. slow 
 1\. but resolutely ; endeavoring, with all the calm he could com 
 mand, to -hape th.- COUne tor his pmgivsx in the future. This 
 was soon decided in hU mind. 
 
 Th-- lights of the city grew before his eyes. Tin- torches and 
 
 the hills that skirted the city. beCEl 
 
 glaring, and ra-t their great ml -hadows upon his path. Th.- 
 voicc^ of merrinu-nt, the >ongs. the >lumts. the joyous cries and 
 lauizht.-r. with the tinkle of pleasant instruments, b.-came ].. 
 and mon frequent on hi- ear. Suddenly, his eye caught a 
 glimp-e of tl Mi|rary -triu-ture. of ph-. : with 
 
 palm bi-anche-. and tin- broad leaves of other trees, in wh : 
 ki:i 
 
 " \\ h . " mm mured Philip, Imt tliat I u r " with this 
 
 \ \Vhat mattiTs it to me. now that I am n. lav. rite ? 
 
 tnger to i,e encounl 
 among the Ap,ila-hi.i- and he who is armed as I am now, against 
 
322 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 all terrors, can make himself a favorite, by making himself fear 
 ful. What better region in which to bury my sorrows, and 
 hide my anguish from vulgar eyes ? Where can I more surely 
 escape from this agony of thought ? In the fierce strife, there 
 will be forgetfulness ; and forgetfulness will be the most precious 
 of hopes, even though it comes only through the embrace with 
 death. I will go with Nuno !" 
 
 Under this new impulse, he hurried forward rapidly towards 
 the scene of festivity, as if fearing to trust himself to think further 
 upon the subject of his progress. It was not long before In- 
 reached the place ; the shouts from within, the music, assailing 
 his ears with a sense of pain, without, however, impairing his 
 resolution to join the revellers, to engage in their expedition. 
 
 The structure in which the Adelantado and his Floridian chivalry 
 held their feast was, as we have said, a rude, simple fabric, de 
 signed only for the temporary purpose. It consisted of slender 
 shafts, green trees freshly cut, and thatched with bamboo and 
 fresh bushes. It was fantastically adorned in a style which the 
 climate and productions of the country naturally snooted to the 
 eye of taste. The flag of Spain, the banners of De Soto, and *f 
 the several captains, wciv <li-j>o<e<] happily around the apart 
 ment. Green leaves and gorgeous flowers were wreathed about 
 the columns, declaring visibly the wealth of the delicious region 
 of which they were the natural tribute. Fruits in gay festoons 
 hung down within reach from the rafters : the luscious pine, the 
 mellow banana, the juicy and fragrant orange. Of the provis 
 ion for the feast, it will be much easier for the reader to imag 
 ine than for us to describe. Enough that the Adelantado and the 
 knights of the expedition had done their best to requite the hos 
 pitalities of the Islanders in a fashion worthy of their own. They 
 had expended no small part of the treasures remaining from theii 
 outfit, in doing the honors gallantly and with becoming ( Menta 
 tion. They not only provided, as it was the ni>t<>m of the gen 
 try of the city and country to provide, but they studiously pro 
 cured dishes such as they had merely lu-ard described, and fancied 
 others, the better to outdo description " Exhausted catt* t and ther 
 
THE FEAST. /23 
 
 imagined new." Tin- turtle, fresh from the sea, furnished t only 
 soup, a first course, which was served up in the uncom i mon- 
 ster - own slu-11 ; game and domeado poultry, including d. 
 from the nn^ peaoooka, their plumage aitfbllj li-po- d 
 
 .; ihr liir.ls after they were made ready by the coo : for the 
 table. BO M almost to represent the living nvaturi liis gay 
 : ner- of given. and purple. and g..ld, looking as brigl and fairy- 
 like a< when lie unfolds them to si^ht. strutting am spreading 
 himself aliroad from court and verandah. Some di-1: - , wnv ] i\-- 
 
 ! foniicd wholly of the tongues <f singing hir.N ; anl 
 may add. were eaten with an appetite such as might he assumed 
 uly with a hop,, to win the musical powers of the 
 mciiib.-r thus hushed forever. The unripencd plantain 
 i and Krowiied in sugar by the fire; or. ma-led, was in.--. 
 
 if the cane. This course, by the 
 ! by one counting wholly of sea and shell-fi-h. 
 \va- succeeded by fruits of more than twenty kind-, all na- 
 -f the island. l- re-h guayavss, fragrant anana<. bananas 
 and saj-adillos. yielded themselves to drlightei! palati % s in deli 
 cious -\iupathy with wine< of XMVS, whicli hail already began to 
 
 eiivulate with potency before Philip de Vascoiisrlos entered the 
 
 asembly. 
 
 Be entered at a moment when De Soto w*is addreini: his 
 
 aiidieiicc. The Spanish language i< one of equal grandeur and 
 beauty ; the Spanish character is rn-e.-ss.-iri .y one of ambition and 
 hyp. I lie laiiiiuag.- of a peoph- iNn.iIly declares for its 
 
 chara -t- r in it- b.-t day-. \\ e kim\v from other hi-tories h,,\v 
 a langiiag*- may exhibit more vitality than a pri.pl,-; hw glori 
 ously it -ur\ i\es them. A. language, known through J lire, 
 
 :hap- the only durable monnmeiit of a | pie. I).- Soto, 
 
 i- is well kii"\vn. wa< an aceomj.li-h. M-atly distin- 
 
 ! when Spain could e airn a host of heroes. It 
 
 i- iiiit so well known that h wa- an aet-ompli-h.-d sj.eaker, 
 
 . y ma-ter of th-- arts ,,; s,-,| in its delica- 
 
 ciea, and practised in all it- _" ; -. BRsandienoe listened to bim 
 
 with fo^Uisy, and rounded his sentences with their vivat and 
 
324 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 bra / as. He dwelt upon that superiority of character which ex 
 ulu-.l in adventure. The art of war, he contended, and its pros- 
 ivuiion in new lands, was, perhaps, the very noblest and most 
 god- like of all human arts. He spoke of the greatness of his 
 nation, as particularly renowned for the use of this art, in its most 
 inspiring exercises. He painted fame and glory, brightly and 
 purely, and grandly, as they appear always to youth and enterprise, 
 and dwelt upon the progresses of Cortez and Pizarro in Mexico 
 and Peru subjects, in hearing the report of which, the Castilian 
 ear could never tire. By a natural transition he came to speak 
 of their present adventure in the wilds of Florida, lie did not 
 disparage the valor of the rod men of Apalachia, nor seek to lessen 
 tb- picture of danger which he drew as a necessary consequence of 
 /he enterprise, ; but he insisted upon the utter impossibility of any 
 valor of the red-men as able to stand for a moment before such 
 warriors as he led to the encounter, lie particularly dwelt upon the 
 great treasures of the country, its glorious cities hidden in the bosom 
 of mighty mountains; its treasures of gold and silver ; its pearls 
 t<> be gathered in heaps along its shores; arguments which, he 
 well knew, were beyond all others, in persuading young ambi 
 tion and greedy avarice to his banners. At the, close, seeing 
 Philip de Vasconselos enter, he took the opportunity of throwing 
 out a few bitter sarcasms upon the timid, the laggard, the weak, 
 the souls deficient in true courage and noble enterprise, who hung 
 back when an occasion so glorious was offered to their eyes. 
 
 The glances of the assembly followed those of the Adelantado, 
 and rested upon the flushed countenance of Philip, lie saw the 
 direction given to the words of De S>t, and felt the purpo- 
 the latter to indict a sting upon his pride and hea 1. He 
 proudly when the Adelantado had finished, and looked sternly 
 around tin- assembly. It was surprising how composed he \va>. 
 He appeared fully to have recovered himself, and though very 
 grave, as the occasion secin.-d to ivijuiiv. he was (juite as firm 
 and calm ;i> it he labored under no other provocation than that 
 which he had just received. Never was individual less daunted by 
 the. circumstances in which he stood. He saw that there was di 
 
PHILIP S DEFENCE. 825 
 
 satisfaction certainly constraint in the faces of nearly all around 
 him; reflecting that in the countenance of the Adelantado, who 
 scarcely acknowledged, with a stately bend of the head, the 
 Mired but courteous approach of our hero, and the deepening 
 shadows u{H>n whose brow argued no friendly welcome for what 
 he might say. But Philip was little moved by these unfriendly au- 
 gpioes. He respected De Soto as a brave and noble cavalier, 
 distinguished equally by talents and graces, and high in favor of 
 his sovereign ; but his respect and admiration were not so pro 
 found ;us to cause him t<> stiller any mortification from the loss of 
 hi- : iimtriianc 1 . lie advan.-ed towaids the dais which 
 
 had been aligned to the Adelantado, raising him a little above 
 the iv-t f the asscmblv. passing through the crowd with ex 
 ingly deliberate pace, until he Stood but a few prices from the 
 
 pef-oli lie aMre-scd. 
 
 ir Kxcei: .id he, "has been pleaded to ind 
 
 .lin remarks of censure upon that unambitious, unperforming 
 and timid class, who, bred to arms, are yet reluctant to eii;_ 
 in the honorable adventure to which you invite them. I cannot 
 
 ive myself as t.. the fact, that certain in this assembly 
 ire <li-po-e<l to make these remarks applicable to the person 
 who now addresses you. I trust it is not necessary to say 
 that for any one who would impute to me the want of 
 eon rage, I have but a single an-wer. ami that lies at the point of 
 m\ weapon; be it lanee. or >word, battle-axe, or dagger. 1 am 
 
 .;, to encounter any (jiicstioner. That I have been slow in 
 
 !\in_ r to aecoinpany this expedition, has been no fault of 
 mine. I came hither from my own land for this very purp 
 and until 1 reached Havana. 1 knew no disposition t.) change my 
 determination. It will be admitted. I think, that the , 
 inent- oil- T< -1 to me for this adventure, however, have been . 
 
 ; and. perhaps, were I to say the truth, I should dc-s. 
 
 ikeii with me as designed specially to rebuke the 
 Mimption whieh had prompted me to seek a place under thu 
 banner of Castile." 
 
326 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " Not so, Senor, not so, by God !" exclaimed De Soto, inter 
 rupting him energetically. 
 
 " Be this as it may, your Excellency, it is one of those things 
 upon wnich I do not dwell ; for, to me, war and adventure carry 
 their own encouragements; and it is found, always in the thm 
 of danger, that no one s sword is amiss that does good service 
 on our side. I have no fear that in the day of trial, I shall fii l 
 to prove my right to be present where blows are given and 
 received. Encouragement I need not, discouragement will 
 never chill my enterprise or lessen my strength. That I hesi 
 tated to engage under your banner when I came here was due to 
 other influences, which " 
 
 De Soto smiled grimly. Philip saw the smile, and his face 
 was suddenly flushed with crimson. 
 
 " But it matters not," he proceeded, " to say wherefore I hesi 
 tated to declare my purpose. It will suffice, your Excellency, 
 to say that I am now prepared, if permitted, to accompany your 
 expedition to the country of the Apalachian a country which I 
 somewhat know already a people with whom I have already 
 had fierce as well as amicable intercourse, and among whom, it 
 may be found, that my presence shall work for good to your 
 Excellency s enterprise." 
 
 This said, Philip de Vasconselos bowed courteously, and 
 calmly wheeling about, made his way back to the place where 
 he had entered the apartment. The Adelantado the audience 
 was taken completely by surprise. Nothing could have been 
 more unexpected to all ears. De Soto spoke in reply approv 
 ingly, and with warm compliment. Other voices followed with 
 the same burden. But Philip neither heard nor listened. He 
 was making his way out, when his hand was suddenly seized by 
 that of his brother Andres. 
 
 " Brother !" was all that the latter said. 
 
 "Andres, my brother!" exclaimed Philip, throwing his arm 
 around the neck of the youth^ while a sudden gush of tears from 
 overfiilJ fountains blinded his eyes. No more was said between 
 
THK SUDDKN UK.SOLVE. 827 
 
 them. Such was their reconciliation. The speech of Philip had 
 taught Andres strangely enough that tin? passion of his brother 
 for Olivia de Alvaro had proved as l nii;le>> as his own. Why? 
 This was the my>tery which none could solve. Philip tore him 
 self away from the brief embrace, and was hurrying out, when 
 Nuno de Tobur ru>hed up, and, warmed with wine, caught him 
 exultingly in his arms. 
 
 Hut how is all this, Philip?" 
 
 At that moment Don Balthazar de Alvaro suddenly entered, 
 and was pas>ing very near them. Instinctively, Philip gra^p<-d 
 the handle of his sword, and his eyes were fastened upon the 
 uncle of Olivia, with such an expression as made the latter >tart, 
 as at the approach of a famished tiger. Philip recovered him 
 self in a moment, turned away from the face of him whom he 
 longed to destroy, and was followed out by Nuno into the 
 air. 
 
 " Tell me; said the latter, " how comes this change?" 
 
 " Do not ask me, Nuno ; enough that I go with you." 
 
 " Holy Mother, but your looks, Philip " 
 
 " Heed them not heed me not let me leave you, Nuno, 1 
 am n>t lit for thU assembly/ 
 
 " Hut you have been to see Olivia you have seen her?" 
 
 " I have seen her !" 
 
 1 >hi- refused you ?" 
 
 " No ! 1 have not >pokcn with her." 
 
 M her but not spoken ! What ! Your coura-je failed 
 you at the la-t moment you had not the heart?" 
 
 " I had not the heart !" 
 
 JetQ ! man ! What weakness is th: 
 
 " No weakness ! No more, Nuno. There is that which put* 
 
 rnal barrier between Olivia de Alvaro and myself a bar- 
 
 pas the irrave, illimitable as hell. I can tell you nothing. 
 
 You b it diMn-xs me when you ask ask nothing. From this 
 
 mom. nt name her not to me, Nuno, unless you would make me 
 
 j our ftxi for ever !" 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Cenci. Speak, pale slave ! what said she? 
 Andrea. My Lord, twas what she look\L She said: 
 Go, tell my father that I see the gulf 
 Of Hell between us two, which he may pass ; 
 I will not," 
 
 SHELLEY. The Cenci. 
 
 DON BALTHAZAR was greatly surprised by what lie heard in the 
 assembly, of the declared purpose of Philip de Vasconselos to 
 accompany the expedition. It was a surprise to everybody 
 how much more to him! Such unexpected good fortune was 
 hardly to be hoped for. The danger, now, of a suitor to his 
 niece, so likely to be successful, no longer threatened him. At 
 the first moment when he learned the fact, he felt an exhilar 
 ating sense of triumph. But soon he asked himself, how was so 
 sudden a change wrought in the purposes and feelings of the 
 knight of Portugal? But a day before he was known to be 
 eager and determined in his purpose to address Olivia. His 
 hope of success was good, and every voice encouraged the prose 
 cution of his suit. Why the change in his purpose? That 
 Philip had not addressed his niece, Don Balthazar was quite cer 
 tain. That they had no interview, he was assured. That she 
 had received no written communication he was equally confident. 
 It was dear that Philip, without testing his hopes at all, had sud 
 denly abandoned them. Wherefore? The question began to 
 stagger the inquirer. Guilt is always a thing of terror, and the 
 . ry of such guilt as that of Don Baltha/ar, was doubly 
 terrible to the conscious fears within liis bosom. He now saw 
 the significance of that look which Philip had cast upon him as he 
 came into the assembly, and readily divined the mystery which puz 
 zled all other persons. 
 
THE GUILTY I oysr-iENCE. 329 
 
 " Ho has discovered all ! was his secret thought. " Yet how ?" 
 I ! .1- til-- farther difficulty. " What was the discovery which 
 Philip had made V * To what decree was he committed by it?" 
 Hi- anxieties increased with his uuutlered inquiries, addressed to 
 him-clf. Puit Don Balthazar had a rare faculty of self-eonoeal- 
 
 mcnt. II vein--- was a large development in his iv 
 
 li/.-ition. He could smile, and look calmly about him, and 
 
 i the frivolous conversation of society, in all 
 busings of tli m\vd -eemingly unmoved, while the vultures 
 of doubt. .Mul dread. and conscience, were all at work tearing at 
 his vita!-. He joined in the talk going on in fhe assembly. In 
 thi< wax he illicit obtain some clues to the secret of Philip. 
 But he learned nothing satisfactory. One fact, however, he 
 from all that was s ;l id. wiiie : his 
 
 thought-; and that only related to the -udden ; ppearance of the. 
 .t of Portugal, at a late hour, in fact not many minute- 
 himself. " Where hid he been till that hour?" While a-k- 
 ing him* !f this question, Xuno de To bar reappeared within the 
 circle. " ! will sound hiui . " was the uncxpre . ilion of 
 
 the I> kuntered around, gradually winding hi< 
 
 :rds the place \\hcre Xuno hat.l taken liis seat. The counte- 
 ihe latter was troubled. UN mind was !; ..nfu 
 
 sion, a- well from the wine he had taken, as from 
 with Philip. But the appro.* h ,,f I ),,n Baltha/ar served, in some 
 idy liis intellect, and make him 08 
 
 tha mole had been hi-:i!e to his friend. It ha 
 
 with which Philip had 
 
 iia/ar, but a few momeuN b that of a de 
 
 termined. if ; ^ympathi/ 1 \vith 
 
 - 
 1 1 had himself 
 
 now more than 6V( ird IJ;MI a< an enemy. 
 
 In 1 that (}, 
 
 il in 
 : 6 of her i. 
 
 Thus feeling, he v, y the approach of the Don; 
 
330 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 made reserved and cautious ; as the good soldier is apt to feel 
 when in an enemy s country, and marching through a region 
 proper for snares and ambuscades. Besides, by prudent manage 
 ment might he not find out something in respect to this mystery ; 
 Don Balthazar probably knew the cause of Philip s conduct. 
 There might have been an open rupture between them : Don 
 Balthazar, like Philip, had been absent from the festivities imlil a 
 li.e hour. They had reached the assembly at nearly the same 
 time. Might not their mutual absence, and arrival, have been 
 due to a common cause 1 Nuno determined to search this mat 
 ter. He would probe the inquirer. His mind co-operating with 
 his feelings and his instincts, became cool, searching and vigilant. 
 and Don Balthazar extracted nothing from him. That he was as 
 little successful in penetrating the bosom of the Don habitually 
 cool and circumspect was, perhaps, to be expected. They sepa 
 rated after a profitless and brief conference, which satisfied neither. 
 
 But if Don Balthazar extracted nothing from Nuno, the young 
 wife of the latter was something more successful. From her he 
 had few concealments. Scarcely had he reached home that night, 
 warmed with the festivities in which he hui\ shared so freely, and 
 excited by the nature of the mystery which oppressed him, when 
 he began his revelations. 
 
 " Would you believe it, Leonora, it is all over with Philip and 
 Olivia ? There is a breach between them, which Philip says is 
 impassable ! He has joined the expedition. What has caused 
 it, he does not say ; but he tells me that there is an end of the 
 matter ; that she is nothing to him now." 
 
 " Blessed Maria ! what does it mean ? Has she refused him ? 
 Foolish, foolish creature! But she always said that she would.* 1 
 
 " But she has not ! He has not asked her ! He told me so in 
 so many words." 
 
 " And 1 don t believe a word of it ! You men are so proud 
 and vain that you never like to confess to a rejection. It s the 
 way with all of you. Be assured that Philip has been refused. 
 She said she would refuse him, but I did not believe her. I know 
 she loves him. But she is so strange. It does appear to me, 
 
LEONORA S SAGACITY. 331 
 
 sometime-, as if she were not in her right mind. And to refuse 
 so nice a cavalier ! I wonder where she expects to find another 
 like him. But it s not her doing, I m sure, not her own heart ! 
 lt > thai cross-grained unele that she has. He has done it all. 1 
 wonder what is the secret of his power over her. I m sure she 
 hates him. But he rules her in spite of it ; and he has compelled 
 her to refuse him." 
 
 " I don t believe it, child ; for I believe Philip, and he positively 
 assured me that he had not asked her. lie s not the man to lie, 
 or to be ashamed of rejection. He has no such weakness. He 
 was very earnest about it very miserable, and entreated me 
 never again to speak to him on the subject." 
 
 "Then I m sure she has refused him. Did he say he had not 
 seen her f 
 
 "No! I knew that he went to the hacienda late in the after 
 noon, and he admits that he saw her, but did not speak to her." 
 " Now, as if that were reasonable, Nuno." 
 " It is certainly very strange. I can t see into it." 
 " But I <!>; and the whole mystery lies in the one fact that he 
 ha- simply b.en rejected, and his pride will not confess it. lie 
 ha> been mortified by refusal, when he counted confidently on 
 And I confess. 1 counted on it too ; for though Olivia 
 always -aM that she would refu-e IIMII, yet I know that she l\vs 
 bun desperately, ami as >he will love no other man. But it is all 
 the doing of I)on Baltha/ar. lie hates Don Philip he hates 
 both tlie brothers -I have ,-cen (/i,it a thousand times. But what 
 arc his hate- to her. ami how has h,- succeeded in making her sa 
 crifice her love to them \ What is the secret of his power to 
 rontrol her against her own happine-s and will? That is th 
 \\hich I -houM like to fin. I out !" 
 
 _ p ht, I sn>p,vt. in ascribing it all to her uncle. 
 Philip i; i:ot the man to !-- rejected by any woman in a hurry, 
 and I am OOHYUIOed, like \ - .i:r-c!f, that Olivia really loves him sis 
 -he -.vill be likely to | \v no oth.-r person. But there is -mne 
 
 mystery in the whole aflliir. The j r girl i- very unhappy. 
 
 That I have long seen, and Don Balthazar is at the bottom of all 
 
332 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 her troubles. He manages her property, and has, I suspect, but 
 iittle of his own. He will be very unwilling to resign the power 
 which this gives him into the hands of any other person. The 
 only wonder is that she does not see this, and assert her indepen 
 dence. She has sense enough to understand her rights; but she 
 is so weak, so timid " 
 
 "You mistake her there! Olivia is a woman of very strong 
 passions, and can be very firm and obstinate upon occasion 
 What surprises me is, that she does not assert her will, and show 
 the strength of her passion, in an ailair which so deeply concerns 
 her own happiness, and where her heart is evidently so much in 
 terested. This is the difficulty. I do not wonder that Don 
 Balthazar should oppose and deny, but that she should submit ; 
 and the question is, how does he obtain this power, by which to 
 rule her as he pleases, against her own affections, when he him 
 self is possessed of none of them." 
 
 " Yet, it is his influence certainly, that has somehow brought 
 the affair to this unfortunate conclusion, and Philip feels this. 
 Had you but seen the look which he gave Don Baltha/ar wh.n 
 they met to-night. His fingers clutched the handle of his sword 
 convulsively, and the gleam of hatred in his eyes was mixed up 
 with such an expression of horror and disgust, as 1 never saw 
 in mortal eye before. I shall never forget it." 
 
 "Still, I think that they will come together yet. She loves 
 him, I tell you, beyond all other persons. She will never sutU-r 
 herself to be deprived of him, if she can help it; and I don t 
 think she could survive it. I tell you, Nuno, she idolizes 
 Don Philip, and she will marry him yet, in spite of Don Bal 
 tha/ar." 
 
 "Yt^. j.rrhap-;- -and yet, fmm what Philip said to-niolit. j t 
 
 will hardly depend upon her, II.- u-rd the sin. 11-4,.^ lan-ri,;,^,. 
 
 "Oh! a fig for the Strong laniruain- of a lover. I know what it 
 means alwa\>! II.- wrill forget bis resolution at soon as he lay a 
 
 his eyea upon her, and looks into hrr pale BWeet tare, and I; 
 the soft silvery voice that answers to his own. IK- i> now only 
 under the first fee-ling of vexation and anger. He talks as if he 
 
A SEARCH FOR A SECRET. 333 
 
 would tear her to pieces, no doubt ; but let him sleep upon it, and 
 he will rise in the morning to renew his worship. 
 
 " Philip de Yasconselos is like no other man, I know." 
 "Ah! you are mistaken. In some things all men are pretty 
 much alike ; and in an affair of love where there is real love 
 your strong cavalier and stately Don are just as feeble as th- 
 man of silk and velvet. You are all pretty much alike all 
 easily overthrown where women are concerned." 
 u lt is a very strange affair throughout." 
 
 " I ll find it out to-morrow, if I live. I ll see Olivia in the 
 morning, and she must have sharper wits, and greater strength, 
 than 1 believe, if >he can hide the secret much longer from my 
 eyes. You will admit that if Philip has seen her, then the prob 
 ability is that >he has refused him." 
 
 Hr himself admits that he has seen her seen her thi- 
 day, but denies that he lias spoken with her. There is the ditii 
 cu lty that is the surprising fact." 
 
 n her, but not spoken with her! You say he went to 
 r, and did see her, but said nothing]" 
 "Yes; that is precisely what he asserts." 
 "Oh! he means no more than this that he did not propose. 
 "It mav be vet he spoke very precisely and positively." 
 u Well, Olivia will be able to an-\\er that. She will, 
 
 . infers that there was an interview; though she may tell 
 iii" nothing of what parsed between them. If >hesay> so : 
 
 hat, y. >u will ivadily Mippose that Don Philip has Dimply 
 kept back .Noiufthing \\hieh his pride will not sutler hin. 
 
 \ ,-. ; though how to believe it of Philip how to su: 
 him tO we.ik, or to think that he ^hould keep ba<-k the truth from 
 me that i- \shat troiiM. > me." 
 
 Well, lea\e it till th" morrow [" -aid the wife. 
 With the inoi ! to prtieirate the m\ 
 
 1 ol.ar prepared, at an earl\ liour, t>\Uit her friend. 
 found, une\p-< t.-dly, th" \m ! I -tli -r. Olivi.. 
 
 .ooking paler than, usual, and wore an exhausted and suffering 
 
334 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 appearance. Hvr eyes were dull, heavy, anobservant and e* 
 pressionless. Her whole mental nature seemed stagnant ; she 
 Moved like an automaton ; welcomed her guest as one in a 
 dream ; and sunk back upon the settee, after the exertion, like 
 one worn out with long watching. Leonora was quite as flippant 
 a> ever, and for a while talked about a hundred nonsensical mat 
 ters quite foreign to the one which filled her thoughts. She 
 longed and waited anxiously for the moment when the withdrawal 
 of Don Balthazar would afford her the opportunity which she 
 desired for broaching the one subject for which alone she came. 
 But, as if he divined her object, he seemed no ways disposed to 
 take his departure. He bore patiently the torrent of small talk, 
 which, with the hope of driving him away, she poured out from 
 a most inexhaustible fountain. But in vain. He fortified him- 
 self with a pile of papers, which he displayed upon the parlor 
 table soon after her arrival. Busying himself in army and navy 
 estimates, for Don Balthazar filled several different departments 
 in the bureau of the Adelantado he strove to busy himself in 
 the midst of details ; ami, though the incessant buzzing in his 
 ears must certainly have defeated every attempt at thought or 
 investigation, he persevered in the appearance of both, with un 
 wearied industry. The patience of Leonora was not of a sort 
 t contend with that of the veteran, resolved upon an object. 
 She gave way at last, but by no means with the intention to beat 
 a retreat. She only prepared to change her operations, and, fail 
 ing at blockade and starvation, she determined boldly to effect 
 her purpose by assault. Olivia, all this while, seemed quite un 
 conscious of certainly indifferent to, all that was going on. She 
 neither looked up nor listened, nor had a word to say. Never 
 was there a more perfect exhibition of apathy, or we might say 
 despair. What to her was all this childish prattle, of her child 
 friend? What cared she for that small personal talk which made 
 the Imrdeii of all her conversations? She had neither mood, nor 
 heart, nor head, nor memory, nor sense, for all that was saying 
 or had been said. She was, in truth, laboring under a sort of 
 aberration of mind, the result of drugs and evil practice, of the 
 
A CHANGE OF OPERATIONS. 336 
 
 whole extent of which, though, in her sane moments, she had 
 suspicions, she had really no conscious knowledge except by her 
 prolonged sufferings day by day. But, very soon, the conversa 
 tion aroused her. Tin- daring Leonora, according to her new 
 plan of operation, now addressed herself to the uncle. Turning 
 to him very abruptly, and whsn he was least prepared for the 
 assault, she said 
 
 " So, Don Balthazar, we are to lose Don Philip de Vasconselos 
 after all. The report is, that he joined the expedition last night, 
 atVr a very eloquent speech. But you must have heard it all, 
 and can tell us much better than anybody else." 
 
 Olivia looked up with a wild and vacant stare, but the sense 
 :ied to be slowly kindling in her eyes. With a frown, Don 
 Balthazar replied : 
 
 " I do not see what there is to tell. No more, it appears, than 
 you know already. Your husband was present. He, perhaps, 
 remembers the speech, since he regards the knight of Portugal 
 ill-thing of an orator. Let him report it." 
 
 " Well, I suppose, after this, the fact may be held undeniable; 
 and now the. wonder is why he should have left his purpose 
 doubtful so long. Why, but a week ago, it was in everybody s 
 mouth that he was not to go at all that he had abandoned the 
 expedition altogether." 
 
 Well, you admire him the more, I suppose, because of his 
 feminine caprices/" was the surly an-wcr. 
 
 "No, indeed, though 1 don t see anything amiss in caprices 
 now and then. They are rather agreeable, to my notion. But, 
 in his CMe, people found good reasons for his refusal to go; better, 
 . than I can find for h : - pfi --nt change of mind." 
 
 "Ah! well! good reasons?" 
 
 "To be sure ! Very excellent reasons, Sefior ; they gave him 
 credit for dis.-ovi-rini: more precious treasures in Havana than he 
 was like to find in Florida, and at less peril of life and comfort; 
 and these were surely good reason- for -r.i\ inu r ." 
 
 a Humph !" quoth the Don, looking askance At Olivia, in 
 
896 VASCONSEL08. 
 
 whose eyes the returning light of thought was momently grow 
 ing more intelligent. 
 
 " The truth is," continued Leonora, " nobody could question 
 the admiration of Don Philip for our dear Olivia here. Every 
 body saw it ; it was in everybody s mouth ; and to confess my 
 conviction, I was very sure that Olivia had just as much regard 
 for Don Philip as he felt for her/ 
 
 Olivia sighed involuntarily. The knight looked very savage, 
 and turned over his papers diligently. After a pause, he 
 said, 
 
 " I know no law which forbids fools to talk about their neigh 
 bors. I suppose it is hardly punishable, since such people are 
 not to be held strictly to account for what they say ; but I trust 
 my niece has given no sufficient reason for the assumption, on 
 the part of any body, that she had given a"way her affections 
 gratuitously to any man to one, indeed, who had never sought 
 them." 
 
 "Well, Senor, that is well said by a guardian ; but hearts are not 
 always regulated by the strict letter of domestic law. They are 
 like birds, which will break out of cage if you leave the door 
 open. Affections are strangely wilful things, Senor, and very 
 apt to fly in the face of authority." 
 
 " You have good reason for saying so, Senora ! " was the 
 scornful sneer of the Don in return, emphasising with a pause 
 the pronoun, and thus making an allusion sufficiently obvious to 
 her amour (which the church had not sanctioned) with Nuno de 
 Tobar. But she received it with a cool indifference that silenced 
 all further attacks of the same sort. 
 
 " Oh ! if you allude to me, I confess that I have been wilful 
 enough and sinful enough, and that my affections very readily 
 ran away with my prudence ; and but that Nuno was a blessed 
 good boy, and loved me for my heart, and not for my wisdom, 
 I should have been a sad piece of scandal for all Cuba. I was 
 born a woman, Senor, and I believe I will always be one, let me 
 lire never so long. Now, a woman has a natural faith in man, 
 
A MATCH FOR THE DON. 337 
 
 as her born guardian, and protector, and lover, and friend ; and 
 if he wrongs her faith, he discredits himself, not her. That s 
 my notion in such cases. Don t suppose that you make me feel 
 at all uncomfortable by your hints ; for I am willing to admit, 
 to all Cuba, that I was very weak, and very loving too loving 
 to believe evil of the man 1 fancied ! So now, Don Balthazar, 
 it it pleases you to talk of my affairs, I can t prevent you. It s 
 tlie fool s privilege, as you have ju>t said, against which then- is 
 no law, to say what one pleases of his friends; and you have 
 certainly the same rights as other people; but, in truth, if you 
 will suffer me, I will speak rather of Olivia and Don Philip, as 
 being just now much better subjects, and about which 1 feel 
 much more concerned." 
 
 The little woman s good nature actually endowed her with 
 wit and wisdom. Don Balthazar was quite astounded by her 
 audacity. She was invulnerable to his shafts. lie looked up, 
 and glared upon her more savagely than ever, but remained >i- 
 leiit ; and in a moment after, seemed more than ever busy with 
 his documents. But Leonora went on, and somehow, his in 
 stincts prompted him to listen. She might have heard from her 
 husband what the latter had withheld from him ; and his doubts 
 had been by no means quieted by the reflections of the past 
 night. Leonora now especially addressed herself to Olivia. 
 
 "I confess, dear Olivia, that I am surprised and disappointed. 
 1 u> 1 vexed at this >tnin_L r determination of Don Philip, know 
 ing that 1, ."ii. and believing that you love him, that he 
 should re-olve to go without addivs>inii you. But perhaps he 
 //us d.ne so, and you have bi-eii K foolish as to refuse him ! Ah, 
 my child, can it be possible ? " 
 
 The f Olivia, now full of expression, anticipated the 
 
 reply of her 11 
 
 H.- ha> itot addiv>sed me, Leonora; he has not even b- 
 here. I have not se.-n him sin<v the moment when I was taken 
 sick at the tournament. 11 
 
 " Is it possible 1 " 
 
 "True !" said Olivia, very mournfully. "True!" 
 15 
 
838 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " Nay," continued Leonora, after a thoughtful pause " nay, 
 there must be some mistake in this. You certainly Jiave seen 
 him within the last two days, though he may not have proposed 
 to you." 
 
 " No ! I have not." 
 
 " That is strange !" 
 
 "Why strange?" 
 
 " He has certainly seen you since the tournament" 
 
 " Why do you think so ?" * 
 
 " Re told Nuno that he had ! Told him so only last night."* 
 
 Don Balthazar could not keep his eyes upon the papers. He 
 looked up inquiringly to Leonora. She noted the curious ex 
 pression in his eyes, and was determined to withhold nothing 
 which should either obtain for herself the secret which she de 
 sired, or should goad the haughty Don with revelations which 
 she somehow fancied would annoy him. When, therefore, Olivia 
 anxiously besought her, as to the alleged visit of Philip, she pre 
 pared to tell all that she know. 
 
 " Well, I know that he has been to see you twice in the last 
 two days. He came day before yesterday, and was a party to 
 an encounter which took place in your grounds here between a 
 troop of alguazils and a certain outlaw." 
 
 "A slave a me-ti/o . " involuntarily asked the Don. 
 
 44 Even so : one Mateo ! Philip told Nuno all about it. He 
 interposed, finding half a score of persons upon one; until the 
 officers told him how the matter stood, and then he suffered them 
 to proceed. The outlaw made his escape, however; and Don 
 Philip then proceeded to visit you, when your girl, Juana, met 
 him, and told him that you were sick and had retired for the 
 night." 
 
 44 When was this ?" demanded Olivia, with strange calmness. 
 44 Two days ago only." 
 
 Olivia rose and called Juana. The girl was close at hand 
 had been listening, in fact, ai the door. She made her appear 
 ance, and on being asked, confirmed the story. 
 u Why did you speak a falsehood, Juana?" 
 
LICIIT U UK A KING IX. 339 
 
 The girl hung her head and made no answer. Olivia turned 
 
 to Leonora. 
 
 " You say that Don Philip came here again, Leonora? Was 
 her- iy?" 
 
 Ye- M he assured Nuno last night." 
 
 " When ? at what hour?" 
 
 " La-t owning about dusk." 
 
 "And saw me?" 
 
 " So he said ; but, strangely enough, he mentioned that though 
 he saw you, he did not speak to you. Yet he came to speak. 
 He came to offer you his hand." 
 
 ( Kivia pressed her hands upon her heart, with a look of inde 
 scribable suflering. Don Balthazar arose, somewhat agitated, 
 and approaehed Leonora. 
 
 - Jfou say, Se nora, that Don Philip was here last evening 7 
 Last evening !" 
 
 Y. 
 
 "And at dusk?" 
 
 " About that time. He came hither about sunset. Nuno saw 
 him when he left his lodgings to make the visit, and he told him 
 all about it. 
 
 " And he saw me ?" said Olivia. " Where was I ?" 
 
 "In the summer-house, Senorita !" was the voluntary reply 
 of Juana, who had been eagerly waiting to speak. 
 
 "It is a mistake !" said Dn Baltha/ar " He was not here. 
 1 tell you, ^ it is altogether a mi-take." 
 
 This \ va s said with a vehemence meant to cover an agitatio* 
 which the knight could in.t otherwise subdue. Olivia beheld this 
 anitatioii through the elll.rt t< roiuval it. His asseveration went 
 for nothing particularly as Leonora insisted that Don Philip had 
 deelari-d the fact to her husband, only la-t night, ainl after the 
 former had made his speech. 
 
 "It i- Impossible I" Slid Don Baltha/ar, in a manner meant 
 to silence all further diseu-s-.m ; but the malignant element in the 
 bosom of the slave, Juana, was not prepared to suffer him to 
 
340 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 escape thus easily. She could not suppress the grin of malice 
 from her features, as she hastily replied : 
 
 " Oh ! yes, Senor; Don Philip was certainly here ; and was 
 at the summer-house. I saw him when he was leaving it. It 
 was there he must have seen the Senorita. You came out of 
 the summer-house just after Don Philip had gone." 
 
 " I !" exclaimed the Don with troubled aspect " I !" 
 
 " You, Senor !" cried Olivia, rising and striding across the 
 interval that separated her from her uncle while her eyes, dilat 
 ing beyond their orbs, were fixed upon him with an expression 
 of mixed agony and horror. 
 
 " You ! yov ! were you in the summer-house last evening 
 you, when I <yas there !" 
 
 He was siint .... Juana supplied the answer. 
 
 " Yes, my lady the Senor went to the summer-house after 
 he had dined. But it was dusk before I saw Don Philip. I did 
 not see Don Philip when he came, but only when he was coming 
 down the steps of the summer-house, and was going away; and 
 I was quite frightened to see his face. He looked like a man 
 that was going crazy ; and O ! how he did groan ! I heard him ! 
 I was quite afraid to go near him." 
 
 * What did he here at that hour !" cried Don Balthazar, furi 
 ously " How dare he intrude upon my privacy ! How 
 
 dared you " 
 
 He was arrested in his speech by the action of Olivia, who 
 suddenly pressed closer to him, so as almost to touch him, her 
 hands clasped together, and with such a look so like madness, 
 in her face that, involuntarily, the uncle recoiled from her, and 
 the words died away upon his lips. 
 
 " Oh ! you have done your worst now !" she exclaimed. " I 
 see it all ! I know it all ! Fiend and monster as you are, you 
 feel it, too, do you not ! You see it ! You will burn for this ! 
 Your rages shall be endless ! There shall be no drop of water 
 for your tongue ! There must be a hell, if it be for your use 
 only ! There must be devils, if it be only for your torture ! 
 
THE SCENE CLOSED. 341 
 
 Oh ! do not start, and recoil ! I will not harm you ! Daggers 
 would be no punishment for such crimes as yours. Hell ! hell 
 only! Hell! hell! hell!" 
 
 She dasped her head with both her hands, and reeled about 
 dizzily. Leonora caught her in her arms in time to save her 
 from falling upon the floor. She was in a swoon ! It cai; 
 sonably to save her from madness. We close the scene. Let 
 us suppose that Leonora clung lovingly, and nursed heedful!) 
 her suffering friend ; and that Don Balthazar fled from the pros 
 ence which, with all his brutal heartlessness of character, he dared 
 
CHAPTER XX V II I. 
 
 " I 8 wear 
 
 To dedicate my cunning and my strength, 
 My silence, and whatever else is mine, 
 To thy commands." 
 
 SHKUJTY. 
 
 DON BALTHAZAR fled into the recesses of the thicket, and 
 buried himself amid dark ami savage thoughts. 
 
 " He knows all, indeed !" he exclaimed, when he felt him 
 self alone. " Where was that scoundrel, Mateo, that he did 
 not slay him before this ! But for those bungling algua/ils ! 
 they have marred his purpose. I forgot to warn them, and 
 hence all the mischief. But, if it were necessary that I should 
 have him put out of the way before, it is trebly necessary 
 now ! He knows too much ! lie could blast me, at any mo 
 ment, by his speech ! He must die ! She must die ! It is 
 now the only means of safety ! Oh ! would it had been done 
 the very hour that I resolved upon it! I should have done it 
 with my own hand, if I had only dreamed of this danger. I was 
 mad, blind, oblivious, a very dolt, not to see that his exist 
 ence was perilous to my safety! Hers too! But I must be 
 heedful in this matter. It will not do here. It will not do till 
 I am gone. Then, I shall contrive it. 1 will send her olHo the 
 country. She shall depart as soon as she is fit to travel. Sylvia 
 shall see to the rest. It shall be done. For him! ah! how 
 shall I manage that? Shall it be here? Shall it he in Florida ? 
 Here, best, if Mateo can contrive it; but in Florida it will be 
 quite as easy. He has no followers; few friends! If he, is 
 found, with a knife in his bosom, it is by the hand of the red 
 man that he dies ! Who will doubt? None ! and he must die ! 
 That is settled. It is his life or mine ! Would I could see that 
 scoundrel Mateo !" 
 
 The devil is said to answer promptly whenever he is called. 
 The person invoked stood the next moment before the Don. 
 
 "Ha! Ha! You want Mateo, do you? the scoundrel 
 Mateo! well, you see him, I hope. lie is here, and not so 
 much a scoundrel as some that wear much better reputation." 
 
 The reckless outlaw laughed irreverently at his own sarcasm. 
 He felt his securities. Perhaps, he would have even ivli>hed a 
 hand-to-hand struggle with the knight; but he seemed to enter 
 tain no hostile purpose, and stood quietly confronting him. look- 
 ing good-humored enough, considering the genuine feelings of 
 
TUK DKVIL ALWAYS AT HAM). 343 
 
 hatred which he- felt fur liis superior. Don Balthazar was 
 not a timid man, was not easily startled bv any event or 
 presence, and certainly had no fears of any individual : 
 but the appearance of the outlaw, so apropos to his sumn 
 brought up to his mind a vamie image of the satanic piv-> 
 wliicli, in fact, was the true meaning of his requisition. It is t Ik- 
 hellish agent which we summon always when we doign a hdlisli 
 1. Don Balthazar, however, welcomed the fugithe al vr hi- 
 own fashion, with the air of a master who knew his right-*, and 
 had reason to complain. 
 
 " V i u an; here at last! But you have done nothing. 5T< 
 promised finely! Where are your performance*? Had \>u 
 done according to your pledges, I had been -uved from a v< -r\ 
 unpleasant affair !" 
 
 Had I done ! and who is to blame, I beg to know, that I 
 have not done? You make a bargain with me. and when 1 
 about to do my work, I find your algua/.iis upon my heel-. 
 Your algua/iK bearing your orders to 86tte and bind me. and 
 have me properly d rosed tor the honor- of the (j<iroi> // ! Ah! 
 indeed! The yarote vil for \ our own ally the man \\lio is to 
 risk his life doing \ our bu>iness ! What do YOU sav to that . " 
 
 - What do I say ! Why. that the tiling was whoik a mistake. 
 The. rascate did not understand me." 
 
 "A mistake! Oh, it. would have been precious consolation 
 to me, with my neck fitted with an iron cravat, to hear that it 
 was done wholly by mistake! 1 had as lief die by the law. as by 
 mi-take, any d 
 
 " I tell you that the algua/ils were ordered after you, 
 I had -poken with you ; I only forgot to M and -peak to them. 
 and they continued the search in consequence. But 1 will put 
 D to their pursuit." 
 
 "Oh! \ ou fttrwi only ! But that wa> -t range on \ . -ur part. 
 You re too much a man of bu-ine-- to forget -ueh iliinus in . 
 mon. But you ll remember tn nr. you -.i\ ; and I m to be pur- 
 
 Slled no in, 
 
 * JTeS! I -hall se,- to it this very day ; but you are to do the 
 
 U-ille Noil Undertook >" 
 
 i ! that bu^in. 
 1 . ..u \\ill ,li>poM- of this kniirht of IV.rtu^al. tkt 
 
 nd him to C,,d b\- a qui< li 
 anoe? You are . y,, u ^\\\ ,,,, V( , ur 
 
 " Afrai-i : ( i. no] I m not afraid of y.ur al-_ r I \- tor 
 
 my eiigageiiu-nt.-. that \\ill depend upon the \\a) you 
 
844 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 keep yours. I don t see that, so far, you ve leen very keen to 
 remember them." 
 
 " You make too much of this forgetful ness of mine." 
 
 " Oh ! you may forget again ! I never trust a bad memory; 
 not even my own. See this handkerchief; there are three knots 
 in it. Every one marks a life. This is one I put in it when I 
 engaged with you to send Don Philip by a short cut to para 
 dise. You must knot your handkerchief too, before I take this 
 knot out of mine." 
 
 Don Balthazar received the suggestion rather literally. He 
 coolly took out his handkerchief, and proceeded to knot it ; but 
 the outlaw laughed. 
 
 " Look you, Don Balthazar, the man who can t write, makes 
 his knot in the handkerchief; but that s not the rule for you. 
 You must make your knot on paper, with pen and ink ; and 
 there must be a great seal to it. Get me the pardon, under the 
 hands of the Adelantado, for all past offences ; that s one knot 
 you re to make. Prepare me the paper that proves mine and 
 Juana s freedom, and when you give me these, I shall take out 
 my knot nere, and Don Philip will fly off to join the angels in 
 paradise ; that will save you from finding him in your way 
 hereafter." 
 
 And the fellow chuckled greatly at his own wit. Don Bal 
 thazar was not so well pleased at these requisitions. 
 
 " But, when I have got you these papers, what security have I 
 that you will do what you promise for me f 
 
 " Security ! Well, it seems to me that your security will be 
 quite as good as mine. What security do you give me, when I 
 have slain Don Philip, that you will do for me what you have 
 promised ?" 
 
 "Slave! Do you count the word of a nobleman, and a 
 soldier, as of no more value than that of a mestizo and an 
 outlaw ?" 
 
 " Pooh, pooh, Senor ; that sort of talk won t do between us ! 
 It s you that are the outlaw, not me ! I am to kill Don Philip 
 on your account, not on mine ; because you hate him, and not 
 from any hate that I bear the Portuguese. Were I to kill him on 
 my own account, /should be outlawed : killing him /or you, it s 
 your act, not mine, and you re the outlaw ! Don t speak to me 
 as if there was any difference between us. There s none, I tell 
 you, but what s in my favor! I think myself a much better 
 man than you any way. I don t get other people to fight my 
 battles, or avenge my wrongs there s where I m the better 
 man ; and as for strength and skill with the weapon, why, I could 
 
WHICH 16 THE OUTLAW? 346 
 
 slit your throat in the twinkling of an eye, and before you could 
 mutter an ave" 
 
 Thus saying, he flourished his naked machete in fearful pro\. 
 unity t<> the knight s face. The cheeks of the Don flushed crim- 
 
 :id he liastily drew his sword half-way from the sheath. 
 M Oh! put Up," said the outlaw, " it s no use and be-id 
 not i .. I m not going to kill you; and if I were, you 
 
 could do nothing to help yourself. I wouldn t give you the 
 est chance. I d be into you. and through you, before you 
 could get your toledo oof of the scabbard. I m none of your 
 I m, knigi. -tile and Portugal, to let you put : just 
 
 in your own attitude to light; all that seems to me only foolish:. 
 Here s my enemy, and I m to kill him. If I don t kill him. he 
 kills me. " Now. *I don t want to be killed, just yet; and I rather 
 lie vh.uild .IK- than me! What thei: > Will I give him a 
 chance? N ..t a bit of it ! I ll slit his throat without saying, 
 l\ Y.uir lea\e. Befior. 1 And it it was my profit to slit yours, 
 I d have done it \sithoul all this palaver. Don t be af 
 We re mi tTius. |"YC a contract with you ; and I m willing to 
 wi.rk tor YOU. on conditions Hut you mu-t get down from the 
 . hen you -peak to me. 1 can t bear to be ridden 
 p by any Don" that ever came from Spain! and 1 won t! 
 The: . you know me. I- it a thing cl-ar between Ds1 
 
 \V me the pardon, the tree papers, with the b 
 
 Slt,,/i\ kill the knight of Portugal for you . " 
 
 You re 8 bold fellow. Mateo; it s a bargain !" 
 Very -.rood. When shall I have the paper- . I mu-t have 
 thei .nd to -how ; f.r I HOP, and mu- 
 
 to read them for me, to 866 that a K fore I 
 
 do my share in the bu-ii 
 
 hard in your condition-. MateOJ but YOU -hall have 
 your own way. M.-i-t me here, at this hour, tw 
 and YOU -hall have the pardon and the j.ap 
 >r ; I ll be punctual to the - 
 
 When the tw-- I. the knight ; . ilmost imme 
 
 diately. into the ei:y ; the outlaw .I 
 
 peared wiihin the I Don I>altha/ar did not return to the 
 
 haeienda that night. In his place. Olivia had another visitor. 
 He Sylvia -lept. .luan;i conduetcd her brother 10 the chamber 
 of lier ; The latter appeared fcoexped him; slu- 
 
 July not un|r pared t -r lii> oomi 
 
 i- surprising to beliold her rountenance. as the I... Id ut- 
 law entered tlie chamber. Wl. bred tliat 
 
 derful composure that strength of calm so suddenly I after 
 
346 VASCONSELOS 
 
 the overthrow of her hope and pride, so terrible and so recent] 
 after that wild compulsion which seemed to have racked 
 equally the body and the soul, how had she so soon and 
 thoroughly recovered] In the utter wreck of her pride, her 
 sensibilities seemed suddenly to have become blunted. She 
 had the look of one who felt nothing. There was not in her 
 countenance the slightest show of suffering. Her eyes were 
 strong in their glare, not sad. The muscles ,f her mouth 
 betrayed not the slightest emotion. She looked like one .>f 
 those wretched persons whom we sometimes encounter in society, 
 who grow prematurely wise who never know youth or child 
 hood who spring, at a single bound, into manhood, and the full 
 possession of their minds ; and who do so, in almost all 
 at the expense of their hearts nay, to the utter death and burial 
 of their hearts ! Such premature development always makes 
 monsters. The look of Olivia was that of one whose heart was 
 utterly dead within her, and who has survived and forgot U n if, 
 indeed, she ever knew its loss. It was to sum up in a word 
 already used all stony! The calm was that of death the 
 eomposure, that of insensibility not apathy ! Yet there was 
 life in her. There was a new-born energy working within 
 her soul. That had survived the heart had acquired its 
 strength only in the utter annihilation of the hope, if not the 
 affections. These still lived, however; but in what manner? 
 We shall, perhaps, see as we advance; but they were not now to 
 declare themselves in the ordinary way. a* is the ca-e with tlio-e 
 who do not live to denial who still indulge, if not in hope, in 
 dreams in delirium! Olivia had her purposes still ; and, through 
 these, her lingering and blighted atFection> were still destined to 
 exist, and work ; but she had no more feminine emotions. The 
 blissful though deceiving reveries of her woman heart were all 
 at an end ! There were now no delicious fancies, tripping, like, 
 nimble servitors, in obedience to thought, or will ; bringing gay 
 colors, and creatures of the element, to beguile her saddened 
 moods. Fancy had been stripped of all its wings ruthlessly 
 stripped and life now crept on like tin* worm deposited beneath 
 the preeioiis flowers, to which it can no longer fly. But the 
 worm ^till had life; and a will, which continued to incline in th : 
 direction of its former fancies. Olivia de Alvaro. we repeat, 
 DAS still a purpose, whether of hate or love we ha\- 
 learn ! Kiiongh, that it is the purpose of a broken heart, well 
 knowing how complete has been its ruin. how utterly 
 is its condition how dr.-ad its humiliation, how unrelieved 
 by solace, whether of mind, or nearc, or soul. She is withou* 
 
A NKW M VST Kin. 847 
 
 \ .-upurpo-e! AndlAof purpose t We sbaU 
 
 proceed. 
 
 \\hatever it i-. she pursued it willl such enemies as H 
 never in-fore displayed iii the prosecution of any object. Thev 
 
 thi stron^cst-\\iiled peison of the 
 
 other sex. She bends her \\hole soul upon tlie ta-k. Sh. 
 chides all fears, all douht-. frm consideration everything 
 which may impair her efforts. iYrhaps. we should rather 
 that, feeling a- -he does, \\<T soul is no jo: -iM<- to f 
 
 She has endured the la-t sorrow, and the worst ; and death ha- 
 no terrors, in a sea-i>n. \\hcii lite i- not "idy withrr.it hope. Ian 
 without inspiration of any kind. She wrought, nevertl 
 
 dedicated to duty ; a- one. too. to whom the strength C 
 phvsical and spiritual, onlv with the dutv ! An hur had made, 
 her a nt w person; and, with the di fn fiv-h 
 
 imp. bas no time for sorrows. Sorrows! Ili-w should 
 
 tear-, or wailin^s even, or prolonged watching, i^ive testii; 
 to -ndi a woe a- h T- ! To have been eapabh- ot either wouhl 
 havi- implied verv inferior sen-iliiliti -mailer derive of 
 
 heart and sulVerinr ! 
 
 A ni^ht of stunning and strange sensation . 
 to afllict the hotly than the mind, and shestood up. a i, 
 With the dawn -he foiunl hei^df employed. ;ictive. \\atelitul. 
 vigilant. sju-akin*: tew words, l.ut firmly. - allowing no i|iie-- 
 tious. willing, and Causing to he done, according \ her \\ill! 
 , I uana. now honestly prepared to serve, was put in requisition, 
 
 and kept Imsy. At nielli she wa- re.|iiiretl. a io lirinr 
 
 her l.rollnT. the outlaw, to the chandler of her mi-ti e--. \\ hcn 
 there, the latter had tew word-, hut thev exhibited !r-r in a 
 wholly new attitude, to 1-oth hmther and -i-tcr. -luana -he dis- 
 <! to another chamber. Knun Mateo. now alone with her, 
 she demanded an account of hi- inier\i w with Don Baitha/ar. 
 
 Ele revealed its purport all! Olivia listened \\ithout se.min^ 
 ion. \\ hen he was do id . 
 
 M 1 have piv-umed on your fnlei: ot lie 
 
 will not ! I am willii- V \ -u. 5fou 
 
 too much of a man to deceive me. 1 
 
 liy t n I Virgin 1" he l.e .Mii. 
 
 "It dor- Hot Heed. Mat.o. lh;it \. . \ Will \>< 
 
 -hall work for me, anI -hetl n Moo.! ! 1 lu-re is your p^ 1 
 . \\lii.-li 1 h-ive proMire.l f >r you tlir- i--!i tl l-ahell^^ 
 
 and the paper, which makes you and .luana f 
 
 no IMI:IT slaves of mine. Takt- them, aim th- ii li-t -n t> what I 
 have you do." 
 
348 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 The outlaw fell at her 1 <1 IKT hand, and coverea u 
 
 with kisses. She withdrew it, indifferently, without emotion. 
 
 " Enough," she said : "Enough! How lonu . Mateo. will it 
 take you to procure me a supply of the foots ft.r making the 
 tawny brown dye of the mountains . " 
 
 "I can get you any quantity, Sefiora, in a short twelve hours/ 
 
 "Be it so. You mu>t set out for it as soon as I dismiss you. 1 
 
 Juana here peered within the chamber, l>ut the lady motioned 
 her away, and then, in a whisper, gave Mateo some oilier instruc 
 tions. Her manner was calm. resolute, emotionless wholly ; 
 her words elear, though whispered ; her purpose made fully 
 evident to his understanding, though at present it is withheld 
 from ours. He argued with her purpose, but in vain. He 
 finally submitted ; Juana was called in. and her brother hur 
 riedly disappeared. He returned by noon of the next day. and 
 brought her the roots of a native dye. such as she required. He 
 had other trusts to execute, which kept him actively employed. 
 Meanwhile, Juana kept diligent watch. The espionage of Sylvia 
 was baffled ; and, more than once during the day and night, 
 Mateo penetrated the dwelling in safety. sometimes \\itu a 
 package, beneath his arm ; sometimes with only certain tidings 
 on hi> lips. He wrought submissively, beneath a will which it 
 was neither his policy nor his desire to disobey. Meanwhile, 
 his eyes filled, rough and savage as lie was. as h.- g ;t /ed upon 
 Olivia, and remembered that it \vas by his agency that her pride 
 had received its fatal blow to sny nothing of her hope in the 
 terrible moment when Philip de Vasconselos had entered the 
 summer-house. But lie dared not make this confession. 
 
 "Yet, how could I help it ?"" ijuoth the outlaw, to himself, by 
 way of apology. " lie had saved me, had served me. and was 
 a noble gentleman. Then, I knew her only as the kin of that 
 scoundrel, Don Balthazar! Vet. I wish it had not been 
 
 The regret was unavailing, but. it strengthened the desire in 
 the heart of the outlaw to serve her faithfully in all tlnii: 
 it softened him to survey her. so wholly changed.- -a \s>.m;m no 
 longer, stern, inaccessible, hopeless, --having but one idea ; 
 and that he shrugged his shoulders as he thought of it. lint h" 
 was forbid to argue it again. 
 
 " I have heard of such thing- before ; but. afhr all, it\ only a 
 sort of madness! She will break down in it. or break out, aud 
 that s pretty much ihe ^une thing. and then it s all over with 
 her! Oh! it is so pitiful! and she so young, so beautiful, ami of 
 such a great family ! Jttjium n^ ! How I should like to cure 
 all the trouble, it it could be, done, by making three cuts witi 
 my machete on the black heart of that monster, I)OM Baltha/ar 
 
A NEW MYSTERY. 
 
 849 
 
 I Would make a cross for him .should cross him out forever ! 
 Well, let her break down, and I shall do it yet ! //> can t buy 
 me now, at any price. But 1 shall sell him at just what price I 
 ! Who ll huy on these terms i Who / Why the devil, 
 to be sure ! Who "W 7 " 
 
CHAPTER X^viA. 
 
 Soffn, rhe poco 
 Ti riinane a soffnr. Non ti spaventi 
 
 I/aspotto del la pens : il inal prpgiore 
 
 E ih; ina i il timor." / 
 
 IT required, in fact, no effort on the part of Don Balthazar U> 
 procure tin pinion of Mateo, the outlaw, froio the hands of the 
 Adelnntado. He had only to place the paper before him, with 
 a crowd of other papers, for signature, and the sign-manual was 
 set down without scruple or examination. This was the usual 
 process. It was thus that, at the entreaty of Olivia, the Lady 
 Isabella had already procured the pardon of the mesti/o ; and 
 thus it was that the affair had escaped the knowledge of the 
 knight. In neither instance had I )e Soto been made aware of 
 what he had done, and Don Balthazar was thus naturally kept 
 ignorant of the peculiar interest which his niece had manifested 
 in the outlaw, and of her intimacy with him. He was utterly 
 without suspicion in this quarter : the consequence of his impres 
 sion of her ignorance of atlairs, and of her utter indiil eivnce and 
 apathy upon most subjects. The pardon procured, the 1 )oii pre 
 pared the legal discharge of Matco. and his sifter, from the ser 
 vice of his ward. lie signed tiie latter papers as her guardian, 
 and. as usual, without consulting her. Tin- deed of emancipa 
 tion which she had prepared was. in lact, void, in consequence 
 of her minority ; and this wa^ quite as well known to Mateo as 
 to h-Tsclf. But it was understood between them that he was to 
 keep aloof until >he should reach mafun fv. when he could boldly 
 defy the uncle. The parties did not deceive themselves, or one 
 another; and though the discharge of Olivia was. lor the pres 
 ent, of less value than that of Don Baltha/ar. still Matco much 
 preferred to receive tin- boon at her hands, though of questiona 
 ble validity, than to incur any obligation at the hands of a p i><>n 
 \\liom he meditated to murder at the first decent opportunity. 
 Arm.-d with the desired papers. Matco did not think proper to 
 k -i-p his engagement with the Don. lie was to have met him 
 in the thicket. \\heiv we have already beheld their inter\iew. 
 bu! t!i.- knigiil waited i r him in vain; and, after Ihlgering 
 f -r ; .n hour, b -coming impatient, he took his wa\ towards 
 the si miner hoii-e, and thence proceeded to the dwelling. He 
 little, dreamed that the per>on lie hoped to see was closely 
 
SECRET PURPOSES. 861 
 
 following and observing all his movements. So was Juana. 
 Mateo had counselled the latter carefully on certain points, 
 and the watch maintained by one or the other of them left 
 no single proceeding of Don Baltha/ar. when at home, unno 
 ticed ! While at the summer-hou-e. the 1 )m had diverted him 
 self of the papers with which he had propo ed to meet tile out 
 law. As it was in this neighborhood that he still calculated to 
 encounter him, he thought to have them always rea.lv by leaving 
 them there. He fastened them up securely in a huge chest 
 which he kept in a closet, lint Mateo. who watched all his steps, 
 soon wormed his way into tin- closet and the chest. He wa.s 
 armed with a bit of iron wire, his machete, and a small drill and 
 mallet; and it was surprising \ v ith what rapidity he persuaded 
 locks to give up their secret^. Suehi> the advantage <>f being in 
 high practice, wherever the artsaiv eoneenied. The worthy outlaw, 
 however, did not immediately possess himself of tin- documents 
 of the Don. For the present. In- wa< content to know where 
 they were hidden. He preferred tft?tt their loss slmuld in.: 
 discovered until the last moment, when the Don should be 
 ready for departure to Florida, and he to hi< native moun 
 tains lb- had much yet to do in Havana, and did not can 
 be disturbed again by the algua/.iK while pursuing his pleasant 
 occupations. He continued in the employment of Olivia; and 
 her present purposes, steadily pursued, with a mind now pro. 
 foundly concentrated on the one object, found him i-nosiirh to do. 
 Hut there wa> a slight interruption in t leir intercourse. In . 
 rytngOUt his purpose*. Don Baltha/ar, as we have >een. had re- 
 d to si-ud liis niece to the plantation, the hacienda. 
 
 country-seat of his ward at Matelo* where her larg. 
 
 chiefly lay. Thi> was in order to hi* own security, II re, he 
 
 might b.-*t pr :inst her peace perhaps her life. I! 
 
 she would be removed from frequent association with the Ladv 
 ila. who had taken a gn al-r Interest in her happinos than 
 lialth-j/ar cared to >ee. or to ,n Sli,. \\a- to 
 
 cecci t !ii; 1.- under thecond 
 
 nl whom Don Haltha/ar wa- not unwilling that 
 ia sh- iild marry. \)<- Sinolar was his creature. silly crea 
 ture. - and weak. who feared the Don, 
 and whom the laf i ma-k to Belter hi.- 
 o\\h . iild wed with DC Sinnlar. <!ie mi<_ ht 
 live; and the latter w dlowed BVerV opportunity 
 winning his \\-a\- to her favor. 1 )on llaiiha/ar. however, fia l now 
 but little liope of thi>. I utter d. -j-air of the 
 knight of Portugal, aud the jl which his o 
 
352 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 cruel conduct hud occasioned. The expedition once departed, 
 carrying with it Don Philip, and the uncle was satisfied to trust 
 somewhat to time. Time might effect his object, and if not 
 the dagger ! This latter remedy was to he entrusted to Mateo; 
 unless, indeed, Sylvia should prove herself as expert with the 
 bowl as her predecessor, Anita, had been. 
 
 According to these plans, Olivia was suddenly apprised that 
 she was to travel that very day under the- escort of De Sinolnr. 
 She was silently submissive. She was not allowed words of 
 parting with her friends, the Lady Isabella, or the fair, frail wife 
 of Nuno de Tobar. To this also she was reconciled. She had 
 no desire to see either. She had survived friendship. M iv 
 society had no attractions for her, and nothing compensative, 
 She lived but for a single purpose, and this was of a nature to 
 be rather helped than defeated by her removal from the city ; 
 that is to sav, bv her seeming or temporary removal. She was 
 prepared to go, but her secret resolution was taken to return; 
 and that, too, before the sailing of the expedition. \Ve shall see. 
 hereafter, in what manner. Don Balthazar was rather surprised 
 at her submission. He had expected a struggle. But she heard 
 hi> requisition with a cold indifference, and answered it with a 
 single word of resignation. 
 
 " 1 am ready now !" 
 
 He was surprised, and said something about her friends. 
 
 " Would you not desire to see and part with the Lady Isa 
 bella, with Leonora de Tobar f 
 
 " No ! What are friends and friendship to me ?" 
 
 " It might be done in an hour. It were proper, perhaps." 
 
 " I do not care to see them/ 
 
 " Well, as you please! You can see them as frequently as 
 you think proper after I am gone. Indeed, as Leonora will re 
 main in Cuba, you might have her as your guest/ 
 
 Olivia was silent. The uncle proceeded : 
 
 " De Sinolar has gallantly undertaken to be your escort, and 
 you can command his services during my absence, in any mat- 
 t.-r in which you may need assistance. He has kindly volun. 
 leered his ^ood ojliec-s. 1 have given him instruction. 11 
 
 - Whrn doi-s the expedition sail?" she coldly inquired. 
 
 - \Viihii; l wo days. We are all ready, and the wind promises 
 to be fair. 
 
 She a-ked no more. 
 
 " When we separate. Olivia, it may be forever! I go upon 
 an expedition of great peril. T may never return. Do you for- 
 :ivo me, child 1 ?" 
 
ADVICE TO A WOOER. 853 
 
 A terrible scorn rose into her stony ga/e. 
 
 "Forgive !" she exclaimed Forgive ! a*k it of the L r h"-1 
 of my murdered happiness; at the grave of iny wronged inno- 
 f the hope \\hich \oii have l-anMied from m\ In-art for 
 ever; of all that I was, ami mi-lit have U-eii. and am not ! A-k 
 it not of mo, as I am, Don Ualthaxar. lost 1 curse vou with a 
 doom ! " 
 
 " \Ve are now to part ! IVrhaps never again to meet. Mv 
 ! ifo is honooforth to be one of ouiMant peril. You may hear of 
 me as a viotim to tlie darts and tiery tortures of the Apalaoliian ! 
 Will you not forgive me, Olivia I" 1 
 
 " I lay the hypocrite with me no longer. Do 1 not know that. 
 in your soul, you scorn the very prayer for forgiveness whii-h 
 your false lips utter Hence! letter that we should Loth 
 
 forget! So long as 1 can remember, it is not possible to forgh 
 
 And little more was spoken between them, ere tln-y separated. 
 I )e Sinolar soon made his appearance. Tlu- vehicle wa< packed, 
 and stood in readiness at the door. Don Haltha/ar conferred 
 privately with I )e Sinolar. 
 
 "You will havo her pretty m;i.-h under your own eye at the 
 hacienda. You will have her to your-.-lf. Plav the bdd lover, 
 it you would succeed with >iich a woman. .Mak- her \oiir own 
 at every ha/ard. 1 he^- Knights, ,f Poi-tu-ral once g.-n. . >h- will 
 show herself less cov." 
 
 I).- Sinolar curled his mou-tache. and irrinned gratefully 
 
 u \ flatter my<.-lf. s-ft..r " 
 
 "Pooh-pooh! Don t tlatter?/o^/-.W/; man ! Flatter h> r ! The 
 man who perpetually flatters himself olK-nds ever\ Ito.l v. This 
 is your fault. It is in the way of your own BU 
 
 Th.- carpet knight wa< a little discomfited j,y thisal.rupt f 
 1 iit he coiiti ivi d to conclude his sentence, and succeeded in say 
 ing that he flattered himself In- should tinallv succeed in flattering 
 her; and so they parted. It was luit halfa day s journev to the 
 haei.-nila. We find ix.thiiiLT to inteiv-t u- alo ni: tli 
 
 the wit and humor of Do Sinolar an whi.-h U 
 
 ethereal to keep. <-r tOO heavy to lu- l.oriie. and <^ ia could 
 li-. --n. and did ii" r.-ply to his gallantries Hut we must n/.t 
 f.-r^.-t that .hiana aee,>m|,a!iii-d her mi-tre^. and that Mafeo. on 
 a line hone, hov.-n-d alonir tin- track, k.-.-pini; i| h . | i;ir( y in -i^ht. 
 
 l.ut l.eini: himself unseen. It \va- some consolation to ()!i\ia. 
 
 that Sylvia was no lonif.T l i,-r uuardian. Th r 
 
 dreamed that >lie was .levtined to follow her; ha\i: A ,-jit 
 
 back ,e the final instructions of her master in re- 
 
 gpect to his victim. 
 
364 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 The hacienda of Matelos was reached in safety about dusk. 
 Olivia, pleading fatigue, dismissed Don Augustin to hi> own 
 abode, which lay contiguous, on an adjoining plantation. She 
 retired to her chamber for awhile, but it was not long Uf>iv 
 Mateo made his appearance. Certain signals, previously agreed 
 upon, announced his arrival to Juana, and he was stealthily con 
 ducted by that damsel to the chamber of her mistress. Olivia 
 was sitting with hands clasped, and eyes fixed upon a picture of 
 the Virgin which hung upon the wall opposite, when the outlaw 
 entered the room. She at once rose. 
 
 "You are true, Mateo, and I thank you. You must nov 
 the horses ready." 
 
 "Ah ! my lady," said the outlaw, " I have been thinking you 
 can never stand this trial. It is a hard life you propose to under 
 take. You will never have the strength for it. You do not 
 know the toil, the danger. You will surely sink under it ; you 
 will perish, and there will be no one to help you." 
 
 " I shall need no help, Mateo ; and if 1 perish, it is only an 
 end of a long and terrible struggle." 
 
 " But why engage in this struggle, Seiiorita 1 Of what avail ?" 
 
 "The easiest form of death is in the struggle, Mateo. Do not 
 argue with me now ; I am resolved." 
 
 "But, I must argue, dearest mistress I, who know what are 
 the toils of such a life, day by day, on the back of a hoi 
 
 "You forget, Mateo, that my father taught me how to ride; 
 that 1 have been a horse-rider from my childhood, over the rug- 
 geilest mountain passes. I fear no steed that was ever bridled. 
 My poor father, you remember him, Mateo ?" 
 
 " Ah ! my lady, do I not? Had he lived, 1 should never have 
 been a bad* fellow ; never been an outlaw, never shed human 
 blood." 
 
 " Well, as he had no son, he made a boy of me, and taught me 
 the exercises of boyhood. He showed me the uses of the match 
 lock and the CroaB-bOW, Until Icea-cd to fear the shock and the re 
 port of fire-arias, and could bring down the mountain eagle with 
 my arrows. Ifeive grown into the woman, hut 1 have never lost 
 the spirit, nor the practice, which he taught me. Toil, trial, dan 
 ger, have n<> tears for me. I am bolder and braver now than eve - 
 Do you have no apprehension^, my L r ""d Mal-o; for there 1 is t.ha f 
 in my soul now which makes me laugh at dan. 
 
 The outlaw continued tc expostulate, when sh.- abruptly anc 
 
 sternly silenced him. 
 
 " Have you not sworn to serve me. Mateo, without question 
 ing 1" she demanded, with an air of calm authority. 
 
RESOLUTION" OF DESPAIR. 355 
 
 " And havo T not dono so. dearest lady 1 I will still do as you 
 require, it you command me; but I would entreat you would 
 show you what it is that you propose to encounter and to under 
 take." 
 
 No more ! You mean well ; but \>u know not. Von 
 ill vain. I a:n resolved! My life is on it, Mateo! I live 
 > bjecl only, and this exeeuh-d. 1 shall <;ladlv lav down 
 
 \ny lite. But while 1 do live, 1 must thus work, thus toil, thus 
 . lite, and know life only in this peril. If there he storm and 
 
 : .-. and battle ay, blood it is even BO much the better. 1 
 can now bett.-r endure, the tempest than the calm. It is in this 
 ealm. that I can encounter a thousand terrors worse than anv 
 i may bring." 
 
 lie would have still entreated, but she spoke deeidedlv. 
 
 No more ! 1 tell you, I am resolute as death. I)., as I ,-om 
 man tell me that you \\iil do nothing I will then seek 
 
 some >.-rvant who thinks himself le<s wise, and proves more 
 faithful. 
 
 with me. dear Seiiorita. I am not wise, 
 and 1 am faithful. None can be more so. It is beeau e of my 
 
 love for you " 
 
 i-li. Mateo; I ,1,, not doubt your fidelity ; and to any 
 other woman. to a woman in :<-telu d ease than mine, 
 
 your Counsel would be s.-n-ible and proper. Hut von know 
 perhap-, Mateo but mine is not the common tate of woman! 
 If you knew my misfortune, you must know that I am doomed 
 
 arony while- i Live; and that toil, and piu^-al ; 
 and death itself, have no t< h as 1 mu>t inJvitablv en 
 
 dure in life ! I h . red ! Let me hear if 1 ma> hop 
 
 further h-lp from you]" 
 
 The bit: tear inhered ill th" eye <,f the J7- . he l.M.ked 
 
 into her sad. wan faee. Shr w;i- ; and the inten&a >pirit- 
 
 ..learn ^om ln-r e\ es almost tilled him \\ith terror. j; 
 should sueh a j;laiv. surh a-i expressiongleam forth from Mieh 
 ifiil. sn.-h diildlik. ou ld Mich a resolution 
 
 tnfori 
 
 i- fudit for you. a thousand tim 
 but I m ready to do what you a-k. and \\hat I p: 
 - D" it. then! \Ve have lilt!,- time to lose. ! and 
 
 e the li.-: 
 
 ^nd ill silence. Tile holers W- .^tdv 
 
 and xi u . was apprised of it. . (;,, l: 
 
 sllr! k .iowii bef re the image of nna, 
 
 then rose with a step of tlnmie.s> and walked forth into the grove 
 
356 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 where the saddled steed was in waiting. It was an hour short of 
 midnight. The stars were few in lu^vn. The gusts swept, with 
 
 a sad soughing, through the woods, and -Denied filled with mourn 
 ful and warning voices. Tim ear of the outlaw was sensible to 
 the souncs, and his more superstitious nature held them to be 
 ominous. But Olivia seemed not to hear or heed them. She 
 wrung the hand of Juana in silence, leapt into the saddle, and, fol 
 lowed by Mateo on horseback also, she turned once more in the 
 direction of Havana. Juana remained behind to plead the indis 
 position of her mistress, and baffle, for awhile, the curiosity of De 
 Sinolar. 
 
 The wayfarers rode hard and fast. In alow and seemingly un 
 occupied hovel in the suburbs of the city, we find Olivia safely 
 housed before daylight. The place had been selected and pro 
 cured for her by Mateo, agreeably to previous instructions. There 
 was a rude couch, upon which she rested for awhile. But not long. 
 She was soon up and busv. Mateo was summoned, and was 
 promptly in attendance. 
 
 " Are all the things here, Mateo?" 
 
 " You will find them in that box, my lady." 
 
 "Have you prepared " 
 
 " Every thing, ISefiorita. I have done all ; I am ready for all 
 things : but O ! my ladv, it is not yet too late/ 
 
 "What do you fear, Mateo?" 
 
 "Everything for vou. Sefiorita nothing for myself. Nay, 
 if you will believe me, 1 would sooner cut for you the throats of 
 a do/en such villains as Don Baltha/ar, than see you go on thU 
 tearful business." 
 
 "Nay, Mateo, I wish no throats cut for me! Still less that 
 of " 
 
 "Oh! if you would only listen to me. Seiiorita." 
 
 She answered with a strange smile, and so calmly, that he was 
 disturbed by the very repose of her voice and manner, as it ar 
 gued a resolution so utterly immovable. 
 
 " Well, what would you say. Mateo?" 
 
 The poor fellow could only repeat what he had so idty urged 
 already. 
 
 "Say, my ladv, say? Why. 1 would say that you know not 
 what it is you are about to undertake and undergo! I hat you 
 are not fit not strong enough! 
 
 "Is it fatigue, pain, peril, loss of life, the agony of wounds? 
 I am prepared for all these ! Mu>i 1 repeat 1o you that 1 should 
 gladly welcome either, or all. of these, if I could lose those hor 
 rors which oppress me now ! Liorrors ! but if y<-u know not 
 
VISION OF OLIVIA. 857 
 
 " But if you arc discovered ?" 
 
 " Ah ! that is the terror ! that !" after a pause : " But I must 
 brave it! I tell you, Mateo. 1 cannot remrin here ! I cannot sur 
 vive, thus! I must extort from new griefs, troubles, privations 
 and .landers, such excitement as >hall obliterate the past ! I 
 know not what you know, of my cause of agony ; but. 1 suspect, 
 Mateo. that YOU know enough to under-tand that 1 ran fly to 
 nothing worse, in the -hape of woe, than I have already had to 
 meet! If you know this, be silent! If you are prepared to 
 serve me faithfully, be submissive ! Let me have no further en 
 treaty." 
 
 The Virgin be with you, my dear lady, and bring you help and 
 -in -cor! I go to do all as you have commanded." 
 
 With these words he left her. She Hosed and fastened the 
 .loop behind him; and, for a while, stood wheiv -he had been 
 speaking; wholly absorbed in thought; looking like a statue ra- 
 iher than a breathing woman ! Tlu n >he spoke, half in pra;. 
 half in soliloquy : 
 
 Ay ! the B; e-s t .d Virgin ! Succor! Succor ! I surely need her 
 help ! Would ;-he have come sooner ! ( Mi ! how wild the path 
 way seem- before me! What clouds, how torn ! How Hitting 
 wit h the wind: and what a crowd of Hianging and frightfi, 
 peets! They drift along, with the force Of the tempest, which 
 thev vainlv otl erto ivsi>t ! \w. they cry to one another for help 
 and succor ! Hut they disappear, even as they cry. swallowed up 
 in the fearful void, and making way for other forms and a-p--ct-! 
 Th.-re is no >un. no moon, no -tar- ; but there is a light as from 
 
 the eyea of death; sepulchral and filled with myriads of floating 
 
 spectres! What ran it mean! Where am I 1 What do I 
 All! these are Ilernan dc S.t". and his troops an.lfolSow.-r-! 
 That is \uiio de Tobar : yonder ride- ( Mi! how my i 
 loathes him as he rides ! - and yonder is nh ! Kles-ed Virgin, 
 it is mv-elf I gee! But th<- -peetre lives and moves. and 
 serves! It is Don Philip that charge- away in front away 1 
 
 .iway ! and lee, how the boy follow-* him! All!.... 
 
 Tin- highlv wrought and febrile condition of Olivia s brain, 
 mu-t account for her apparent vi-ion. in which -he sees the known 
 and tin- conjectured ; in which -he minutes a pa-t knowledge with 
 her own future puipo-es. The madnc-s la-ted but for a brief 
 space! She -remcd -uddcnly to recover, and sank upon her 
 knee- brfoiv the i ma<_ r e of t he V i mi n. She now prayed inaudi- 
 bly ; then rose. calm. ri^id rather in every mu-de, and then pro 
 ceeded to unfold the content- of trunks and oh f with the 
 view of making her toilet. Let n- h-ave her to this performance 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 " I have surely s^en him : 
 His favor is familiar to inc. 
 Boy, thou hast looked thyself into my grace, 
 And art nyne own." 
 
 CYMRKIJNE. 
 
 THE eighteenth day of May, in the year of grace, one thou 
 sand, five hundred and thirty -nine more than three hundred 
 vears ago ! was marked with a white stone in the calendar of 
 Don Hernan de Soto ; for, on that day, his squadron, eight large 
 vessels (small-sized schooners of our days), a caravel (a sloop) 
 and two brigantines things with scarce a dork at all sailed from 
 the noble harbor of Havana, with their prows turned oust in the 
 direction of the opposite coast of Florida. Hut it was rather 
 late in the day before they took their departure; and though 
 the armament had been supposed in readiness several days he- 
 fore, yet, when the time came, there were many things that re 
 quired to be hurried. Of these, the Adelantado had his share: 
 and Don Balthazar more than his share; all needing to be at 
 tended to, and sped. But, of the cares of these great personages. 
 we will say nothing in this place. They scarcely adeot our nar 
 rative. We shall confine ourselves to those of Don Philip de 
 Vasconselos, chiefly ; and relate how he was provided with a 
 Moorish page, almost at the last moment, and on the most Jibe, 
 ral terms. 
 
 The sun was just warming the tops of the Cuban mountains, 
 when the good knight was summoned to the entrance of his lodg 
 ings, to hearken to an unexpected visitor. ThU wa< no oilier 
 than our old acquaintance, Mat eo. the outlaw. Don Philip waf 
 on the alert, and was not found napping even at that early hour. 
 He was busy brushing up his armor; condensing hi* wardrobe 
 into the smallest possible compass ; preparing his steed and fur 
 niture; for transfer to one of the caravel* where a place had been 
 appointed him; and adjusting his affairs, in general, fur thai re 
 moval which had now become inevitable. 
 
 Don Philip met the outlaw with a grave, but gentle welcome; 
 spoke/and looked him kindly : and asked what he could do for 
 him. The ^i^ht of the features of the Portuguese knight, seemed 
 to occasion some difficulty in the -pe< eh of the outlaw. The 
 sadness, approaching confirmed melancholy, which his face 
 
 (858) 
 
359 
 
 and whicn the tones of his voice so well expressed, reminded Ma 
 teo of many matters, and in particular, of one very terrible 
 in which he had beheld the brave cavalier wounded to th" v.-i-y 
 soul ; crushed, as it were, into the earth, and partly by his 
 
 lilies. The whole scene came back to both parti 
 they met ; and. as the gloom darkened on the visage of Don 
 Philip, the mind of Mateo became agitated and < onfiiscd. in a 
 way wholly unwonted with the rough, wild, half-savage charac 
 ter of the Mestizo. But he plucked up resolution to ivply. and 
 in tones as simple and unconstrained a- po>-,ible. 
 
 "Well, Seftor, it s not so much what you can d,> for : 
 what I can do for you! You ve been wanting a pauv or squire, 
 Sefl"r." said the outlaw, "and you haven t 1:0* on,- \ 
 
 - It is true, Mateo. I did not like the looks of any that were 
 brought me. Can you help me to one? Do you know I " 
 
 1 can provide you with a Page, Seflor; not a servant; a 
 yonn^ lad. a kinsman, a nephew of my own ; brown like < 
 but the child of a free woman of the mountain^ ; who ha - heard 
 of you, and would like to see a little of the world, and of ar 
 mies, under such a brave leader; but he can t be bought. li.- s 
 i of a free woman. Scfior. as I tell you, and will serve you 
 for love, not for money; and will bring his own horse. and pro 
 vide his own means; and will only expect to be treated kindly. 
 and to be taught the art of war ; and " 
 
 " Will he submit will he obey me f 
 
 itainly, as a page, Seflor: and will b< do so. I 
 
 can answer for all that. Seflor. lie will do for you. I am sure, 
 as no bondman would ever do will be faithful always and be 
 very triad when you employ him. for he is pleas. >d with you. 
 9efi . -he has seen you oft. -n. and admires yui very much! 
 
 He lonirsto go with you, and hasn t let me rest, forth 
 
 for urging me to come to \ <n and make the o|]l r. lit- don t 
 want pay - he has means of his own. as I told you : his moth 
 er, a free woman of the mountain-. Seflor. has property : 
 and horses; and though the byis quite younn. and slightly 
 built, yd he ha- health and strength, and ran stand a ijonc! deal 
 of trouble and fatigue ; ali he wants is to l>c with you ; that is. 
 \var under vour lead; and a- !, :i of a free wo 
 
 man. Seflor. I thought it ri_:h*. perhap-. that he should h;:\ 
 \d should learn 1 rom the best tea. 
 
 I .rini; him to me. M 
 
 He ia bere at b I lid no; \\eil keep him away, Scft 
 
 He U 
 
 Here the outlaw t .mt-nt from the lodge ot 
 
860 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 the knight, and, stepping down to the highway, he gave a slight 
 halloo. In sight, stood a boy holding a stout and spirited steed. 
 He approached at the signal, leading the horse. When he drew 
 nigh, the knight, who had retired into the lodge for a moment, 
 reappeared, and gazed steadily upon the new-comer 
 
 " Let the boy fasten the horse to yon sapling, Mateo, and 
 draw nigh, that I may have some talk with him. He has a fine 
 horse^Mateo." 
 
 " Yes, Sefior, I raised him myself. He walks like the wind, 
 and will go like an eagle to the charge. Suppose you step out, 
 and look at him closely, Seflor. You must love a fine animal, 
 Sefior, and this is one for a brave man to love, without feeling 
 ashamed of his clioice." 
 
 How the heart, already vitally sore, applies the most remote 
 allusion to the cause of its secret suffering! This casual remark 
 of Mateo, smote on the sensibilities of Philip de Vasconselos, 
 like a sneer. But the face of Mateo was innocent of any occult 
 meaning; and Philip showed that he felt, simply by an increased 
 solemnity of voice and visage. He followed the outlaw out to 
 where the horse stood, still held by the boy in waiting. The 
 first regards of the knight were given entirely to the steed. 
 
 " He is certainly a very fine animal, Mateo. You do not 
 praise him more than he deserves." 
 
 " Sec what a chest he carries, Seflor, broad like a castle. See 
 what legs, so clean, so wiry. There s not an ounce of fat to 
 spare from those quarters. There s not a long hair that you d 
 like to pull out from those fetlocks. And, look at his eye ! 
 It s like that of a great captain ! Cortez, I warrant, does not 
 open a finer when he looks down from the towers of the Mexi 
 can. See what a mane of silk ! It is like the hair of a Princess. 
 And he s young, but a quarter over four, Sefior ; and he comes 
 of a breed that lasts till forty." 
 
 Unless no shaft from an Apalachian savage cuts him short;" 
 was the remark of Vasconselos, sadly made, as he turned to be 
 stow a look upon the boy. 
 
 There seemed to be a new interest springing into the eyes of 
 Philip as he gazed. The boy was of fine, dark bronze complex 
 ion, looking more like the native race of Indians, tlian the Mes 
 tizo cross, from which he was said to have sprung : he was well 
 made, and symmetrical ; with good limbs and much i^raee of out 
 line, lint Vasconselos dwelt not so much upon the form, as 
 the taee. of the vouth. Thi> >eerne<i t< rivel his attention ft I 
 awhile. And the effect of his <ja/e was to disquiet the boy him- 
 telf, and Mateo, his uncle. The former closed his eyes, involub- 
 
THE BASHFUL PAGE. 361 
 
 tarily, under the steadfast glance of the knight; and the outlaw 
 hurriedly said : 
 
 "The lioy is bashful, Se-fior : he lias never before stood in tho 
 ptv-ener of a great captain, or a knight, or even a fife L r -ntle- 
 man. He is from the mountains, as 1 -aid, and don t know 
 about the line behavior oi a young man of the city, who is al 
 ways expected to look Uj>, you know, as if he was born to 
 sav to the sun stop a little I must talk with von. N 
 Juan - " 
 
 ".I nan ? Is that his name C 
 
 " "l es, .1 uan. Sefior ; his mother s name is Juana, u free woman 
 of the mountain*. Sefmr -- " 
 
 His tlnv n-minds me very much of one that I hav 
 somewhere. 1 have certainly seen him before, Mateo." 
 
 "Never him, Seftor, never!" replied the other sturdily. 
 ".Juan has never been to the city before last week; and you. I 
 know, have never been into the mountains, Seflor. 11<- is a 
 mountain boy, your Kxeellenry, son of a free woman of the 
 mountains. He has seen you. but you could not have, seen him 
 before. Hut what s in a likeness. Seftor 1 You will see them 
 every day, every where. 1 have seen thousands of liken.- 
 in my time, tor which there was not the slightest bit of rea>on. 
 \<>w, Juan looks like several people 1 know, and you may have 
 see!) them. He looks very like Antonio Morelos. a civole of 
 
 Havana, here. You must have seen Asm. Then, he looks mon 
 strous like his mother, and >he has U m a thousand times to the 
 city. (Hi! likeiies-e.- arc nothing now. we see >o manv. You 
 never could have seen our .Ii,. before, Seftor." 
 
 Mateo talki-il rapidly, rather than earnestly, as if again-t tinu- 
 and the wind. Va<con-e!ns did not seem to hear halt wh,. 
 was saying. He still kept an earnest eye upon the hoy. as if 
 deeply interested ; evidently coinnmiim! with evd-y 1 eatm 
 his lace a-, far. that is to sav. as he was allowed to sec th iii. 
 I>ut the b - were ea-t do\\n. //c saw nothing; yet i eit, 
 
 \idently. that the keen eye- of the knight were upon him. 
 
 I he boy is younir. \ erv \ oun^, Mate>. .-md I verv much fi-ar 
 will hardly be able to stand the liiti^ues of such a campaign as 
 I hat wt- >hall have to endure in I loi 
 
 ( >h ! he i- -If ! : are deceptive. lie 
 
 conies of a hardy race. He mn Stand lire and w;i 
 
 " Pmt h.- Been 8 uni .; : I. Art th"ii -ure that ! 
 
 rouraiir \\ ill I, , d U :: ; il ! 
 
 r j lie l.oy seemed \\er t < r him^elt . He looked 
 
 up he looked 1 and without blenchiu; 
 L6 
 
862 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 Nay, there was so much of a settled calm an unflinching reso 
 lution in his sudden glance, that the knight was struck with it. 
 
 " Certainly," quoth he, " that was something like a lightening 
 up of the spirit. He is capable of flashes, Muteo." 
 
 " Ay, and of fire and flame too, Sefior ! Faggots ! Give him 
 time, your Excellency, and you will sec the blaze. But he s 
 naturally bashful when you re looking on him. It s not a bad 
 sign in a boy, Sefior." 
 
 "No, truly! But I like his looks. Mateo. There is some 
 thing in those features that please me much. Were I smv of 
 the strength and courage of the boy, his capacity to endure, 
 I should not hesitate : I should feel sure of his fidelity." 
 
 " Oh ! that I can promise, Sefior. He s as faithful to the man 
 he loves as if he were a woman." 
 
 " Pity but he were more so!" responded the knight quickly 
 The outlaw felt that he had blundered, and he promptly strovt 
 to recover his false step. 
 
 " As a woman is expected to be, your Excellency ; that s what 
 I mean! I can answer for Juan ; for his courage, his hardihood. 
 not less than his honesty, Sefior. He s a boy of good princi 
 ples." 
 
 " Let him answer for himself! Somehow, Mateo, I am a little 
 doubtful of your answers. You are too quick to be quite sure of 
 what you say ! Hark ye, Juan, are you sure you desire to go 
 with me, to Florida?" 
 
 The boy evidently trembled : but promptly enough, in a rather 
 hoarse voice, answered 
 
 " Yes, Sefior ! I wish to go with you." 
 
 The voice was a strange one, yet, its tones seemed to interest 
 the knight, as if there was something familiar in them also. 
 
 " He has a very peculiar voice, Mateo." 
 
 " Yes, Sefior, strange enough to those who heard him only a 
 year ago. Now, his voice is getting the cross twixt man and 
 boy. It s rather more a squeak than a song, your Excel lenev. 
 But 1 reckon, Sefior, we all underwent some such change about 
 the same time in our li\ 
 
 Don Philip. But, my good boy, you don t know the toil and 
 trouble; the, daily marching in that country ; where there arc- 
 no roads; only rank fore-is. r JV iit swamps, wild beasts, deadly 
 reptiles; where, half the time, you mav he without food ; and 
 perhaps, quite as frequently without water. 
 
 Juan. Yes. Sefmr, but if one would be a soldier, it s a pan 
 of his education to taMe- tin M- things. I am t > be a soldier, you 
 Know 
 
THE KNIGHT AND BOY. 863 
 
 Philip. True; but you begin early! There is a certain 
 hardening nece>sary before one eau be a soldier 
 
 Juan. This campaign will give it me, Seftor. 
 
 J/i/^o. You see, your Excellency, his heart is set on being a 
 soldier. 
 
 True ; but one does not begin training for it, in the midst 
 of a campaign," quoth Philip, not heeding the outlaw. 
 
 Juan. You forget, Seftor, that I was bred among the moun 
 tains. 
 
 J hilip. If you had been bred upon the plains, my b<>\\ it 
 might be more in your favor, going to Florida. But you forget 
 the danger. 
 
 Juan. It is that of war, Seftor, and I am not afraid to die. 
 
 1 hilip. So young, and not afraid to die \ but you speak what 
 you cannot know ! Bethink you of the terrors of the strife ; the 
 arrows, his cannibal sacrifices, his bloody rages, the 
 scalping knife, the fiery torture ! 
 
 Juan. Yet you are to encounter them. Seftor. 
 
 Philip. 1 am a man, boy. a<vu^tomcd to the encounter; and 
 life is to me of little worth. 1 have Mirvivcd its hopes. 
 
 Juan. And I have none, Sefior. 
 
 Philip. Thou no hopes, at a season when the heart is all hope, 
 or >hould be? 
 
 Mateo. Ah! you don t know Juan, Seftor. II. -was always 
 a saddish sort of boy ; loving the glooms ; the dark woods; the 
 loiiclv rocks ! He never played like other boys ! He was never 
 like other i 
 
 Philip. But he will outgrow this sadno.s Mateo. He will 
 grow to hopes. It would be cruel to peril one so \, , 
 
 et, in Mich a warfare as that with the Floridian savage! 
 
 Juan. You allow nothing for the will, Seftor, the heart 
 nothing 
 
 Philip. Every thing, boy ! will and heart are th 
 seiitials of all achievement Can it be that thou art alrea-i 
 bitiou 
 
 Mutrn. That he is \olir K\eel leliey. It s his threat Jolly, 
 
 Seftor; I ve told him so a thousand times. l ..r what can his 
 ambition do. for him. a // :.:m be a- brave as 1 Yaiiei- 
 
 Pi/arr 1 I>-n:an ( Wte/. \\ho ll giv. 
 
 mand of armies and authority in counsel . Here am I i. 
 brave, 7 think, as any man that ever stepped in ! 
 what am I but an outlaw ! 1 don t think I m wanting in a - 
 beli>e eili. 
 
 Philip. The boy talks sen>ibly, Mate", yet he is very young 
 
364 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 Mateo. If he lives much longer, Sefior, he ll grow much oldor. 
 And if he don t live long, he ll only be more sure of being young 
 all the days of his life. 
 
 Philip. Logical enough, Mateo ; yet I have no \vish to shorten 
 his days. 
 
 "Try me, Sefior," murmured the boy, in very low but oar- 
 nest tones, not daring to look up. There was a pleasant change 
 in the voice, which seemed to interest the hearer. He put his 
 hand on the head of the boy, who started from under the touch, 
 and visibly trembled. But Philip was not permitted to see his 
 face. 
 
 " Do you not overrate both your courage and your strength, 
 my boy? You start and tremble at my touch." 
 
 " Tis not with fear, Sefior !" was the subdued reply, still in 
 the same low, sweet accents. 
 
 "No ! For why should you fear me, child ] But you seem 
 naturally timid nervous, I should say ; and such wars as that 
 we go upon, require hardihood above all other things. There 
 must be no agitation when the trumpet rings the alarm. There 
 must be no faltering when we are bade to charge. The pane of 
 the knight will be expected to do good service, and to follow 
 close after his master, even if he does not emulate him. Canst 
 thou carry a lance, Juan ?" 
 
 " I am provided with a cross-bow, Sefior, and can shoot. The 
 lance will come " 
 
 l Thou art so eager for it, Juan " 
 
 " Oh ! take me with you, Sefior !" 
 
 " I like thee, boy. Thou hast something about thee which ap 
 peals strangely to my imagination." 
 
 And the good knight sighed deeply. His instincts, rather than 
 his memory, perhaps, guided his asseverations. The boy hung 
 his head also. He dared not, at that moment, look up in the 
 face of Don Philip. 
 
 " I will take thee with me, boy, and fight thy battles, if need 
 be; will keep thee as much from harm as possible, and share 
 with thee my spoils " 
 
 "1 ask nothing, Sefior !" said the boy hastily. 
 
 " Oh ! no, Sefior ! quoth Mateo. " My sister is a free woman 
 of the mountains. Her son is able to pay his own way. He 
 wishes to go to see service and Irani a profession, and will share 
 no one s spoil. He hopes to make his own. Besides, my si-ter 
 is resolute that her son shall take no pay for his serviees. Re 
 member that, Sefior. She has provided him, as you see, with a 
 good horse. She has given him a well-filled youch besides! she 
 
THE SAD MASTER. 865 
 
 has made all provisions fur his support and equipment; and i 
 am commissioned to get even the needful weapons and armor. 
 So you see, Sefior, he is to go with you for love, not for money." 
 
 " For love !" murmured the boy. 
 
 "Be it so, Juan," said the knight, taking his hand. "Be it as 
 thou, wilt. Thou shall go with me, boy. Thou shall be my 
 companion, rather than my page. But thou wilt find m< 
 companion, Juan a melancholy master. I tremble for thee. 
 besides, when i behold thy slight frame, thy timidity, thy ten 
 derness and youth. We must be true to each other, Juan ; for 
 we go with those who are true only to themselves. We must 
 love each other, Juan ; for in all that assembled host, there will 
 be few worthy of any pure heart s love. Wilt thou love me. 
 boy, spite of my gloomy visage, and melancholy moods?" 
 
 "1 will love thee, Sefior 1 do love thee !" was the murmured 
 reply, and this time the boy looked up. The glances of the two 
 met. Then it was that the knight saw how large and expressive 
 were the eyes of the boy, and what a soft and dewy brightness 
 shone through the dilating orbs. But they sunk in a moment 
 beneath the searching gaze of the knight. They sunk, and the 
 boy again trembled. 
 
 "Truth, Mateo, he is bashful! But a campaign soon cures 
 that infirmity. Well, Juan, you are mine now." 
 
 And he gave the boy his hand, who kissed it passionately, 
 murmuring 
 
 "Thine! Thine!" 
 
 The knight turned away to the tent with Mateo. the boy lead 
 ing his horse and following. Before the dose f tin- day, knight 
 and page were upon the waters of the gulf", rolling forward in u 
 ^ood vessel towards the gloomy shores of the Apalaehian. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 " JKsap. What do we act to-day ? 
 LaLinus. Agavi s phrensy, 
 
 With Pentheus bloody end." 
 
 M ASSIXUKR. The liitman Actor. 
 
 BUT we are not yet permitted to depart, and must follow, foi 
 a brief space, the fortunes of some other of our dramatis persona. 
 The novelist cannot do always, as lie would, with his own cre 
 ations. He cannot linger always with those whom he prefers. 
 We must suffer the Fates to exercise their controlling agencies 
 just as certainly as they do in real life, and among the living peo- 
 pl* whom we know. He may create, but he cannot control. It 
 is upon this very condition that he is permitted to create. The 
 Being, once filled witn the breath of life, and having made his 
 appearance upon the stage of human action, must thenceforward 
 conform to necessities over which tl: v autln >r exercises no authority. 
 These will have their origin in the character, the actions, and the 
 impulses, of his persons ; in the events which flow from their 
 performances ; in their conflicts with rival actors on the scene ; 
 in their strength or imbecility ; with some allowance made foi 
 the operation of external causes, "which, we are told, will always, 
 more or less, affect the. destinies equally of mice and men! Lot 
 us leave Philip de Vasconselos, and the dusky page, Juan, to their 
 progress over the blue waters of the gulf, while we follow the 
 steps of Mateo, the outlaw. 
 
 As soon as the Mestizo had closed th arrangement, b) which 
 his " nephew, the son of a free woman of the mountains," had 
 been secured a place in the sorvi. e of the knight of Portugal, he 
 disappeared from the vwinity of the Spanish encampment. lie 
 had, we may mention, used sonic precautions when u about town." 
 by which he had kept his person tV-.m all unnecessary exposure. 
 He had still some decent regard for the existence of a clasx <,f 
 prisons, the. Alguaxils. with wh-m he entertained tew special 
 sympathies; and. in leaving the lodgings of Vasconselos, lie had 
 stolen away into covert, by the most secluded passages. A sin 
 gle moment, in private, and under the c<>ver of a dump <f trees, 
 densely packed with shrubbery, had ^nlViced for his parting with 
 Juan. There he might be seen wholly to change the manner of 
 speech and add res- which he had employed, with regard to the 
 
THE on LAW S I fKi usES. 867 
 
 boy, when the knight, his ma>ti-r, \\as a looker-on. He sc 
 his hand and kis-ed it repeatedly, ami thriv was D e in 
 
 the e\piv^i>n of his face, and in tin- words of his month, which 
 denoted the I ! relations, between tin- parties, very dif 
 
 feivnt from tho>e which he ha- 1-eeii pi. a>ed to assi-rt in the eou- 
 fercii e \vhicli has been reported. (.)n leaving the l>oy, he eon- 
 eluded with a promise to see him. and the good knight of I oi- 
 tngal. at the shore, in the moment of his embarkation. 
 
 M It inav be. he <ail. - that I >hall follow you nay. go with 
 you, to the country of the Apalachian ; for 1 long to 866 great 
 things; and be where the good knights ru.sh to the meeting of 
 the ^.ears ! It may be! \Ve vhail 
 
 \Yhen they had separated, and while Mateo pur>ucd his way 
 through the woods, alone, his lips opined in frequent soliloquy. 
 
 uoth he. "were it not for that devil of all the devils, 
 Baltha/ar de Alvaro, 1 should follow the expedition. 1 
 would take lance under this good knight. 1 would light like the 
 best among them. He hath n- f>!lower>; but, \\ilh me. he 
 should have at least live. 1 am a- <: < ,d as any five of these men 
 with the cro<s-b<,w. And would 1 not have a L r <><>d IHTM- of my 
 O\MI . worthv to be >traddled by any eavalier in ])mi 1 Ionian s 
 arm\ \ Ah! it would be glorious! IIow 1 should Miiite ! 
 Yeri!^. I have a >trciigth in my arm. and a skill with h>rsi- 
 \\rajM.n. that would show where blows are thickest. I could 
 clear the track with a sweep ! And 1 am a younn man. ami in 
 m\ h->t strength. It is hard that 1 >hou!d have nothing nival to 
 do! Ver; hardl 1 
 
 And hi> speed \va^ aooel( md his arm could b< 
 
 wavinir. a- if he were about to make a inigl ^>tl tin- 
 
 broadsword. 
 
 " But I dare not go. while that black wolf is with the army ! 
 He hath an eye t. Bee through me. He hath already known me 
 in a di>gui>e \shieh had ballled the eyi-s of my oun >i>t-r; and, 
 fii,i:;L r tn do for him this murder of the good knight, he would 
 have iw ijumtteil without a srruplc! Would his tliroat wei e cut ! 
 I have half a mind to slip >fV wiih th i put my knife into 
 
 him. the first dark night lie walkfl alone. \Vere I now to meet 
 him. 1 would slay him !" 
 
 lie felt in hi> girdle f..r his muchttt. and locked uj. and 
 .n<! him. with ularii .nd di>tendc-d no-tril. afl if al- 
 
 :v ^iiKfling the hed by an eiu-my. lii;: 
 
 Till and juief wir re h- walked, ong tile th 
 clininL to the hill-. >urhs. It v a> >till 
 
 the cool of early morning, Jind the \shole realm of uuture around 
 
568 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 him seemed to murmur of repose. The inanimate life of the 
 forest declared no unrest no unruly passions, no wretched 
 discontent. The sky was now beautifully clear, and if a voice 
 was heard besides his own, it was that only of some very tiny 
 bird, such as harbors only in the stunted shrubbery, where a sin 
 gle leaf will afford instant and close shelter for its form. But the 
 very repose spoke to the violent passions of the outlaw, with a 
 stimulating accent. 
 
 " Ah ! " said he, " if I only had him here ! " and he clenched his 
 fist savagely. 
 
 " But I must get those papers ! He will be in the camp 
 soon to-day. He will be among the last to sail. In an hour, he 
 will have left the hacienda. But may he not return to it, in 
 the hope to see me, and to learn that I have done his work? 
 Perhaps ; but hardly ! He will scarce have time ! Humph ! 
 Done his work! I must do my own! Verily, if I meet him 
 there, I will do it thoroughly ! Shall I cut throats exeept to my 
 own liking? By the Blessed Devils, no ! I will cut his throat 
 if I can ! And if 1 do, what is to keep me from the expedition 1 
 I am a man for the wars. I will see how the lances cross with 
 the shock of thunder. But 1 must get me those papers. He 
 little dreams that I know their hiding-place. When he goes to 
 the city this morning, it will be to make ready. lie will hardly 
 return to the hacienda. Then will I take possession. Junna 
 knows what to do. When the ships have all gone, she goes off 
 to the mountains. She will be doubly safe with the papers of the 
 Sefiorita, and of that Uncle-devil. She shall be safe ! Then, if 
 1 should find him there, and feel my way into his ribs. \ve are all 
 safe! Oh! If I should only find him there! If he goes on 
 this expedition, will my poor lady be safe a moment 1 No ! 
 No! There s no blinding his snake-eyes! He will see, and I 
 know there will be trouble and more than trouble ; there will 
 be a great danger always in the path of the good knight Oh ! 
 it must be that I shall split his black heart with my knife, and 
 let out all its poison with its blood ! It must be, when there s 
 so much good to come of it when there s no safety for anybody 
 while he lives ! I owe him a stroke of my machete ! And if 
 the Blessed Devils give me half a chance, I will pay him with a 
 vengeance !" 
 
 We have here the passions of the outlaw s soul, and the 
 plans of his mind, fairly mingled up together, in that sort of web 
 of thought, which is the usual mental process in the sensuous 
 nature. Don Balthazar, at this moment little dreamed of the 
 danger which threatened him. While Mateo, making his way 
 
THE I>AX<;I:KS OF THE DON. 869 
 
 to the hacienda of the knight, was thus soliloquizing, the haughty 
 
 Don was savagely meditatini:. in liis turn, upon some of the dis 
 
 appointments which he h:-i poed. That tin- Portuguese 
 
 knight Mill lived, was a present aniio\ aiiee, and u vital da: 
 Hi- now knew himself to K- at the mercy of tliis cavalier. BO far 
 a^ his moral position WES concerned. * The revelation of his 
 1 knew, would IK- fatal to his reputation in Cul.a. 
 ;nnl tin- army ; so ion^ as the L r v. rnment of Mh was adminis 
 tered ii\- persons B i\ virtuous as he believed Don ller- 
 uaii.ii- Soto and liis nol.le wit .- to 1).-. True, he had a certain 
 
 .rity for hi- secret, in tin- very regard \vhi.-h Philij. do Vas- 
 coiiM los fvidrntly i-utrrtaiiM-d fr (Jlivia. So lon<r ;1 . >},,. li v ,.,l. 
 Philip would j.rol.al.Iy IK- >iU-nt. in respect to tliat which would 
 hurt IhT reputation. Hut \\lio was to sccinv the untaithful L r uar- 
 dian against the spcrrh of ( )livia herself : > Her pai..uate hloo.l 
 had evidently e-eaped wholly from the control of IKT tvrant. 
 1 I had made her desperate, in making lier des,,late ; aiid h. 
 felt that, in death alone, could liis safety be made certain. !! 
 knew the nature of passionate women too well ; and now perceiv 
 ed thai Olivia, in this respect, too much reseml.led her Hiscavan 
 inotlier. of whom his exj.erience was >ut]icieiitly vivid, and who, 
 h - well knew, in the madness of her awakened passions, had 
 neither fear nor prudence, nor scruple ..f any sort He trembled, 
 
 :rdini:ly ; proud, fearless and powerful as hewa^; K-t the 
 
 reckless, OF the th<>u^hth.> s word of either the kniulit <.f Portu 
 gal or Olivia de Alvaro, slioiild, at any moment, hurl him head- 
 Ion- from position, making him odious to all, and sui.jectiiiii him 
 to le^ral, as wll a- social, persecution. Whv liad ni>t the nut. 
 1:lw - e his work upon the kui^ht ? *Theiv wei 
 
 Opportunities enoiiu h ; and Mateo was too well known, a- ,t des- 
 pi-rado, t> Mippox,. that he had either moral scruple-, or p-r>oiial 
 Tlie jiu->fion trouhled the 1 . f ri , m liis own con- 
 
 jeetur---. he vainly s.u^ht an answer. 
 
 While he meditated the>e doul.N. an old, of tlie Adelantado 
 
 arrived, and ln-ouudit him despatches from P.u Il.-rnau. whi, h 
 required hb early presence in the city. H.- di<mi-.-d the , 
 
 r with a reply which promised that he would soon 1-e il,, 
 al " I ^niply making his final preparations for ji.inii^ the 
 
 ! superintending the work of embarkation. "The 
 
 Officer disappeared, riding t-i-t. and was seen at a di 
 ;1 , hy tli i.inir outlaw. 
 
 u I vinonio- !" mil is closed tertli, 
 
 "there got Had i ,,,, M i,,,,;,. >(M;I , 
 
 He had mistaken the rider for Don Ba!tha/a: He now mort 
 1C* 
 
370 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 leisurely continued his progress, and at length found himself 
 amidst the silent groves surrounding the summer-house of the 
 knight, that lovely and secluded lodge which had been so fruit 
 ful in events affecting the destinies of some of the persons of our 
 drama. It was fated to furnish yet another scene of deep inter 
 est to the parties. 
 
 Don Balthazar, burning or preserving papers, arranging anus, 
 and armor, was busy and thoughtful in his chamber, when the 
 old hag, Sylvia, suddenly burst" into the apartment. He looked 
 up at the intrusion, with a haughty frown ; but she was not ap 
 palled by it. She was wild with excitement ; and her sinister 
 and withered features were now absolutely fiendish in the expres 
 sion of rage which they exhibited. She could scarcely speak, so 
 agitating were her emotions. When she did succeed in giving 
 utterance to the cause of her excitement, she was surprised to 
 find that her master did not partake of her wrath, and seemed 
 lightly to listen to her communications. 
 
 "He is here, Seftor ;" she exclaimed," the villain, M 
 the outlaw; the murderer; the robber of the old woman ! 
 is here, Sefior, in the groves; he is even now gone to the garden 
 house !" 
 
 Mateo had evidently neglected his usual precautions. Satis 
 fied that the horseman whom lie had seen pushing for the city, at 
 full speed, was Don Balthazar himself, he had been at no pains 
 to make his movements seeret. 
 
 "Ah! he is here, then, Mateo?" and the knight smiled with 
 a grim complaisance, and muttered. ,w//o roc,- - He has done it, 
 then, perhaps, and comes for his reward ! Good ! lie know- his 
 time, and has, no doubt, done i; ellieieiitlv ! Well! I must see 
 him." 
 
 He at once rose, and. with his sword only at his side, moved 
 quickly from the chamber. Sylvia wa* quite confounded ; and 
 followed, muttering her surprise MS she went. Don Balthazar 
 never once looked behind, and did not see her; or he would 
 have dismissal her wiih severity. And then ! But we must not 
 anticipate ! 
 
 He hurried on; and so rapid were his movements, that the 
 stiffened limbs of the old woman utterly tailed to enable her to 
 keep any sort of pace, with the. progress which he made. He 
 was soon in the groves; had soon overpassed the space -^and, 
 walking in the buckskin shoes, the use of which the Spaniards 
 had borrowed from the red men, wearing them commonly when in 
 
 their peaceful avocations,- be entered the garden house unheard 
 
 lie was confounded at what he beheld. The outlaw had cooll) 
 
TFTK SntlTJSK. 371 
 
 taken ; he premises. II.- was <m his knees, in the 
 
 I tin- army chest in which Don Haltha/ar had 
 stored the papers which the outlaw sought ; his head was fairly 
 lumed in the che>t. and he was l>u>ily - evidently in the 
 
 examination of all its contents. The surprise wa- complete. 
 For a moment, the knight stood motionless. watching the cool 
 
 intruder! lie NW the secret of the proceeding at a irlanee. 
 
 The seoimdivl." said lie to himself, "has seen me put away 
 the papers in the chest, and lie now comes to steal tin-in, without 
 li;i\h,_: done tin- service P 1 Then, aloud, advancing a- he spoke, 
 ninl laying his hand upon the outlaw s shoulder, he said 
 
 I low no\\. rascal, what are you doin: h 
 
 The cool, hardy, daring character of Mateo. was such as to 
 render surpri-es less dangerous to him. and less difficult of eva 
 sion, than would l>e the case with most people. At the sound 
 of the knight s vice, he immediately conceived the pivdi 
 in which he >t ..... I. Hut. that Don Balthazar .^"Ar, and only laid 
 his hand on his shoulder, when lie mi^ht have run him through 
 the l.n.ly. as a first salutation, was an absolute surrender of all 
 tlu- advantages of the surprise; and afforded to tin; ln>l<l rufiian 
 the chance of operatinir a surprise in turn. Certainly, most 
 persons, taken thus at advantage, would have lost something of 
 their moral resources in consequence "f their position. ! . it 
 i not an ordinary ruffian. The forbearance of thekn jht 
 
 i tin- outlaw that the former would not be likely , under 
 the circum-tanees. to anticipate iv-i-taiinc. still less assault frni 
 the per-on hi- appeared to think so eompletely in his power ; 
 anl the exercise of his thought. t> thU Mich a m 
 
 exliihited Mateo in possession ..f a more deeply : mind 
 
 than his superior. In the twinkling of an eye. with a ran- ability, 
 which, in the oiitlnw. was a pos-rs>inii fully i-(jual to his wonderful 
 strength, he suddenly slipped from under the i^ra-p of the Don, 
 and. hcfore the latter divanied of hi-> -1 i change- i 
 
 lions with him ; had thrown himself upon him. and forced him 
 down upon the h--- 1 . wiih his head huried amon-j its n-. 
 To do this was the work of an instant only. Fortunately f >r 
 the knight, the. assailant had not a -in^le weapon in hi- . 
 He had been u^iiitz i> -ver of the 
 
 che-t. and had thrown it down upon the tl-or a f.-w feet di-tant. 
 Hut his tinu ( . rs seemed to l.e mad- of steel, and th- 
 lh- iiroa; ..f Don Haltha/ar. with a ^ripi- so close and fierce, 
 that in a single moment of time, the latter had iirown purple in 
 the face, while his ejrefl dilat 1 -.viUJIy in their 
 
372 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 "Villain, would you murder me?" gasped the cavalier, vainly 
 struggling to rise, and making efforts as desperate as unavailing. 
 
 "You have come for it ! 1 thought you sate, and I eur-ed ihe 
 Blessed Devils, that helped you off. But 1 did Vm wrong ! The} 
 have delivered you into my hands ! You thought to bu\ me. did 
 you, to kill the good knight of Portugal I I ll kill you for him ! 
 I ll kill you for the poor young lady, my mistress ! ( >h ! didn t 
 I see, with my own eyes, just as Don Philip saw? You ought 
 to die a hundred deaths! But, as it s only once for you as tin 
 other men, the sooner you taste it, the sooner you get your w:iges. 
 You shan t have time to say a prayer; not one: for you shan t 
 have any mercy from God any more than from me ! Die ! 1 
 say ; die ! Die ! Die ! 
 
 The knight succumbed; he had neither room nor strength for 
 struggle. Hands and head buried in the chest, and taee down 
 wards, he was helpless! The hoarse gurgle of his breath in the 
 throat was already painful to the ear, and the writhings of his 
 form were those of a man vainly struggling with the last potent 
 enemy; when, suddenly, a sound was heard by the writhing and 
 almost suffocated man, a sound, a stroke! another, and ano- 
 th,r j and the gripe of his enemy relaxed ; and there was a wild 
 yell above him ; but one! and Don Baltha/ar felt relieved. 
 He began once more to breathe. lie felt no longer the incum 
 bent weight of the gigantic ruffian upon his back ! Gradually, he, 
 recovered consciousness. He heard a voice calling him by name. 
 He felt hands officiously helping him to rise ; he felt a cool but 
 grateful shock of water. His eyes opened to the day once more. 
 He looked about him : slowly, but fully, at length, his glance 
 took in the objects around him. He found himself seated beside, 
 the chest, from which he had been rolled out rather than lifted ; 
 and, before him, stiff in death, lay the corse of the outlaw, who, 
 but a little before, had been so completely in his power ! The 
 old hag, Sylvia, stood at hand to help her maMer, and soon ex 
 plained the agency by which his life had been saved. She had 
 followed him to the summer-house, curious to see and hear, and 
 anxious for the recovery of her goods, of which Mateo had de 
 prived her. She had come not a moment too soon ! Seeing the, 
 knight s danger, she had caught up the hatchet which was em 
 ployed for trimming the trees and shrubbery of the grove, ami 
 which lav in the verandah of the summer-house, convenient, with 
 .saw and other implements; and. without a word, governed by 
 instincts which always prompt to dec-ism* action where the mind 
 has few thoughts to trouble it. had stolen behind the outlaw. 
 He, bent only on strangling his enemy, with passions which 
 
FATE OF TI1E OUTLAW. 873 
 
 deadened the sense, heard nothing of her approach ! A stun 
 ning blow from the hatchet made him conscious of his danger, 
 while almost taking all consciousness away ! Hi- was not allow 
 ed a moment. Stroke aftei stroke followed, with the hammer, 
 as with the edge of the hatchet; delivered without regard to the 
 appropriate use of the weapon, but delivered with >u h a will as 
 made every stroke tell fatally ; until the head was cleft wide ; tho 
 .skull beaten in; and the strong, fierce, wild, savage man rolled 
 upon the floor; a ghastly spectacle of death; wallowing in blood ; 
 in a moment, torn from life; in the moment of his greatest 
 strength of arm and passion; and, by the withered arm of a des 
 pised old woman ! The outlaw knew not by whose arm, or by 
 what weapon he perished. He saw not his assailant. He was not 
 allowed to turn and face his danger: the reiterated blows fell 
 erushingly and fast, and he sunk under them, a helpless mass, in 
 .ess time than we have employed in describing the event 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 " Master, go on, and I will follow thce, 
 To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. 
 
 As Yon Lnot IT. 
 
 IT was a goodly hour after the event, before Don Balthazar 
 had sufficiently recovered from his sufferings to resume his acti 
 vity, or comply with the summons of the Adelantado, to return 
 to the city. When able to rise and look about him, he gave his 
 orders with customary sang froid, for the removal and disposi 
 tion of the dead body of the outlaw, which was publicly exposed 
 during the day, and finally hung in chains by the public execu- 
 tioner. But this exhibition did not take place till after the de 
 parture of the expedition ; and the good Knight of Portugal, and 
 his page Juan, were somewhat surprised at not exchanging fare 
 wells with the bold outlaw, as he had promised them should be 
 the case. They little anticipated for him, such a short and hur 
 ried transition, from the extreme health, hope and vigor of 
 impetuous and eager manhood, to the stagnating and corrupting 
 embrace of death ; and did not learn, until they had arrived in 
 Florida, the history of the bloody and fatal conflict which we 
 have narrated. It was with a feeling of disappointment, that 
 they turned their eyes upon the wide waste of .waters before 
 their prows, from the crowds upon the shore, gradually melting 
 into masses, and to be individualized no longer. As the night 
 came on, Philip de Vasconselos threw himself upon the Kvk of 
 the caravel, musing sadly upon the stars as they silently stole 
 out to sight, and hardly knew that the boy Juan crouched as 
 silently behind him. There was scarcely a word spoken be 
 tween them that night, yet, somehow, this silent attendance, and 
 simple devotion of the page, strengthened, at each moment, the 
 feeling of sympathy, with which the knight, from the very first, 
 regarded him. 
 
 u The boy hath a heart," quoth Philip to himself; "he can 
 feel. He hath not yet survived his tenderness. But it will not be 
 for long. The world rarely leaves us long in possession of such 
 a treasure. Were he wise, now, the sooner he flings it from him, 
 or puts it to silence, the more sure were he to escape its sor 
 rows. What profits it to us that we have the wealth that keeps 
 us wakeful ; when sleep, sleep, is the best blessing that we 
 (74) 
 
COM MU NIX OS OF KNIGHT AND PAGE 375 
 
 need, and ought to pray for? Oh ! that. I might shut out thought 
 when I shut mine eyes ; or hush the heart into silence that only 
 wounds me with its cries!" 
 
 Thus, the knight. The boy, no doubt, had his musings 
 also. They both slept upon the deck, nightly, in close neighbor 
 hood, throughout the voyage. Neither spoke much ; hut th.-y 
 grew silently together. If Don Philip showed himself wakeful 
 and restless, and strode the deck at times throughout the night. 
 the boy watched him the while, and sometimes followed his 
 footsteps ; though always at a distance. Gradually, this distance 
 lessened between them. The page followed clove his master. 
 Voyagers in a frail barque, upon the lonely wa- an, 
 
 rarely observe the restraining barriers which keep the souls of 
 men apart on shore ; and the devotion of the boy. his MJent 
 watchfulness, his unobtrusive attention, at length, won the 
 knight s regard; and he called him to his side in frequent re 
 mark ; and he bade him observe the stars ; and he called them 
 by their several names; and taught him their uses to the man 
 ner ; and he discoursed of the winds ; of their mysterious birth 
 and origin : how some of them were gracious, always in regard 
 to the seaman; how others brought poison to the atmosphere. 
 Then he spoke of the new wild world of the Apalachian to which 
 they were approaching, and of which Yasconscios taught tin- 
 page many strange things; all of which he had learned from his 
 own experience, in the famous adventure which lie had pursued 
 along with Cabeza de Vaca on his famous expedition ; thus 
 teaching his young companion various matters <>f wlii.-h on 
 young and untutored could not be expected to know. And the 
 boy reverently listened, and loved to listen, though in s<.<.;h. he 
 knew much more of these things than the good knight -uppos, -d. 
 and had enjoyed much better MMMVCS of knowledge than might 
 he-eem hU present position. Of this Philip de Yasconselov had 
 no conjecture, though he could see that the page was l>y no 
 means an ordinary boy; was quick to con.-ei ,-e. and to appre 
 hend ; and when he replied, did BO ^hrewi>hly. and with an intelli 
 gence and thought as much be\<>inl his apparent age. as beyond 
 Dtfl -situation and race. But.it was in the delicate sensibilities i.f 
 .Juan, that the knight took most intcrot. Now. the-.;- -ensibil- 
 ities of \outh do not declare themselves usually in wonK or in 
 ordinary fashion. Where the heart f.-els quickly, and the emo 
 tions wait ever in readiness for the ^ummns. words are not 
 always present to ser\e the want- or \\i>he- ..f the siipt ri.>r en 
 dowment. Thi> mu.-t sh-)\\ it-i-lf to ;hc eye and mind "f him 
 who would understand and love it ; and it requires, accordingly, 
 
376 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 mind and eye, capable of reading a very subtle, profound and mys 
 terious language. Now the secret of this capacity is to be found 
 only in very active susceptibilities, on the part of him who reads. 
 His open sensibilities must be keen and watchful; he must 
 possess a gentle spirit at the core : he must have loved and 
 suffered ; must still love and suffer ; must be full of pity and 
 sorrow, though he speaks little and doth not complain ; and 
 there must be a rare delicacy of sentiment in his soul, so that 
 there shall be no change in the aspect of the other whom he seeks 
 or esteems, however slight, that he shall not see, and comprehend 
 at a single glance. Nor wants he to see, except to be solicitous ; 
 nor comprehend that he may slight. It is enough, here to say, 
 that these conditions, by which kindred spirits seek, meet, and 
 link themselves with one another, were all found in the respect 
 of Don Philip and the boy Juan ; so that a look, a tone, a ges 
 ture, of one or the other, did not fail to make itself fully under- 
 stood by both, and to command at the same time the most 
 genial sympathy. And it shall be no long time, after such is 
 found to be the case between two such parties, when it will be 
 impossible to maintain cold barriers of society, keeping them 
 separate ; when the two hearts shall so yearn for the close com 
 munion, that the mind shall forget all the distinctions of men 
 on land, and there shall be a gentle law controlling both, which 
 shall do away utterly with all common usages of constraint, 
 substituting others of a finer fabric, more subtle, apparent, and 
 not less strong ; which shall grow out of veneration and sympa 
 thy. Thus it was that Philip de Vasconselos soon learned 
 even in that short voyage to love the boy, Juan, as a boy of 
 truly loyal and devout soul ; as of tender and sweet sympathies ; 
 and of tastes so delicate, as equally to confound the knight at 
 their possession by one of his sex and race. The boy, on the 
 other hand, might be supposed to love the knight because of his 
 justice, his noble purpose and princely thoughts ; his great courage 
 and skill in arms; his graceful carriage; and for all that was 
 manly and great in his character. It might be that, had Philip 
 been of the other sex, these traits would have proved less im 
 posing in the estimation of the page ! But it matters little as to 
 what were the causes, respectively working, by which the two 
 gradually grew to be so well attached to each other. Enough, 
 that such is the fact, and that they held frequent communion. 
 With whom else should Philip commune ? Never was noble 
 knight more desolate of soul, and lone of place, than he. Often 
 did the eyes of Philip rest si-archingly upon the bronze features 
 of the boy, with a curious and tender interest. It seemed to 
 
THE ARMAMENT. 377 
 
 !ii MI that the features which he perused, were such as had been 
 known to him before; that they were, in some sort, precious to 
 liis memory, as they were grateful to his sight. At such mo 
 ments, the eyes of the page would be cast down, and the 
 knight fancied* that there was an expression of emotion, in his 
 countenance, amounting to compassion, when he was con-cioiis 
 of this silent study. But Philip spoke nothing of the thoughts 
 which this conduct occasioned : yet he did not the less continue 
 to examine the features of the youth ; and he found a strange se 
 cret pleasure in this study. Nor did he, because of the study, 
 continue the less to teach, and to commune with the young 
 mind which he was pleased to instruct. And thus it happened 
 that the two scarcely sought, or found, much communion with 
 any others of the ship. The hoy knew none, of all in the army, 
 hut Philip, and he. with few friends in the expedition, had. as it 
 happened, none of them in the same vessel with himself. Xutio 
 <le T->bar. hi- only close associate in Cuba, and his o\vn brother 
 Andres, hud both i>een taken on board the same barque which 
 bore the Adelantado and Don Baltha/ar <!e Alvaro. 
 
 The expedition, according to one of the aeeoiinK had set sail 
 from Havana on the 1 2th of May, 1539 ; other authorit! 
 the 18th of the same month. In all probability the latter was 
 the, true date. The fleet, in safety, reached the coast f Florida 
 on the ">th. being seven days at sea. But whether it sailed on 
 the 12th or 18th, in either case, the voyage had not been a long 
 one, for that period, in those capricious ^.-as. and in that - 
 of the year. The licet entered the IJay of Tampa, to which 
 to gave the name of Kspiritu Santo. The voiil of the 
 Adelantado <vas ureatly lifted at the su<ve<^ of the vo\ 
 all his :ships .irriving in good order, and at the Name lime ; 
 at the noble display of his armament on the shores of th 
 lachian. Never before had so splendid an army been sent from 
 the old world to the new. It consisted of no less than a thousand 
 
 men. of whom three hundred and lift v were cavaliers on h< >r 
 
 . many of them, of the nob:,--; families of Tactile. 
 The knights were provided with helmets, and CUirasaes, and 
 shit-Ids, and Merl armor; armed with swonUof iheb.-t temper, 
 and with Well-tried lane-s ,,f |; . eumpletc and admirable 
 
 equipment, The mvat body of the trooj 
 
 a sort of thiek bull maN. wadded with cotton, the better to resist 
 the fearful arrows of the n-d men. They were armed with ar- 
 <|iiebu< or oronbow, and carried with them a single piece of ar- 
 tillers. Fleet greyhound- were provided to run down the fu- 
 gitn s, and well-trained bloodhounds were held in leash, to do 
 
378 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 good duty in the thickest of the fight, to rend or devour the 
 naked savages, upon whom they had been taught to feed. The 
 chivalry of that day found nothing inhuman in the use of such an 
 agency in war. But, as mere conquest were nothing without 
 taking heed to its acquisitions, workmen, and the necessary appa 
 ratus, were carried, for the purpose of smelting and refining the 
 precious metals which they confidently expected to find. N< r 
 were the chains, handcuffs, and collars of iron, forgotten, by which 
 their captives were to be secured^ in order to be shipped safely 
 to the plantations of the Cuban. Droves of cattle, mules, and 
 hogs, constituted a more benevolent provision, made fur the wants 
 of the expedition, when it should reach the country, where the 
 hogs and cattle were to be let go free. 
 
 Accustomed to the easy conquest of such feeble tribes as the 
 Peruvian, De Soto felt that such an armament, so far surpassing 
 those of Cortez and Pizarro, was quite equal to the conquest o\ ci 
 the whole country of the Apalachian. Never a doubt of this 
 result crossed the mind of the haughty Adelantado, and he made 
 instant preparations for throwing a body of troops on shore, and 
 taking possession of the territory in the name of his monarch, 
 the Emperor, Charles the Fifth. The wealthy knight, Vascc 
 Porcallos, claimed the high honor of leading this party, and per 
 forming this act of sovereignty; and the privilege was conceded 
 him. He was to have the command of a force of three thousand 
 men, being, in fact, all those who could be prepared fcr lisem- 
 barkation during that day. The shipping, meanwhile, were gra 
 dually warping in shore, a performance not so easy on account of 
 the rapid shoaling of the water, and for which they had to depend 
 upon the tides. Meanwhile, more for the purposes >f solemnity 
 and state, than because he felt the need to be taught anything, the 
 Adelantado called a council of his chief officers. Philip de Vas- 
 conselos was invited to this conference. He, by the way. had l>een 
 one of those designated to land with Vasco Porcallos, the better 
 that he might act as interpreter, should there be any meeting with 
 the red men. With regard to this sort of service, De Soto now 
 more than ever felt the importance of having one with him who 
 not only had some knowledge of the country, but who could thus 
 become a medium of communication with its people. Though 
 still a little too lofly and reserved towards our knight of Portu 
 gal, he yet descended somewhat from his pride of place in order 
 to solicit him. lie had already distinguished him by the request. 
 that he would serve about his person as one of his Lieutenants, . 
 a request which the other had no motive to refuse;; and he cheer 
 fully consented to disembark among the first with Vasco Por 
 
PHILIP S COUNSEL. 379 
 
 callus. His first counsel to the Adelantado, and the other chiefs, 
 ; should In- taken with great circumspection ; 
 that there should he horse patrols on every side; that th" most 
 umvlaxini: watchfulness should be required of every sentinel; 
 that the troojs should sleep in their armor, and have their I 
 poi;s constantly at hand. 
 
 "These Apalaehian-, Ss-fmrcs." said he. "are a fierce and fear- 
 lesa race; they are no such fcelilc and timid people, as those of 
 (. uba and Peru. They loye the light, with a passion which pre 
 fers it as their best delight. They a<k no meicy, and they accur.l 
 none. It will need all our valor and prudence. and we shall tri 
 umph rather less through our valor, than our modes of deliver 
 ing battle, the peculiarity of our weapons, the terrors in 
 spired by our arquebuses, which shall seem to the savages no 
 than thunder and swords of the subtle lightning; and the 
 awe with which they shall behold our horses; to them so many 
 unknown and devouring numbers; which they shall endeavor to 
 ipe in vain, and wh<se speed shall mock their own fleetne-s 
 <>f font; which, compared with that of other men, is truly mar- 
 
 The Adelantado smiled rather contemptuously at this counsel, 
 having, aa he thought, suftieien: nee himself, in wai 
 
 with the red men. to know what precautions to take, and how to 
 manage the encounter with the enemy. 
 
 -Truly, we are thankful for your xeal and wi-dmn. Don Philip, 
 though with sonic experimee of niir own. in the warfare with the 
 heathen, and some small reputation gained in other wars, it might 
 be held reasonable to suppose that I should omit no 
 
 mtions which are needful to the safety >f my follower- when 
 embarking on the shores ( ,f the Floridian." 
 
 There was no pique in the tone or manner of our knight of 
 , jal. as he replied calmly : 
 
 V mr Kxcei: - rightly, and ! were greatly desrrvinr 
 
 huke. had I d si _rn, ,1 tn oasl a doubt up >n vmir perfect -ufli- 
 ciency tnr th" toils of war in any land : but I meant nothing more 
 than a general warning that the circumspection which would suf 
 lice against an ordinary race, will hardiv be adi-quate 
 rity agaiii^t this of the Apalachian. who^e subtleties tar 61 
 tlm-.- of all other red men. and who are a- valiant in 
 
 ii their persons as tlr-y are in. r i i!i"us in th--ir warlike de- 
 
 \Vith this apoloijer 
 
 AH unwilling auditory. Th.- Adei.intado addrexsi-.l \\\> counii! 
 without giving the sligi: what had 1/eeii urged by the 
 
880 VASCONIELOS. 
 
 knight of Portugal ; and the latter, shrugging his shoulders, con 
 soled himself with the reflection, that the lesson which he strove 
 in vain to enforce, would probably be taught, though at a greater 
 cost to his hearers, by the Apalachian himself. 
 
 "The experience which tutors pride to a just humility." he 
 mused within himself, " is perhaps, the best sort of lessoning ; 
 and he who would succeed, when the warfare is somewhat with 
 his own vanity, cannot be saved from the punishment which fol 
 lows close upon its indulgence. It is well, perhaps, that he will 
 not hear, since it is only right that he should be made to ferl : 
 and our safety and success, perhaps, must equally depend upon 
 our being made to feel, at the beginning of the adventure, rather 
 than at a later time, when we are too deeply engaged in it. But, 
 so sure as there are Fates, Hernando de Soto will be certain 
 to receive his lesson before he hath gone very deeply into his 
 books." 
 
 The conference, such as it was where there could be no 
 dissent and no deliberation, was soon at an end. De Soto 
 simply detailed his plans at length, and gave his order for the 
 disembarkation, the conduct of which was entrusted to the 
 wealthy Don Vasco Porcallos ; and never was ambitions mortal 
 more eager than he to set forth on his adventures. His ap 
 petites for gold and captives had been growing with every league 
 of progress which he had made on the watery waste, and still 
 less than the Adelantado was he prepared to apprehend the pos 
 sibility of failure or reverse of any sort in his present frame of 
 mind. He dreamed only of riding down myriads of naked and 
 panic-stricken savages, selecting the most, vigorous captives and 
 spearing the rest. But Vasconselos better knew the danger, and 
 hence the duty. He knew they were not to triumph without 
 hard fighting, great firmness, and constant caution. 
 
 Scarcely had the vessels appeared in sight of the- coasts, than 
 the, balefires smoked on all the heights and tumuli that lined the 
 shore, attesting the watch and vigilance of the Fioridians. These 
 were signals of danger, and announced to the warriors in t.h - inte 
 rior I o gather from all quarters. Philip pointed out mon sig 
 nal-- lo the page. "See you. Juan." said he. already tfte red 
 men have taken alarm. Those smokes that rise every where in 
 sight, will kindle ether smoke<, which shall give warning to nil 
 the separate tribet. They will fire pile-; throughout the mighty 
 I, until the answering smoke-; -lull ascend from the <rivat 
 mountains of the Apalachian. Where a people are thus vigilant 
 to note and prepare for the first, dangers of invasion, they are 
 warlike; they will fight famously; they will give us work to 
 
SAVAGE WARFARE. 881 
 
 do, and task equally our skill and valor. So, be you \\atcliful 
 always, my l><y. that you be not at any time surprised. In a 
 country of deep forests, and groat swarded meadows. --u< -li ;i< we 
 shall here encounter. filled \\ith races of fearless hunters there i> 
 HO moment. secure iVum danger; there- i> s<-aivel\ a position >afe 
 against surprise. One lies down never at night, without the ap 
 prehension that he shall suddenly be summoned by the deuthlv 
 whoops of the savage, to face the danger in the dark. It lu-ed^to 
 sleep always, lance or sword in hand, and with one eye and one 
 ear ever open to sights and sounds of most terrible import, lie 
 watchful, us you shall behold me ever; and be sure that you 
 cling closely to my footsteps, when the work of death b. j 
 
 Could the good knight, at this moment, have felt the quick, 
 deep beatings of the boy s heart ; could he have si-en the tremu 
 lous quiver of his lips; eould lie have conjectured what emotions 
 strange, and oppressive, all crowded for utterance in that y<"ing 
 bosom; all, however, kept down by a will that was perfectly 
 wonderful, in so young a frame ! But the eyes of Philip were 
 scarcely srt upon the boy as he address! him. lie -p.-ke while 
 they were both busy, preparing their equipments, and getting i i 
 readiness to obey the command to di-embark. It was with pro 
 digious effort that the boy controlled his emotions sulVicieiitly to 
 speak. 
 
 "And are we, even now, to land upon the shores of the Apa 
 laehian. " 
 
 " Within the hour, .Juan, a party of three hundred men. com 
 manded by D<>n Va-ro I .-ivallos. will take possession of tin- 
 country in the name of the Kmperor, and I am to accompany 
 him. a-, interpreter of the speech of the red man. should we 
 happen to meet with any of his raee. But he will be more apt 
 to speak through his darN and arrows, than with civil tongue; 
 and now I think of it, Juan, it. is perhaps needless that you 
 should go with me on shore, until the whole command shall dis 
 embark. YOU an- yet ijuiie young, and had better gather glim ps- 
 
 es of the strife from a distance at first, than be a sharer in one 
 of which thou ha-t no e\periciu-c. Keep thine cars open, and 
 alter midnight thou shall hear the hellish clamors of the - 
 as they howl and rage around our camp. I shall not need ihce 
 in this adventure, for which thou art yet sraiveiv well ti" 
 
 The boy s lip quivered, hut his words were firmly delivered. 
 
 "Seftor. when shall I be fitted, if I never be-iin ? Son* 
 I must begin, and the longer she da\ i- put o|] . the slower will bu 
 my teaching. 1 do not fear. I shall be \\i;h \. . 
 please, I will go on shore wi h \ ou tonight." 
 
882 VAscoNSELoa 
 
 " In God s name, boy, have your wish. You say rightly. 
 There must be a time, when this lesson must be taught, and 
 learned, and the sooner, as you say, the better. Get on your 
 escaupii. and see that your weapons are such as will serve to 
 risk a life upon. Bring them hither, that I may see." 
 
 \Ye must not linger on these details. Suffice it that all parties 
 were soon prepared for the landing It was on the last day of 
 the month of May, soft, serene and sweet, that the gallant Hi 
 dalgo. Dun Vasco Porcallos, led the way for his detachment of 
 three hundred, and took final possession of the soil of the Flo- 
 ridians in the name of Spain. The solemnity was a very stately 
 one, but needs not that we describe it. The banner of Castile 
 was unrolled and elevated in the free air of the Apalaehians. and 
 was planted upon one of the elevations nearest to the shore. 
 The region was thickly wooded, the forests were all clad in tin. 
 freshest verdure of the opening summer ; the breeze was charged 
 with odors from worlds of flowers, the choicest natives of the 
 country ; and a natural delight filled every bosom, and exhila 
 rated the spirits of the soldiery with an enthusiasm that seemed 
 already in possession of the fullest successes. In pitching their 
 camp, Philip de Vasconselos again ventured to give such hints 
 to Don Vasco, as became his experience and caution. But the 
 latter was even more sanguine than De Soto, and less heedful ; 
 and the manner in which he received these counsels of the knight 
 of Portugal, seemed to have been borrowed from that of the 
 Adelantado on t he occasion already shown. He was civilly 
 scornful, and Vasconselos saw, with chagrin and apprehension. 
 that the ground chosen for the night was such as would rather 
 invite and facilitate than discourage from attack. But he could do 
 no more. He had only to submit, and hope against his fears, 
 and provide as well as he might, against the emergency that he 
 anticipated. But lacking all command, with but the single fol 
 lower, he a child, inexperienced and evidently tired, what could 
 he done? 
 
 Come." said he cheerfully to Juan, "come, my b-.y. and let 
 us seek out our (juarters. We are limited to a certain precinct, 
 but this affords choice of sleeping-place, and upon this choice 
 may rest chance of safety." 
 
 The boy followed in silence. The knight rambled over the 
 ground assigned for 1 lie encampment, and chose a little clump of 
 wood, wl icri atlorded sufficient co\vr for a small group, yet stood 
 apart, as it were, from the rest of the forest: affording an inter 
 val, over whirh the eye could raii re. with tolerable freedom for 
 some space, and thus note any hostile approaches. To find this par 
 
KNI .HTLY LKSSUNS. 888 
 
 ticular spot, Vasconselos made his way to the very verge of the 
 encampment, but not much farther from the shore than any of 
 the rest of the detachment. Here he hung his buckler upon a 
 bough, \vhile, in the rear of the thicket, he secured his 
 
 He was one of the lew, but seven in number, who had snc- 
 d in bringing tht-ir horses ashore that evening. " The 
 
 knight must love his o | stood, and care for him, Juan, a- he 
 
 values his own life. Help me now to rub him down. Hring 
 me some of those dried grasses, my boy. His legs are stilli-ned 
 by his narrow lodgings, and ship-board, and lack of exeivi-e. 
 The rope 1 Hast thou brought it ?" 
 
 " It is here, Senor." 
 
 " Ah ! now this will give him range to feed, yet keep him fa-t ; 
 but an armful of these young reeds, with their fresh leaves upon 
 them, will help his appetite. Let us cut them, boy." 
 
 The grass was quickly cut with their machetes, with on. of 
 which each was properly provided, and the soft green cane-tops 
 were spread before the haltered animal, who fed with eagerness. 
 
 " It rejoices the knight s heart to see his charger feed with ap 
 petite. The grateful beast knows what we do for him. He will 
 he content through the night. Thine own shall be brought ashov 
 to-morrow, and then, if thou hast never practised these little 
 toils, thou shalt learn from me. Hut evermore be careful of thy 
 steed! In a strange wild country !!!< this, of the Apalachian, if 
 he, fail thee, thou art lost. Never feel thyself at ea-e until thou 
 see-t him eat and drink with a will; and it were well always to 
 give him chance to wallow in the sands. A little toil, i 
 taken, ere thou sleep st thyself, and thy steed sleeps well aU> : 
 and thy own conscience is at peace in thy bosom, and thy safety 
 is so far secure. But remember thy beast, always, if thou 
 wouldst sleep with a irood oonaoit 
 
 And thus, as they eared for the want- and comforts oft; 
 hint destrier, did Yasconselos speak to his page; and the latter 
 occasionally murmured a sentence in reply or inquiry ; but it 
 was a delightful thing to see how. first, they eared for the animal, 
 liefore seeing how they themselves had wants. Juan found a 
 strange -at i-taet ion. thus employed, the more perhaps, becau-c 1. 
 toiled for such ft master; and as he pa-sed (lie rough, dry gl 
 of the forest over the animal s sides and thi-jhs. hi- arms -oine- 
 linies cro sing w jth those of tin- L r "< >d knight, and their eyes meet- 
 ing, and the gentle word- of the latter melting into his ears, the, 
 neart of the hoy beat with emotions of a singular pleasure, such 
 as he had seldom felt before. Tin- ho; 90 *t ripped and chaf 
 bU furniture hidden away in the thicket at hand, but alwa. 
 
884 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 venient, they selected their own place of repose. The dried 
 leaves of the forest furnished a surticient couch; the forest pines 
 and other trees yielded a goodly shelter. The evening was calm 
 and grateful. The warm serenity of the season required no 
 closer lodgings. The most perfect repose prevailed throughout 
 the forest, and save the clamor made by the troops, not a sound 
 was to be heard, whether on land or sea. The soldiers dis 
 persed themselves about the woods, chose their places of repo-o 
 as Vasconselos had done, but without any regard to his precau 
 tions. They saw no danger, and apprehended none, as they IH> 
 held no foe, and all was confidence, and all was excitement. 
 
 "Surely, Senor," said Juan, "these quiet woods harbor no 
 enemies." 
 
 " It is in the quiet seas, Juan, that the shark prevails. In the 
 tempest he retires to his ocean caverns. The wolf prowls in the 
 stillness of the night. The adder is a great traveller in the dark 
 hours. It is because these forests are so quiet now. that I feel 
 there are enemies at hand. But let us sup ere we speak of them, 
 icst we forfeit something of appetite. Where is thy wallet ? 
 
 It was produced. The page displayed its contents, and stood 
 in waiting. 
 
 " Sit. boy, and eat with me. Thou art my companion, child, 
 not slave. Sit !" 
 
 With a strange tremor in his limbs, and vacant look which 
 did not escape the eye of Philip, the boy took hi- seat before 
 him, but scarcely nigh. This emotion the knight ascribed to 
 the humility of the page. He strove to soothe this by conde 
 scension, by the utmost gentle.ne.ss of manner and fondness of 
 discourse ; but the c .Vcct was not such as he expected not, just 
 then, at lea-t. 
 
 Time will wear oil" these fears," said the knight to himself, as 
 he broke the bread and passed it to the boy. 
 
 Kat. .Juan! Thou wilt need to learn how to eat and sleep at 
 
 al! seasons; if thou wouldst become a soldier. We shall h;i\e 
 
 to wake and fight, when it shall nut please us. the summons; and 
 
 sh;i!! t ,nt be summoned to our food always, or our sleep, when 
 
 m.i^t th,. appetite shall call for both." 
 
 When l!n V had supped, Philip said 
 
 Now. Juan, thou wilt watch while I sleep. I will take advan 
 tage .,f ihe early hours of the night, when the red man seldom 
 prowls MI- strik ,^. anil in the middle of it. I will wake, or thou 
 shall waken ni". th::t I may 1:-kr thy place a-, waHier for the rest 
 of the nii:hl. See. from this plaer. where we both lie concealed, 
 von ore enabled to note ail that happens around you for soma 
 
NIGHT-WATCH. 885 
 
 distance You will observe who approaches ; note all things that 
 sem ur wonted ; and arouse me instantly. Do riot trust to \<".u- 
 
 own courage, or weapon, wholly, if it need that any thing !, 
 done! See, on every side hut one, lies the encainpineiit. < Mi 
 the left, the interval is open which separates is-, from the dcnsei 
 foiv-t. Fn>m that quarter the dai:grr may :iri>i-. \Yafch tlmi 
 well ! Behind us. at a little distance. i< the -, ; , ; in which, with 
 3 few fleet hounds, we may luiry our forms from an encmv.and 
 ne within speech and succor from the ships. Trmu canst watch 
 r<>r three goodly hours, without feeling the heavy weight of sleep 
 upon thec. That time over, I shall sun-ly rise to relieve I 
 
 iiould I not, do thou then awaken me. " 
 
 AVithout further speech. Philip de Vasconselos, in \\\< armor, 
 as he Mood, threw himself at length at the foot oft lit- irreat I 
 His hand grasped his sword, which he had unstrapped from his 
 shoulders. It was not long lu-foiv he slept ; f<,r he was one of 
 those to whom the e.xperienre of such a life had taught the wis- 
 lom of securing and I licouraging the blessinj -hen- 
 
 he could, knowini:. a- he had *.iid to Juan, that the sum 
 mons to arouse for hattle might come at anv moment in a Mil 
 country, and might not always plea-e the sh-eper; and he pos. 
 
 nty of Commanding sleep at almost any momoit. 
 He slept ; and gradually the hoy drew nearer, crawling s..ftlv. 
 to the head of the knight, whoso face Was turiM-d upon tfie si. le 
 fppoxit,.. But witli thi^ scarcely aiidihle movement, Philip 
 snowed himself restless. The l.oy receded, and gatherini: up his 
 -Low. raised it to the level o the eye. an-1 rang. .l it from 
 side to side, upon the opm >paees between the trees in front. 
 The stars shorn- very 1. rightly, and in that region served to re 
 veal ohjecN of small si/e at con-ideralle distance. Juan m 
 tated within him-elf very seriously the question : 
 
 u What if some red warrior -hould sud.h-nlv appear?" 
 His heart heat with quickened pulses, as he asked the ques 
 tion. 
 
 "Should I have the strength, th. . the confideii. 
 
 dlOOt ? Hut he hade in,- not ! 1 was to awaken him. I was to 
 
 h only, and report th. danger/ 
 
 He laid the how aside, and onoe more crept clos.-lv to the 
 sleeping cavalier. The lace ,,f n,i|j p xvas sti n averf. d. P,,,t 
 the hoy did not *,.,., anxious to <r a /e upon it. 1! ap- 
 
 I -. f i -d to ! ,. attained when h.- WM l.cside },im. r \ her. 
 
 quietly, his eyes lo,,kini: out with suflleimt watchfulness, ;, 
 enough, hut \\ith a s, : ;!,,,, \ n i[}l \ lc ()t | 1( . r ,;, .;,^ ,,,- slir . 
 
 rey. With hands clasped upon his lap, he yielded himself up to 
 
886 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 fancies, dreaming and delicious, yet so touched witn a peculiar 
 sadness, that the bitter predominated over the sweet, and the big 
 tears might be seen, moulding themselves into melancholy jew 
 els in the starlight, rounding themselves gradually upon his cheek, 
 and dropping one by one, as they grew to brilliants. The hours 
 swam along with the stars, and the stars waned in their silent 
 progress for the blessing of other eyes, and the eyes of Juan 
 drooped at last with the heaviness upon them. He strove tc 
 shake off the drowsiness which he felt ; but there was something 
 in that foreign atmosphere which could not be withstood, and 
 while he strove to range along the barrel of the cross-how. 
 (which he had taken up with some vague notion that it would 
 keep him wakeful,) over the intervals which spread between him 
 and the gloomy shadows of the wood which he had been espe 
 cially enjoined to watch ; it seemed to him as if the wood jt- 
 self were swimming, like waves of the sea, and as if the stars 
 descended to the plain, only to ascend once more ; to and fro ; 
 upward and downward and onward, till all things appeared to 
 mix and mingle in his sight. Then suddenly, ho started, with a 
 strange confusion, as he fancied he heard the voice of Don Philip. 
 This, for a moment, aroused him ; but looking down, he saw- 
 Don Philip still sleeping ; and, satisfied to see thus, he was con 
 scious of little more after this for some time, though he might 
 have been just as watchful as before. But very soon after this, 
 Don Philip really awakened. He found the boy fast asleep, with 
 his arm thrown over his neck. He gently unloosed it, and rose. 
 
 " Poor boy !" said the knight " Thou hast taken on thee a 
 perilous labor, which thy slight figure wilt scarce endure. But 
 sleep, and I will watch thee. I could wish thee stronger, for my 
 sake, no less than thine ; for verily, of all this host, 1 have now 
 none but thee !" After a pause " And there is that about the 
 child which binds me to him ; which makes me love him almost 
 Wherefore? It is because 1 am alone! It is because the nature 
 of the strong man requires a charge, a trust, a burden, *o that 
 his strength shall be healthfully at exercise; so that his rr iscles 
 shall not shrink, lacking due employment ! Well ! I wul pro 
 tect and help him so long as I can help any tiling, and LT but 
 why look into the vast vacancy of that dark realm oi tne future, 
 in which no flower shall ever grow for me f 
 
 He rose suddenly, as if startled ; seized his sword, buckled it 
 to his side, and caught up the cross-bow of the page. He stole 
 forward a few paces, and seemed to listen ; then returned to his 
 place, and laid the bow again by the side of the sleeping Juan. 
 His next attentions were bestowed upon his steed The beast 
 
ALARUMS. 387 
 
 had eaten plentifully, and now slept; but raised his ncad. and 
 seemed to recognize his master as he drew nigh. Philip patted 
 his neck affectionately, then bade him rise, and proceeded with 
 the utmost care and sileiiee to put on his war harness, his saddle 
 ami bridle, and have him in readiness for instant use. But he 
 did not loose the animal ; simply shortened his halter that he 
 illicit not again lie down. Meanwhile, every thing was still as 
 death in the encampment. Philip saw no sentinels ; heard no 
 guards relieved; knew nothing of the cautionary steps which 
 Don Yasco Porcallos might be supposed to have taken. The 
 night wa-s lapsing towards the dawn. This he felt in the coolness 
 of the atmosphere. He stole cautiously out to the edge of tin- 
 wood in his quarter of the camp, and looked to the black ran^i- 
 of the forest beyond. Nothing was stirring, not a leaf seem* <! 
 to be disturbed, in the cold thin air of the morning. 
 
 - Well," said he, as he returned to where he left the boy 
 sleeping, it may he, that we shall escape to-night The sav.-i. 
 perhaps, have not yet had time for a gathering of their warriors. 
 They would otherwise have never sutlered the night to pa-s. 
 without giving us a taste of battle. I know them of old; fierce, 
 iv-tless. impatient, fearless : cunning as valiant ; and never relent 
 ing in their purposes. \Ve shall see enough of them yet, though 
 we escape them now." 
 
 He returned to his late resting-place. Juan was still bound 
 
 fast in the embrace of sleep. He threw himself beside the bov. 
 and in the imperfect light of the stars, which looked down 
 through the openings of the trees he steadily perused his fu 
 tures. In this examination the interest of the knight appeared to 
 be very great, and the study seemed to sadden him. Hut the 
 bronze feature-, in the imperfect starlight, revealed nothing. The 
 face was sweet and girlish, and the face, if fair, mi^ht be count 
 ed beautiful. So the musing knight thought, duriiin the loni: 
 watch of hours which he maintained beside the unconscious \,<>\. 
 Hut he was not -uti eivd to continue the unembarrassed study, un 
 til the better lii/nt of the morning should enable him to peruse 
 the intelligible features. He lancied that lie heard unwonted 
 sounds; a stick was broken in the woods. His steed whinnie.i 
 There was an interruption of the silence which he could not de 
 fine, and sei/ing his sword, he rose to his feet, and quietly stole 
 nway to v, here his steed was fastened. 
 
 Meanwhile, .luan sl.-pt on, never once conjecturing aught of 
 the sad and >il-nt watch which the . > d knight had kept above 
 him. Hut he was awakened rudely from his drean.. At that 
 moment, Vascvnselos heard a cry, that sounded in his ears like 
 
888 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 the voice of a woman. It appeared also to proceed from the spot 
 where Juan had been left sleeping. He,* by this time, had ven 
 tured out again to the edge of the wood, and was looking over 
 the intervening space towards the dark forests lying beyond. 
 The cry alarmed him; though it bore no resemblance to the. 
 usual whoop of Indian battle. It might be that some wild 
 boast had found his way to where the boy slept the panther s en- 
 is like that of a child or girl, and, with excited pulses, and 
 the blood rapidly coursing through his veins, Philip darted hack 
 to the place where the boy was left. He reached the spot just 
 in time to discover two dark forms, clearly men, who were 
 drawing Juan away to the thickets. He readily divined the 
 purpose in the action. Again a shriek : and this time he knew 
 it for the boy s; but so full of a feminine terror, that his heart 
 sickened as he thought of the strange simplicity and ignorance 
 which had prompted one so feeble to venture upon an enterprise 
 so perilous. He thought and felt thus, even in that moment of 
 alarm. He saw that the boy struggled, and he further saw that 
 the dusky forms, by whom he had been seized, were brandishing, 
 each, a heavy mace above his head. There was no time for 
 further thought, or for hesitation. To dart forward, and with a 
 single stroke of his keen sword, to smite down one of the assail 
 ants ; to grasp the other by the throat and tear him from the 
 boy, then, as he staggered back, to run him through the body, 
 was the work of a few moments. The two savages lay at his 
 feet in the agonies of death. The boy staggered, gasping, towards 
 him, an hysterical sob only breaking from his lips. With a sleru 
 voice, the knight said: 
 
 "Seize thy cross-bow, Juan, and collect thyself. This is no 
 time for fears. The Apalachian is on us." 
 
 To confirm his words, at that very instant, the wild yells of 
 the savages rose up in all quarters of the encampment. Tin 1 
 Spaniards struggled out of sleep only to encounter their enemies 
 The sentinels had slept. Few were awa^e. The surprise was 
 complete. 
 
 "Follow me," cried Philip to the boy, and his stern accents, 
 by enforcing obedience, in some derive disarmed Juan of his 
 terrors; at all events, he obeyed. He followed by instinc!. ens. 
 bow in hand, and was at the side of the knight as the latter 
 leaped upon his steed. 
 
 "Up with thee, behind me, boy we have not a moment." 
 
 And the light form, a^i-tcd by the powerful arm of Philip, 
 sprang at once upon the -teed. The spur was instant ly driven 
 into the beast s sides, and he was made to go! The wild rush, 
 
TliE CONFLICT. 389 
 
 the monstrous form, thr gigantic bulk, of the animal, made its 
 impre^inn. A hundred naked savages darted out of the wood 
 through which he went, and fled before his path. The knight 
 shouted aloud, in the language of I aMile ; then blew a wild flour 
 ish upon his bugle, and joyed to hear the. answers of the Span 
 iards from sundry tjuarters. iMGO i oivallos \\ as soon on h< 
 hack, for though vain as a peacock, and pursy as an alderman. 
 he had the blood and energy of a true cavalier. The other live 
 troopers were soon in saddle, and, charging among the red men. 
 now yelling and. darting amidst the ton-Ms in the doubtful light 
 of morning, they soon changed the character of the event. IJut. 
 until this demonstration of the knights on horseback, the affair 
 was seriously against the \\hiti--. The Spaniards had been 
 not only surprised, but fairly routed. Started out of their pro- 
 foundest sleep, they had made but little opposition to the -a\ ... 
 They fled in tumultuous confusion to the sea-side, clamoring for 
 Hiecor to the ships. Manv of these were wounded; all would 
 have peri>hed. but for the spiriteil charge of the knights on 
 horseback, and the strange terrors occasioned by the In 
 animals whom the red men had never seen before. The savages 
 disappeared in the ion-Ms, a- soon as they found them>el\es 
 sei-ionsly roiMed. alniM-t a- >\\ iftly ami sinhlenly as they had 
 appeared. N asex I orcallos was great I v delighted with this. hi> lir.st 
 i-ay in arms against tin- Floridian. I xit.exeii while he boated 
 of liis pi-.i \\c-x. hi-, noble Meed t .-ll suddenly dead bein-atli him, 
 slain by an arrow which had buried itsidf out of sight in his 
 hody. \Vlu-u ihey reached the -hoiv. the red men ail di-p-r>ed, 
 and tin- troops issuing in boats with drum and trumpet from the 
 shipping, .luan slipped, from behind Philip de Va^eon-id<, upon 
 I he ground. 
 
 Art lliou hurt. ly ?" demanded the knight. 
 
 No, S.-nor. thanks to \our care. 1 have no hurt." 
 
 But thou tremblest still. Juan." 
 
 " 5Tea, S t -r:nr. but it is not now with fear. I think 1 shall never 
 be afraid again." 1 
 
 buy. thoiihast Utsted of the strife. Many a warrior who 
 
 grew famous afterwards, ha- felt the terrors of t d \ heart, Juan. 
 lut I had never |iirgi\eii myself hn-Ut tlxm been slain. I 
 but left thee for ;t moment, and thou ^-eM ho\\ ihe^e running 
 
 .ami upon thee. I had walelieil thee fort wo _! 
 hours as thou Rjept st, and taiieied \v -Imuld hear nothini: <,f 
 them." 
 
 " Alas ! S.-imr, thou 1. ; pt, I kuea 
 
390 VASCuNiiK. C;- 1 . 
 
 not that I slept. I knew not when mine oves closed, and I knew 
 not of thy awakening." 
 
 " I had too much tasked thee, Juan," answered the knight gently. 
 " Thou slept st ere I awakened. It was thy arm tailing over my 
 neck that awakened me." 
 
 " My arm over thy neck, Seftor ! Oh ! what have I done ?" 
 and the boy hung his head. 
 
 " Foolish boy, and where is thy offence in this ?" 
 
 But the boy turned away without speaking, and little did Phili}- 
 fancy how wildly the tides were rising and falling in his bosom. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII . 
 
 " Methinks amongst yon tram, 
 And habited like them, I well could paw, 
 And no one mark me." 
 
 VAN AKTITKLBX. 
 
 IT does not lie within the plan of this legend to follow in do 
 [ail all the progresses of De Soto in his weary marches, his l,ng 
 wanderings and fierce battles with the Floridian and other In 
 dian races of our country. These details must he sought in 
 other histories, and are available in many, to the reader. \\ 
 snail only notice the general route pursued by the expedition, 
 through what regions, and dwell upon those events only, which 
 eoneern the persons of the drama, with whom we have already 
 travelled through so many pages. 
 
 The encounter with the red men of Apalachia, which, as we 
 have seen, took place almost on the very moment of De Sot> > 
 landing in the country, was only the beginning of a long history 
 of conflicts. From tribe to tribe, from village to village, If 
 preyed onward, only to encounter the fiercest foes, or the most 
 treacherous friends. But, at the very outset of his career. In- re 
 covered a Spaniard, one Juan Ortiz, who had been a follower of 
 I amphilo de Narvaez, and had become a captive to the Apalach- 
 ians In a captivity of several years, he had acquired the lan 
 guage of many of the tribes, and almost lost his own. Thi- 
 (jiiisit ion rendered De Soto somewhat independentoftheservioes of 
 IMu lip de Vasconselos. The latter was soon made aware of this 
 consciousness of independence, on the part of the Adelantado. 
 
 Kager for the attainment of the great objects of the expedition, 
 the famous cities, and the golden treasure, which were believed 
 to be locked up in the Apalaehian mountains, Soto lost no tin.e 
 in unnecessary delays. Dispatching his largest vessels to Ha 
 vana, with the view to cutting oil all thought on the part of his 
 followers, of returning home in this policy, emulating Ci 
 and other great leaders. Soto retained but a single caravi-!. and 
 two brigantines, to keep po^-iiin of the sea-coast and the bay 
 where he had caM anchor. To this charge, he appointed I , 
 ( aileron, an old soldier. He next pro.v.-d.-d to .-end forth vari 
 ous small expeditions into the count rv. Decking gold and infor 
 mation. None of the partie> ilm^ .i-nt forth failed to cxperi< 
 
892 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 curious and exciting adventures ; but they do not affect our le 
 gend. We must not forget, however, that, from this moment, 
 we lose our famous millionaire, Don Vasco Porcallos, whom an 
 adventure in a swamp, in which he narrowly escaped suffocation, 
 cured effectually of all his warlike ambition, and who returned 
 with the fleet to Cuba. 
 
 Soto set forth himself, after no great delay, for the interior. 
 His splendid cavalry were free for use, by the employment of 
 hordes of captive Indians who carried the heavy luggage of the 
 expedition. His foot marched at an easy rate, the cavalry pro 
 curing supplies, and clearing the forests as they went, In this 
 way, the army marched from Tampa to Anaica, near the modern 
 Tallahassee. The brigantincs, meanwhile, coasting the shore, dis 
 covered the harbor of Ochoa, now Pensacola. Moving from 
 Anaica, Soto marched east, and successively crossed the rivers 
 Ockmulge, Oconee and Ogechee. He finally reached the Sa 
 vannah. These marches were not made in peace. War and ter 
 ror hung upon the footsteps of the Spaniards. Every where they 
 met with foes ; not such foes as the feeble Cuban or Peruvian 
 but fierce, stern, strong, implacable enemies, accustomed lo 
 hard blows, and to a life of incessant warfare. The advantages 
 lay with the Spaniards, but only as a consequence of their supe 
 rior civilization. They owed their victories to their cavalry and 
 firearms, rather than their valor. In this quality, the Apalachi- 
 ans were equal to any people that ever lived. The Spaniards 
 proved merciless conquerors. They mutilated where they did 
 not destroy, or desire to make captive. They had brought with 
 them handcuffs of iron, for securing their prisoners, and thus 
 ironed, the miserable wretches bore the baggage of their captors 
 through the wilderness. Their conquest was not easily made. 
 Thousands of the red men perished in the conflict, and the Span 
 iards did not always escape. It was not easy to ride down these 
 fierce savages. Many of the whites perished. De Soto, himself, 
 had several narrow escapes in close personal conflict, in which, but 
 for his companions in arms, he must have been slain. We nerd 
 not say that, on all these occasions, Philip de Vasronselos main 
 tained himself according to his reputation. He suffered no dis 
 aster. His page was equally fortunate. The latter had risen in 
 his master s esteem, as he had subsequently shown more courage 
 than had been promised by his first encounter, at the landing of 
 the troops. From that moment, he exhibited no signs of fear. 
 He was ever near the good knight, and proved always iva<ly with 
 the cross-bow. Of what efVeet were the arrows lie di-charged, 
 we have no means of knowing. Enough that he contrived to 
 
ISOLATION OF PHIL IT. 393 
 
 satisfy the sj>ectators if any may be thought to have been spec- 
 tators at such a time, and in such fields of his stoutness of 
 heart and readiness of aim. Philip de Vaseonselos himself was 
 satisfied, and felt more at case in respect to the boy s safety, than 
 he had been at the first opening of the campaign. 
 
 He \\as more than satisfied in othT respects. The boy proved 
 an intelligent eompanion. In his society the knight found solace, 
 and oft el! did lie feel surprise, at the equal taste and intellect. 60 
 diileivnt from his race, which, as they grew more ami more inti 
 mate, the boy betrayed. < )f course, Philip had not forgotten 
 what Mateo had told him. that Juan, the son of a five woman of 
 the mountains, had been carefully nurtured, and had not b 
 wanting in such education as could be procured by money, in 
 such a region, during that early period. But the intellect of the 
 boy declared for gifts, quite as much as acquisition such gifts 
 as "were imt often found in any other than the white ra<v. But, 
 though Mich exhibitions surprised Philip, quite as much as they 
 delighted him, yet his moods and present employments were not 
 of a soil to sutler him much speculation upon them. 1I 
 after a while, quite content to enjoy their bent-fits, in the solan: 
 which they brought, without questioning their source; and he 
 nci-ded all this solace, lie was still alone, and still, in spile of 
 his services and valor, quite as much as before an object of jea 
 lousy among the Spaniards. Nuno de Tobar, indeed, was still 
 his friend, and he knew others in ihe army, who were kindlily 
 inclined; but it wa-not often that the parties saw each other. 
 They were in dilVeivnt command-, and frequently detached on 
 expeditious, aside from the main route. There, had been no 
 ah-olute reconciliation between the Portuguese brothers; and 
 Andres Mill kept aloof; though we may state that his bittern. > 
 of mood had bren modified. But they rarely met. Philip was 
 a fivqiieiit volunteer when perilous or adventurous BCrvioe Wttfl 
 required. It was in this way. mostly, that he excivNed his skill 
 in arms, ^-ive when summoned to the special a^Nlanre of the 
 Adelantado. to whom he was nominally an ai<lc ; but this rarely 
 happened except wlh ii captives or embassies were to !> examin 
 ed, and interpretations nnde from their language. This requi 
 sition, too. had been of unfivqueiit occurrence SWOB Jll&U Ortiz 
 had been recovered. He. lmwev-r. sometimes failed to uuder- 
 >tand tin- tongues of toreign tribes, and thus it was that Philip 
 
 need.-d. P>ut forth!-, his IIM-S in the army , according to the 
 
 eMini;itf- -rnmgly put upmi them by hi- >uperior, were of little 
 moment. 
 
 Philip felt this treatment, and his bov allowed that h- felt it 
 17* 
 
394 % VASCONSELOS. 
 
 also. The two lived to themselves apart. They lay beneath the 
 same trees at night : they harnessed their horses in the same 
 glade. They sat together at the same repast ; Juan retired be 
 hind his lord, and speaking with him thus, except when, at times, 
 as finally was frequently the case, Philip bade him to sit beside 
 him, or before him a proceeding which the knight .adopted, the 
 I icttcr to encourage the boy, and to overcome his excessive >h\- 
 ness. And he gradually succeeded. The boy, who shrank from 
 all other associations, gradually grew to him, as the vine grows 
 to the mighty tree. Soon he came to speak freely even of his 
 own secret fancies and emotions, and it really pleased the knight 
 to hearken the language, still timidly spoken, of a young confid 
 ing heart, possessed of the deepest and tenderest feelings, which 
 the isolation in which he lived, and the wild seclusion of that 
 realm of shade and forest, seemed rather to expand and deve 
 lop, than subdue and overcome. The deep solitude which re 
 ceived them as they went, seemed to open the wanner fountains 
 of their human nature, as society rarely opens them. Thrown 
 together incessantly forced to communion by the repulsive 
 treatment of the rest sleeping near each other by night, en 
 countering the same toils and dangers by day, breaking the 
 same loaf when they ate, and naturally inclined to each other by 
 kindred sensibilities, it was soon evident to each that the charm 
 of their lives lay chiefly in the regards of one another. There 
 was a sad simplicity in both their natures, a grave tenderness 
 of soul, which still further helped to cement their intimacy ; and 
 it was soon felt by Philip, at least, that, in this new and 
 seemingly incongruous relationship, the peculiar pangs and dis 
 appointments which he had experienced in Cuba, were fast losing 
 the sharpness and severity of their sting, He sometimes won 
 dered at himself that he so much craved the companionship of 
 the boy; but he was too much pleased with the enjoyment of it 
 to question its sources. When they were apart he mused upon 
 his fondness with curiosity. Why should he, a knight of Portu 
 gal, feel such sympathy for this Moorish urchin 1 It was in vain 
 that he recalled the boy s devotion to himself, his goodne^ \ 
 heart, his gentleness of mood, the quickness of his mind, the 
 delicacy of his fancy, and his general intelligence. These did not 
 suffice to account for the hold upon his aiK-etions which the boy 
 nad taken. In all his meditation^ when left to himself he found 
 no solution of his problem. When the boy was at hand, and 
 they spoke together, there was no problem. It M-nned to him 
 quite natural, at such moments, all the aHection that he felt, 
 all the sympathy that warmed him to the du-ky page. 
 
SUSPICION. 895 
 
 T<> all other-, .l.ian was a stone, --insensible, unattrnctivc a 
 sulh red an.l silent boy. submissive, but retiring; hum 
 
 ble, but not soliciting; one of whom nobody entertained thought 
 or question ; of whom tin- common speech in camp was, that this 
 was ju-t suited to the haughty and sullen master. There 
 an exception perhaps to this general judgment Don Bal- 
 tha/ar de A 1 vary was observed to note the hoy with a persevering 
 .Juan was the first to he aware of this. It did not finally 
 
 ipe tin- notice of Philip; but it did not occasion his -urpri-e 
 OF Curiosity. In the case of .luan. however, it was -oim-thing 
 of an annoyance. Had he been watched, it would have been 
 64 n that he sought to avoid tlu- eye- of I Mi Balthazar that lie 
 was somewhat agitated when they met suddenly that he spoke 
 with a slight tremor of voice in the hearing of the Don, and es 
 pecially when, ta was sometimes the case, he was required to 
 an-wer hi- demand-. It -ometimes happened that Don Baltha 
 zar sought Yaseon-elos at his post, or win-re he had east himself 
 
 .11 forth" night. On Mich Occasions as he con>idered the 
 o-tcnsible subject upon which the former came, he could not 
 forbear mu-inn upon its inadequacy as a plea for mining. The 
 parties did not love each other. Their instincts were ho>tile. 
 There could not be any cordiality between them ; and, such lu-ing 
 thfcea-e. whv Don Baftha/ar should seek him. unless with rea-on-- 
 of necessity, was a frequent subject of Philip s surprise. At >t,rh 
 times, he always drew an unfavorable augury from his coming. 
 
 -He im-an-i mischief" said he aloud, one evening, after the 
 departure of I >o:i Balthazar from the place wli. -re he had laid 
 himself down to rest. " Why should he come to me. and on 
 such pretext What is it to me whither we move to-morrow, 
 or whar new dreams fill the brain of the Ad.-lantado ? Let him 
 march, ea-t <>r west, alonu tin- plains, or among the mountains, 
 I care nothing! and. -tire, he knows it. He know-, too. that 1 
 love not his serpent nature, and his -uMle and treacherous 
 Ib know-, too. that 1 am not to In- deceivd in him! Besides, 
 what can he seek of me ? lam poor and power!- ~ II- can 
 win noUiinu r from my weaki:> . If he comes, hi- can only c-.me 
 in hate 1 Vet what hiivc 1 to tear Him I fear not, and he know- 
 it too. Verily I believe, that did he not fear me. he would have 
 
 sought to slay me en- thi-. -ncverthcle- 1 feel it by Mire 
 
 instin. -t. I feefit this man mean- mischief. 
 
 " He i- a villain!" wa- the biu.-r s c<-ch of .luan from behind 
 the tree, \\herc he had crept quietly. 
 
 "Ha! -luan. arc you there, boj ! But what do you know 
 about Don Balthazar? Ah ! .luan, if you knew what I know of 
 
396 VASCON3ELOS. 
 
 that man had you but seen what mine eyes have looked OB 
 
 " Seen, Senor ? " was the faltered inquiry. 
 
 " Aye, boy, seen ! But it is not for you to hear not for mor 
 tal to hear. Yet, were it not for another his victim one dear 
 to me once as my own eyes, but for her, I had long simv 
 taken the monster by the throat, and declared his crime aloud. 
 while I strangled him in deadly punishment ! You say right. 
 Juan; though you know nothing. Don Balthazar de A I Varo is 
 one of the blackest of all the black villains that poison and de 
 face the blessed things of earth. He hath been my faU that 
 man !" 
 
 The boy sobbed, " And mine !" but the words did not reach 
 the ears of Philip, and when he looked round, and called again t<> 
 the page, he was nowhere to be seen. Ere he returned that night, 
 Vasconselos was asleep. The boy had eaten no supper. He crept 
 close by his sleeping master, and watched over him for weary 
 hours, with big tears gathering fast in his eyes the while. When, 
 at the dawn, the knight awakened, he saw Juan sleeping, with his 
 head sunk against his own shoulder, and the stain of tears was. 
 still upon his cheek. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Hell put it in 
 The enemy- mind to be desperate." 
 
 MASSENGER. 
 
 WE can only give glimpses of a progress, every form of 
 
 which was distinguished by its own ink-rot and capricious vane 
 ties. We have shown, thus far, the relationships of our parties; 
 and how they grew, and what were their developments. Kaeh 
 day gradually contributed to unfold the increasing dependent 
 Don Philip and his page upon one another; and both were 
 watched, though neither perhaps saw to what extent, by the ser 
 pent eyes of Don Balthazar de Alvaro. Meanwhile, rhilip de 
 Vasconselos seemed to grow less and less in favor with the Ade- 
 lantado, who now rarely summoned him to his service ; and. 
 e: xtvpt when they met. seemed to have forgot ten his existence. 
 On Such occasions there was an evident distance of manner :>i 
 the hearing of De Soto, amounting almost to repugnaiM-c. which 
 incivas. d the regrets of Pliilip that he had ever joined the BJ 
 dition. His mortification at liaving done so. would have been 
 unendurable, but for a certain indifference of mood, which ren 
 dered him reckless what became of him. reckless of all thinu -. 
 indeed ; and made him just as well satisfied to rove without a 
 purpose, and tiuht without a cause, as to sleej) beneath his tree, 
 when the day had closed in exhaustion. Latterly, his fading 
 Lnvw leSfl indifferent. He seemed to be slowly acquiring a new 
 interest in life. He was oonsdous of mon impulse, of aim, 
 and objects, vague, indeed, enough, and which he did not seek to 
 pursue, but which served to show that life for him still had its 
 refl luroes, even its attractions, and was not wholly denied an 
 object. lint if the question a< to that object was asked of |>..u 
 Philip, he would have been without an answer. Enough that 
 mi. ler t-xi-ting circumstances, he eould find his associations still 
 endurable ; without an objeet in life, lie run Id yet find life not 
 wholly a burden and a ourt ! 
 
 The brooding mind was not sutll-red much opportunity B 
 ercise, in the progress pursued by De Soto. That ambitious chief- 
 tain, in his appetite for emqueM and power, kept his follower! 
 sleepless. \Ve nia\ now, with tolerable certainty, f.-liow the 
 route of the Spaniards upon th> ii ap. -ind trace their course from 
 
398 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 the Bay of Tampa, into and through Georgia, even to South 
 Carolina. Their progress was erratic. They were easily tempted 
 aside by lures of gold, in this or that quarter ; and the imperfect 
 ly understood reports of this or that Indian guide, frequently 
 misled them from the direct course, to wild ad ventures, and 
 strange episodes, which diverted them from the true discovery. 
 In all their progresses danger hung upon them in the rear, and 
 disappointment stood in waiting for their approach. One or two 
 adventures briefly narrated, will serve to il lust rat e their daily 
 history ; and we linger over a single instance, which enabled 
 Vasconselos to recover a portion of De Soto s favor. 
 
 There was a Floridian phieftain, or King, named Vitachuco, 
 who had stubbornly resisted all the approaches of Soto. The 
 latter, by treachery, contrived to secure the person of this Chief 
 tain. His next object was to win his favor a measure conceived 
 to be by no means difficult, inasmuch as the Adelantedo, in 
 making captive the Chief, had slaughtered near a thousand of his 
 warriors, who had sought to rescue his person. Vitachuco, though 
 kept as a prisoner, and watched, was still allowed certain privi 
 leges. He ate at the table of Soto. He was still able to com 
 mune with his subjects, hundreds of whom were employed about 
 the Spaniards, as slaves and drudges. To these Vitachuco com 
 municated his secret thoughts and purposes. He was not a 
 willing captive. But he was politic. He met subtlety with 
 subtlety. He suppressed his indignation, appeared not to see 
 the restraint put upon his footsteps, and so behaved, as entirely 
 to disarm the suspicions of his captors. But the fiery indigna 
 tion was working in his soul, and he only wanted the proper 
 moment and opportunity, in which to break his bonds, and 
 avenge himself upon his captors. This design was reserved for 
 a day of feasting, when Soto entertained his captive along with 
 other nobles and princes of the Apalachiano, held in similar 
 bonds with their superior, or of other tribes whom he desired to 
 conciliate. Vitachuco was too impatient of his injuries to think 
 wisely, or to resolve with prudence. lie did not heed the fact 
 that himself and followers were unarmed, and were to grapple, 
 ; f grapple they did, with foes who never laid aside their weapons 
 or their mail. The fearless savage resolved to try the struggle 
 at all odds, unprepared as he was, at the approaching repast; of 
 which he had due intimations. The four pages or servants, that 
 waited upon him, were all boys, but he entrusted them with his 
 secret. They communicated with such warriors as he himself 
 could not see ; and the plan was rapidly matured for execution 
 the very next day, being the day assigned for the feasting. 
 
TKKACHEKV. 899 
 
 According to their plan. Yit.n-huri. \\as to spring upon the Ade- 
 lantado, and kill him if he could, while they were at dinner; his 
 followers doing the same good service for all the Spaniards pre 
 sent and, without, tor all others upon whom they could lay 
 hands. Tin- village of Yitaehuco was to be the seeiie of action. 
 
 It happened, the evening he-fore the event, that Juan, the page 
 of Vasconselos. ivmarked the activity >f Vitaehuco s pages, and 
 that they held fivniient eoininiinications with their people. 
 Crowds of the red men were seen coming to the encampment. 
 or crowding stealthily ubout it. The place, where Vascoi,- 
 found shelter, usually, on the verge of the encampment, was fa- 
 vorable to observation ; and the constant coming and departure 
 of the Floridians, compelled the boy s observation, and prompted 
 him to communicate with the knight, his master. They both 
 watched, and discovered enough, at all events, to render them 
 suspicious. They redoubled their vigilance, and found that some 
 provisions, rather novel for a feast, had been made by the sava- 
 Thcy found hidden in the contiguous wood-, large bundles 
 of darts, barbed with flints, that were ready for use; and scores 
 of huge mat-anas or war maces, edged with flint also, a single 
 hlow from which, in a moderately strong hand, would cleave the 
 skull of any Spaniard, though covered with helm of steel. 
 
 T effect these discoveries, and to guard in some degree against 
 the designs of tin- savages, by putting the army on the qui vice, 
 \\;is a work of time, and the Adelantado was alreadv at dinner 
 with his treacherous guests, ere 1 hilip de Yascon*elos was pre 
 pared to unfold his discoveKc-. Now, speaking of things 
 without regard to persons the Spaniard- were quite a> treacher 
 ous as the Floridians; and it was with a hitter smile and sneer 
 that Philip, commenting upon the small claims of the former 
 upon his fidelity, said to .luan : 
 
 "It is liar against liar, serpent against serpent! what have 
 we to do with it. boy . It were just as well that we should 
 them strive together, and clap hands equally to behold the good 
 stroke delivered by Floridian or Spaniard !" 
 
 I .ut !he sympathies of rav and education prevailed, and the 
 white chieftain, with a feeling of unutterable scorn, which II.M-..II- 
 eealed under the most courtly demeanor, suddenly appeared at 
 the {-lace of feasti liich he had not been invited, when 
 
 all was mo>t hilarious, and the Adelaiitado as little dreaming of 
 the dessert which the Floridian had provided, as of anv other 
 
 -. with which he mi<:ht profitably di 
 
 -los. as we say. sudih-nly appeared within the circle, and t or 
 a moment, miietly surveyed it withe -it speaking. 
 
*00 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 Whether it was that the scorn which he felt, somewhat showed 
 itself in his features, or that the Adelantado was in no mood to 
 behold him with toleration, whom he had not received to favor, 
 is not easy to be said. It is certain, however, that Soto some 
 what forgot his courtesy in the reception which he gave the 
 knight of Portugal. With a stern look and chilling accents, he 
 cried out, as he beheld him : 
 
 " How now, Sir Knight of Portugal, what is it brings you to 
 this presence at this unseemly moment? We had not anticipat 
 ed the honor of your attendance." 
 
 The brow of the knight of Portugal grew black as he replied : 
 
 " Senor Don Hernan de Soto, Philip de Vasconselos asks no 
 favor or courtesy from any man alive ! He comes not now as a 
 courtier, or as a guest, but as a soldier, who shrinks from no duty 
 even when it needs that he should appear where lie is never wel 
 come ! What I have to say, by way of apology for my presence 
 now, is soon spoken. Ask of the savages whom you feast, why 
 our camp is girdled by a thousand red warriors, why the pages 
 of their prince have been in such frequent communion with them, 
 and why, all on a sudden, such provision as this is made, at con 
 venient places, in all the neighboring woods ?" 
 
 Saying these words, he took from an attendant, and threw 
 down upon the board, and amidst the guests, bundles of darts, 
 wrapt in skins of the rattle-snake, and a score of the heavy 
 macanas, such as we have described already. At the sight of 
 these objects, and before the Adelantado could reply to what he 
 conceived the insolent speech of Vasconselos insolent in sense 
 as in tone the war-whoop rang wildly through the hall ; a ter 
 rible yell that shook the hearts of the assembly, as with a sudden 
 voice of doom. Vitachuco, from whom the signal came, started 
 to his feet at the same moment, and, in the twinkling of an eye, 
 he sprang, like a tiger, full upon Soto. With one hand he 
 seized him by the collar, while, with the other, he dealt him such 
 a blow between the eyes, as made the blood fly, and prostrated 
 the Adelantado to the floor, as heavily as falls the ox beneath the 
 stroke of the butcher! 
 
 All was confusion in that moment. Terribly did this war- 
 whoop of the savages ring throughout the hall ; and without 
 through all the avenues of the village, where the followers of 
 Vitachuco were collecting at the signal, as had been agreed on 
 among them. The Spaniards, never dreaming of attack from un 
 armed savages, were taken completely by surprise. The Ade 
 lantado lay stunned and senseless beneath the grasp of Vita 
 ohucu. and all was confusion. :nd uncertainty, within and with 
 
SUDDEN CONFLICT. 401 
 
 out. The Indians, every \\ln-iv. sei/ed whatever implements they 
 could lay hands upon for weapons. Some grasped the pikes and 
 swords of the Spaniards ; others snatched the pots from the fire, 
 and emptied the content- <>\t T their lues, while beating them 
 about the head with the vessels. Plates, pitchers, jars, the pea- 
 ties from the mortars wherein they pounded maize ; stools, 
 1 tenches, tables, billets of wood ; in the hands of the fierce Flo- 
 ridians became instruments of war and vengeance ! Never had 
 such a fight been seen; so promiscuous ; urged with such novel 
 wrapon> ; and so full of terror and confusion. The terror and 
 danger of the scene were duly increased by others yet, who, 
 plucking the flaming brands of lightwood from the fire, darted 
 into the thickest of the fray, shouting like furies, and looking 
 more like demons from the infernal regions than mere mortal 
 combatants ! 
 
 Such was the scene and the character of the struggle through 
 out the village. The Spaniards recovered themselves promptly 
 and fought desperately, and conquered finally ; but they suffered 
 severely. Besides those who perished, many were terribly 
 bruised, scalded, burnt, and maimed. Arms were broken, teeth 
 knocked out, faces scarred forever; the very handcuffs on the 
 wrists of many of the savages, becoming fearful means of in 
 jury and assault in the promiscuous and close struggle, hand to 
 hand. 
 
 In the hall of the great house of the village where the Ade 
 .antado had feasted the Cassique, the conflict, though involving 
 smaller numbers, was no less fearful and savage in its character. 
 But for the presence of Philip tie Vaseonsdos, and his active 
 energies and vigilance. So!.,, and all the party, must have pe 
 rished. The Adelantado. as we have seen, was stunned by the 
 first desperate assault of the Indian Chief. The latter dm 
 hi- victim, and wouM very soon have finished his work, but for 
 tin- quick movement of Philip, who darted to the rescue, and 
 pa--ed his sword through the body of the savage, while, tiger-like, 
 lie was tearing the neck of the Adelantado. The Spanish knight-, 
 at this sight, recovered troin their consternation, and a d"/.-n 
 sword* were Crossed in an instant in the hndy of \ itachu.-o. 
 The furious >avage died without a groan, glaring, with fellot : 
 
 : his eneiiii-s, in the very niom.-nt when his la-t breath was 
 pa ing. The Indians who remained in the hall were <li-pa:< 
 in like manner, but not before they had inflicted hurt- upon the 
 Spaniards which left their gha-tly marks through life. The n.l 
 Was ma-saerc. Discipline prevailed over rude and : 
 valor. The people of Yitaclnico, thirteen hundred \s :u i iors, tlu 
 
402 VASCOKSELOS. 
 
 flower of his nation, perished in the affair, or were butchered 
 after it. Such is a sample of the fierce character of the red men 
 of Florida, their desperate valor, and the sleepless passion for 
 freedom, which they indulged at every peril. The character re 
 mains unchanged to this day. The people of Vitachuco occupied 
 the same region which the Seminoles maintained, with such sur 
 prising skill and courage, for five years, against the army of the 
 United States, in recent times. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 PACL. Pnl you note 
 
 The majesty she appears m 
 CLKON. Yes. my p<xxl I>ord ; 
 
 I \vus ravishrd with it." 
 
 THIS event had a considerable effect in restoring V 
 to the favor of De Soto. Tin- Adelantado could not ungracious 
 ly forbear to acknowledge a service to which he owed his wn 
 life and probably the safety of his army. He. accordingly, 
 thanked Philip in stately hiiiiuaiie, hidalgo-fashion, in the i 
 dice of ail hi- troops. But his pride kept him still in memorv 
 of that haughty reserve of the Port ugiic^- cavalier, which had >o 
 offended his amnttr jtropn at first; and as Philip, while asc.uir.e- 
 ou>ly receiving the compliment of tin- Adelantado, in a style not 
 dissimilar from that in which it was couched, abated nothing of 
 his >wn dignity, it followed, that the debt which De Soto felt. 
 of gratitude, was rather irksome and burdensome, than grateful 
 to that haughty cavalier. He hud. besides. ever at hand, whis 
 pering in>idious suggestions in his car, the wily Don Bultha/.ar 
 \lvuro. This knight did not sutler the natural feeling- of ! > 
 Soto to have full play at any time, in his relations to the Portu 
 guese. But for Ms constant labors, it might have been that what 
 naturally noble in the bosom of the Adelantado, would have 
 :ied itself to the extent of doing full justice to the m.-ri 
 Philip; and giving full exercise to his own proper courtesy and 
 honor. A- ; was, the intercourse between the knight of Portu 
 gal and the Spanish Chief, though more courteous and gracious 
 than before, was scarcely more cordial; and Philip remained, a- 
 l.efotv. companioned only by the page Juan, who clung to him 
 n.oiv e!sely than ever, and grew daily more and moreiicre>sury 
 to his atl ectior.s. 
 
 We pass now over a considerable tract of time, of which we 
 shall make no record, but which, though full of toils and stri 
 trials and vici>-itude-, found our dramatis personal unchanged in 
 their several relations. The army, meanwhile, hud marched from 
 Florida into Georgia, had crossed th, : iid at length ap 
 
 proached the waters of :he Savannah. In the provii..-,- ..f < 
 however. De Soto experienced an embarrassment in n - ; 
 which rend. -red it that Philip de Vase, hould be 
 
 again conciliated. The diuU-ct of the red men changed, and the 
 
404 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 uterpreter, JuaHi Ortiz, was no longer competent to act in this 
 capacity. Philip had traversed this very region. lie i<>uk the 
 place of Ortiz; negotiated with the Cassique of Cota ; and once 
 more had the satisfaction, if any it were, or seeing tin- eyes of the 
 Adelantado turned upon him with favor. But the. Portuguese 
 Knight regarded these kindly demonstrations with indilleivn.v. 
 He had survived all care, in respect to the carriage of the Ca<- 
 tilian Captain, and his followers; and simply contented himself 
 with the performance of his duty, as it rose, without giving any 
 heed to the profit or the loss which might follow upon his toils. 
 With the Cassique of Cofa, he concluded an amicable treaty, 
 which secured the support and friendship of a very potent savage. 
 From him, however, it was learned that there were more power 
 ful potentates, yet beyond them, to the east, whom it was even 
 more necessary to conciliate. Much was said of a Princess, or 
 Queen of Cofachiqui, a province just beyond; the population 
 of which was very numerous, and the. territory very tortile. It 
 was reported to be very rich, also, in gold, pearls, and other juv 
 cious treasures. The young Princess who ruled the country had 
 lately corne to her tnrone. She was pronounced to be beautiful 
 beyond description, and trie imagination of the Adelnntado was 
 greatly inflamed by what he heard, of the surpassing beauty of 
 the maiden, her vast empire, her great treasures, and the wealth 
 and power of her connections. Her blood mingled with that of 
 the great Chieftains and Princes who ruled along the waters of 
 Chatahoochie, Alabama, and Mississippi. The Cassique of Cola. 
 very powerful as he himself claimed to be, yet acknowledged his 
 inferiority to this Princess ; his incapacity to encounter her troops 
 in war, and the fear which he felt of provoking her hostility. 
 Patofa, the chief in question, hated as he feared; and we may- 
 add that, with savage cunning and ferocity, he continued, under 
 the sheltering wing of the Spaniards, to execute no little mischief 
 upon the people and country of the power which he loathed and 
 dreaded; butchering without remorse, and plundering, whenever 
 he had the opportunity of doing so in secret. For these reasons, 
 De Soto was compelled, however reluctantly, to dismiss the 
 savage chieftain to his own country, with all his followers. His 
 policy was conciliation ; particularly in the case of a Prince-s ><> 
 beautiful, so well connected, so wealthy and powerful, as her of 
 Cofachiqui, whose territories he had already penetrated, and 
 whose chief settlements, on the banks of the Savannah, he was 
 now approaching with all possible expedition. 
 
 It was at a spot on the \\vsi -ide. of the Savannah, just where 
 the river sweeps boldly beneath the shining walls of Silver Bluli^ 
 
COFACHIQUI. 405 
 
 that the Adelantado, with a select detachment of a hundred 
 cavalry, and as many infantry, emerged from the great for- 
 with the view to the passage of the stream. The noble river lay 
 broad before him in the cloudless light of a noon-day sun Or. 
 the depressed position which he occupied, an esplanade of swamp, 
 liable to occasional overflow of the freshets from the rapid rising 
 of tin- waters, he looked up to the high banks on the opposite shore 
 now of Carolina and surveyed a prospect before him with un 
 qualified admiration. The mighty forest ranges had been scarcely 
 broken in any quarter ; and the gigantic oak, the hickory, the mul 
 berry, and black walnut, stood up. and spread away in mighty 
 ranks, solemnizing the scene as tar as the eye could reach. Ter 
 minating long vistas, rose the rustic cots and cabins of the people 
 of Cofachiqui, stretching in a half circle, which followed the course 
 of the stream, and sufficiently nigh to enable the inhabitants to 
 take their ti>h from its waters, without inconvenience, to their 
 mimes. Conical mounts, and terraces, artificial areas, consecrated 
 to religious rites, or public sports and gatherings, relieved, with 
 the villages, the monotony of the unbroken forest. Upon a bold 
 promontory to the right, surrounded by trees of the greatest age, 
 and most remarkable aspect, rose up the temple of the tribe: 
 a rude but picturesque edifice of logs, encircled with pillars, 
 around which the wild vine had been trained to run. So that the 
 whole fabric, relieved of all rudeness to the eye, seemed to be the 
 handiwork of the endowing Spring herself; a green and purple 
 trophy, vines, flowers and fruit, worthy to be the scene of inno 
 cent rites, and the religion of a pure and simple-hearted people. 
 It was surrounded by tumuli by the graves of ages, overgrown 
 in like manner with shrubs and vines. In the recesses of the 
 temple, were other treasures of nature and trophies of art. 
 There, subsequently, the Adelantado gathered heaps of pearl 
 
 bushels of treasure to the Spaniards; and there also were found 
 some melanenoly memorials of their own and other European 
 people. Shields, and helmets, and daggers, and sj>ear-h 
 ca-t away by the followers of Oabe/a de Vaca, or more probably 
 by those of the cruel and luckless Yasquez de Ayllen, at the 
 mouth of the Combahee, which, aceordinir to Indian computation, 
 was but two days journey from Silver Bluff. But we mu~: 
 anticipate, 
 
 When the brilliant cavalcade of the Spanish Chieftain arrived 
 at the weM bank of tile Savannah, he found the opposite shore 
 rovi-red with <ir iips of tlie red iiu-n. looking out and wat 
 his approach. The signs of Vigilance and confident 
 were every wheru present to hi> ,-ye.s. The boat.*, were numerous 
 
406 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 along the banks, but they were all on the eastern side of the river 
 Bands of warriors might be scon hastily arraying them>e :\vs in 
 their rude armor, and hurrying. each as he made himself ready 
 with javelin, and spear, and how, to join the crowds that ga 
 thered by the river. Con>pi-uous among those upon the ha- 
 were to be noticed a group of six persons, of very noble app- 
 ance, all of whom had passed the middle period of life. To 
 these, great deference was shown, and soon a great eane. pro 
 pelled by several strong rowers, approached the spot \\heiv they 
 stood. They entered the canoe in silenee, and, a moment at 
 it shot across the stream to the spot where De Soto had arrived, 
 at the head of his array. The fearless chieftains of the forot 
 approached him with a calm dignity, and a noble grace, which 
 struck the Adelantado with surprise, and compelled his res; 
 He soon perceived that he stood in the presence of a people, very 
 far superior to those whom he had hitherto encountered in the 
 forests of the Floridian superior in grace and art, if not in valor. 
 DeSoto hastily seated himself in a chair of state, wh u-h he carried 
 with him for occasions like the present. The deputation of Chiefs 
 made three reverences as they drew nigh, one to the east, a 
 second to the west, and a third to the Spanish Chieftain. Then. 
 they spoke through one of their party, a lofty and venerable man, 
 whose brow and bearing declared lor habitual authority, and the 
 consciousness of power. He demanded briefly 
 
 " Wherefore do you come, stranger ? Is it for peace or 1 
 Philip de Vasconselos interpreted, and reported the answer for 
 the Adelantado in the language of Cofachiqui. 
 
 "For Peace! we are friends. We ask only for a free p 
 through the lands of your people, and their help, with raft and 
 canoe, in crossing your big rivers. We will pay for these helps 
 in goods of our country." 
 
 A long and pacific conference followed. The red men were too 
 well assured of their own power to dread the small array of 
 strangers before them. They knew not of the fearful weapons 
 which they bore, and the powerful arts which they possessed 
 At the close of the conference, the Chief of the deputation, re 
 peating his friendly assurances, sail that he must receive the 
 commands of Co^alla, the young Queen, his mistress. She wit 
 young had but lately assumed dominion over them, and the\ 
 were required -to consult deliberately before they perilled her 
 authority, or the peace of the country, by any action of their 
 own. But he did not doubt, that, from the generous nature of 
 this princ-ss. she would do all in her power to promote the ob 
 eote of the strangers. 
 
T1IK . i.A. 407 
 
 Thev did not err in this conjecture, Perhaps, their own report 
 
 orompted hiT compliance. or. ;:t ail evi ked her curi 
 
 osity. It was not long after their return to the settlements, when 
 
 the attention of the Spaniard^ was drawn to .-how- of great i 
 tie and preparation along the opj o-itr -hore. 
 tinned to gather. Th- odfl of OOOchs, 
 
 r of rattle and drum. regularly timed, and Hgnili- 
 . gathering and a march. While the Spaniard 
 i-urioiis and anxious, a i behrld . :rom I M.- 
 
 I*, in the miiUt of \vhi< ianquin. 
 
 ai;d borne upon the ihouldora ot MX able men. was 
 
 ing maiden, who was ivadii\ eosu-i-ivi-il to Lethe i 
 of the country. The palanquin was wreathed with vines and 
 (lower-, and gay - .f stained cotton lloated ai;o\r ; : 
 
 lu 
 
 J -ide. Tlu- i-u>liums upon \\ hi-.-li tlie damsel iKilf 
 rather than .-at, w^Te >pn-;tl with roU-s f the Bame r uhly M 
 rial. She wa> clad in similar stull s. l.ut of finer -m;. 
 rich fringe depended from her skirts and shf ili 
 
 hair. Mack as ebony, and glo-sily 1. right, lie., 
 woven thick with : i-t-arl ; tV- en- 
 
 d her neck, falling free upon h. r IIO-M-III. Il ( i 
 were also sown with pearl, and she wore anklet- of the RI 
 j-i-i eious decorations. Numn-ou- yi-.ing girls, lu-ar : of 
 
 Bowen, and habited like herself, followed in her train; and 
 \sa.- atl.-nded hy g ..... Hv hand- of -peaniK i; and aivln-rs. all 
 richly and pii-turesijiiely hal.ited. and equally prepared for action 
 and di>|.lay. u ho lh-\\ the 
 
 h, ihOOk the rattle, beal the drum, and pla\-d upon a i 
 of -\ rinx ma-h- of n ..!-. \\ i. -ion 
 
 ..f -\\.-.t but melancholy sound-. Other- k- |.t JM 
 litter, who-e otliee it wa- to wave l.efor,- her huge tan- of parti- 
 col-r.d t ealh. r-. the plumage of the wild bird- of the Fioridian, 
 gathered from all quarter-, and \\roiight with an art \\hich 1* 
 the modern fan of Kurope but little of -r.|" -riorijy to !" 
 
 In thi- -tate, the Spaniards were allowed to b.-ho :d h- 
 gress throiiL h the forest! for awhile, v hen -he Mi.ldi ; 
 |<-areil in it- deeper recesses with all her train. But h--r ! 
 pearance \\.i- for a 1 
 
 of the lai i mo-t magnili - ntly d- .>. i;heu-h- 
 
 ion-, and canopies, or.d brOfl 1 trii _ - ai.d .ehly and 
 
 variously -tained eott ;:. \\ he mouth of 
 
 a creek that ran e]o-e 1,,-i i the 
 
 sylvan temple ot < ,i. In th under th- 
 
 reclined the princes* in the Mern, upon | 
 
408 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 was attended by eight beautiful girls, only less richly habile<l 
 than herself. Her barge was accompanied, or rather led, by 
 another of like dimensions, in which sat the six chieftains whu 
 had constituted the deputation. A cloud of canoes, of all si/cs, 
 filled with warriors, followed after and closed the pro,-. 
 which now, under the impelling strokes of hardy rower-, 
 made its way to the opposite shore. When arrived, the young 
 princess, unassisted, hut followed by all her train, stept fearlessly 
 to the land, and the Spaniards were greatly struck by the elegant 
 grace of her movements, the admirable s\ mmetrv of her form, 
 the beauty and innocence, as well as intelligence of her face, 
 and the picturesque appropriateness of her costume. I n- Sc.to 
 
 made the most imposing preparations to give her corresponding 
 welcome. Her obeisance to the Adelantado was full of ."race 
 and dignity ; and this made, she seated herself on a sort of Moo]. 
 ivhieh her attendant had brought with her for the purpose, though 
 De Soto motioned her to the chair of state from which he him 
 self had arisen. 
 
 A long and interesting conference ensued between the parlies, 
 carried on through Philip de Vasconselos, on whom, it was oh 
 served by more than one, that the fair princess bestowed the 
 most encouraging smiles, speaking with as much sweet i. 
 ease and dignity. But the sad face of Philip never once changed 
 through the whole conference. IK- was gentle and resju tful, 
 hut calm, subdued, and too melancholy to note how flattering to 
 himself were the looks of the beautiful Cassique. But Juan, the 
 page, noted it as well as others; and he turned away from the 
 sight as if disquieted, and retired into the rear, seating him.-elf 
 gloomily, beneath the old trees of the forest. Juan Ortiz, the 
 former interpreter, too, was among the persons who thought the 
 princess was quite too gracious in .her bearing to a poor knight 
 of Portugal, when an Adelantado of the Castilian was present ; 
 and De Soto himself more than once looked on with cloudy 
 visage, as he beheld the smiles given to Philip, which he thought 
 were properly due only to himself. The conference was long, 
 but satisfactory in high degree to the Spaniards. At the close, 
 and when the prim-. .ibout to depart, she rose, and un 
 
 winding the strings of pearl from about her neck, would have 
 thrown them over that of the interpreter, but he recoiled from 
 the dangerous honor, and motioned to De Soto. But the princess 
 hesitated. 
 
 "Will not the warrior who speaks of strange things in the ear 
 of CoQalla, the Queen, wear the pearls which have been about 
 her neck ?" 
 
PHILIP IN FAVOR. 409 
 
 *-Such gifts, beautiful < o^alla, are only for a great chief to 
 wear. In the noble person who sits in the chair of state, you 
 
 hehold the great chief of our people. He will be proud t<> 
 .iris of the Queen of Cofachiqui." 
 
 She !,,ked reproachfully at the knight of Portugal, and .-till 
 he.-itated, the pearls hanging from her hands. I )e Solo had ob- 
 i her movements keenly. He suspected the truth. 
 
 " What says she, Don Philip?" was his stern and sudden <jues 
 lion to the knight. 
 
 It was with a blu^h that Philip felt the necessity of evading, 
 or suppivs-liig. the truth. 
 
 The princes* would : on the Adelantado tin- pearls 
 
 which -he carries in her hands, but fears to violate decorum. She 
 would have ms be-tnw them ; but 1 have counselled her that 
 the h"iior will be i< >usly felt, if she will make the gift 
 
 with her own hands." 
 
 "Thou art riuht," WOS ihe reply of the. Adelantado. and he ap- 
 
 proaeh.-d i ,-!y and bowed hi- hc;id. Slowly and rehie 
 
 taiitly still, luit ol,e\ing ihe sign made by D..II Philip, the 
 
 rands over the ibouldon \delan- 
 
 sho. -ei/ing her liand as >hc did BO, pa ed a rich gold ring, 
 with a ruby, over one <.f her lin^r 
 
 With this d remonial. t!i | tided. Th- | 
 
 eomplie<l with the <h-ires of the Spaniard-. 1 ler l"ats < -..: 
 
 them .^ i-iver; ber people brought them pro visions ; -he 
 
 d them in her village with favor; jnnl. tl ; . there 
 
 .t mutual pleasure and gratitication am- 
 3 aniard- were <K-lighteil \\ith I 
 
 of the queen, at which they greatly wondered; and B] 
 as her peoj.le. was eijuaJlv charmed with the curifi; 
 who brought with them -> many strange and charm 
 In particular, -he thought l iig. and dwelt much, to her attendants, 
 upon the ; warrior. wi:hiu 
 
 She likened hi- -pe. eh to tha 1 :*-k t-ingue (the 
 
 mock-bird \ wh-n it i- ih.- season for li 1 
 win his favorite by the pie,, 
 
 Hut Philip retired to -ad. rather than ,-weet t!, 1 fan- 
 
 it. a- he Ml at hi- e\ciiing meal bei. 
 
 with .luan in attcndan. unu-ually -ad and -j.iritle-s. 
 
 .luan -A jloomy. too, luit made an etlbrt to revil 
 
 spirit- of his matter, H-- ^ i- curious, too. and he ohOM f--r his 
 subject the beautiful (jiie.-n, \\ho WHS the topic of univer>al culo- 
 giuin aint-n^ the 
 
10 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " Think you, my Lord, that this woman is so very beautiful ? w 
 asked the boy. 
 
 " Woman ? Forget you, sirrah, that you are speaking of a 
 great Princess among her people !" was the sharp reply. 
 
 " Pardon me, Seflor, but I meant not to ollend ;" answeiv,l 
 the page with becoming humility "but does my Lord think 
 her so very beautiful ?" he persisted. 
 
 "She is very beautiful, Juan." 
 
 u That is to say, for a savage Indian ? ; 
 
 "She is one of God s creatures, Juan, and there is no race 
 without its beaut ie>." 
 
 " But these beauties do not suit the better taste> of a rdmed 
 people, Senor. They are too rude; and besides, these beauties 
 are of the form only; they lack the correspondences of education 
 and learning, and the charm of accomplishments, such a- are 
 needful to satisfy the desires of a Christian pen; 
 
 " Aye, boy ; but if the tastes lack, the virtues are not wanting. 
 There is heart, at least, in the savage rudeness, though it mav 
 lack the art tul accomplishments of the refined European. There 
 is no treachery here no false faith no base, degrading passions, 
 nursed, though they are felt to be vicious, and practised hv those 
 who boast nf their higher virtues and their puivr tastes. Belter 
 far that there be no accomplishments, such as thoii pratest of, if 
 they are to be allied with foul lusts, practised in secret, to the 
 grievous prril of tht- soul, and in despite of that verv eduealion 
 of the mind, which teaches the sin, and the shame, and the li..m, r 
 of such practice. Better far. the embrace with the rude and 
 simple woman of the Apalaehian, than the whiteil <i-pulch: 
 Christendom, where all is smooth and shining without, and all 
 loathsomeness and corruption within. 1 would rather lav mv 
 head upon the bosom of the simple savage, who is innocent as 
 she knows nothing, than upon hers, who sins with all her know 
 ledge, and is treacherous to the very faith which she profesaefi 
 and believes. Ah! boy speak to me no more. Thou little 
 knowest into what a gaping wound thou hast thru>t thv tortur- 
 in.ii fii:. 
 
 The page said no more that night. He stole away to the soli- 
 tnde of another thicket, an. 1 bitterly did he weep the* night auav, 
 with his face buried in the long grasses of the plain. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 1. 
 
 " Deh I non tradir mi, armco." 
 
 40MBBI 
 
 AT first, nothing could exceed the mutual satisfaction of th 
 red men and the Spaniards in their commerce and communion. 
 Tlic latter delighted their simple hosts with gifts of curiosity and 
 u-c. \\hi.-h wen at once new to them and serviceable. Tin- In- 
 
 n the other hand, stript their hou-e- and p. I even 
 
 s, of the pearls which they i in great <juan- 
 
 o glut the de-ire- of the strangers. To the- 
 added others which still further aroused the cupidity of our ad 
 venturers. Bits of gold and silver were mingled with their 
 
 spoils, prompting a thousand curious in.jui: 
 
 ::ie. \Vh-n told of the provinces of Xlia 
 
 Chalaipiie, where the g,.M ffrew, 1 d upon tlie e\- 
 
 ploru ioM of .li, . llui he proposed awhile to re 
 
 main where he ,. Mat he \\U- e\ell IloW ill a \MHd of 
 
 i;r;at mineral trea-ure-. The very appearance of the Mull- of 
 ( ofachi(|ui, shining with Niiiiilass and mira, le.l to ln-am- 
 
 -. wliich. a fi-w hits found along the shore. jrvatly 
 
 .nd while he remained in this neighborhood, he 
 artually undertook the j.rodigiou-. toil of cutting olf an el; 
 the river, and turning its water f..r >e\vr;il mileB, in order to lav 
 hare the lied of the stream for the p of the pi 
 
 treftmres which were -upp ^.-d to pave it. 1 t, .-f this 
 
 iahor. pui-Mie.l with stern indiiMry and a lar. 
 workmen, foi- auhi. tfl] to he found in the canal. 
 
 tothUday in the><- j.n-. -in. -is. and whii-h still goe^ l.y the name of 
 
 Spanish Cut, Hut the Adelantado \\a^ compe! 1 . 
 
 reliu-tant. to dismiss this ph-a-ant fancy, ami adandoi: the painful 
 to whieh it l-d. His xilvi-r j-roved to I.. valu 
 
 It enmi hled away at hU touch. H-t!. 
 i him from th- in- < uunN \\hieh we n..w kimw to 
 
 tly true. 
 Ifeanwi i men and 
 
 underwent a ehaji^-. The Spaniard- 
 show the ihnple native- 
 Their 
 
 86 tiie\ jren more ofi li t in I 
 
 (4U) 
 
VASCONSELOS. 
 
 with the people. Violence took the place of kindness. In wan 
 ton mood, in mere levity, the intruders usurped the possessions 
 of the savages, defiled their women, and brutally assailed their 
 persons as their pride. Strife followed, and frequent stru^le. 
 The granaries of the red men lessened under the wasteful de- 
 mands of their visitors, and the beautiful Prim-ess herself, who 
 
 had been at first so much charmed by the pale warriors. and 
 
 who still craved to be permitted to love and honor her feelings. 
 perhaps, being much more interested than her judgment even 
 she found how difficult it was to keep on terms with a peopj, 
 avaricious, so tyrannical, and selfish. She looked sternly upon the 
 Spaniards in general, she looked coldly upon the Adelantado. 
 whom an equal inflexibility of will and appetite made hard- 
 favored and perpetually exacting. It was upon the nol.le inter 
 preter, only, that she cast always sweet and loving glances. 
 To him she spoke freely of the respects in which the Spaniards 
 "3xed and troubled her. 
 
 "They rob and wrong my people; they destroy their fields; 
 beat them when they complain, and murder them when they re- 
 sist. It is no longer easy to procure the provisions which shall 
 feed so many mouths. My people grow very impatient. My 
 chiefs counsel me to expel the intruders; my warriors would 
 take up arms against them. It remains only that I give the >i^- 
 nal. and the shout of war would rise above the forests, and the 
 shaft of death would fly from every thicket. Hut. 1 am silent, 
 noble Philip, as they call thee ; silent! I feel for my people^ 
 and 1 chafe at the insolences of thine. Why am 1 silent? It is 
 because I would not harm thee: because I would not see thee 
 depart, Philip." 
 
 Philip beheld her with a sad and drooping eye. What a history 
 of grief and hopelessness did her tender words and looks recall f 
 
 " I am but a leaf in the wind, noble Co^illa ; a bubbK- upon the 
 stream ; a spent arrow, whose course through the air i> lost as 
 soon as made. Think not of me. Persuade thy warrior-, to 
 forbearance. The Adelantado will, I think, depart snnn froir tliv 
 provinces. Better not provoke his anger. He hath a power . | 
 which thy people know nothing : to which they mu>t succumb in 
 strife, or perish. He hath but little reason to remain here much 
 longer, and will most likely depart ere the coming moon ! Till 
 then be patient keep thy people in patience, and let them brin<i 
 in good supplies of provisions, that we may the sooner leave thee." 
 
 "But t/tou need st not leave < nlai-lmpii, Phil p. Thou wilt 
 stay here, and dwell in the village of (Jogalla. It is a Queen 
 among her people who implores thee to stay." 
 
INSURRECTION. 418 
 
 I U- fore Philip could ivj-lv, his page. Juan, with aspect gloomy 
 and anxious, suddenly entered tin- apartment, and after a hurried 
 obeisance, said 
 
 > fior, your presence U Deeded without There i> trouble. 
 The Indians are arming and surrounding -some of our people. 
 There have been blows already between them, and there is dai. 
 ; insurrection." 
 
 U I must see to this!" said Yaseonselos In a few wor 
 conveyed to the Princess what lie had heard from Juan, And 
 hurriedly took his departure. Juan was about to follow, when 
 the Princess beekoned him, and throwing a rich robe of furs u|><>n 
 his shoulders, motioned him to accept it. in a s\veet and _ 
 planner. But the boy shook the garment from his slum: 
 .vith a single glance, of a strange and almoM savage BternnCH*, ;.i 
 the noble giver, wheeled about and hastily followed his lord. 
 
 The I rince.-s was ooofounded at this treatment. She had be 
 stowed the irift upon the boy as >he had beheld his devotion to 
 his master. It was a tribute prompted entirely by her regard tbi 
 t!ie latter. She could n--t CODJeCtUTQ the meaning of the boj. . <>i 
 the dark and savage look which he gave her ; and the rejection of 
 
 her girt, apart from the manner in which the thing was d 
 
 it-elf an insult. She expressed her wonder, in her own langi. 
 and hastily summoned her attendants. The-c had hardly made 
 their appearance, when one of her grave, and venerable forest 
 
 ncillon entered also. His bn.w was full of trouble. He 
 
 hurrie-dly confirmed the report which she had just heard from 
 oiix,-los. of the difficulty bi-twci-n her people an 1 the Spa 
 niards, and, anxious about the result, she hurried forth also \vifh 
 ih.- au r -d chief, in the hpe. by her pn <piiet the an-u^ed 
 
 n< of her subjects. 
 
 When Philip de \ a-con;eh-s appeared upon the BOene of 
 motion, the conflict s-emed inevitable. The red men \\vre arm 
 inu r C\TV where, and gatliering to the conflict. They liad : 
 ffoaded b"\..nd their endnranci-. by the brutalities ofsome of the 
 Spanish rablilc. had re-cntcd with blows an unprovoked injury : 
 ami. unwillingly restrained >o loiiii. by the authority of their 
 (jueen. it was now apparent that th; outbreak would be \>r<>\ or- 
 tionately extreme, from the eiiforeel authority which had hith 
 erto kept in subjection the r u^uallv untameable passion -. lln- 
 warriors had submitted to the presence and the .. 
 the Spaniards a-.rain-t tlieir habitual pr 
 nature. 1 
 
 the eoiuju. rora oi all 
 iubmit to tl. - , in. m it 
 
414 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 seemed so easy to destroy ? The moment had arrived, at last, 
 for the assertion of their strength and independence ! 
 
 The moment \vas inauspicious for De Soto. One half of his 
 forces had bce-n despatched in different bodies, and directions, in 
 the exploration of the country. Nuno de Tobar was probablv 
 fifty miles oil , with a select body of forty horses, on the route to 
 Achalaque. Juan de Anasco, with a similar force, was awa\ on 
 another route. So was Gonzalo Sylvestre ; so was Andre- d< 
 Ya-eonselos, with his Portugiu -se, and other knights. The re 
 mains of the army, with UeSoto, at the moment of commotion, 
 were scattered along the river banks, or in the forests, fishing or 
 fowling. Unless he could quell the commotion without the ex 
 treme of struggle, without absolute violence, he was in danger of 
 being utterly destroyed. The princess of Cofachiqui could bring 
 several thousand warriors into the field. It was under tin-- 
 eumstanees that the Adelantado hurried forth, as Philip de Vas- 
 conselos had done, in order to interpose his person and authority 
 for the prevention of the strife. It was here that he showed the 
 resources of a good head and a long experience. To the sur 
 prise equally of his own soldiers and the red men, he seized a 
 cudgel and began to belabor the Spaniards, seconded in the ope 
 ration most heartily by Philip, vho had reached the seem- in 
 season for this proper, if not pleasant exercise. The prince^ 
 appeared at this juncture, and dapped her hands with a sort of 
 uiriish delight, which contributed to the success of IV Sato s 
 policv. The chiefs and sages went amongst the !* warriors with 
 word s of counsel ; and the outbreak was quelled almost as soon 
 is it had taken place. The red men retired to their woods, 
 hardly satisfied, but subdued, they knew riot well in what man 
 ner. The Adelantado escorted the princess to her dwelling, and 
 partook of a feast which she had prepared. For the moment 
 harmony seemed restored. But it was a hollow amnesty. There 
 v ere wounds that rankled on both sides, ami refu-ed to be healed. 
 Pride was at work equally in the hearts of the Spaniards and 
 (1 men. and pav-ion-. of even a worse order, which the artifices 
 
 f both only labored to conceal not. overcome. 
 
 That night, the, Adelantado called a council of his chief officers 
 .: hi- ijuarters. Philip de Vasconsclos was present with the 
 rest. 
 
 I have summoned you . Scftores," said De Soto, "that we 
 ..iay confer together as to the policy before us. You have *, -n 
 
 - lay what i> the temper of these savages. Fortune da;, 
 
 ed a ri>ing spirit of insolence among them. Thev 
 verv reluctantly. With all om 
 
 
CHIEFS IN COUNCIL. 416 
 
 exertions, we scarcely g*-t an adequate Mipply, and the return of 
 venil parties, we have sent out, will find too many mouths 
 for our granaries. The princess, herself, no longer looks on us 
 with friendly eyes. She treats us coldly ; she, denies h 
 sometimes, when 1 seek to see her; and there can be no que-tion 
 that >he looks upon our continued pivsmee with dislike, 
 forth. Sefio: .re your opinion* freely, and say what is left 
 
 to us in this condition of our atfairs." 
 
 There were many speaker.-, to all of whom the remarks of the Ad- 
 eJantado furnished the kev-iiote. All were agreed that the queen 
 and lier subjects were changed in temper toward- them; that it 
 ident they were regarded no long, r u grateful gue-ts. but 
 as burdensome and offensive intruders. But no one sug. 
 the course of action. They all well knew that, while De Soto 
 ! patiently to all, he followed no counsel but his own. or 
 which he fully inclined himself Vaseonselos alone was 
 silent 
 
 We would hear from Don Philip," said De Soto, with a smile 
 \\hieh had in it something of a Philip quietly and 
 
 promptly answered. 
 
 -There is no question but it i- true that the<e people arc tiivd 
 
 of us. We have worn out their patiriuv. We have consumed 
 
 their provision-. oe.-iipied their houses, controlled and commanded 
 
 their labor, enjoyed their hospitality to the full extent of tln-ir re- 
 
 - ; and in return, have beaten and despoiled their men and 
 
 ". and shown our-elves verv ungrateful for all that thev 
 
 h.i\e done with us. For my part. I only wonder that they have 
 
 tolerahd u . The admirable drubbing \\hieh 
 
 y administered this day to -M.mc of the run :. have 
 
 turned the hearts of this simj lite aa 
 
 IilUeli due to jll- JQOd policy. It Illicit have been Well to 
 
 .dministered a little more of it. and to a - 
 
 offenders. 1 
 
 \V.- d. bat a Imitting the truth of all this. Seflor Don Philip." 
 led De Soto. rather impatiently. : tion is what 
 
 an- we to do, how repair the evil how put our--l\v- i:, 
 
 sin-h m: befallen u- t". 
 
 "The ipiestion N an ernbarra ini; 
 and, perha; addressed to 
 
 ouncillors. llie solution of it will <! iirob- 
 
 MiM we linu r -r ht-r. which w 
 
 to gather from the- . km, The 
 
 gold, M WP learn on every hai ! t id tu be found m:^. 
 
416 .os. 
 
 above, and in the region of mighty mountains. You have abac 
 doned the idea of cnanging the hod of the stn am, since there i ~. 
 no probability that it will atlbrd a treasure which the banks on its 
 sides do not possess. Wherefore, then, remain in a region which 
 promises nothing, and where we have evidently exhausted the 
 ho-pitality, with the provisions of its people ? Our delay ran give 
 us neither food, nor profit, nor security." 1 
 
 "True again, but still not satisfactory. There is a subject he- 
 sides which we need to consider. If we depart from ihe^e people 
 thus, and while they keep their present mood, we IOM- civ. lit 
 among them. They will feel that they have had a sort of tri 
 umph. It will make them insolent. Their runners will preec 
 us where we go; they will disparage our arms and valor; th \ 
 will lose us that authority which makes our progress go with it 
 question; and we shall have to light ever\ step of our way." 
 
 " We have had to do this already in most cases. In the 
 country of the savage this can scarce lie otherwise. We can 
 look only to our arms and courage to carry us through. Hut 
 where this needs not where we are received in kindness it is 
 scarcely wise to force hatred upon the people that welcome us at 
 lir>t with love. This is what we have been doing. We have 
 manacled, maimed, and even burned these people, for small of- 
 fdices. which, in their ignorance, they have cdmiiitted. Yet they 
 have home with all. through the kindness of their Queen. They 
 cannot endure starvation. We have brought them to this. Let 
 us leave them in sea-on. before we have made them desperate; 
 and carry their friendly wishes with us, if we can carry nothing 
 . T!u-y have \ielded to us all their treasures of gold and 
 pearls/ 
 
 Ay. but their favor is already !o-t. They will send us for 
 \\ard with no good wishes. They will rather send before u^ 
 tidings of evil which shall prejudice our progiv>>s \\heivver we 
 appear. Tin- Princess Coalla has grown haughty ami indillerent. 
 Si-fior Don Philip, to all among us, but yourself." 
 
 I hilip regarded the savage smile upon the countenance of the 
 Ad-!:mtado, with a (juict, cold, immovable look. lie did not 
 aticmpt to answer. Don Baltha/ar de Alvaro now took up the 
 
 / I) / . 
 
 * I Mi-pect that few will doubt the necessity of our leaving 
 this pi;,, e, your Kxcelh-nry ; and just a^ few \vi!l be prepared t- 
 dcnv the danger of which your Kxrelleucy speaks, from the ma- 
 i;c;ni, and unfriendly reports of these people. \Ve have It.;.! 
 sufficient proofs of their gr<u\i ; _ r ho-tiiity. The mother of this 
 eps aloof fro 1 pursuit and search. 
 
Til! V. 417 
 
 The yoim-.: fndi li.-r \\ith a ir.< 
 
 slew hin^elf rather than apj roach h. r after In- lia.l l>eeii forhid- 
 
 ;iid 1 am Mire that \\e should i. In- favor of the 
 
 re, hut tor the special regard \s hich p> P SOul, 
 
 ill behalf of m. H--W !i-i:u r this \\ill secure u i- a { rol.lrm 
 
 whidl \vr shall - it be true tliat tin- natives 
 
 -.I tn !-|.;irt : 
 
 n-izicn in wliich \vc shall find laniiiH- only iji-tcad of n.|, 
 od also, that \vi- may havt- to lii:ht out \\ . 
 
 nd get our jirovisions only at thr t-nd <>f our \\vaj on . 
 with your K\ri-l ,r!n-\ .-> leave, \\- aiv in n-ri-i-lx il: 
 
 trait with those grea< n. ,nl FI- ; ,I 
 
 and I Bee n-t tl n do lu-ttt-r than adoj>t their policv." 
 
 " What : ,uoth tl.- 
 
 -That of >-i/in: u| ii : : tlu- t-ouistry, and t 
 
 pie. 1 hi- Priii. 
 
 .chi-jiii i- in your power. Her ] eople In. Id lu-r in MI 
 
 ize h--r. ki-.-p lu-r i: 
 ifnl L r iiai-dian-hij). and \ 
 conduct of her : - nd no\v to t; 
 
 \vhifli >h i .s\\;i\- : as 
 
 \"ii 1 if you in ,.u :ur told that slu- i^ 
 
 tin- ure., alacliiaii. the . 
 
 mom, the Mechachebe 1 Wliat follo\v>. Tin- j.. oj.| t -, in ai 
 
 y h-r decrees, lrin; j fovi-i -nlnnit 
 
 without lilows. Tin- policy < : :, mu-t 1 . 
 
 of 1 1, -rnan <!< SotO, if hi- h it ili,- r hi ath. H 
 
 : <licy for 
 
 and lion-id j". . \ ;l ^. 
 
 ikintr with all tho \varn.th of a nol-le 
 an<l inp-nuoiix E thr cold cruelty and ; 
 
 :IIM-I crivt-n. ()! Don Heman de Soto, beware ho^t pov 
 
 ^lain an li" 1 inc. hy the adoj.tioii ot a \>- -lianie- 
 
 in-adfully >iii^rat-fu!. ] 
 i \ouwith hit: 1 -. ha- treated von \\ith nnva- 
 
 i from lu-r -ton-s all that -h 
 .ntleman. and h>\al . -.. . not follow 
 
 counsels which shall riolat ;m>ted virtue. uritv 
 
 arkciicd ten: 
 
 i employ strong laii^-. Philip d< 
 
 but you in } ;/ .,t 
 
 would seen. 
 
 18* ^ 
 
418 VASCONSEL03. 
 
 The pale cheeks of Philip reddened, but he was silent. Th 
 Adelantado proceeded : 
 
 "But our obligations are gem-nil only, and shared with all the 
 chiefs of my army. You hear how they express themselves, and 
 what they counsel. In great necessities, nice scruples are vicious 
 impediments, and we may not apply to great embarra^sm* i 
 principles we submit to when the currents of lite flow smoothly 
 on as we would have them, under ordinary laws. ! hold the 
 counsel of Don Balthazar to be the only means of e>cai>e and 
 progress in this our emergency. It is our necessity, which we 
 cannot escape." 
 
 "O! say not so, your Excellency " began Philip de Vas- 
 
 conselos, but the truncheon of the Adelantado came down heavily 
 upon the table, and he thundered out 
 
 " We have decided, gentlemen we are resolved the council 
 is dissolved. We shall see to these things with early morning. 
 Be you each prepared, in. armor, to second all my orders/" 
 
 The council dispersed, each to his own quarters, all leaving the 
 Adelantado, except Don Balthazar, who had other matters to 
 insinuate when he did not counsel. Philip de Ya^conselos grieved 
 to the heart, retired to his lowly lodgings, where he sat down to 
 his silent supper, of which he scarcely ate, attended by Juan in 
 silence. 
 
 "O! boy, boy!" he exclaimed, suddenly "thou little know- 
 est, boy," he proceeded u but if the heart of woman be incu 
 rably false, that of man is terribly base ! If her heart be weak 
 as water, his is more hard and unfeeling than the pitiless rock. 
 am >ick. .Juan, very sick of all things that live / 
 
 And the supper was pu>hed away ; and the knight threw him- 
 eelf on his couch of reeds and brush, under the roof of his Dimple 
 .ndian lodge which had given him shelter, and he felt to what a 
 oase use his ruler had put all the benefits of the Dimple and con 
 fiding red men, and their sweet and lovely sovereign. And .Juan 
 lay between two rustic pillars, in the shade, half watching the 
 words of his master all the while. And he drowsed while watch 
 ing : but Philip slept not. He could not sleep because of too 
 much thought, and long after midnight he arose, and he muttered 
 to himself 
 
 "It shall not be! I will prevent this dreadful treachery!" 
 
 And he stole forth even as he spoke, carrying his sword be 
 neath hi- arm, and he made his way, amidst the dim woods, 
 guided only by the starlight, and certain scattered fnvs of the 
 village, until he was lost iu the thickets that lay between the 
 
PHI! nv. 419 
 
 h rnrnm pirn-nt ami the grounds which environed the, 
 abode of the Princess. IK- knew not that the onlv half-sleeping 
 Juan, aruu>ed l>y his exclamation, had started to" hi 
 OftUgfat up a weapon also, and was following stealthily upon hi* 
 
CHAPTER XXXVi 
 
 " E chi poteva, 
 Mio ben, senza vedir ti 
 La patria abbandonnar f " 
 
 ARTAf 
 
 MEANWHILE, the Adelantado and his prime minister, Don 
 Balthazar de Alvaro, sate late at their private councils, after the 
 rest of the noble Knights and Captains had retired. They had 
 much to discuss and determine which was not proper to be sub 
 mitted to the common ear. But a portion only of this confe 
 rence properly concerns uiir drama. It was at the close of their 
 discourse that De Soto gave it in charge to Don Balthazar, to 
 arrest the Princess and put her under safeguard. 
 
 "There need be no violence. SeiVr Baltha/ar, if your proceed 
 ings are prompt and secret. All outward forms of respect must 
 be maintained. We must only see that she does not escape. 
 See to it by sunrise." 
 
 " Better an hour or two before," was the answer of the Don. 
 "The Indians may be put on the alert by sunrise." 
 
 "What ! you do not suspect Don Philip?" 
 
 "He is a favorite with the IVuie. 
 
 " But I should think her no great favorite with him. He seems 
 at her with great reserve, if not < 
 
 " R. apt to be only a prudent masking of the pas- 
 
 u But would he dare to play us false !" 
 
 "Ah! this would scarcely be considered a treachery; or only 
 such as were becoming in a good knight. \\ e can. at all events, 
 better guard against than punish such a treaehery." 
 
 "Ay, by the holy cross, but I should punish -ueh a tiva -hery, 
 were the offender the best knight in Christendom." 
 
 "Verily, and I should hark on, and say will done, your K\- 
 eellency ; but still I repeat, better in tlii- case [ iweiit. than have 
 to puni>h such treachery. In brief, the Princess must m>t IK> 
 allowed to escape. Weiv she to d<. BO, we should tare badly in 
 our future progiv-s through her dominions. With} our i 
 
 lency s leave, 1 will make the arrest hefi>iv the dawn o* another 
 day." 
 
 " It is as you plea-*-. You are no doubt right in the precau 
 
 (420) 
 
\LLA. 421 
 
 tion ; though, let me find tin- Knight of Port igal playing me 
 
 md " 
 
 The threat was unspoken, or was sufliejently expressed in the 
 ire, and tin- heavy -troke with which, with c!> 
 :ie rude .vhieh the parties were - 
 
 In a little while after this. Don Bahha/ar took i/ 
 
 He proceeded almost ilMailtly tO collect f !l!i 
 
 followers, all armed, for the capture of the Princess Cogallti. 
 
 This labor occupied some tim- 1 to move with all pre 
 
 cautions, rout up soldiers who \\viv. sleeping, and hunt up nth.-rs 
 
 ^uttered ; and this brought him to a tolerably la 
 in the nii:ht. By that time Philip de \ >9 had already 
 proceeded on his <j.-\\cr<>\\-< mission, of arousing the I 
 
 v of flight, an . i Baltha/ar had set his litil 
 
 scju.id in moti.n : but the latter was not delayed much longer. 
 Still, the Portuiriie-e Kni-rht is in <ea>on for his object, if :h<-ie 
 should occur no eMibarra ments. 
 
 It wa> no small OHO, h- W-ver. that of (indinj *. th.i 
 
 Prince><. she occupied a centre mansion, rude iough t 
 
 > far as we n fer \<> th - \ art. but a nio^ 
 
 :f \ve look only to tiie natural Accessories, d h.f 
 
 and hickoi>->. and walnut^. tT.vi-rin^ : 
 
 of wood and -hrubberv a nii^lity colonnade of ffigantlO f>rni, 
 
 coiuluetinu throu^li numenuis airy avenu.-s to th-- lowly inan-io;i 
 *, vii:-|-<i:inde 1 bv a ^hadv roof of th itched poh-s. an am 
 andah of ure. 11. surrounding th habitaliofi. which i: 
 
 in the ^reat >lu-lter nf th- aiu-ieiit fo|- st wa- an abode 
 
 Kmp -ror. li. th ; > verandah -lept . | irriurs 
 
 a!\yay> ready, arm.-d with 
 
 and obsidian lIud_i;-on. -ton-- tmah-iwk and knife of flint. \ . 
 
 Kmjn-nr OTCT | -\ithfiil and devoted. 
 
 -urroundiiiL! tin- abode of th kfl filled 
 
 up with -cattrred parties nf other warrior-, who slept \> 
 
 the tre. s when the weath.-r wa> fair, an 1 who k 
 
 hidden huts, when i ; . !. Th--y 
 
 a^ faithful. 
 
 II. . : 1 hilip de Y;IM IM-- 1 tile tab 
 
 tt his In-. 
 L.M.| DM tQ your queen, 91 h-- s-iil in calm, but commai>din<j 
 
 \ Oration 61 
 
 he \vi-he- of the knight, sim. 
 
 pl\ :is all knew him to be th.- favoiiv -.f < .^ i!l-i. II 
 i>eAre-ly a pie, !! 
 
422 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 silently through the green glades, and amidst the dark avenues of 
 thicket ; the boy Juan stealthily and closely following, unnoticed 
 by Philip, and permitted by the red men, as a matter of course, 
 a i he was the attendant of the master. When they reached UK- 
 
 "Ige, a conch, which hung from one of the pillars of the veran- 
 laii, was sounded by one of the watchers at the porch. A door 
 
 /ned, and a whispered conversation ensued between the guard 
 .rid some one within. A brief space, and Philip was admitted 
 t;> an antechamber, a great hall, indeed, at one side of which stnnl 
 a maiden with a blazing torch. Juan remained in waiting with 
 out the verandah, anxious to press forward, and trembling with 
 anxiety, yet dreading what he should behold. But, for awhile, 
 his courage failed him, leaving his anxiety unrepressed. 
 
 But a few moments had elapsed, after Philip s entrance into 
 the hall, when the princess male her appearance. She was chid 
 iu simple white cotton garments, hastily caught up. It needed 
 but little time or effort to adjust the costume of the native prin- 
 
 ss, She was followed by a group of damsels, and one or t\v<; 
 matrons. In a few moments after, several old men made their 
 appearance from contiguous dormitories. 
 
 There was a joyous eagerness in the face of the bright 
 Cogalla, as she looked upon the knight. 
 
 "Philip!" She had learned to call his name very prettily 
 "Philip!" and the rest she spoke in her own language, taking his 
 hand frankly as she spoke. 
 
 " What would the voice of the Spaniard with Cocalla ? It is 
 not the hour of council. The, bird that sings by day, sleeps in 
 the darkne-s The warrior sleeps, with the spear beneath his 
 arm. Why comes Philip to me now ? Would he make his 
 home with the red warriors of the forest? Philip shall be a 
 chief for Cozalla." 
 
 " It is not for that I come, noble CoQalla. But there is d 
 for the princess. My people have said Cocalla must be ours! 
 She must march with our army to the. irreat mountains. She 
 must be the hostage for her people. She. must follow the path 
 as we mark it out for her footsteps. Let Cocalla fly to tin 
 thickets and ex-ape from captivity." 
 
 " Does the Spanish chief say this of the Queen of Co&chiqui . " 
 was the indignant answer. 
 
 "The Spanish chiefs have so sp, . 
 
 " What! Theyseenot my warriors ? They know not their valoi, 
 their skill, their numbers, and the fatal weapon-, which they carry." 
 
 "Neither numbers nor weapons will avail against the arms of 
 the Spaniards." 
 
COUNSELS OF FLIGHT. 423 
 
 "Ha! sny st thou ! Thou -halt see." And she whimpered to 
 JUT attendant-, one of whom disappeared. 
 
 "The prince-s mu>t fly to the deep foivsts," continued VM- 
 
 ix n-elo-. "There alone can she In- safe from our j.-. 
 
 \ ! and from my home, while my warriors are around 
 : ! And yet " -peaking (quickly M \Viil 
 Philip go with me to my lodge in tip Will he 
 
 become a warrior of Cofachimii ? Sav. Philip, wilt thou L r <> 
 with me, and find u lodge among my people and become a 
 ehief the great chief the fM&belOYttd of Cofachiqui ? And 
 she caught hi- hand eagerly. 
 
 "Ala- ! w he -aid, 1 cannot, beautiful Gorilla my lot is cast 
 Mnong the Spaniards." 
 
 1 lien will 1 inert them here. I will gather my warriors, 
 -hall light these Spaniards they shall fall \i|><>n them, and 
 L- in all all but thee, Philip. Thou shalt he a 
 taehiqui. 
 
 A group of old men entered at this moment, and were ap 
 pri-ed of what Va-eonselo- had reported. They iveeived the in 
 formation gravely. ml their prinee-s a- die in\- 
 
 loudly again>t the iii- () !ent purpose of t| u . Sj.aniard-. Sh- I 
 them gather the warrior- together, and meet tlu-ir 60 
 
 >olved not to fly, nniess and she turned again to the 
 
 knight 
 
 v> Will not Philip go with < o^illa to the g f her 
 
 d be a chief of ( nfaehiimi ?" 
 II ihook his head mournfully. The old chi. f- inter 
 
 Philip understood all that th .though in 1" i 
 
 their .ju.-en. They. too. exh.rt"d h.-r to take the f Vas- 
 
 in Might. At the mo: 
 
 unprepared for conflict. Their warrior- about were 
 
 few in number, hardly more than 
 honor for their sovereign. It rv.mire-1 time to call in the warri- 
 
 d to prepare for sueh eiu-mie- a- tlio^e with wh-" 
 had to deal, and the terrible resources of wdiici were aliv.. 
 part, known to the chief-. But the i>r:i ; 
 
 Philip" to find 
 chief over her people the chief!" The old wan: 
 
 Th.-y renewed th--5r conn- They 
 
 . ^lii- 
 said t iifully 
 
 "Does Philip bid me go tVom him where I :, in no 
 
424 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 more ? Does Philip say to Coc.alla lot the forests grow be 
 tween us, so that our eyes shall never meet again ? Ah ! Philip ! n 
 and she laid her hand, as if with pain, upon her heart. The 
 knight felt very wretched at the wretehedness he was compelled 
 to inflict, and a vague hut beguiling thought passed through his 
 fancy for an in*tant, with the rapidity of an arrow of light. 
 
 "And why should I not depart with this true-hearted and in 
 nocent princess? She is young and beautiful, and powerful, an 1 
 more than all, pure of thought and feeling. Why should 1 lid- 
 low in the steps of those who hate, when I am persuaded by 
 those who love ?" 
 
 But he dismissed the seductive argument with the resolute ex 
 ertion of his will. The very thought of love, and of another wo 
 man, while his heart was still so sore with the most humiliating 
 experience of the sex, M as a revolting thought. He hastily ex 
 pelled it from his mind. 
 
 " Heed not me," he said, "noble Princess : I am but an in 
 sect in thy path. 1 am nothing. 
 
 "Thou art every thing, Philip, to Cogalla. My people will 
 honor thee for my sake, and thou shall be. a chief among them. 
 And thou shalt dwell in a lodge with Co<jalla, and there shall be 
 no Spaniards in the great forests where we go. Thou s halt be 
 a chief of my people, Philip, thou shalt be the only chief for 
 
 And with these words, in the eager impulse of a passion which 
 was no less pure than warm, the passion of a nature wholly un- 
 sophisticated, no longer able to restrain her feelings, she threw 
 her arms around the neek of Vaseonselos. and laid her head upon 
 his breast. Her long, dark tre-ses tMl like a shower of starry 
 night over his shoulders. 
 
 At that moment, and before the knight could recover hii 
 he felt his arm plucked from behind, and the voice of Juan 
 sounded huskily in his ears. 
 
 "See you not, Sefior, that unless you tear yourself away from 
 her, she will not depart? She will be captured, unless you leave 
 her at once ! Already Don Balthazar is gathering his tn.op to 
 surround the village of the princess. Fly from her in MOBon, or 
 she is surely taken. These moment- are fatally lost. 
 
 onselos heard, and tenderly but firmly he unwound the 
 arms of the princess from about his ncek. At this act, silently 
 pri-forim-d. she turned, with a sudden revulsion of feeling, and 
 threw herself on the l.o>om of one of the matron-*, while hei 
 sobs sounded distinctly through the apartment. 
 
JUAN IS KEBl KKI 425 
 
 \,, NV r.ow I 1 cried .luan. in <mick, eager accents, as Philip 
 1 Now is tin- moment, Sefior. She will fly when you 
 
 ; _ r ht." 
 Y<>u are rii:: _ r ht ! " an-weivd the knight. The hand 
 
 ,,t* .In; that of hi superior, and led him away 
 
 from the apartment and into tin- \M U. with" 1 .:! a moment 
 They were within a lew paces of the lodgin- of Vai 
 los, when thev heard a slight blast of a trumpet in the thicket 
 
 .n them and the al)o ( le of tin- 1 rineess. 
 %% It IN the >ijrnal >f Don Ualtha/ar, said Juan hurriedly. - \Ve 
 
 ;iid he drew the knight into the lodge. 
 : C\x;allar said Philip. 
 
 "She has had time enough f if she willed it ; luit mo- 
 
 thinks >he would rather lie a captive \v re Don Philip the jailer, 
 than IK- :: H of all the^r 
 
 J hrre was .-miiethiiig of bittenie>s in the 
 Philip nott-d it, hut his mi;id \va- to full of anxiety, in i 
 tn tlie escape of (j.^alla, to dwell upon minor matt. 
 
 \v may the Saints f () rl,il !" he ejaculated. 
 II, vi-ry prceiou> t;> the Si-floi- !" ijuoth 
 
 I uan. n. lily. 
 
 \- ; i.ility. and >oul. and true virtue in a wo- 
 
 ,er\ iiol.le ki. !eI Philip, 
 
 somewhat .^ternly ; and .Juan shrunk . IT an arrow had 
 
 Menly in the lirea-t ; and V^M-IHIM-IM* heard no 
 miiiv wor.ls from him that night. Tiie Imy lia-i >le t< 
 
 bury his fa-e in the leaves of his coueh, and to weep in -eerel, fts 
 wa> his nightU -ity. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 " Va I c hai cara la vita. 
 
 TUB effort of Don Philip had been made in vain. The Prin 
 cess Cosalla gave herself up to a passion of grief, th.it : . 
 argument and entreaty. She became fully conscious of her 
 danger (of which even the assurance of Vtisconselos had failed 
 to possess her mind) of the danger \\hieh await* d her. onlv 
 when it was too late. It was only when the shrill blast of the 
 Spanish trumpet, speaking in signal to the co-operating S.JIKK!, 
 and the crash of conflicting weapons, had struck upon her senses. 
 that she consented to make the attempt to escape. But, by this 
 time, the building was entirely surrounded, and she was seized 
 by a group of common soldiers, as she strove to steal awav from 
 the rear during the struggle between her warriors and the a ail- 
 ants. Her people fought desperately, even the old chiefs and 
 counsellors, but only to be butchered. The dawn saw her vil 
 lage smoking with blood, and herself a captive. 
 
 The Princess was from this moment kept under close restraint, 
 well watched and guarded, but treated with forbearance, if not 
 with kindness. She was allowed a litter to be borne upon the 
 shoulders of her own people, when she was indisposed to walk. 
 The Adelantado, for awhile, paid her a morning visit, as Cortez 
 had done to Montezuma, in which he maintained all the mo-t 
 deferential externals. She did not reproach, nor entreat ; but 
 from the moment when she became a captive, she habited lur- 
 se fln ^he stern reserve of character so peculiar to the red m-n 
 of America, and haughtily refused communion with her tivarh- 
 erous and ungrateful guest. But her captivity disarmed her 
 people. They dared not rebel against the authority whose >im- 
 ple decree might destroy the head of the nation. They submit 
 ted every where submitted as Tamenes, or porters, to bear the 
 luggage of the army, and brought in provisions throughout the 
 country, wherever the Spaniards came or sent. 
 
 The army was set in motion soon after the arrest of the Prini ess. 
 and the young and noble ( Valla was borne along with it, in. 1 
 ing, as recklessly as the tidex <>f <>eean bear awav upon tiieir dis 
 cordant billows, hc beautiful and innocent flower which the teiu 
 
 (42C) 
 
COCALLA JiSCAPKS. 427 
 
 i th -m from the ihores. In this manner waa -In- 
 
 conducted up he Savannah td i - BOUTC6S, passing into that region 
 
 scenery whi.-h we now find in the county of H 
 >hani, in Georgia. Pursuing a direct western course aer. 
 
 tin- expedition reached the head 
 
 of the Coosa. From town to town still submitted to 
 wherever it came the Spanish army proceeded to the Cunasau- 
 ga. the Uostaiiaula. and other Streams. They explored the 
 country as they went, lodged in tin- villages, and secured the 
 submission of the eh of whom they also kept in capti 
 
 vity, the belter to secure the obedience of their people, 
 sionally, De Soto sent out detachments, right and left, in quest of 
 gold and silver. 
 
 It was while two of th under tbe knights, 
 
 Villahos and Silvera, had gone forth to explore the mountains 
 of C hisea. that the Spanish army rested for a space of more than 
 tliiity days, at a populous Indian town, called Chiaha. the chief 
 of which was a con-in of our Princess of Co&chiqui. This chief, 
 influenced by the situation of his kinswoman, had received the 
 Spaniards with a seeming in >. id-will, which left them wholly with 
 out caii-e of complaint. But, with the rest from their 1;; 
 the pas-ions of the inva-i- 1 iteyond all onlinary limits, 
 
 and they made a formal demand upon the < assi.jue for a certain 
 number of the young women of the nation. Hitherto, the men 
 had nut been denied \ lerve the Spaniards, in the . 
 Tanieiies. The demand f >r w;iuen. implied a reckless diMvuard 
 to all the sensibiliiie- of the people; and. in a single night, the 
 dia. who was also held Mum-wliat in the p-i:i"ii 
 : .und himself abandoiu-d by all hi^ foil- 
 Wild was the rage of the Spaniards ai the flight of their destined 
 victims, and vain were all the etlbrts of ;h- ( SattsiqOfl to propitiate 
 their Mlger. They ravaged his country, with tire . 
 nd burning without mercy. 
 
 It was at this moment, and while the in\ 
 them^elve-x nin-t licentious and reckl,--. that the 1 
 still a captive, and still watched, though r 
 usual, attempted to make her Sh- had hecii confided to 
 
 .nship of two i v 1 iriin, and < . 
 
 !i followen hai laid do\\n her litter, and she h 
 drink at a spring by the \\a_\-ide. The two meanwhile, 
 
 had taken . 
 
 busily . I other acqui- 
 
 gitiohb, W ^a- thi . the hazards of the 
 
 gain*. Suddenly, > and her follower* 
 
428 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 They instantly sought, by a vigorous search in the neighboring 
 woods, to repair the consequences of their fault. Unfortunately, 
 they had missed the captive too soon after lu-r flight, to enable 
 her to escape very far. She was found; her followers Dalian! ly 
 threw themselves in the path of the pursuers, and armed only 
 with sticks or billets, hastily snatched up in the forest, elide . 
 to defend their mistress. But they were immcdiatelv butchered 
 Cocalla, who had continued her flight, was soon overtaken, an ! 
 violently seized by Pedro Martin. The bold ruffian, leaded l.v 
 licentious passions, dragged her into the covert, while Gil Tom s 
 stood by, as if keeping sentry. Her cries ran^ through the 
 woods, and not in vain. They called up a champion in the peril 
 ous moment. 
 
 Don Philip de Vasconselos had not lost sight of the beautiful 
 Princess who had so fearlessly shown him how precious he was 
 in her eyes. But he forbore to trespass upon the indulgence 
 which she had shown him, and, with a rare modesty and forbear 
 ance, a delicacy of consideration, which had few parallels in that 
 day amongst these wild adventurers, he steadily rejeeted the 
 temptations which were held out to him by the warmth of her 
 affection and the confiding innocence of her nature. He stu 
 diously forbore her presence, except when specially required to 
 communicate with her by De Soto himself. In fact, there was 
 a policy, as well as propriety, in this forbearance. V .^, -..nsclos 
 had discovered that he vas n-atcked. Juan, his page, had made 
 some discoveries to this effect, and had made them known imme 
 diately to the knight. He was watched by the creatures c>f Don 
 Balthazar. This was the amount of the discovers : and there 
 uspicious circumstances, coupled with the conduct of Juan 
 Ortiz, the interpreter, whose jealousy had been kindled, at the 
 expense of Vasconselos, in consequence of the better knowledge 
 of the Indian tongues which the latter possessed. He had l. xt 
 some of his authority with the Spaniard* during the period when 
 tin Portuguese knight served wholly as the medium of comma 
 nieat ion between the red men and the white. Orti/ 
 however, a rare natural capacity for the acquisition of Ian. 
 and, with a strong motive to goad his industry, in his |>riilr. his 
 mortification, and his love of ease for, when not intcrpn -:\\\<j. 
 he was required to serve in the ranks a> a common soldier he 
 addressed himself to the task of picking up the dialect of the 
 people of the new regions into which he passe,]. {L h :l ,l b. -coin 
 to a certain extent successful, so that, he was now able, to under 
 stand and conjecture tin- purport of the various conversation* 
 between the Princess and the knight, whcn.-v.-r they took plac-e U> 
 
 \ 
 
THE PAGK is J 429 
 
 pirblic. On all tl, at to her 
 
 affections, ami spoke \vith \ - frankly in respect to 
 
 her love, as it no other ear but his own could comprehend the 
 purport of her speech. All this matter was reported tn Don 
 Balthazar, who, by the way, had been repuUed by the Priii. 
 in every approach which he liad made to familiarity with her. 
 How Juan, the Moorish page, had a>ecrtaincd these fact-, may 
 not now be said, but he had learned enough to set hi- master on 
 his guard against the subtle Ortiz and oti. . by 
 
 his enemy. 
 
 Hu though eautious, and avoiding a- mueh as possible all in 
 tercourse with the Prim-ess. Ya> -oii-elos watched over her >afely 
 as tenderly as if he returned her affection. He had seen the 
 growing indifference of DC Soto to the claims and character of 
 the Prim-e>s, and he strove, whenever he could do so without 
 provoking suspicion, to lighten her bonds and soften her morlili- 
 cations. The boy, .Juan, was sometimes sent with tributes to 
 dla, with delicacies which >he might not else procure ; and 
 we may add that, though he obeyed the knight, lie yet did so 
 with some reliicia:.<v. M<>:v ili.m ODOG he expostulated with 
 Philip Uj on the risk which lie incurred, by his attentions, and 
 
 alarm his fear>; but he >oon found that >u<-h MI-. 
 tions oniv inspired tin- knight with audacity. lie then ventured 
 t< change hi- Diode of attack, and would speak, with a BD 
 about the ineapaeity of the red woman to appreciate either the 
 delicacy of hi his attentions. Hut to this MigL otion, 
 
 aNo. th reply of the knight was apt to silence, for awhile, the 
 presumption of the i 
 
 one day he said to ,Iuan- "V. to pr. 
 
 whit thou knowe^t n.it. I t r ;i thee that this heathen prin- 
 
 morc beautiful -ul in my sight, than any that 1 k- 
 paler blood. And why should-t thou. a blackamoor, pre 
 sume to siiccr at the complexion which is more akin to that of 
 the ( h:-^ti-.n than thine .wn . Go to, for a f.i!Mi b..y. an-i 
 nothing more in this wi-e ; for \vrily. BOmetimes, when thou 
 speake.t thus. I am , ilnio-t leinjted to hold theean i lieiuy to this 
 m<.-t grai-ioiis ye! luekle-s prin, -t-ss ; whom 1 hold in Blicfa 
 bo\ . :rd. that if I had yet a heart to h to 
 
 yield. t> woman. I should pivj er t< trust in her. than to any liv 
 ing h:,uty in all Spain or Portu. 
 
 to humble and to silence the 
 
 pac. |aoDj The kniijlit no ways withheld his kindnesses 
 
 and protection from ti. thu 
 
 V>, Vet he bufVered her not he wek hcd 
 
1:30 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 and now, when the passions of the rude and licentious ruffian 
 Pedro Martin had dragged her into the deep thickets, and she 
 shrieked aloud in her last and worst terrors fcr a champion to 
 save her, she had little reason to think that the chief whom she 
 loved before all, would suddenly appear to her rescue. 
 
 Philip de Vasconselos was fortunately at hand. He heard 
 the cries of the captive princess. He recognized the voice. He 
 knew the present licentious moods of the Spaniards. He had 
 denounced, as a terrible crime, that requisition upon the Cassique 
 of Chiaha, which had outraged his people, and driven them away 
 to the shelter of the woods. His instinct instantly conceive* 1 the 
 danger of the princess ; the neglect and disregard of De Soto 
 tending to encourage the audacity of those who were appointed to 
 watch over her. He called to Juan, and hurried with sword 
 drawn into the thickets. He was suddenly confronted by GU 
 Torres. 
 
 " It is nothing, Seftor Don Philip, but the cries of the heathen 
 woman, the Princess of Cofachiqui, who has been seeking to make 
 escape from us, and whom my comrade, Pedro, has just se 
 cured." 
 
 " Stand aside, fellow I must see this comrade of thine." 
 
 Martin raised his lance, and caught the knight by the wrist to 
 detain him. With one blow of his gauntletted fist, Vasconselos 
 smote him to the earth, where he lay senseless. Philip hurried 
 into the thicket, where Cocjalla still struggled with all her might 
 against the brutal assailant. But she was almost exhausted. 
 She could no longer shriek. She could only oppose. Her long 
 black hair, which swept the ground, was floating dishevelled, her 
 garments were torn, her hands were bloody. At this perilous 
 moment she saw the approach of the, knight of Portugal. She 
 knew him at a glance. She could only murmur, " Philip," and 
 her strength failed her. She sank down senseless. At the sight 
 of Vasconselos, the ruffian fled. 
 
 The knight raised the princess from the ground. 
 
 " Bring water, Juan." 
 
 The boy obeyed, bringing the water in th<>. knight s helmet, 
 which he threw to him for the purpose. He dashed the face of 
 the princess with the cooling sprinkle. He poured the grateful 
 draught into her lips. She opened her eve< They lightened 
 ft ith joy. She threw her arms round his neck, and cried 
 
 " Philip ! Philip !" 
 
 " You must fly," he said " fly, Cogalla. Do not waste the 
 precious moments now. It is your only cnaroe, Use it, J wilJ 
 keep off these villains," 
 
COCALLA FKKK. 
 
 II.- -h<>ok himself five from her, :i:id <iurU d away. She stood 
 mournfully looking at him tor a while, then waved her hand to 
 him, and cried 
 
 - Philip! Philip!" 
 
 Ik- disappeared in tin- opposite wooils ; and she turned away, 
 \\ith clasped han. Is. an. 1 moving w ith slow footsteps, In-ndm;. 
 f Tin, and a very mournful aspect, murmuring as she went, the 
 .-ne word " Phill])." She too was soon buried, out of sight. i< 
 the sheltering bosom of the mighty forest. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 There is my pledge I I ll prove it ou thy heart. 
 Ere I taste bread, them art in nothing, less 
 Than I have here proclaimed thee." 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 WIIILU these events were in progress, in and about the precincts 
 of the Indian town of Chiaha, Hernando de Soto was absent from 
 the place. He had led a portion of his fonvs in pursuit of tin- 
 fugitive red men, who had left their village in consequence of the 
 brutal requisition to render up their women ; and a report >f tin- 
 gathering of a large body of the savages, in a hostile attitude, 
 not far off, had aroused all the eager fury of the Spanish govern 
 or, to pursue and punish them. He had pursued with his 
 usual energy, but without encountering the subtle enemy, who, 
 when they pleased, could readily cover themselves, in such per 
 fect concealment in the deeper forests, that the whole army of the 
 Adelantado could never 1 envt them out, or bring them to battle. 
 De Soto rested his troops, after the fruitless pursuit, in a beauti 
 ful wood, about half a day s journey from the town of Chiaha. 
 Here he waited the return of certain of his oflieei-s, whom he had 
 sent on exploring journeys higher up the country. Nuno de 
 Tobar was thus absent with twenty lances: Andres de Vascon 
 selos had been sent forward with his Portuguese, to feel his way 
 along the banks of the Coosaw, and to prvpaiv for the coining 
 of the army. There were a tew other leaders of the Spanish 
 host, who, like these, might have had sympathies with Philip de 
 Vasconsel os, who were also most inopportunely absent. There 
 was probably some design and management in an arrangement, 
 which, at this juncture, removed from the neighborhood the few 
 persons who might have resisted the perpetration of a cruel wrong, 
 aiid brought back the moods of De Soto to such a condition, a-> 
 would, at least, have tempered the severities which he might el-e 
 suppose were required by justice. 
 
 The star of Don Balthazar de AUaro was, at this moment. 
 completely in the ascendant. He had been left in charge of tin- 
 village of Chiaha, when De Soto undertook the pursuit of the 
 fugitive Indians. It was his task to assign the guards to the 
 Princess of Co fachiqui ; to regulate and contiol, in lin-t. all the 
 operations within Ms command, according to his O\MI discretion 
 
 (432) 
 
MALICE GROWS KXMTANT. 433 
 
 It was not the purpose of I),- Soto to r.-turu to the village, 
 hut to proceed onward, following th- foot- t-ps of the pioneer 
 f.rre of Andre- de Va to the country of the Alabama*. 
 
 With this large discretion in hi> hands, Don Baltha/;f 
 
 not the person to torero the gratification of any of his passions. 
 
 The neriona wh>m he ha.l appointed to take charge of the prin- 
 
 ;l!a, were his own creatures, tin- most despicable ,,f the 
 
 Common of his divi-ion. Doii Baltha/ar had been 
 
 .-led h\ the prinoeaa, II.- kn.-\v tlu- wild lircntioiisn-s> whirh 
 
 at tbis time poasesaed the armj, !! kiu-\v the charactrr ot th..^- 
 
 to \vh.M- triid -r nit-rrios he entrusted ht-r. Hi- ini^ht lia\r 
 dieted the event, if lir did not, p.-rhap^ he anticipated it ; perha[<- 
 he anticipated other fruits from the epidrmie of licence whi.-h 
 prevailed aniontr the soldi. -rs. It is not improhable that \vh.-n h- 
 was foniid hy tlie ruilian. Pedro, who H.-.l fn. m the rapier of ])..n 
 PhUip, conveni.-ntly in waiting in a lonely lodge on the 
 th.- l .re-t, that he himself had prompted his myrmidons to their 
 brutality, and that he had other passions to -rrntJiV. not less wild 
 and intense than that of revenge. 
 
 <iivat was the wrath of Don Haltha/ar when Pedro Martin 
 mad- his report, Gil Torres, with a bloody sconce, made his 
 appearance soon after, which confirmed it. The rep-ri Vfftfl >u.-h 
 
 heir own -howinir. n> -jood Chri-tians couhl have 
 more innocent of evil, or virtuously set upon doing good. Th- 
 >lll) "rdhi j their superior fn un iniieh of the Deoeasitj of 
 
 invention; and when- they failed as jirtMs. he supplied th. 
 
 ti in ^their ease. The/ w. re prepared to ailinu it with due 
 >olemnitii-s ; and, thus armed, Don Haltha/ar smote one hand 
 with the other. ; ,nd exclaimed e\ultingly, 
 
 flor Don Philij., I have th.-e at t-xtn-mitv. Thou 
 Mii^t me now." 
 
 11 . .. - ; he two >..ldiers. II, called up .Juan ( )rti/. I h 
 
 interpreter, to a private ooofereiioe. II. had aeoured the agency 
 
 ofthlfl simple fellow, wlio \\a- naturally hostile to the pom.j . 
 knii.dit.jis the latter had so often superseded him in that emplov 
 in- lit. trom which he derived BO much, .f his importance with the 
 :iri!l llaltlu/ar had tutored Orti/ alreadv tohispurpo 
 
 while perMiadini: the interpreter thai they were entirely hi, awn. 
 
 tin evidence to give in reaped t th fD,.:, 
 
 Philip --f,r this was th fam which Don B.iltha/ar 
 
 preparing to bring our knight of PortH-jal. For some 
 
 he had l)een e..neoctin.r hi, 
 
 p-cai apider, lurkinu un>een in 
 
 forth his numrn.us silent. iike line 
 
 19 
 
184 VA5CON8KLOS. 
 
 to be wrought by patient malice into meshes, so strong as to 
 bind utterly the unwary victim. His meshes were now complete, 
 Phe victim was in the toils, and he had now only to proceed to 
 destroy him at his leisure. 
 
 Furious that the Princess Cosalla should escape, he was \ < i 
 delighted that the event afforded him evidence so conclusive 
 against Vasconsel os. He prepared his despatches with all care 
 to DeSoto. He set forth the facts in the ease, and his inferences 
 He suggested the course of procedure. He knew but too w !! 
 in what way to act upon the enormous self-esteem of the Ade- 
 lantado, already sufficiently provoked with Don Philip, and by 
 what subtle artifices of suggestion to open to his eyes the m>t 
 past and various suspicions of the guilt of the man he sought to 
 destroy. Yet all this, though done boldly, was done adroitly, 
 so that DeSoto never fancied himself taught or counselled ; and, 
 acting promptly, on the very suggestions given by Don Baltha 
 zar, he yet fancied, all the while, that he was the master of hia 
 own purposes. 
 
 He sent back instant despatches in reply to those which ho 
 received. It followed that, at midnight, Philip de Vasconselo^ 
 was summoned, in most respectful terms, to the quarters of I ><>n 
 Balthazar. 
 
 He prepared at once to "hey. .Juan, the page, would have 
 followed him; but the summons of the Don had entreated him 
 to a secret conference, and Philip gave the boy in charge of his 
 lodge, and commanded him to remain where he was. awaiting 
 \<\^ return. The quarters of Don Haltha/ar might have been 
 fcalf a mile from those of Philip; but the latter took horse to 
 compass the interval. He went in armor also. Such was the 
 practice; and, in seasons of excitement, and with doubtful friends 
 around them, such was the proper policy. But Philip was n-t 
 at his ea<e. His instincts taught him to dread treachery. He 
 knew Don Baltlw/ar too well to put faith in his smooth fcooenta, 
 He knew that the hitter mu^t. hate, and would strive to destroy 
 him. Juan, the paif. had like instincts and an even better 
 knowledge of the man than had his master. He plucked the 
 
 knight 1>\ his sleeve, and whispered 
 
 li.-ware. Sefior: thi-i summons this man " 
 
 Philip laid hi- hand gmtly on the boy s mouth, and said, also ii- 
 a whisper 
 
 "The. good knight must In-, bold. .Juan, and beinti so. must al- 
 
 bewan- that h<- is not ti>n bold. But to caution him at one 
 
 hour of a daniT T which he mint confront, by force of duty, at 
 
 all hours, is surely an < >n. Hear me, boy : do thou 
 
 beware that thou neglectest not the duty which I now assign thee. 
 
PARTING OF KNICH l AM> PAGE. 436 
 
 I h-ive. fur a loner while, meditated f,, <ri\v thee a solemn charge, 
 in anticipation of this danger of death whieh wa Ide by 
 
 with the -oldier. There an- three letters, sealed with my 
 signet, ami folded in silk, which you will timl in the little lea 
 thern ca-e with which I travel. When I have left th. 
 
 h them from thi- case, and take tliem into thy own k< 
 They are addivs-ed. one of th.-m. to my mother, in Portugal : 
 another to my brother Andre-; and a thin! to a 1 ad v "of the 
 island of Cuba. who-e name but thoii wilt read it on tin? 
 mi--ive. The.-e thou .shalt. it tliou survived me. in jrnod faith 
 deliver. All other paper- in the case -halt thou thi- 
 soon as 1 have left th.v. and thou fmd st tl, 
 to me. boy. on the I Inly ( Voss. that thou wilt do these 
 -which I have bid.! 
 
 knight held up the cross hi Itrd > word as he spoke, and the 
 Aith a convulsive emotion, seized and kissed it. Tlu-n, \vith 
 
 i 
 "<)h! Sefior Don Philip, suffer that I follow thoe now that 
 
 ith thee to thix meeting with thy en. : 
 
 " Not M : but I will send thee word how and when to follow, 
 should I not return In-fore noon to-morrow. For this ni< ht bov 
 
 1 I HI v 
 
 farewell!" 
 
 And he laid his hand poiitly on Juan s shoulder, and turned 
 otV a moment after. But the boy caught the hand <juicklv in 
 
 d it fervently in both of his own. then re 
 
 it. and turned away. The knight looked at the Moor with ai- 
 moxt loving eyes. 
 
 be murmured to him-elf " verily, thi> boy hath a 
 
 heart and soul, and he i- \vr\ l.-vin^": and with Mich a 
 
 <l pth Mom witnessed a 1 I. \Vh. re 
 
 . and drink- in BO mu.-h. it is rarely 
 
 1 tbr I.mjr life. Life lingers only with the hard, and the 
 
 ooM, and thoee Wl o| M , m ieal with the affections. Th 
 
 toad, it is sai-1. remaineth- it eamiot be -aid that he liveth for 
 a full thou-and year-. ].. ked up in itoi 
 
 Thus BmaiDg, die knight l.-ft the lodoe, and joiaed the y ovag 
 oant who brought the from Don Balthaar, and 
 
 who awaited him at the entran.-.-. Th,-y mounted hop-, ii.-tantlv, 
 ;ll;ii W : - the viilaL e ; i ut BCaroelj had !!, 
 
 narrow , 11M ,i hi mself surrounded by a 
 
 : two ,,f hor-e. (Votnth f \\horn advaneed a Cap 
 
 tain, who said, in -!. m 
 
 "Seflor Don Philif. d- !os, some time of Klva- ir. 
 
 Portugal, and now in th.- -ervi.v uf His Most Catholic Ma 
 
486 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 the King of Spain, &c., I arrest thee, by orders of hi s Excel 
 lency, Don Hernando de Soto, Governor of Cuba, ami Adelan- 
 tado of Florida, under a charge of High Treason. Yield thy 
 sword!" 
 
 " Treason !" exclaimed Don Philip indignantly. u Treason ! 
 Where is my accuser ?" 
 
 " Thou shult see and hear all in due season! At present. 1 
 am commanded to bring thee. without speech with any one. t< 
 the presence of the Adelantado." 
 
 Resistance, even if Don Philip had been deposed t 
 any would have been perfectly idle. lie submitted with quiet 
 dignity. 
 
 " Be it so !" he answered, quietly yielding his sword "con 
 duct me to the Adelantado." 
 
 The party set off that very instant. The knight of Portmral 
 did not once see Don Balthazar until they met in the pr 
 of De Soto. The wily spider had only waited to Bee Vaseon- 
 selos fairly in the clutches of the party placed in waiting for his 
 arn-t. when he set otV, with another party of horse, bringing up 
 th. ivar, and watchful that the captive should find no means of 
 escape. 
 
 It was nearly noon of the next day when they reached tlie 
 army. It was encamped on a pleasant plain, overshadowed 
 every where with great trees of the fore<t. I >e Soto. with pride 
 ami passion equally roused, was impatiently waiting for the 
 arrival of the offender. No delay was allowed him ; and the pre 
 paration for his trial had been made before he came. A rude 
 scaffolding, upon which the chair of state had been plaeed in 
 readiness, had been raised for the Adelantado. His chief knights 
 were grouped immediately around him. The troops, horse- and 
 foot, including the parties just arrived, all under arms, wen- 
 dispersed so as to form a half-circle about the f/^/.v. in which 
 every thing could be heard and seen by the meaiie-t soldier. 
 There they stood" in grim array, with burni-hed weapon*, in 
 mail and escaupil, banner and banneret flying, ami the gorj 
 flag of Spain floating in the mid-4. De Soto \va^ not the : 
 to omit any of the blazonry and pageantry, the Mate and cere 
 monial, which belonged to his auth< rity. Seated in his chair of 
 state, surrounded by his knights, he ordered that the prisoner 
 should be brought before him. 
 
 Philip de Vasciu>i-!.<. conducted by his fjuards into the circle, 
 abated nothing of his di^m tv or noble firmnes<. as he MO. M! be 
 fore the presence in whiHi he could see none but enemies. He 
 looked around for the few persons whose sympathies and sup 
 
TREASON. 487 
 
 be might h;i\v hoped for, had they been at -hand. Wh.-n- 
 was Nuno de Tobar at that moment ? Where was his brother, 
 Andres? In their absence, he readily divined that no prec.-iu- 
 ii.id been omitted by his enemies, for effecting their object. 
 He -aw that his doom was writtm. 
 
 This conviction, which throw him so completely upon Go 
 
 D -ml. raised him. with a strength of will and character, to 
 faff thr event, whatever it might be. 
 
 - 1 am here, under bonds, as a criminal, Don Reman de 
 
 -poke Philip, in clear, manly tones, his eye fixed brightly 
 
 the \\hilc upon the face of the Adefantado : " 1 demand to know 
 
 of what I am accused, and that my accuser shall be set before 
 
 Thou shalt have thy wish, Philip de Vasconselos. The 
 charge against thee is that of hign treason to His Catholic Majesty, 
 with whom thou has^ taken service." 
 
 - 1 brand the charge with falsehood. I am no traitor." 
 "That shall we see. Thou shalt behold and see thy accuser-. 
 
 and the witnc < - -hall be brought before thee, who shall prove 
 thy oiler: 
 
 Vasconselos folded his arms patiently, and looked coldly 
 around the assembly, while Human de Soto, who did not 
 think amiss of his own eloquence, de-canted in a sort of gen. ra! 
 i upon the atlair- and necessities of the army; the duties 
 of a good knight, and faithful subject; the high trusts and con 
 lidenee which had been L iven to tin- knight of Portugal, and the 
 imperative neces-itv f. r condign puni-hmciit. wherever trusts had 
 be-n forfeited, and the tru-ted person had -hown himself unfaith 
 ful. Philip smiled scornfully, in a bitter mood, as he listened to 
 certain portions of <; . ; and the cheek- of De Sot 
 
 (lelled as he Ho 1 Nfoll. H llCOSTTlOt 
 
 though not sufficiently, when he reflected upon the no* 
 -liL r ht to which the knight of Portugal had been subjected from 
 .ml how small had been the tru-t and favor shown 
 him. 
 
 Hi- A-er, he pro-eeded to hi -ions under it. 
 
 "Thou art charged. Philip de VttOOOMloC, by the noble 
 :tha/ar de with having betrayed to the 
 
 Princess of ( ofachiqui the secret councils of the ton! 
 wh.-n thou .er, anil when it w 
 
 that thf safety of the army rejuin-d that 
 pei-son inf- -to.lv. It i- alle-:,..! that thou diiNt 
 
 that c..nferen.-f to the Princess, in unl.-r to persuade her 
 cape from our hands," 
 
438 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " It is true, that I did so endeavor to persuade the Princess 
 Co$alla to escape, and in this was I faithful to my oath of chival 
 ry. I were no true knight to have kept silence, when so gr>^ a 
 wrong was meditated against that gentle and lovely young Prin 
 cess. But the council knew my sentiments in reference to that 
 measure. I did not conceal what I thought, that it v, 
 ness which would forever dishonor the Spanish name." 
 
 " That gave thee no right to betray the councils to which th<>u 
 wert admitted on the implied condition of thy secrecy. Thv 
 faith was pledged to us; and the crime, if crime there were, f-il 
 upon our heads, not thine. Then lust admitted the charge, which 
 ire should else establish against tbee by no le>s than three repu 
 table witnesses.* 
 
 " It is admitted," said the knight. 
 
 " It is next charged that thou didst recently set upon the two 
 soldiers appointed for the safe keeping of the princess, didst as 
 sault them with naked weapons. did>t wound one of them, and 
 put in mortal fear the other, and didst succeed in wresting this 
 princess from their keeping, so that ^he has made full escape fi-.m 
 our care and custody, thus depriving this army of all the benefits 
 which grew naturally out of our charge of her person. 
 
 "I found the two ruffianly soldiers to whom the princess had 
 been confided, setting upon her with brutal violence and foul pur 
 pose, and as true knight and gentleman. I did so rescue her from 
 their keeping. I had no purpose in this, but the safety and inno 
 cence of the noble woman." 
 
 The two soldiers were brought forward, and loudly protested 
 their innocence, making affirmation on the Holy Evangel. 
 
 "Thou hear stl" said De Soto. 
 
 " I hear, Seftor. Is it to be allowed to these wretches, thus 
 charged with a heinous crime, to acquit themselves by their own 
 asseverations ?" 
 
 "It is thy oftence, Seftor, and not theirs, which is now before 
 this tribunal." Such was the interposition of Don Baltha/ar. 
 
 "And it is in answer to the charge against me, that I do accuse 
 these ruffians and acquit myself." 
 
 "Were such privilege awarded to the criminal, there would 
 be no witness to be f >und innocent," replied De Solo. "Thou 
 dost not deny the rescue of the princess from her keepers?" 
 
 " I glory in the act too greatly to deny it," was th* answer. 
 " I am proud of the noble service." 
 
 " Ha ! We shall see how far thy exultation in the deed will 
 suffice to acquit thee of its penalties ! Hear further: 
 
 ** It is charged that thou hast been a wooer to this princess for 
 
FHB LION H : 439 
 
 her love ; that the accord 
 
 ing to the fa-hion ain)!;_ 
 
 spite of all i hri- i.ti. rites; ind thai -In- hath r 
 
 and thou ha--- accepted th the whole empire of ti, 
 
 lachian, which thou mean st to hold adverseU t;i tin- crown of 
 
 Spain, to \shich thy sworn faith i 
 
 "The charge i- M.) leaa false than foolish !" 
 
 "There shall be proof to confound th 
 
 i; i> alleged and this shall be j.ro\vd hy.luai. 
 that on a certain OOOaakm, when at Cofachi.mi, thou 
 upon as an Interpreter to demand of th that her ; 
 
 he rcimircd t.) bring in supplies of rnai/e and beans; that thmi 
 didst counsel her no/ to comply with our demand- ; and didvt 
 tell her that, by this mean-, -he OOttkl BtBTVC IM 
 try, or so enfeeble us that the very children .f the 
 should thru be the Mia-tel s over us in flL r ht." 
 
 "The charge i- wholly false! By whom eoiild Mich eh.r 
 made, seeing that no one of the army but myself mid. 
 the language of the people? Who. th.-n. e,,uld 
 -[token b. -tweeii the primvs> and m\ -. 
 
 "That will not avail thee, ! Our Interpreter, .luaii Orti/. 
 a keen ear and ijui.-k comprehension; and so far hath 
 of this language, that he hath been enabled [<> f .i;,,w th 
 scan thy proceedings, and detect thy treacheries. lie . 
 boldly that such was thy speech to the pri: 
 
 " He hath mi-under>t4)od me." ivplii-d the knight of P 
 u fnm a too imfierfcet kn-wle.li:e of wliat i. 
 truth, was S p..k. n. was to the enVt th.r 
 
 a people to be Carved out, be- ause of the refu-al .f ih.- r. .1 m.-n 
 to bring in their supplies f,r such ha<l been the nature of the 
 
 h and that they \vi; 
 found, and. WOul - itK-r then 
 
 t\ey fed upon the children of th.- tribe. I was only too faithful 
 t * the Spaniards when I -poke to the princ. 
 
 4 Ha! in painting them as heathen canni: 
 
 "It was but a threat, your Kxci-lieiiey." 
 
 "A threat] r.ut wherefore, when this ] 
 
 to thee. did-t thi ii not r.-prat h.-r 1 
 
 u Of : ; the pr.vi-i,,ns were : 
 
 u Hut We should h:i th,- prof, 
 
 of thy arjrunieiit-. S.-flor. It were a i 
 
 h-mnly. wh.-thd i!d -utl.-r the.- to depict, rv.-ri to thu 
 
 : n. th- ( MrtlM warrior 
 
 eager to feed on human hY-h." 
 
440 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 " If your Excellency is pleased to speak of this bold threat 
 with so much solemnity, I can make no answer to thee." 
 
 " Ay, thou need st not ! Thou hast made answer suffieient for 
 thy ruin. Thou hast thyself admitted the charges which would 
 condemn thee; and if thou did it not. here are the witnesses who 
 should prove thy treacherv. Hast thou any who can sav aught 
 in thy defence T 
 
 "None. Seftor ; since I see that the tew gentlemen who have 
 best knowledge of my nature and performances, are not in this 
 assembly; it will be for those to answer to their eou-eietices, 
 by whom they have been sent away at this juncture." 
 
 "Docs the Knight of Portugal impute to me a wrong ? tor it 
 was I by whom they were sent away, and by the Holy Cross, 
 I swear that when they were thus sent away. 1 had no thought 
 that thou, or any other, should be arraigned for trial, on these, 
 or any other charg. 
 
 "Your Excellency is, no doubt, free of offence in this matter, 
 but there is one person, at least, for whom truth could never <ay 
 so much, and who hath wrought this scheme for my ruin. There 
 is one proof that I might offer one witness " and he paused. 
 De Soto quickly said 
 
 "Speak, Sefior, and he shall be brought. I will gladly accord 
 them all chance of speech and hearing." 
 
 "Nay, Seflor, I know not that it will need or avail. It was "f 
 my page, the boy Juan, that I had thought. He knows 1- 
 my acts and motives. Besides, he hath gathered even more of 
 this language of the Apalachian, than this man* Ortix, could pos 
 sibly have done." 
 
 "The boy is a -lave, your Excellency a wretched Moor," inter- 
 posed Don Balthazar; "he can give no evidence in a case a Meet 
 ing both Christian knights and Castilian gentlemen." 
 
 "But I would, nevertheless, have had him here, Seflor Dor 
 Baltha/ar," answered De Soto, with some asperity in his accents. 
 " Why was he not brought?" 
 
 " It was not known, your Excellency, that his presence would 
 be required as a witness, or for any other purpose. Th- S-n<>r 
 Don Philip did not signify any win upon the MT 
 
 "And how should 1 have done go, yur Exeeli- weivd 
 
 Philip, with a scornful look at Don Baltha/ar, though addre-sing 
 ^o, "when I was not suffered t suspect the strait in which 
 I stood when I was beguiled from my lodgings, upon false pre 
 tences of kindmss and counsel, and sei/ed without warning or 
 summons, by a troop of cavalry at midnight? I saw not the 
 boy after my arrest, and until the moment when I met with him 
 
CHALLKNGK TO SINGLE COMBAT. 441 
 
 hero, Don Balthazar de Alvaro did not permit that I should 
 
 him " 
 
 - I trust, Seftor," said De Soto to Don Balthazar, " that th<u 
 hast not proceeded in any way in this matter unbecoming a true 
 knight." 
 
 sere sorry policy, your Excellency," was the cool : 
 
 warning to the traitor of your purpose to tit- his h . 
 till th- cord i- * 
 
 -Su: is" no hardship in such proceeding. The -us. 
 
 is not to be suffered chance- of r-cape ; but when 
 the knight of . . was in thy hands. th<>u >hould.-t have 
 
 1 he lacked mi proper 
 
 :Mi buy could BeTVC thee. S,-ft..r. for hi- 
 wi-i-_ ht :r_ r ai::-t th- 1" tf-r tc-tinior,. 
 tian \vitn.- 
 
 ! I kii -w not that li- could -ay any thiniT. yi.iir i 
 Icii -y. in my In-half. He could -on ite lii- own igno- 
 
 ry on th- part <f Philip dr 
 
 .-.lit kiii jht or ^rntlcinan. 1 have \\<> \vitn-ss s but 
 (I ; :,nd th- b Xtviour. T them I make appeal against 
 
 mv et.emv. lint I claim the p: mbat, \ 
 
 In iey. wii h m; :- my guilt or my inno- -t "ii the 
 
 i>vii .-Mnbut. I throw down my gauntlet in mortal 
 
 and eha! he fudd <>f battlr. hi- linst 
 
 mini-, with lain 1 .- or <w<rd. and battle-a\e ;t nd !. with 
 
 an\ n that ), plea-c-. the foul. ba<e. di-lv 
 
 and ju-rjun-d knight. D"ii Laltha/ar <! Alva: 
 don .iirhl. by : 
 
 witiii-H<r>!. to do m- to death, and to stain with 
 that has alway- hitherto b,-en pure and without dishonor, 1 
 
 deny m my 
 
 truth :iee.,r.linu to the law- . farms. I claim tin- \va-_ r --r 
 
 I! .,nd firmly a- . . and throwing 
 
 d i\v!i h: otto voce, 
 
 but still . 
 
 d 
 
 " I/:- ;-. if thou would-t not be known for the dastard, 
 
 as I know th.-.- tbr the villain and the kna\ 
 
CHAPTER XL. 
 
 t " Take this life, 
 
 And cancel these cold bonds. 
 
 CTMBKIJM. 
 
 THERE was a marked and lively sensation throughout the 
 Assembly. The ravage and mercenary soldiers of that <lav w. .-re 
 not wholly insensible to the courage of a truly noble soul, and. 
 little loving, as they were, of the foreigners who had mortified 
 their pride, on such frequent occasions, the Castilians were com 
 pelled to acknowledge how admirable, calm, fearless and chival 
 rous was the whole bearing of Philip de Vasconselos. 
 
 But Don Balthazar did not lift the glove. There might have 
 been seen a red suffusion coloring suddenly his swart hv check* 
 as he heard the epithets applied by the knight of Portugal ; but, 
 otherwise, he was apparently unmoved. He answered with a 
 cool and quiet indifference, which betrayed the long and hard 
 training of his political life. 
 
 " Nay, Seftor, thy glove is no longer such as an honorable 
 knight and gentleman may lift without stain upon his fingers. 
 Thou hast not the right to claim the ordeal of battle. This would 
 be thy right were I the accuser, and the only witness against thee ! 
 Then mightst thou claim to put thy \)ody as thy word against 
 mine, and cry upon God to defend the right! But such is not 
 now the case. Thy crimes, partially confessed by thyself, arc 
 al>o proven by sundry Christian witnesses, sworn on Holy 
 Kvangel. I claim the judgment, your Excellency. " turning 
 to De Soto, "upon the arch traitor, Philip dc Va<-<msclo-. who 
 hath betrayed the counsels and the trusts . ,f UN Most Catholic 
 Majesty, given him in keeping, and hath meditated and devN.-d 
 still further treasons, as hath been shown by sworn witne- 
 I claim the judgment upon the said traitor, and that he be done 
 to death without delay !" 
 
 Thciv \\;is a momentary start. a slight recoil on the part of 
 Vasconselos, as he heard the words. It is barely possible that he 
 had not apprehended that the malice of his enemies would attain 
 to this extremity ; but, if his emotion expressed surprise, it wa-j 
 without fear. He looked on and listened, without other show of 
 motion. 
 
 (441) 
 
CHIVALROUS KE.SIG NATION 443 
 
 "What hast th.m to -ay. Philip de Ya-eon-clos, against thb 
 plea torj .idgm.-nt . " i the Addantado. 
 
 "What should 1 >a\ -. S, -nor . what could I say. that would 
 
 avail for my >at .-t\ . To endeavor to sj.rak at all to seem tc 
 
 indeed, anv thing from iny speech, or any speech, in tin: 
 
 juncture of affairs,- would only .-how me as ignorant of the ma 
 
 ire of t!i.- virtues which are alway> hate 
 
 fill in their sight ! I wouhl i; weak and fooli-h even ii 
 
 the eye- that hold. < -r pretend to hold me. dishonored ! 1 have 
 no more to >ay. 1 am in the power of mine enemies. 1 .-hal 
 only >peak to <;,.d \" 
 
 Y"ii are in my power. Philip de Vasconselos." 
 
 "And you, Softer," replied the other boldly, "a-sured a< ym 
 
 deem your>elf of the powers which control your will and pas 
 
 sions, are vet >ervini:the pas-ions of others passions which make 
 
 ;,-ful!v inine enemy, as it thy deliberate will and thy 
 
 own bitter prejudices and dislike had made thee so. The powei 
 
 that is passionate and proud, and the pride that is prejudiced 
 
 are thus -ver tin- instrument- of injustice, and the blind crea 
 
 . and subtler criminal. The cunning art: 
 
 which, taking advantage of thy j-a-.-ionate mo^is ha\ e madi 
 
 .dly and even har-hly upon me from the 
 
 nini:. ha\e n.-t been un-crji by mi-. tli> .:i:h unsuspected by 
 Th -v have triumj hed. in this present consummation 
 .ver mv life and hon >r, as they have triumphed over thy mag 
 nanimity and prudence. 1 can in noway oppose them. No word: 
 
 of mine can now enlighten thee< Then must work thy will. 
 
 of what is justice. 1 yield to the tatc to which 1 
 can oppo-- neither argument nor valor. P.ut, if 1 peri-h b\ thy 
 that foul and Mibtlekna.v ami slander 
 er, who has woven around me tli< and me-h -j. I perish 
 without shame or dishonor. Nor do I perish without i 
 
 . in tlie la-t w-.rds which 1 address to th\ ears, Il-Tiian 
 . 1 cite thee for jinlgment with n. 
 
 of .Indue-, wh- in r ID mi-lead. \\hm no ju-idf. or pas- 
 
 sion. or prejudice can turn from j.aths of ju-tice ! Thou shall 
 
 I - tribunal! There -halt thu behold that 
 
 traitor confounded eternally, \\lio now -it>. -m>oth and smiling, 
 Mid cunning, exulting in thebf fa triumph 
 
 and who could, thi 
 
 well know<. -peak of him such UiiriLT- as should make the foulest 
 heart in this a ernblv turn from him with horrid shudd, 
 
 .-loathing. I shall say no more, Do with me aa thou wilt" 
 The patient --ubmi -ion \\hirh f calmly to iu 
 
444 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 evitable fate, always wears an aspect of great nobleness. When 
 
 Philip de Vasconselos was led from the presence of the assembly- , 
 
 - followed, on all sides, by glances of silent admiration and 
 
 a compelled respect. He was withdrawn, by the guards, while 
 
 the Adelantado and his council sate in private judgment on his 
 
 fate. Long was the conference that followed. fon Baltha/ar 
 
 -trcnuously urged the doom of death. Hut De Soto, filled with 
 
 chivalrous notions, was not prepared to yield to the malignant 
 
 tion. It is possible that lie somewhat susju-cted that there 
 
 ome truth in the charge of malignitv and slander whirh 
 
 Philip had brought against Don Balthazar. lie had long l>een 
 
 aware of the dislike which they mutually felt tbr each other. He 
 
 said to the latter 
 
 "Verily, Don Balthazar, this knight of Portugal hath bitter 
 thoughts of thee." 
 
 - When had the criminal other thoughts of him who declares 
 his crime ?" 
 
 "But I somewhat fear that thou hast pushed this matter to the 
 uttermost." 
 
 "Grant it be so, Seflor ; there is enough, besides, in the con- 
 n which he made to suffice for his conviction." 
 
 "True! True! He hath confessed to the betrayal of our 
 purpose to the princes*, and to the charge of assault upon our 
 officers, and her rescue." 
 
 "These are crimes worthy of deal, i ! This i> treason ! What 
 had Cortez or Pi/arro done to the knight, or knights. v\ ho had 
 iv>cued Monte/tuna and the Inca from their guards, and M-t 
 tin in free to work the ruin of the army and the enterprfc 
 
 "They had been made to fa>te of the sharp ed^e of the axe ! 
 But. 1 will r.ot slay this knight of Portugal ! He hath done u- 
 good service, and there is some ivbuke of conscience that 1 feel, 
 for his too much neglect, and tor the cold a>peet which I ha\e 
 shown him. Besides, I owe him a life. But for his BUCCOr I 
 had probably perished under the savage a>-ault of the fierce Flo 
 ridian. Vitachuco. I cannot forget these lhi;i"s. I will not take 
 the, life of this man !" 
 
 "What ! Wilt thou forgive Hi-h treachery / \\ ilt thou .-uil .-r 
 this traitor still to harbor with thee and devise new li 
 
 "No! the army shall be purged of him ! nor >ha!l he escape 
 without due pnni>hmcnt. He i, proud ! !! is a belted knight, 
 and hath won his spurs in ( hri-fendom I will degrade him. 
 according to the proper laws of chivalry, which he holds in MI.-!I 
 veneration! His shield shall be reverted; his scul< lu on shall 
 ; his armor shall be taken from his breast, and 
 
THE DnM uF TKl:l:uK. 446 
 
 be battered into shapeles-m-- ; hi- >\v..r-l -hail ! broken b ! 
 his ey.s; his helmet shall be fouled in the moTSM j and. with 
 n>ju> about his neck. his spurs >hall In- hewn from his lu-.-K by 
 tin- a\c of the common executioner! Then >hall he ! di;. 
 with blow and bullet from the army, ami, lied to he 
 
 forat, h shall be leti to the merciesofth- "t 1 Aj-a- 
 
 hu-hia. to whom he hath sliown Midi lav.-r. Doubtlei 
 
 will remember the service, an.l take him hit ikeltoring 
 
 SofeO liavini: deelared his purpose, tliere was no further ar 
 ment. l)j;i i)altha/ar, liowevi-r, though confounded for a mo 
 
 at the novel terrors of the propose*! puni -hmeiit, woiil-1 
 
 Vl . t ; re. 1 the >liarp and summary judgment of 
 
 lVa-1 men tell im ta!e>" and so l<>)!L r BS Philip de 
 
 Ollg did he feel for the 
 
 satetv of hi- terrible WOret, lie did not appreciate the hurts .f 
 honor s<. liighly M I >* Soto. 
 
 iiii-jht Of Portugal was oner more brought before til 
 elantado. From th-- lips of his haughty judge In- lizard the doom 
 . even as v. v li a:~d it. Then 
 
 1 ^n>w pah-; th-n di.l his lips |uiver; 
 
 was his s..ui thrown i>aek up- ii itself, witli-^i lu-in^ able 
 to find support! H".ir-e!y. with a cry almost, as he heard the 
 jinl_rment. he imp!)rel for a change of doom ! 
 
 - Death! Death, ra-h-r than sudi doom a< this / wa- t!ie 
 pa^ h iiati- cut i 
 
 And shuddering, he knelt the proud man knelt humbling 
 himself before man bcf>iv the man who had already wr 
 him. --\\lio wronged him still; -but in \\hose power 
 ;:nd \\ho. alone, ill that world of wildern- - 
 
 him! In our day, we -houhl fail ji:~ 
 
 ,f the d<M!i pronoun.-ed :poii 
 
 Portugal. The fantastic chiva ; .l a reli- 
 
 . 
 
 ^itado. was th.- the whol ..... 
 
 hated the n-im. for. 
 
 n (-f all former deeds of va .o; ! i 
 . . and of all the hop-, and i 
 
 :ieath it ! II 
 kn.M^ -he humbled Mmsetf M i en, he : 
 
 ,i\,- - : ; : " lull hi- ! 
 
 i K. >N . t . ,! !/,. . -denied \\ith wrorJi 
 | 1 ; . :ent,rwol\ ! -trong to endin>. 
 
446 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 cause of that denial, ami tho.se words and looks of scorn! He 
 arose, erect, and looked coldly on his judges. But there was a 
 
 terrible glare from his eyes, which made all other eyes look aside ! 
 His lips were now compressed, but big drops of blood could be 
 seen slowly lo oo/e from between them, and to form themselves 
 in heads upon his heard. lie stood, and for a few moments 
 there was a deep pause in the assembly. Then, at a signal from 
 DeSotO, the executioner came forward with his assistants. Thev 
 passed a halter about his neck. He offered no resistance. He 
 did not even turn his glances upon them, when they laid hands 
 upon his shoulder. But as they led him out, he looked steadily 
 at I)e Soto, and said solemnly : 
 
 "ADios!" 
 
 The words were not spoken by way of farewell. They were 
 in the nature of a citation ; and so De Soto understood them ; 
 and a sudden paleness, the shadow of a presentiment, overspread 
 his face. But the emotion passed from his soul. The drums and 
 trumpets sounded. The assembly was broken up, and the army, 
 forming a grand procession, was marched at once to the place of 
 execution. 
 
 And there, the central object of that great array, stern, lofty, 
 helpless, but resigned, stood the noble victim resolute to sub 
 mit, but not wholly able to conceal the terrible emotions which 
 racked his soul ! There, bound by the degrading halter to the tree, 
 by the hands of the common executioner, he was subjected to all 
 the details of the cruel and malignant judgment, as we have re 
 ported them. His sword was broken, his shield reversed, it.s 
 blazonry obliterated, before his e\ M ! The armor was torn from 
 hi- per-on, and battered with blows of a club; his helmet was 
 hurled into a neighboring morass. And he saw and was silent, 
 looking the while steadily upon the Adelantado with eyes of 
 a deep mysterious solemnity, that spoke for dread and terrible 
 thoughts, as well as suHcrings ! 
 
 But when the executioner approached with his axe when the 
 prisoner wa-= mad.- to lift his feet and place them upon the block, 
 and when, one by one. the golden spurs of knighthood were hewn 
 from his heels h\ repeated blows, then broke the groan of a^ iiv 
 from his overcharged bosom, and he threw out his powerful arms 
 and grasped the stalwart executioner, e\en as he had been ;:ii 
 infant in hi- grasp, and hurled him awa\ . staggering, while a ho\\ I. 
 rather than a crv. following the <;roan. seemed sent up to heaven 
 by way of reproaeh. for that it looked on. and beheld this ter 
 rible injustice, while the great eye of the ^\m peered down from 
 the noon -duy skies, as bright and serein; ;is if all below was 
 
PHI LI I LKKT TU HIS FATE. 447 
 
 oecoming in heaven s eye as it was beautiful to that of man! 
 Vasconsclos hurled away the executioner, but not before his task 
 was done! The spurs had been smitten ofl* clean at the heel, 
 and the work of degradation was complete. His violence was 
 the >udden impulse of an accumulated despair, which \vu> no 
 loiiirer suppressible. 
 
 AL moment after this one denmnsti Viin of agony and vio 
 
 lence, and the knight of Portugal remained passive. Still fettered 
 
 by the cord of the hangman, and, by the neck, to a sapling of the 
 
 . he looked on the rest of the proceedings with a strange, 
 
 but not unnatural calm. 
 
 Then De Soto made a speech to his army, the substance of 
 which we may conjecture. The bugles sounded ; the eavalrv 
 wheeled into compact squadrons, the infantry shouldered arms. 
 and, to the sound of triumphant imi>ic, the whole army marched 
 from the ground. Fettered to the tree, with only a sullicieiit 
 length of rope to enable him to sink down at its foot, Philip de 
 Vasconselos was left alone, in the centre of th;;t now dreary 
 forest 
 
 The army was under marching orders. Preparations for the 
 renewal of its progress had been made before the trial, and that 
 act consummated, the li-gions of De Soto departed the spot to 
 see it no more! Philip was left to his faU the fangs of the 
 wolf, the soalpir.g-knife of the savage, or the crueller death, l>v 
 remorseless hunger! He could hear the distant music, gradually 
 <_ r rowing fainter: finally, the faint bugle-note advised him of the 
 movement of the rear-guard ; and soon, this too melted a\\av in 
 tiie great world of space, and he remained with silence, in the 
 lepths of the Apalachian snlitud. 
 
CHAPTER XLL 
 
 " Had they known, 
 
 A woman s hand secured that deed her own. 
 The worst of crimes had left her woman till." 
 
 CORSAIK. 
 
 THE army of the Adelantado proceeded on its march along the 
 waters of the Coosaw, but Don Balthazar de Alvaro returned, with 
 his detachment of cavalry, to the village of Chiaha. To him was 
 allotted the duty of bringing up the rear-guard, with the heavy 
 baggage; and he was required to remain in Chiaha until the 
 smaller bodies which had been sent forth on exploring expedi 
 tions, under. Nuno de Tobar, Andres de Vasconselos and others, 
 should return. Chiaha was the appointed place of their rendez 
 vous. 
 
 There was an exulting spirit in the bosom of Don Balthazar, 
 as he led his troopers away from the field where he had witness- 
 ed the degradation of Philip de Vasconselos. lie had triumphed 
 over his enemy ; and there was now no danger that the knight 
 of Porting! would ever cross his path in the progress of the 
 expedition. The penalty of his return was death. Don Baltha- 
 iar would h-ive preferred that this punishment should have !>eeii 
 the one infli -t.-.l. He did not, himself, attach much importance 
 to what h- thought the fantastic notions of honor and shame, 
 which were taught by the laws of chivalry ; and, were it not that 
 the punishment of I)on Philip implied his utter banishment from 
 the armv, and his almost certain death, in the condition in which 
 he h;id been left, from the fierce flings of the wild bea^t, or the 
 reckle- arrow.; of the savage, he might have been still ill at ea<e 
 in respect to some of his securities. In truth, he -till had some 
 lurking apprehen ions that Philip de Vasoonaelofl wa> yet, in 
 s>me w:iv. his evil genius; destined yet <> re-appear, and con 
 front him with that danger which had >o long haunted his ima 
 gination! With thi i fear, it occurred to him. mop- than once, 
 ! b.i !, one >f his trooper^ to dispatch secretly the de- 
 grad.- 1 k:,i :lit ; but this \va<- pl:i<-iM^ him-elf too completely in 
 Uie power of his creature; and lie Well knew that such a fact, 
 v.. : ,le.l toDeSoto and th, army, would bi ily his own 
 
THE MELANCHOLY PAGK. 449 
 
 ruin; would confirm, to the Adelantado. the accusations made 
 by Vaaoonseflk, and would ami the few fri.-n l- itter 
 
 few, but brave and powerful \\ilh perpetual hostility an-i ren 
 ts content IP leave the doomed noble to his fate, 
 as it had been pronounced \>\ !) Soto, and ; before hi* 
 
 -uading himself that his death was inevitable, or. at all 
 
 events, that the danger from that one >ource had 1 n driven 
 
 wholly from his own path, he went on his way to Chiahii with 
 id exulting spirit. Hi- iva< hed the village late in the 
 night. There was ,till an eager mood hurrying him to other 
 performances; and when he had di-mis^ed his troops to their 
 several stations, received the report of the officer left in com 
 mand, and refreshed himself with a bottle <>f canary, he threw 
 f once more into the saddle. The soldier on duty In-fore 
 his <martcr<. asked, "Shall I mount and follow yon, - 
 " No! Keep your D08t I want nobody. 
 The expedition which now prompted the nocturnal move 
 ment-; of Don Balthazar, was of a sort to require no win 
 The areh-tiend. now working, more than ever powerful witrun his 
 soul, and stimulating a crowd >f pa-Mons int.. 
 was all-suilieient for his oorapanionship. Don Balthazar gallop 
 ed <>lF, in the direction of the cabin which had been occupied ly 
 Philip 
 
 The page, Juan, did not -l.-ep. He had fully execmed the 
 . him in charg.- by his master; had possessed himself 
 three papi-rs. aii<l destroyed th.- rc-t. This t-inp!o\nient. 
 and the contemplation of the several addiv-ses of the latter, had 
 filled the boy with the nnM melancholy moo.l. One of the let 
 ters h r ,lid little but coiitemplati . With perpetual tears in his 
 be did nothing but read <v.-r the supers.-ripti.m. T:. 
 
 in SO;TO\S .^ic apprehensions. VasoOB8elO6 did 
 
 urn by noon. Th" b..y imjuir.-d for him in vain. an.. 
 only learn that he had ridd n out with the detachment of hr->e 
 upon a secret expedition. } ,ut why had he not been permitten 
 mpany thi- expedition . The privilege had never before 
 been deni-d him. T :l!iir which trou 
 
 bled him, and he neither ate during th.- day. nor BOttghl 
 during the night. He \s fipom int* : 
 
 alk.-d. as the night advanced, in th< 
 
 : ude chamber of th.- red man, \\hi-h \v ;n 
 
 dimly lighted by the brands nf pine which hi::. ringU 
 
 . i. hearth. \Vhi!e thu- m-)-)dii\ . -.1 tlu- 
 
 galbp of a horse approaching. He trembled,* and clasped his 
 
450 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 hands ; then felt that all the letters were safe within his bosom, 
 and experienced a strange and sudden dread K>ff the knight 
 should resume the charge of them. There was one letter which 
 he would not willingly give up, the contents of which he dread 
 ed, yet desired to peruse. 
 
 "It is he it is Philip!" murmured the boy, recovering, ami 
 relieved of the apprehensions which had troubled him for tin- 
 safety of the knight. It is Philip !" and he hastily undid the 
 fastenings of the entrance. The horseman threw himself on" the 
 saddle at this moment, and hastily pushed his wav into the 
 cottage. 
 
 "Senor!"said the page, somewhat taken by surprise at the 
 manner and hurried movement, of the knight, so unlike that of 
 Vasconselos. "Sefior Philip!" he said, timidly and inquiringly. 
 
 "Not he, my good lad, but one quite as good. I fancy !" an 
 swered the stranger, grasping the boy s wrist and dragging him 
 towards the light. In the next moment, Juan identified the per 
 son of the intruder. To recoil was an involuntary act, as he 
 exclaimed 
 
 " Don Balthazar !" 
 
 " Ay, methinks, my good boy, I should be as well known to 
 thee by this time as the cavalier whom thou servest. But why 
 dost thou recoil 1 Dost thou fear mo ?" 
 
 " No, Sefior, but 
 
 It was with very great effort that the boy was enabled to say 
 these latter words, which he did with husky and tremulous ac 
 cents, the sounds dying away in his throat. 
 
 " Ay, but thou dost. Yet thou shouldst not. Henceforth, 
 thou shalt look upon me as thy best friend and protector, since 
 thy late master can take care of thee no longer." 
 
 " My late master! the Seftor Philip Don Philip de Vasconse 
 los ! Speak, Sefior, tell me what hath happened to my master? 
 Where is he? Hath he been wounded is he 
 
 " Oh ! thou hast got thy voice of a sudden. \\\\\ I am too slow 
 > eh to answer thy rapid inquiries. No more of thy late 
 master, boy! Thou art hen<vf.trth 1<> b- ///// pagr. I shall give 
 thee lodgings as near my own a> thou hast had to th -- of I >"ii 
 Philip. Thou shalt In- a sharer of my chamber, boy. as tlioii 
 hast been of his! Ay. and 1 will cardM her and ran- !<>r thee 
 quite a> tenderly. I know thy gn-at merit- as a page, and I B66 
 thy virtues beneath the unnatural Mack cnatinir \\hieh wrap them 
 up from all other eyes. His eyes never looked <>n thee more 
 tenderly than mine shall look, bov ; and thou shalt lo-e nothing 
 of pleasure and indulgence l>y the -.\rhange of out 
 
KROK OK .U AN. 451 
 
 for another. What >a\ st then ? h the thing pleasing in thv 
 
 "I know not what thou meanest ; I do not understand the.-! 
 Only trll 8 nr Philip Don Philip 
 
 i hilip l)oii Philip! nay, \\hy not aaytO MH-. a> thoii 
 -.till a thousand times to him Philip Philip 
 r. dear Philip ! U it BO, n Klack- 
 
 amo. .: it not thus tliat the dulcet accents ru:. i>: 
 
 ami pie | Anl ly what 
 
 name did our Philip requite thce. my L r <-nt!e M 
 
 Sewildeivd. It did sen his dis.piii-t ami 
 
 :.-nm-nt. that the wiiu- was t-viiK-ntly hiiii: warm work \\ith 
 tin-. lraiii of tin- |urviioiirr : luit .luan ha<l a-juiivil 
 
 itiiU-nce in army litr. and in the "laily communion with 
 
 uii-h now iviith-ri il him comparativelv cool in 
 
 mom,-nt> of difficulty, an-1 under cmharra-sin^ ivlatioi^. 11,- 
 
 ..i\ to comhat his lu-rvous fcremon and appreheo- 
 
 sions. and to an-w.T calmly. 
 
 "Tli.- S.-i-or Baltha/ar >peaks very stran^- thinirs to me, which 
 I do not understand !" 
 
 .. l.ut 1 will not leave thre in Mich bK-ssed ignorance, my 
 
 Know then that thy old master is disposed of." 
 .in! slain! Thou dost not tell i 8 n r, that : \ jna>- 
 " 
 
 I not exactly <|iiict yet. unites indeed, the red men 
 liiout him with their >tme hatehets and macanaf, or 
 -ome *!ray w..!i*. or pard, hath tollow-il a k-- 
 
 when- he lies on the tield whei e the Adelantado hath hut latelv 
 
 "SeflOT, for the love of the II. .!y Virni?!. tell me truly of my 
 
 " And ti ;;;t. now no measure, in the 
 
 jrnest pleadinus of that T,-ll in,, \shat 
 
 hath happed how hr hath l-rn eircun. . if Mill he 
 
 11 - . ha! Th ;.eak out now, in thy natural vol. 
 
 . Thou \, imoor policv ! Well ! 
 
 Thou art in growing ron.lition to h-ar the truth. Tbou shall 
 hear. Thy lord, :. hath paid thu 
 
 juMial ; , d from kniirhtho, .d, 
 
 stript - ; : and armor, his vj-. ;n -N IL-WII from hi- h. 
 
 neck hall, red to a tree, and U-ateti with Mows nf the e\eenii. !i 
 r. he is 1,-ft to ti. ri and the hatchet of the 
 
 Apalaohi 
 
 u jesu ! hav-j mr; done th! 
 
452 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 "Nay, but a little towards it. 1 Imt sped the pi-ogres* and 
 nodded to the judgment, and smiled on the execution. I put the 
 arrow on the string and found the mark. Twas DeSnto that 
 sped it from the bow !" 
 
 The boy clasped his hands wildly together. The knight begah 
 to sing a vulgar ballad tlien current in the aniiv. th. : 
 something very fearful in the strong glance which the p.-. 
 upon the face of the singer, whose every look and tone betrayed 
 the full consciousness of his triumph, "lie stooped, while. s ing- 
 ing, and threw fresh brands upon the fire, .hian suddenly darted 
 away as if to pass him; but the knight was not unobservant, 
 caught him by the arm, as he went forward, and whirled him 
 baek to the corner of the chamber beyond him. 
 
 ; No ! no! thou dost not cease to be page, bey, in the h> of 
 one master! One but makes way for another ; and 1 am instead 
 of thy Philip; with all his rights and privileges, mv sweet Moor. 
 But thou shalt lose none of thine in becoming page to me. Oh ! 
 no! thou shalt share my lodge, my couch, an thou wilt, for my 
 taste revolts not at thy du-ky visage, when the features an- so 
 fine, and the good faith of the owner so perfect. Thou art mine, 
 now, my boy !" 
 
 "Scnor! I must go and seek Don Philip !" was the calmly 
 expressed resolution of the boy. 
 
 "Thou wouldst go in vain. Thou wouldst find his bones only. 
 lie hath given rare picking to the panther." 
 
 "Sefior, 1 must go!" 
 
 " Stay where thou art !" 
 
 " If thou hast compassion in thy soul " 
 
 " Pshaw! I know not such folly." 
 
 M A- a knight, thou know st it is my duty to seek mv lord. 
 
 "Not when he is dMmnoied. boy! Henceforth,] am thy 
 knight, 1 tell thee! Thy master in whose hands thy life Lies, 
 even as an egg. which 1 can crush to atom* with a will ! What ! 
 thou pretendest that thou know st me not! Thou wouNKt not 
 admit to thyself that I know thee ! l)<>es thy imposture tickle 
 thee so much, that thou art rex,>!ute n<>! to BC6 and belu-\. 
 
 The page, indeed, had seen but, too well ! Vet he was reso 
 lute. a> Don Balthazar had -aid. hut to see! It was still possible 
 be persuaded himself that his prr>e-ntor spoke fr>m his 
 drunkenness. rather than his knowledge ; and that his secret, 
 for he had one was still unsuspected, or. at lea-t, unknown 
 He an-wered aeemdin^ly, willi ta much calmness of temper as he 
 could command. 
 
 "Sefior, I know not what thou mean s! or intend st ; but thou 
 
TLIL MASK TURN OFF. 463 
 
 surely canst not design to ki -p me from the good knight, who h;ith 
 been my kind friend and benefactor, my preserver frequently, 
 in this weary march through the country of the Apalaehian ? 
 You tell me that he is gone from me and lost to mi you tell 
 me that he hath undergone a cruel judgment, for, I know not 
 what otVcnce ; but you tell me that he still live-! I.,-: me, a< 
 iu dutv bound, go t the service of the good knight. Don Philip, 
 and Mirror him. if 1 may. and wait on him as 1 should ! I en 
 treat this of thy nobleness ami mercy, as a knight thy. self, who 
 well knowest what the dutiful page oweth to the cavalier he- 
 MTT< 
 
 The eyes of Don Baltha/ar answered the speaker with a wicked 
 
 "ThU passeth belief!" IK- exclaimed. "Well, it is a sort of 
 virtue to hold out denial to the last ; though, \\heii the mask is 
 torn from the face, it i> but a st upid sort of virtue to do so ! 
 And thon. to, who knowest mi so well, thoii. ( ) ,i\ ia de Alvaru 
 
 to dream that 1 should not know Ih-c through any di-gnise 
 What a fooli>h child thou hast hem. and art ! Hut I knew thee 
 from the fir>t day that we landed! 1 watch- d thee and thy para 
 mour in all thy progress ! Thou hast slept with him beneath 
 the same tree ; in the same shady thieket ; under the same t. 
 in the -ame hovel of the red man; and the same considerate 
 handmaiden, the night, hath drawn tin- curtains gently, to e. .n- 
 eeal the l.vin (r embraces nf the i. r a!iant I )on and his Moorish 
 
 K Mil-mouthed. as false ! It is untrue! We have slept to- 
 L ether in a thousand places, and the good knight hath watched and 
 >helt ivd m ,. as a noble gentleman, but he hath nc\er done me 
 wronir. Kvi-n now he knows me wherever he be. ami whatever 
 be his fate, only as the boy that I appear to other eves! Hut 
 I hope not to teach the truth of this to a soul -o incapable of vir 
 tue as is thine! It is enough that it is known to me. and to 
 
 the blessed ail jels, who have watch. -d 11^ from abo\ 
 
 Don lialtha/ar pa-^-d to the door, and finally fastened it 
 within. He approached the damsel. 
 
 It matter* little. Olivia, whether lie knew thee a< boy or wo 
 man. He \\ill know thee no more. Thou art henceforth mine. 
 Th"ii Mialt appear in the army a- n. . ami, child. thn 
 
 shall sleep in my tent, and under the tree with me; and the nijjht 
 shall vicld us the same friendly veil \\ hich she granted to 
 and thy cavalier. It \sa- no fault of the handmaid. I warrant, if 
 the kniglil made no !i OOVery of \: Hut I am - 
 
 than he ; and my kin>\>. er profit u- both. Nor 
 
464 VASCOJS SKLOS. 
 
 need thou put on the airs of thy Biseayan mother with me now! 
 We have no such restraints here, as restrained our raptures and 
 made us fearful in Havana. Here, there is something more than 
 freedom ! Thou know st the license of the army. Thou hast 
 seen that it could not save a princess of the people. Sup;- 
 said to the soldiers, This blackamoor page is the girl whom 
 Philip de Vasconselos entertained par amour and what will < <>! 
 low 7 I tell thee, girl, in very love of thee, they will tear one 
 another to pieces, and tear thy delicate limbs to pieces also ! A r! 
 thou wise to see this, and to understand how much better it will 
 be, still to keep thy secret, and to serve me as a page, even as 
 thou hast served this knight of Portugal ?" 
 
 For a time, a strong despair sate in the eyes of Olivia. But 
 she gathered strength and comparative composure, while he 
 was speaking, and when he was done, she said with closed lips 
 and teeth, 
 
 " I will perish first !" 
 
 " Nay, nay, thou shalt not perish! I have done too much to 
 secure thee in my keeping to lose thee now; when I have at last 
 securely won thee. I have pursued this knight of Portugal, until 
 I destroyed him, because he knew the secret of thy shame and 
 my dishonor ! He is no longer a danger to either of us. And 
 thou art won ! We are here, alone in the deep midnight.- 
 with no eye to see, no hand to rescui- thee from my iirasp. and, 
 with the treasure thus won, arid the precious beauty thus in my 
 embrace, shall I now recoil from my possessions ? shall I 
 withdraw my claim, and abandon the very bliss for which I have 
 toiled in sueh secret ways, and perilled so many open da; 
 No, my Olivia, thou art now mine, more certainly than ever. It 
 needs now no subtle opiate to subdue thy senses. It needs now 
 no future watchful anxiety, to watch the paths, ami dread ever 
 more the danger and detection ! Here, we have perfect freedom. 
 Life means privilege, to take and keep! We have no laws but 
 such as justify the passions ; and just now, th- passions are the 
 only laws that require to be obeyed. Thou art mine, -jirl. 
 mine, Olivia, and I seize thee with a rapture, which, sweet as 
 thy embrace hath been of yore, promises now a blo-ini: as li.r 
 beyond the past, as the joys of heaven are claimed to be beyud 
 t.h. .-.- ..f earth! Wilt thou be mine, and submit to he my wil 
 ling page, as thou hast been, par amnr. \\\ pageof Vasoonselos?" 
 
 Touch me not, Seflor!" she <aid M he approaehed her. 
 "Touch me not!" 
 
 "Ay, but I will touch thee, and take thee, and wind thee iu 
 my embrace, I tell thee ! " 
 
SHARP AND SUDDKN. 466 
 
 "Touch nit not!" as he continued to approach. 
 
 "Thou art mine, I tell thee !" and he laid on,- hand upon her 
 shoulder, :md tON wi-le the ft kol of .-aupil, 
 
 or cotton armor, which slie wore, until the white bo>. -m 
 from its bonds, and grew revealed t-> th sityr ! At 
 
 ttt, tiie three letters of VftBOOOae] 
 
 ;i upon the ground. 
 
 M Ha!" said he, stooping to lift them, while he still kept one 
 hand upon her shoulder " Ha ! What loTO chroniei.-s have 
 
 He was about to gather them up, when, with brok 
 
 he .Tied 
 
 -It must l>e M>] It hath been decreed ! It is a command! 
 It is from Uod himself! I must do it! Th- 
 knew it would come to this at last. I felt sure that I should 
 tO do it !" 
 
 And while speaking thus, as if to her.-eif. >he drew th-- 
 f tin- pa^e, in the knight upon th.- neck, even 
 
 :-ing. Had she been taught by anatoi-iii-al - 
 where plant the blow for immediate death, her hand 
 
 could not have been more etleetually guided than by its sudden 
 instinct. She smote but onee, and while a hu>ky and gurgling 
 sound issued, with a volume of blood. fn>m the throat of the vie 
 tim. he fell forward upon the earth, and lay motionless at hei 
 
 hastily gatlu-red up the letters which his hai 
 
 only touched -they were already spotted with his blood, thrust 
 them onee more into her buxun. Opened the door, and darted 
 from the eabin ! In a few momm;> BUM is mounted 
 
 upon her own steed and Hying flying far and ta^t. Into 
 of th* -he murmured to i. 
 
 gasping and breathing heavily " I knew it mn>t be so! I felt 
 that i had to be done! It had to be done ! it had to lie done. 1 
 Holy Vjj-gin ! It had to be done, and by my hands !" 
 
CHAPTER XL11. 
 
 " Now shall we pluck liiru from hi* wu-lched plight, 
 
 And make misfortune favor." Ou> PUT 
 
 THE army of De Soto marched down the west side of the 
 Coosa, and were soon buried deeply in the virgin wildernesses 
 of Alabama. They gave but few thoughts to the noble victim 
 whom they had dishonored and left to peri.-h in the ravening 
 solitudes of the forest. To him, the short remnant of th" day 
 
 ! in such a dreariness as may better be imagined than de- 
 scribed. Fettered rigidly to the tree, at the foot of which he was 
 barely sutl ered to repose in a hall-crouching position, Yasconsclos 
 was scarcely conscious of the hours as they glided from daylight 
 into darkness. A savage gloom covered up his soul, and shut 
 out the ordinary transitions and aspects of external life from his 
 vision. In the ease of one so noble of soul, so proud of spirit, so 
 sensitive to shame and honor, we may fancy how terribly intense 
 irere the horrors of such a doom as that which he had been made 
 to endure. We may equally understand how regardless he had 
 become in respect to the future, from his endurance of the past. 
 Th- day pa-^ed blankly, before his eyes; the stars came out, 
 looking down upon him wiih sad aspects through the overhang 
 ing boughs of the forest trees, with like blankiie-s of expression. 
 Hf herdi-d not. he did not behold the tender brightness in their 
 looks. He lay crouching, a grim savage, denied the only praver 
 which his soul could possibly put up in that dreary trial, that of 
 a manly death, through a fierce and terrible struggle with his 
 enemies. 
 
 And so, hour after hour, in a hopeless craving for freedom of 
 limb, and the exercise of a mighty muscle in the deadly strife! 
 and the hopeless craving became at length debility. Mental and 
 
 al exhaustion began to supervene. lie became conscious 
 of aspects and influences which taught to hi-- waning faculties the 
 fear of approaching madne--. Be WM OOnQQIOtU of an incerti 
 tude of thought and sen-e, which wa ; the mo:,t oppn-s-ive of all 
 the painful feelings which he now endured. He fell that his 
 _- him. i>r becoming BO diseasedly acute as lu 
 confound hi ;. He fe!. that he could no longer bring 
 
 tun 
 
THE vri/lTKK. 457 
 
 to bear upon his facultiei th- -lling will and a 
 
 sober mind. Strung- hn- r flashing 
 
 oanda, and mi rouses, \\-n,- 
 
 i it \\viv. tin- tuiirhrf 
 
 >.f tlaiiu- that wnv put out lie rials >! In* 
 
 . thrilling tin-in with riirioiisU painfn 
 at alu-niuU lv. It was not the Stan tliat In- saw. t>ir 
 tnrs that swept down to him fr<>m alo\v. \\hrrlm_: al-out liiiu in 
 I pausing in U look l\vu into liis own. 
 
 In th, iui l-t r ih -- . wlii.-h wrrr t h<>sr of the mind 
 
 than th- eye, lii- j.h\->i.-ai - 
 
 >ci.iis of tho flight ot sonic L r i\ at l.inl who-,- \\-\\ .inl. a- 
 
 ihi-v wh.- 1--1 at.Dut him in slow <:yration<. L r ralna!ly (a-inL . as 
 the heavy frame settled down upon tin- Lni^li of the tre* 
 
 ovrr him, \\ln-inv h- li-:ii ! tin- ^n-at wings flapping, 
 MIOII fn!l..wrd ! \ a ( i. ivii>- -*T ( am. \\ i. 
 
 IO8 <>f r.\u!!atin that "f tho vuStnn- alrra-ly in 
 \ . with a natural instinct, tin- knight 
 ihivw up I : his hiiml frd 
 
 rnn raiit. li< a mo- 
 
 im-n tai-v Cl . ilrrtvd HJHIII liu- 
 
 (,,,,,,- no t luiiii ID l-i- delayed when th- \\ 
 upon his lii-art. and whrii In- >lniill i: 
 
 linst his i.!< ,,d-s,Tkinir --:ik. lnt tin- li 1 . 
 th.niL h !o r.M-.,i| t ih- liim to a jnlal>iliiy. If 
 
 terrible, \vhi<-h i--d him release -from the rnortifying 
 
 moi-al liiin \\hu-h his lit . 
 
 :. iiiu-. lisi 1 humiliation of hu situation. 
 
 WDeaa, th-Mi^h Init tor a 
 
 ;it. i;i -u-h a .-onditi..n as that in \vhi<-h In- lay. was it-i-lf a 
 rnitv of lortun-. It \\ !> . ndn; 
 
 : \\ith iip-rtal COnadoUfl 
 
 t> tin- ivli-.-f of a misiTN \\hiclihun _thf in,d it im|"i>-i- 
 
 , ; n . 1 h iiiin. an.l mnrmuri :iiin--. 
 
 Philip d-- Vaa onseloa wii k 1 in u" 1 
 
 ,t l.ird di-.ppi-.l h< -i h- hin: 
 
 l)oiinh. and walk*-.! a!..ut him. anl -t -.d \\ : luitting 
 
 and nncl -iii _ r vrings .. :- 2 him into 
 
 slum!" lifted 1, 
 
 n into t! in tin- 
 
 cat-likr to I if 
 
 h.-aid up.-:. Minf form, beautifulh 
 
 ivntier. 
 20 
 
158 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 And the wild .-avage of the wood-. the must savage, 
 in all the forests <>{ America, the panther, encircled the sleeping 
 man; and he stooped his nose to the unconscious car*; and then-. 
 was a faint murmur of speech troin the lip- of tin- kn mht ; and 
 biiee more the panther retired into his thicket, and th< 
 vulture again dropped from the tree-top to the ground. And tic. 
 
 circled the sleeper. And once more he spread hi- 
 wings above his head, and he fanned slowly the drowsy air about 
 him : then he sounded a fierce wild nok -a great shriek through 
 the forest and the Sleeper stirred -lightly with a lifted arm; 
 and the vulture resumed the fanning with his wings. Hut SOOD 
 another shriek from the depth* of the night was heard in an>\\er 
 to the signal of the watchful l.ird : and another fallowed afier it. 
 And ere many moments there wa* a family group of the raven 
 ous birds about their victim, and each spread forth hi- \\ in-:-. 
 beating s"lowly the drowsy atmosphere, and drawing nigher mo 
 mently until they stood about the head and breast of the uncon 
 scious knight, like so many hooded priests about the corse of 
 a brother. And still it seemed ns if the knight were not uncon 
 scious, though unable. A murmur broke from his lips, and e\vr 
 and anon his arm was thrown up spasmodically, hut only to till! 
 supine upon the earth beside him. 
 
 Again was the child-like cry heard in the forest, and the -ava _ r e 
 panther once more issued from its depth*, stealthily as the eat. 
 passing along timorously beside the edge of the wood, and pur 
 suing a circling course towards his victim ; and tin- time he came 
 not alone. He was accompanied by his more .-avage mate, fol 
 lowed by her cub-, and they drew near, whining a- they did so, 
 like kittens that are beekolled (o their food. The obscene birds 
 angrily (lapped their wings and shrieked at their approach; but 
 still retreated, and once more lifted themselves upon slow 
 pinions to the trees above, where they looked down, watching 
 the common prey, and waiting for their moment with impa 
 tience. 
 
 Now, could we see clearly the condition of the exhausted 
 cavalier, we should behold him covered with a cold and clammv 
 sweat, the proof that there was still a lurking conscious, 
 faculty of life, which, though lacking every essential capacity for 
 struggle and defence, was yet not wanting in the acute-t -en-i- 
 bilities of horror. Again was there a feeble murmur of -perch 
 from his pallid lips, and again were hi- nerveless arms stirred, but 
 *.his time unlifted. as if striving to defy or to drive away the as-ail 
 ant. 
 
 He was not thus to be expelled Heedless of the murmur, 
 
469 
 
 needless of il,< .rm-. tin- Ravage la.u. crying to her cubs, 
 
 plant. -.1 h-T stealthy foot firmly upon tin- ho-,,m "f the victim. 
 The male panther, meanwhile, stoi.d above his head, watchful of 
 v movem t> n-inl \\ith fierce teeth and talons 
 
 at the tirst >how> of life or struggle. And the cold sweat bivak- 
 in gn - troiu brow anl bn.-om of tin- knight, ami his . 
 
 open, and he shouts or strives ! shout, hut lm\v feebly ! and 
 hi- arm strikes out wildly, hut with the most child-like feeble- 
 i MM; and on the instant the grim Barage wh.i -tai;d- above his 
 pa terrihly UJHUI his l.iva-t. And the t -yes of the kni^hl 
 :.o\v widely oj.eii, and he sees and feels, hut lie lias n< 
 Btrength, DO hope ! He inurmurs a prayer to Heaven, and his 
 e\es close upon the rest ! lie resigns himself to the fate \\hirh 
 lie ean no longer oppose, aiul from whieli he wet no me;i!iv ,,f 
 ipe. Not that he de-ires BdOape from death. It is tlu- animal 
 instinet only that would struggle now, and lor this the animal is 
 ineapahle. It is the manner Of the death only from whieli the 
 mind revi.hs and the mind rapidly lapses into tranee. In his 
 latent (< hi-ar< the -harp, shrill cry of the gigantic 
 
 Hinl - . .-t, upon his hrea-t. 
 
 He little dreams that the cry is one of annoyance and f. ar. 
 and not of triumph. Suddenly the vulture- >eivam i 
 tree, and the hearts cry angrily heiieath it. They are startled 
 
 from their piw. IV^woods gleam with sudden lights, that ilah 
 
 ( tVeii-ively in the eyes of the midnight prowlers of the jungle. 
 The great natural alleys of the i no with cheerful voi 
 
 The light- dart from side to side; th.ey are torehes hirn- !.y 
 troops of the red men that gather at the -ummon- of a group 
 that now approach, armed with flaming hrands al-o. toward- the 
 t where the IVrtugue-e -avali.-r lies at length uncoiiM-iou-.. 
 The hea-ts rrowl and whine, liereely glaring upon the haek\\ard 
 path, as tliey retire from U-fore the gleaming ton I.. I, 1 . :./in 
 hrands are flung at them hy the red men. to hurry them in ll 
 and they slink away from the \ietim whom they wiv ju-t ahut 
 to n-nd. The vultures in turn lift their van- and sail Onto higher 
 . Tiirr.- ihe\ -it. hroiiding sullenly tn \\ hat 
 the , \\i;h thei: .ppointcd 
 
 . lurk anm ily \\\ ]\ [\\> the dark jungle in 
 
 \\hi-h tli.-y make th,-ir ah-.d- . They -till lurk, watchful, h.-; 
 of their victim; and \\>e t.> the Indian, particularly if a \\-m;m. 
 
 riic wander too nigh the spot where he orov 
 
 neglect.- to wave iiefon- the path the lirand >f t:ft- \\hii-li oti 
 In place of obscene hird ai I , ^r-ups of the rrj 
 
460 
 
 men surround tin- pro-Irate knight. In the midst, In-nt over 
 him with solicitous care and paiinatr atKvtion. kn<vl> a young 
 and beautiful woman of the dusky raee. II-i- cares rrvivc liim. 
 He opens his eyes to see, l>y the light of tho ItlazUig torches ih- 
 fond and sweet features of Gorilla, the 1 rim-i^s of ( afach Kjui. 
 
 -lie lives! His eyes open to Coyalla ! Oh ! IMiilip, tliou 
 shall be mine now, and forever, and a gi eat ehief among my 
 pi-nple ! " 
 
 He swoons again, but he is in fond and failhful keeping. 
 
CH A I T K K X LI II. 
 
 Faithful, *h> fli-, m smrrh of lum she !<> 
 But droops at last ! Ah ! hup.i *, h;u tin; aoul 
 Fii.il* no sufficient sm c<-r troni tlir- tr 
 T achieve the wondrous virtue- tli:u it willi 1" 
 
 OLD PI_T. 
 
 OLIVIA DE ALVARO or, as we shall couth her it. 
 
 her a unied diameter ami >e\ .luan. tin- 1 age of \ 
 
 \vhirh avengid tin- wrongs of herself and 
 
 it lea-t. aii l th. \\.-r-t d t!n-ir viu-iuii^; fledvponb^i 
 tiT\ stt-rd, with hIMnl iii- H- 1 u-rv Bnd ^i!l. lioiinii!;L r niadly if. 
 AH IM.MUM. Slu- dr. Vrthr ruwrl i:it tin- i-airi-r </< ^// /r, Uh- 
 witting \\liat >ln- tliil or win-re >lie tlew. FM- a time. li. r pn>- 
 lie work nf niadih--. < . plainly, !iTM-lf no 
 
 single iiK.nienl of tlnnight. Ski- oln-yel an impulse an in-tine(. 
 She made no nmiii -iif- pause, >he a-krd In in^le (jiies- 
 
 tion. It mattered not to her. in that fearful hour, will. 
 d\vd deejilv in kindred blood, ami thiek liill>\\s t tl. 
 
 (low in upon her throlil/mg brain, in what diree- 
 r what late awaited her. There wa* a j.\\er, 
 x-emiiiL lv bevoiid. if not foreign to her own. whieh 
 forwa: !\ . Tin- pa i.!i- held the n -in-. B! 
 
 le. Tne horse new beneath her, yet it -if>lu- 
 
 \\Miild have llowu be\ond him. His speed was nothing to tin- 
 wild and headlong flight of her n. 
 si-ious of his imn-eineiits < n, on- no matter \\ 1 
 goads him terribly forward and i 
 and the thick flakes of f.-am .out \\ >< mouth, and the 
 
 irhite streaks rise upon his flanks, and \et the ro\\e! raki-< and 
 ear- hi- redd< : 
 
 But the instincts Of horse and rider ai-e.jually true. .Iiian 
 knew the geiu-ral rOOtefl of the army. In intries, tiie 
 
 miiitai . ire few and soon defined. The ! read of a eorp> 
 
 of h.. : through tin 
 
 tible. The hor>e readii\ pathwa\ 
 
 rides, had l "f HH 
 
 rout,, of I> - :Vom the taunt > ot ])on 15aliha/ar, 
 
 .. that i 
 
 he had been di-hon,.r. .1 
 DO more knowh 
 
462 VAS.-ONSKLOS. 
 
 should pursue. Hi- had become skilled, from the sinuous prc 
 gress which lit- had made with the army, lie had gradually 
 perhaps without his own consciousness acquired all those gene 
 ral laws of travel which the wa\ t aivr in the great forests can 
 hardly forbear to learn. But to tnese he made no reference in 
 the present progress. His lessons came to him through his im 
 pulses. They served him as instincts. In the ordinary processes 
 of thought and induction, he certainly did not once indulge 
 during the long, wild, but well-directed flight, in which we are to 
 trace his eoui - 
 
 He dashed headlong through the village of Chiaha, where the 
 command of Don Baltha/ar was still quartered. Little did his 
 cavaliers dream of the bloody fate of their superior. The fu- 
 git>ve was challenged by the sentry as he entered one of the 
 sylvan avenues, and again challenged as he hurried through the 
 opposite end into the wilderness again. He heard not the de 
 mand he made no answer to the summons, and the matchlock 
 was emptied at him as he flew, and he knew not th;<t he had 
 escaped any danger. The great thickets once more receive him 
 with such shelter as they afford. The dim lights of heaven suf 
 fice fur the steed, but he sees nothing, nor is he conscious of 
 any lack of light. If he dues nut reason, he is vet nut unen 
 lightened by aspects that sufficiently fill his mind. Even as he 
 speeds, he sees, still receding as he approaches, yet still con- 
 spicuously distinct before his eyes, the great encampment uf De 
 Soto the amphitheatre of trees and tents, and grouped soldiers 
 surrounding and grim warriors presiding in judgment, and a cruel 
 eZ6Clttioner with blood v axe prominent overall, and in the midst 
 a noble form, about to sink ! and he cries hoarsely as he spurs 
 the steed hoarsely and feebly, his voice subsiding to a whis 
 per 
 
 " But one moment, Philip but one moment and 1 am with 
 thee. With thee, Philip! withthee! To die with thee, Philip 
 to die for thee ! < )ne moment, Philip one moment one !- % 
 
 And at each period^of pause, when the steed stopped to pant : 
 or, with nose to the ground, t<> -cent, or to feel, his way such 
 would be the apostrophe. Then the dark or blood v a>peets \\oiild 
 seem to rise more con-picuoiisly and urgently before the ga/e of 
 the. fugitive the arrested motion of the Meed making him feel 
 that the delay was dangerous that tin- event was in progr 
 which he alone could arn-t that not a moment was to be lost ! 
 and this \\as all his thought! Then it was that the lingering 
 bea-st would be nnde anew to tee] th- severe infliction^ of the 
 ?owel, and, snorting with terror to plunge forward with hi* bur 
 
in iir. 463 
 
 den fortunate flight \\hidi. for five 
 
 hour-, had . In this Hi^lit the rider had no 
 
 Miv d-mger. I ll.- l>ea-f ha.l m:mv. 
 : mes he shyed from tin- track, \\hile e\ery limt> shook with 
 
 :i. Hi- keen Boenl h.-i-l -.I ^ht the wind borne to hi. 
 
 the lairs of the \\olf an.! panther. Tl,. >j\i\ have l.r.-u 
 
 apon his track; doubt . Uitthai his flight had l.eei. 
 
 and fir, and that he seemed to their MTV on his l,ack 
 
 a wihl terror, with eyes i.f madnc-s. much more fearful than their 
 
 own. Of such he fugitive never thought. IJut. when 
 
 Bide, he irke.i him with spur or dagger, in- 
 
 .; crying out in shrilU-t tones- n,.i a 
 
 u not they hasten! ah! I hilip, luit a 
 
 moment more! Hut a moment !" 
 
 And with every word there was rowel stroke, or d 
 thrust, till the flanks and neck of the Meed were clamm\ \\ith 
 tlu- red liliidd oozing forth. 
 
 And while the eyefl Of the ri.ler - .t. <lilatinir. wild and 
 
 red. into the inlinit. id vaeaney tilled onlv with con- 
 
 fll-.-d and dreadt lll asjM-ets to his g;,/,. tin- day suddenly opened 
 
 nrtah "t the world, and the >teel went forward uith 
 
 .ontideiiee; hut Juan saw not a whit more than had heen 
 
 ,i- apparent to him all the night. Nav. he saw 1. 
 
 Mid darkness, and the solitude, had l>een tavoral!e t> tho 
 
 M of such illusions as had occupied \\\< mind, and the jjlan; 
 
 of day. and the sounds and Mghts of waking and ereepinir things. 
 
 did someu hat conflict with the mental pewer i.i create and make 
 
 .vn individual impres-ion-. 
 
 It \\ idtul ride, like that of Leonora and the Fiend 
 
 ird and tanta-tie leg.-nd of I . And. if the 
 
 dead lover accompanied not our fngitivi-. then- were \ -t terrible 
 
 - that rode U-xide. and tearful erie> followed on the. wind, 
 
 while ever and anon th- iia/ar thrilled in the 
 
 cars of the jia-je. ,-rvini:. " lack. you an- mine! Von a: 
 
 Then would the fugitive Bel hi- teeth closely togeth. 
 
 clutch his daL L er with determined uripe. and hi-s thru:h his 
 shut lip> - What ! you have not had en : taste 
 
 . he \vould l.ehold the amphitheatre once 
 whereiii 1 1 -"Idicrs environed the nohU 
 
 victim; nnd so seeing, the hoy w..u!d -ct on. with drivirn 
 tnew. repeating his hoarse whisper in his throat the while 
 
464 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 a moment, Philip but a moment ! and I will be with thee and 
 die with thee !" 
 
 The day dawned, and the horse sped over a beaten track. 
 He was in the very route pursued the day before, when Don 
 Balthazar returned triumphant after the degradation of his ene 
 my returned, as he fancied, to delights, and the safe renewal of 
 criminal but intoxicating pleasures, never <>nce dreaming that 
 Fate stood with open arms welcoming him to the bloodiest em 
 brace. 
 
 The steed of our page felt himself sure at every step. The 
 track was readily apparent. He went forward more confidently 
 and more cheerfully, but with less rapidity, for now it was that 
 the rider began to feel the gradual exhaustion of that strength 
 which had been too severely taxed by such a progress. Tin- 
 page was no longer conscious of the diminished speed of the ani 
 mal. His own growing feebleness reconciled him to the more 
 sluggish pace of the beast. But ever and anon he would start 
 out of his stupor with a sort of crv. and using the- rowel, would 
 expostulate "Would you stop now, beast, when we an- nigh 
 the spot? What, do you not hear him call to me ? You know his 
 voice. Hear! He says ah! what does he say ! But I know, 
 1 know. Wait but a moment, Sefior, but a moment but a 
 moment!" 
 
 And the bridle grasp would relax, and the form would Been 
 to turn in the saddle, while the eyes would clove I m- a while, to 
 open anew, only at the sudden short stopping of the horse, to 
 graze along the wayside. Then would the rider show a moment s 
 anger, and send him forward anew with prick of dagger, and mut 
 ter as before the poor bea>t submitting, with the wonted docil 
 ity of the well-trained war-horse, pursuing meekly the beat on 
 track until he stood coming to a full halt on the very ground 
 where De Soto s encampment had been made. 
 
 Then the page opened his eyes, and was about to smite the 
 beast and goad him forward when the rude scaffolding which 
 the Adelantado had made his dais on which had stood his 
 Chair of State, and where he had delivered judgment became 
 suddenly apparent to his glance. With a sudden shriek as he 
 beheld, the boy stretched out his hands and plunged forward, fall 
 ing heavily upon the ground, with a sad murmur 
 
 "It is too late! too late!" 
 
 He swooned away; while the horse, stepping carefully back 
 ward, wandered off in search of water. Ann, for an hour, the 
 beast wandered thus from side to side. II found streams in which 
 
Tin A CAPTI\ 466 
 
 ked his thirxt. He found tend< Bfl in the xhadv 
 
 . which h- , And ! .- daj th 
 
 r l he animal now he^aii to In- a little revive, and he \\hini 
 companion-hip, looking round, from side to nd< 
 to JI | i strip otl hlx furniture, and show that solicitude 
 
 for him to which he had l.e.n ace u-toiiu d. and which the beast 
 
 than his ma-ter. 
 
 \\ - whinny made its wax to oti of his late 
 
 ri li-r. Tlr tfll lay msriisil.K-, in tl,. 
 
 :i:ituiv thus seeking reli.-f tr..m the siill i-rin^ \\hich it liad 
 
 ite trom the f 
 
 rain. Soon, a li^ui . ; from the thicket, stealtli- 
 
 ik approaching the spot where the bone had a-ain l.ci;iin to 
 
 of the red men. a sul.jcct of the 
 
 Cas-i.jue of C hiaha. He was f.,!lo\\ed l.y two others, One of \\hom 
 NS "inan. ler of the party made 1. 
 
 the while tin lUtJOD. To the 
 
 rr( Illr " ^ ill an o! TOT, lie had l>een 
 
 ftl first, toconk.und him with his rider. He had th 
 fectly conceived the idea of the ancienN oft! \\hom we 
 
 <>NVl l.talir. I >i>;d>UM-d 1,\ 
 
 he did not \ et divest ii f all th.-e 
 
 h really l. ( -!oii<;e.l to his rid, r. II,- fan.-ird >till that 
 from hi- He did not doul.t that hi. 
 
 tearful as tho.e ,,t - the tL r -r or the \\olf. h re- 
 nliiijlly, no >mali . , j, t|,,. 
 
 Nshi.-h K little wa- known, and o 
 " lllr}; v th<Mi.;ht. lint one red man did apt : 
 
 innocent ; x|i|,,luel _ >( , .jiiiet- 
 
 /iiiT. and altom-ther invitiiiL :al do. 
 
 ility of his air and I,, haviour. Tlu-LTa-p imnter 
 
 length fairly laid upon the bridle of the Meed, and !. 
 
 Jl " "Ut with H. calh-.l hi- 
 
 . .t. and they approach, d \\ifh tremblil :. \ I 
 1 older as hi hehehl their fears. II. !{, 
 
 K and mane .if iL 
 
 
 
 " loni: tl" ; until made l.oM 
 
 taiuiliar. anl as the animal OOntinc 
 
 
 
 
 of Uhil ll he i 
 
 i With 1; 
 
466 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 comrades to follow him. and his brother warrior leapt up, then 
 the squaw followed, and as the horse moved slowlv from side to 
 side, cropping the grass, and seemingly heedless of his burden, 
 but still walking, the simple savages dapped their hands and 
 yelled with delight. 
 
 But that yell awakened the destrier to new sensation*. The 
 beast knew that he was in the power of his enemies. Hi* char 
 acter changed on the instant. His moods, his passions. were all 
 stirred with excitement. He threw head and taH aloft. He 
 shook out his mane ; the blood of the war-horse was aroused a s 
 with the shrill summons of the elarion. and he dashed a\\av at 
 headlong speed, to seek the spot where he had left hi* master. 
 At the first bound he shook himself free <>f tin- sijuaw. \\horolled 
 away over his haunches, suffering no hurt but a prodigious fright. 
 as she settled down in a heap upon the earth, hardly knowing 
 whether she was dead or alive. The Indians yelled again with 
 sudden terror; and the shrill cry increased the speed .f the ani 
 mal. Awaj he dashed with the headlong rapiditv of a charge. 
 The foremost of the savages elungto his Lack like a eat. while he 
 wound his hands more firmly within the animal s mane. The 
 other clung to the body of his comrade. Then the animal threw 
 his head down, and both of them wint over his neck. They 
 rolled awa\, on opposite sides, quite unhurt, but horribly 
 alarmed. The steed flew, as he felt relieved of his burden, and 
 he was quickly out of sight. 
 
 The two savages lay lor several minutes upon the earth, not 
 daring to look up or speak. Uut. as tin- sounds of the hole s 
 feet grew more distant, one of them rose to a sitting posture. 
 lie called to the other in under tones, it required snme thought 
 and examination to be assured of the fad that both of them still 
 lived, and that no bones were broken. One of them went back 
 for the squaw. She. too. \\.-i- unhurt. Thev \\eiv soi>n brought 
 together, and a rapid consultation determined them to pursue 
 the monster who had treated them with so much indignity. 
 IJow* wen- bent, arrows got in readiness, the stone hatchet was 
 sei/ed in sinewy grasp, and the two warrior* went forward the 
 woman following at a little distance, and trembling for the event, 
 
 It was a matter of course that the red men should liisten in 
 stantly upon the fresh track of the horse, and follow it \\ith 
 unerring certainty. Th<- bea-t. meanwhile, had made hi* way 
 back *.o where the page had fallen, and when the pursuers drew 
 nigh they found him smelling at the hands of his late rider and 
 pushing them with hi> nose. The boy was stirring slightly. 
 Suddenly, the horse r< winded the red men. lie 
 
TII: nrfc 467 
 
 ! backward, il did BO, -ei/in^ tli.-ir moment, they 
 
 both darted upon the half-awaking -luan. and had -.-i/ed him 
 hy the arm- b.-f-Te he had heroine fully con-. -ion-. The rude 
 brought him bar ,.. . ! i -hake 
 
 oil hi- :>ut liis M ; hi- arm- fell use- 
 
 . unperformingly, beside him ; and In- showed hi> >ubmi-Hon 
 \Vliy -hould he Btl What had In 
 
 to live for? Why should lu- divad the death which he now 
 fancied to l>e certain ? 
 
 i lie red men : theiiisrlves of tile page s dag^r. the 
 
 only weapon \\hirh lie carried. \\ith their .;ehet>. 
 
 waving in his si^hi. tlu-y mi tione<l him to rise. B} siuiis i|j,.\ 
 ree, which he did without etlort. hut they 
 Hitlicieiitly \\ary not to sutler him to mount. Th. 
 was led Accordingly, and the lo\- j l oci-eded with hi^ eaj>t< 
 
 uaw having joined them in compliance with their 
 
 repeated hall 
 
 The de-trier was now docile enough, following his ma-ter. 
 The page fc.-l.ly led him on. lut he som sank down by the 
 way. Oneofthe red men would have brained him with his 
 hatchet ; but the other. \\ho was the older, and the woman, inter- 
 . The latter soon perceived th- -.\liau-tii-n. and 
 
 while OIK- of the men went oil in search of a spring or rivulet, 
 
 1 into tlie wood*, bringing back with her. B 
 
 littlv \\hile. i small round acid fruit. The lat 
 
 ter she BOIieeZed into the pagr s mouth. The leaves -he | ! 
 upon his ton-head. \Vater wa- brought in a leaf shaped like a 
 slipper, of \\hich he drank freely. In a little while he u 
 vi\d. When i -.-d siiilieii-ntly. he nu -tioned them by 
 
 bt him ride, one of them taking the bridle within his 
 hand-. Hi -1 led to a long 
 
 among the raptor-*, whirh wa- fuiallv settled bv the 
 f the party. \sh<> -!/, d the bridle with the m^-t heroic 
 air of in one hand, while with the other, waving 
 
 i the head of the hol-e \\ith -lld- 
 
 deii -tp ke. at the first 8U3] .mpt..m. Juan mounted with 
 
 feeblr h.-art ainl limb-, indifferently, and only r.-igned to the 
 wi-he- i,f hi* eapt< 
 
 thu- tlf four tra\el ,(d f..r -i\ Of -iL r lit \\.-arv hours. 
 
 am.- and went. Th.- sun at lei, L th \\ a- f-dnt ly smiling 
 
 1 <.ver th- fore-t. at the <-lo^in: of hi- pilgrimage, \\li.-n 
 
 :ty eame in -ight of the beautiful river, th* if the 
 
 spot \\h, K ! an individual m the 
 
 junction of the Kto\\ah and n. 
 
468 VASCOXSKI. 
 
 Here was an encampment of f: en. Thcv could be 
 
 sen in crowds along tin- l>anks of the river, lint tin- eves of 
 Juan were fastened upon a group that \vas gathered beneath a 
 sort of canopy upon the hilUidc. They .slowly approached thi.s 
 station. The page s eyes brightened as he drew nigh. Surely, 
 it is Don Philip that he - -I upon tin- ground in front of 
 
 the canopy, while tin- iv<l men wan. In- about in the back 
 ground. But the page doubts. Can it be that the savage-look 
 ing man whom lie sees, woe-stricken, with matted and dishev 
 elled hair and beard, is his noble ma>ter the accomplUhed 
 knight of Portugal the man of grace, and stature, and beauty ; 
 of ease and sweetness, and clear bright eye, and generous H 
 Can he have so altered in so short a space ? Juan could scarcely 
 believe. But he had no conception of the change which he had 
 himself undergone. With aery he threw himself from th 
 at the feet of the cavalier 
 
 " Oh ! Seflor ! Oh ! Don Philip " 
 
 The knight looked up for the first time as he heard the cry. 
 
 "My poor boy, my poor Juan, is it thou, indeed ! " 
 
 And he took the boy suddenly to his embrace. He shrunk 
 from the grasp: he trembled like a leaf; tottered, and would 
 have fallen but that the knight held him up. 
 
 "God be praised. Juan, that thou art again with me! I had 
 feared that 1 should lose thee forever, my poor boy; and surely, 
 Juan, if there be any that I can now love, it is thyself/ 
 
 He again grasped the page and drew him to his embrace. The 
 head of the boy sank upon his shoulder. His eye \\as bright 
 with tears. The head was relieved. The heart enjoyed a strange 
 and sudden sensation of happiness. At that moment his ear 
 caught the sound of a well-known voice. 
 
 "Philip!" said, in the tenderest tones, the beautiful Coralla, 
 the Princess of Cofachiqui ; and she laid her hand affectionately 
 upon the shoulders of the knight. 
 
 " Philip ! " 
 
 The word went like a dagger to the heart of the page. Tl it- 
 tenderness of tone in which it was spoken filled her smil with 
 bitterness. There was an agony in her Inborn, as sudden and 
 extreme as the rapture which had filled it but a moment bef.ue, 
 and, with the sc.-niiiMi recovery of all her strength and 
 she withdrew herself from the embrace of Ya-eonsi Ios, who 
 gently released her. 
 
 "Go within, Juan," said ihe knight, pointing him to the rude 
 tent of bushes before \\hich st 1 the canopy of stained cotton; 
 
JKALOPS TKARS. 469 
 
 go within ! await nu>, for I have much to hear from 
 
 thee." 
 
 With the big trurs i;:ithTiii in his -yi-s like pn-at pearls of 
 the ocean, the page did as he was commanded, having, nv h : 
 wi-nt, Ix-licld Co^ulla tako lu-r j.l.-n-i- hy the >iili- of tlu- knight, 
 whiK- olio of IUT hands ictted proudly o.i his shoulder, and her 
 lari^c lro\vn eyes seemed to drink in rapture while gazing deeply 
 into his. 
 
CHAPTER XL1V 
 
 Avf. Say, what s thy name? 
 Thou hast a prim appearance , anil thy race 
 Bears a command in t ; though thy tackle s torn 
 Thou show s! a nohle vessel. What s thy name?" 
 
 Coriolaniu. 
 
 MEANWHILE, the Spanish army pursued its progress into the 
 ri ih, wild provinces of the Alabamous. Thev were now ap- 
 preaching the territories of the great Indian Cassique. called Tus- 
 calu/a. or the Black Warrior, a ruler at once remarkable lor 
 the extent of his sway, his haughty valor, and his gigantic stature. 
 lie had heard of the approaching Spaniards, of their power, their 
 wonderful anus and armor, their strange appearance, and the 
 mystery which seemed to envelop their origin. !!< was natu 
 rally curious to see the strangers, and was too great a potentate 
 himself, and too valiant a chief to entertain any apprehension of 
 their power. Of their treatment of his kinswoman, (Walla, he 
 had up to this period heard nothing, and his invitation, a 
 ingly, through his inferior cassiques, was cordially extended to 
 the Spanish commander to visit him in the recesses "f his wild 
 domain. Ili^ chief settlements were along the hanks f the river 
 which still bears his name his territories stivtrhed away indefi 
 nitely, even beyond the waters of the Mississippi. A^ tin- M ran 
 gers drew nigh to his royal precincts, he despatched his son to give 
 them special welcome a youth of eighteen, but tall like himself, 
 his stature far overtopping that of tin- tallest soldiers in the 
 Spanish army. His bold and noble carriage contributed, with 
 his stature, to compel the respect and admiration of the Adelan- 
 tado and his cavali 
 
 But ere the arrival of this youth, a< an ambassador, there was 
 some stir in the Spanish camp, in consequence of the treatment 
 which Philip de Va-conselos had receive.!. The return of Nuno 
 de Tobar, and Andres de Vasconselo-, led to warm \vnU. angrv 
 passion, and finally to a iv-cxaminatiou of the alfair. If Andres 
 felt coldly towards his brother and no doubt hi- conscience had 
 long since rebuked him severely for his conduct, for which his boyish 
 pride would suffer him to make no atonement his feeling-; of 
 kindred were by no means subdued. Now that, his lro:l-r was 
 dishonored, and had probably peii-hed in consequence of the 
 
 HI 
 
Kt\ 471 
 
 exile anil exposure n ,\vd hi- sentence, the Letter nature 
 
 of th.- .in obtained tli,- ascendant, and he f It hi- error to 
 
 its full extent, ami bitterly lamented the little svmpathv \\ hich 
 
 : >hnwn to a In-other to whom he \\as indebted fi 
 training and atlection of hi- ,ar,; 
 
 : ! v arou-ed ti, t,, tlie Qi 
 
 catini: th.- fame OX Philip, and. if poasfl) .nJ re- 
 
 g him to the arm\. To thi.- end their earned etiort- were 
 
 d. The wood- were -enured where tlu virtini had l.eei. 
 left to |.,-ri-li. hut in vain. He mu in tlie cl 
 
 of the I rinress ofGopftofaiqui not so far, indeed, frmn tin- ramji 
 of tlie Spaniards not so much l.evond their rea,-h 1,1,1 d,. 
 hi- himaelfbeen willing, he ini^ht have l.eeii found. Hut in \\h;,t 
 "iil i it ! i t<. him that he was not j nr.Mu-d \\ith 
 
 malice, an. 1 that justice >hould he don,. t, hi- worth at la-t : II. 
 might well question the motive- for the -eareh on the 
 
 t rom \\hom he had never yet ( \j.< ri, m< d -\:i:j.ath\ or 
 eonlid 
 
 dla and her followers were all well aware of the nei-ihl.or- 
 the Spanish parties sent out in sean-h of Philip i.. 
 f wa- not ignorant, and he mi<:lit p. > il.ly ha\ . 
 their Letter motive-. kno\\ in^ a- lie did that his brotheJ 
 Nnno de Tnliar were at the head of the-e detaehnieiit- ; l.ut he 
 now no longer eared to resume a connection with the associates 
 who had abandoned him. and with an expedition wlx-t- dai!\ j.n- 
 I revolted all hi- human and chivali ou- smtim, i;t-. Ur. 
 sidi-.^hi- had Leeii inexpial.lv li-;rac. d according t. all the laws 
 of chivalry, and there wa- no adequate [ oWjOT to do him ; 
 :m<1 t" A MVagC loom of all -o.-i a ] relations 
 
 took the place in hi- !>.,-,,, ,1 of the -.M-mi,.,. >\ mpathi. - i 
 
 eheri-h. A fierce mood piv\ed like a vulture upon his 
 -. and he brooded only upon re\ . Dffe, Thi- was now the 
 g, the coni|M-n-ative sentiment \\hieh h 
 tlK.iiL ht \\a- \\hill\ addre-^,-,1 to the nx-drs l,y \\hidi 
 wreak the full mea-nre ,,j hi- vengeance upon the two \\hom he 
 - the principal- in hi- L r r-at d i^raee. md 
 
 hit hopes and honor. Histhoughl l.\ da\. hi> 
 
 lit. found him . 
 
 ^ith I),n P.aliha/, rait) and the 1, \defan- 
 
 tado ; and If -at or wandered \\ith hi- 
 
 and aUent, foUowing the : - tniarda \\ith . 
 
 mind; a Kale, him-elf i hr. atenin<: l.ut tun tnii\ the m.-Ianehnly 
 
 which att.nded upon their ;< 
 It Was with a j. !o,.m\ f.-.-lin^ of l.itt. iTe-- and ^elf re 
 
472 
 
 Andres de Vaseonselos and Nuno de Tobar gave up the searci 
 after the fugitive. They naturally concluded that he had per 
 ished the victim of the red men. But they addressed them 
 selves to the business of the inquiry touching the charges brought 
 against him, and, in particular, as concerned the agency of Don 
 Balthazar in the affair. In respect to this person, Nuno <! T<>- 
 bar could give considerable evidence. The conviction that Don 
 Balthazar had been the vindictive pursuer of his brother to de 
 struction, prompted Andres de Vasconselos to hurry to the village 
 of Chiaha. where the former had been left in command. roolved 
 to disgrace him by blows, and force him to single combat. I ! 
 was met on his arrival by the intelligence, already known to us, 
 of the murder of the knight, and of the flight of the page .luan 
 the latter being supposed by some the assassin ; by others, the 
 red men were credited with the achievment, the boy being 
 thought their captive. 
 
 Andres de Vasconselos was disarmed by this intelligence, which 
 had the further effect of relieving Hernan de Soto of much of the 
 responsibilities of his situation. Though bold and haughty enough, 
 it was yet quite too important to the safety, not less than the 
 success, of the Adelantado, to venture to defy the complaints and 
 indignation of some of his bravest knights. He now began to 
 feel that he should need the very meanest of his force to carry 
 through the objects of his expedition, and in "propitiating the cap 
 tains who had interested themselves in the case of Philip, the 
 death of Don Balthazar afforded a ready agency. He was in 
 fact, the chief criminal, and De Soto was really but his creature. 
 Facts were exposed by Tobar, showing the bitter malice of Don 
 Balthazar; and the very creatures whom he had suborned against 
 the knight of Portugal, were now not unwilling to expos*- tin- 
 influences which were brought to bear for his destruction. IV 
 Soto, after the farce of a solemn reconsideration of the ease. \\as 
 brought to revoke his judgment; but it was too late ! Philip de 
 Vasconselos had undergone a fearful change of character. He 
 was now the vulture of revenge, hovering in the rear of the de 
 voted cavalcade, waiting his moment when to swoop down in 
 blood upon the quarry. 
 
 Close and ominous watch, indeed, did he keep upon the move 
 ments of the Spaniards through the agency of the red men of Co- 
 fachiqui. They were gathering daily In numbers, well armed, 
 and eager for revenge. They \vnv joined by the warriors of 
 Chiaha, and tacitly, as it seemed, did they refer the whole conduct 
 of their people to the direction of Philip de VascoiiM los. In this 
 they naturally obeyed the wishes of the Prim-ess; but this influ- 
 
THE FATE. 473 
 
 might not have sufficed to confer upon him this authority, 
 were it not that they were instinctively impressed by himself, by 
 th- great injuries which had made him the incarnation of (hat 
 wild revenge which the red men so much love and honor, and 
 l>y his unquestionable ability as a commander. He. him 
 
 ied to take their lead as a matter of OOtme. He neither 
 a-ked them nor himself in respect to the matter. He willed, and 
 
 submitted. He pointed with his finger hither or thither, and 
 they sped. They saw his purpose in his look. They took their 
 directions from his eye and hand ; and there was that of the ter 
 ribly savage in his fearful glance, and so much of the sublimely 
 fearful in the embodied woe which seemed to speak in every silent 
 lo.>k and posture, that to submit and obey was the voluntary im- 
 ptiNe of all who looked upon the noble outlaw. 
 
 The one purpose which occupied his mind, Mifficed to concen 
 trate all his faculties. Tin- Spaniard- now bewail daily to expe- 
 
 e the influence of a will and a power which threatened them 
 with the : - s. the nioiv formidable. a< it was still im- 
 
 -ible to conjecture what shape the danger was to take, or when 
 and where the blow was to fall. An ominous gloom 86- med to 
 hang upon their hearts. Superstitious apprehensions haunted 
 their souls a cloud seemed to hang upon th.-ir pathway, in no 
 decree relieved by the courteous invitations of the great easNi.ji:,-. 
 Tux-alu/a. Weariness, exhaustion, daily toil and march, and 
 continued disappointments, no doubt combined to rentier them 
 
 dally sensible to such fears and doubts. Hut th.-iv \ 
 external evidences daily offered them which had their effect, also, 
 in compelling and arousing their superstitious The red 
 
 men seemed to have- altered their whole policy. They ho\ 
 ut the advancing army, but without coming to blows. I 
 no longer rushed out boldly from beneath the f,,r,-t tiv, 
 groups, or single men. challenging the invader to the en 
 
 l>ut if they did not light, they did not fly. Thnv. in 
 front, and flank, and rear, they might be seen to hover lik 
 many threatening clouds, retiring into safety when approached, 
 not to be overtaken, but still giving proofs that they \\ ere unre- 
 laxing in that haunting watch and pursuit which they had begun 
 from the moment wh-i. - tool; command. It may be 
 
 that 1 )c, Soto and others suspected his pretence and authority 
 
 among the red men. and that a gloomy pp :d vague 
 
 ten the result nf thi< Mi-pieion. .each 
 
 day added large increase. The Spaniards now longed fr 
 strife ; they felt how much easier and more grateful it \\ould be 
 to bring this annoyance to prompt and desperate issue, which vexed 
 
474 
 
 their pride and perpetually troubled their securities. But thei 
 strove for this in vain. Many were the cflbrts which they made 
 to beguile the savages to battle, 1<> ensnare them in ambush, 
 to run them down with their mounted men; but the vigilant 
 generalship of the Portuguese eavalier held them in close hands, 
 and they hung about the wearied Spaniards like clouds of vora 
 cious birds, sufficiently nigh to seize their prey when occasion 
 offered, but at a safe distance from any danger. Daily they MIC- 
 ceeded in picking up some victim from the ranks of tin- invader* 
 Not a loiterer escaped the bow-shaft or the macana. The 
 straggler invariably perished pierced with sharp arrow-. 
 brained with the heavy hatchet of stone. It was death to tuiii 
 aside into the covert; it was fatal to charge beyond the ranks 
 which offered immediate support. One newly adopted policy 
 of the red men seemed particularly ominous to the Spaniards. 
 They now addressed their shafts to the breasts of the 1, 
 rather than the cavaliers, and every now and then some tine 
 -teed fell a victim under the unexpected arrow, despatched from 
 .msuspected coverts where the assailants found impenetrable 
 shelter. 
 
 Thus haunted, thus troubled with evil omens, the Spanish arm y 
 made its way into the thickly settled countries of the Alabamoiis. 
 This people, under the swav of Tuscaln/a. were probably com- 
 po-cd of the Choctaws, Chirkasaws. and the remnants of other 
 tribes. They were numerous, in comparison with the other 
 nations of the red men. and wen- a- fearle-s and practiced in 
 warfare as they were numerous. De Soto. in entering th.-ir 
 great towns and villages, did so with unusual precaution. His 
 mind was impressed evidently with a far greater sense of the re 
 sponsibilities and difficulties of his filiation than had ever been the 
 case bcfoiv. His apprehensions and disquiet were jin-atly in 
 creased at this period by a new evil; an epidemic appeared 
 among his troops, which was fatal to many. They were 
 with a low fever, which seemed to prostrate them instantly. At 
 the end of a very few days they peri-lied; the skin, even before 
 death, becoming of a discolored and greenish hue. and their bodies 
 i-mitting a fetid odor. A terrible fear possessed the army, that 
 jhey were poisoned that the subtle savages had mixed their 
 rnai/e. or the waters of the streams, with some vegetable p"i->n 
 of great potency. We may imagine the terror that >ei/ed upon 
 all hearts from a conjecture so full of horror. S. .m.- .if their 
 Tameiies. however, sugge-ti-d a native remedy for the di 
 which was probably due rather to exhaustion and unsatisfactory 
 food, A ley, made from the allies of a certain herb, and 
 
476 
 
 mingled with their food in- 1 bej had 
 
 was found ;. ail ord >-<-urit\ " :. !>ut many of 
 
 rMu-d of tli.- disorder before tin- remedy was made 
 known. 
 Tu- 
 from his capital cilv. IK- probably did n .hat tlu- 
 
 :u - 1- should :> that place, lint hi- <li<l not U 
 
 the character of the invaders. The haughty chief medihe 
 
 antado in a truly royal manner. \viili ;ivat -how 
 
 : a dignity which nii^lit have furnish- . -1 : tin- 
 
 H,,I, no. Hi- inn,. r t 
 
 lemeaoor, ja-rf.-.-t oom] 
 
 ,v*kinl. had tin- rlll-.-t of awinii tlu- Sj.anianl> into 
 
 .tiling like revreooe, i ; Tli - A-lrlantail-* 
 
 ,1 him \\; BOarlet, and with a (low!: 
 
 mat. rial. Tlu^- In- woiv with a natural moe w lii-li 
 red him siijHTii.r to tlu- rtl ort- .f thr arti>t. With \i\< 
 towi-rinir i li:inc<. In- lu-canu- tin- crwninL r and (ntral lirisr-. of 
 riilht. amid tlu ^raiid a>si iiiliia^r of nativr ch u-flains aiul >ti-t-l- 
 .\horn lu- wa- MiiToundfil. 1 lu- Adi-lantadu 
 addi-d to that of a hone also; though it was with -ivat 
 
 ditliciiltv that a lu-a-t was t oiind Milliriciitly jo\vorful t> i-mluiv 
 the Wright ot -;d a warrior. 
 
 Th,- i 9 bis L itN and attentions \vnv not 
 
 unj,. tin- haui:ht\ ( a iijiif. and lu- i-h.-.-rfnily accom 
 
 panied tin-in in a march ot tlm one "f his fn-^t- 
 
 vill., 1 after liiniM-lf, Tuvalu/a. Tlii- \illairc >ld II|MII 
 
 iia of the Alabama Ilivi r. The river was crossed w nh- 
 
 ditli.-uity. and the army encamped for the niirht in a lieantifnl 
 valleV. aliont a Ie6| "d the place of pa^an- 1 . I hci". 
 
 \I\IT and , lor -"ine hours in ilu- Spani-li camp, and 
 
 J u . inta.io. Hut 
 
 Aiihout tlu- pr i , and 
 
 8 i-.iards. ih He watch to li^cov.-r his place of IT- 
 
 r the ni^ht. failed r..\i^h the wild 
 
 iiroiiL h whi.-h. with his attendants he mad* hi< - 
 j ,u! ;:, iithi-r watclu-rs nior- .uevWul. and when 
 
 . hut two milet from tlu- 
 3 iind tlu- l)cautiful Triiu-os Co. 
 
 i in the |( 
 }.;, man, one of the 
 
 gent! 
 
 ;ila threw lu- tin- nee . .du/a, and 
 
476 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 Welcomed with sue\i a decree of fondness a^ was (insistent with 
 the pride and jn.wer of so haughty a inonaivh. He reerived her 
 with tenderness even, and she wept sweet tears upon the luvnst 
 <)f him who had l>eell the Well-heloved bl otlier of lie! mother. 
 
 What fool was it who lir>t taught that the red men Iaeke-1 tlit 
 seiisildlities of humanity ? 
 
 But we must defer our further report to another 
 
CHA1TKK XLV. 
 
 u Dp, sword, and know iliou u morr liomd ln-ni " 
 
 THE gigantic and haughty -overeiirn of the Alabanums v a* 
 S4-nsibl\ awed l.v tlu- -J.-rn a-pect w hieh encountered him. when 
 he turned from the beautiful Cocalla to ,>. tO hi- abode the 
 
 outlawed knight of Portugal. Stern self-possession, calm inll -v 
 ihle cndur..: Significant of the l>i.u r heart ami the unyielding 
 
 the master virtues of the red men. In brief 
 
 dla had convened to her uncle the -imple outline of 
 !1 as her own. >imv sb 
 
 tir.-t come to a knowledge of the Spaniards. Tu--alu/a had heard 
 
 , to eomj el hi- re-pect for the knight, and to -ecurc hi- 
 gratitude and confidence in consideration of what he had ! 
 IS, I m wlu-M he looked on IMiilij . he -aw bcf< 
 no ordinars warrior. He felt him-df in ?h.- pr R Fati- 
 
 . terror and a p\\,-r. the resources and purpose of \\hieh 
 .id in>tantlv conjcctm-e from the mixed a-pert of , 
 
 .tnce which confroiite.l him. II. 
 
 the knight, but tin- latter had no an-wcr; and the gai 
 \\ho seemed at once to comprehend the nature and the m 
 of the -:i\ali. r. -ate (|uietl\ be-ide him upon tlu- bear >ki 
 
 coinj.oM-dly. while ( .u-alla proceeded to unfold 
 the detajl- of that lon^r hi-tory which .-he had hilh*-rt. r. : 
 him in the hi , I .Me manner. 
 
 Tooi.e\\h" -hoiild ivu r anl only th. 1 outer 
 man, the li-atur. i not the slici, 
 
 of ih" impression which this narrative made upon hi- M-ul. Hut 
 
 the pride, anger, fiei ger impni 
 
 no! th-- I ill hi- 1" W in. becau-e th 
 
 -iun- of their pr 
 
 and threw off the BC8J which 1 
 
 .pon the earthen ll : 
 
 his cabin, and, a- he pared th.- apartment to and fro. h" W 
 over . 
 
 is hand I hc latter t.-,k it with 
 
 out a word ajid rose !! laid hia own hand upon hU* 
 and said, in !. 
 
 , a \\ irrior, il< *ill Gghl the battl. - .f ;h- 
 
478 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 Tu-caluza. Will the Oassi.nie >av to his warriors Go! follow 
 Philip, that we laav drive the Spaniards to their homes beyond 
 the B 
 
 "That we may drive them into the sea!* 1 wa> the fur 
 s M>n>e. a- the -avage OlODarch again eageri} grasped the hand of 
 the knight, ii added -" Philip shall U- a gV.-ai chief of the A! 
 abam- ,i~. ll. -hal! bave many warriors -\\ hiui to hattl\ 
 
 ..dl show to the Hlaek warrior of the Alaba iiou- h-.w wo 
 may best feed on tin-si- Spaniards, and rapture the mighty bea-t.s 
 upon which they ride/ 
 
 "It shall he done. Let Philip be clad in the war-paint <>t the 
 Alabamous. and bring him garments for a ehief of th_- ivd me;;. 
 
 \Vli-Ji Philip had spoken th<-se words. ( ocalla threw her arms 
 nhout his neck. He did not return her caresses, hut he linked 
 into her tare with a tender sadness, which for a moment smoothed 
 rribie expression from his \i-age. At this moment the 
 !nan entered the apartment. (Jocalla caught his glance, 
 and instantly withdrew her arms from the neck of V 
 How subtle are the feminine, instincts. The forest Prince-s 
 seemed to know that -I nan looked not favorably upon the pas 
 sion which she felt for Philip. The page, meanwhile, recoiled 
 from ilie planer of Tuscalu/.a. who. as he iv^-mled the intruder, 
 stopped in his walk, exclaiiring ilah!" 
 
 calhi calmly bade the page enter, and explained his relation 
 with Va<consr|os. 
 
 "It i> g -> L" replied tin (lassiijii.-. re-iiming his walk. " It is 
 . but let him go. till one shall come to him and sa \ . thy 
 master hath use for thec. and his tinker conveyed the same di 
 rection-; to the page himself. With a sad. longing look toward-; 
 Philip who did not seem to heed him, or, indeed. t- heed any 
 thing Jnan turned away, and left the hovel. 
 
 It was then that TllSCaluza brought forth sundry rich garments 
 of native furs and cotton, the latter stained brightly with yellow, 
 the color of the nation, and erosse.d with liars of blue. The ban 
 ner of Tusealu/a was thu- 1. the bars of blue being three 
 in number. These were presented to Philip, who received them 
 a^ a matter of course, with something of iiidilK-renee in his man- 
 Mer, while he -looped carefully and picked up the scarlet robes 
 ij-on which Tuvalu/a had so scornfully trampled. Thc-e he re- 
 
 I to the ( as-d<|iie. 
 
 " Why should the gr-at warrior show to the Spaniards that he 
 is aiii:r\, and ea-t hi- gifts upon tin- ground . Let the rode dis- 
 the wrath. Let the great warrior rather persuade tho 
 
THK srv.MAims MKRRY. 479 
 
 Spaniards th aor tell him when In- nn-a: 
 
 strii 
 
 eorre-j.oneied haj.pilv with the <jeniu- of | 
 
 -;iil i he eh : ef. iv-uminL r an-1 >hakini th.- robes, l.ut 
 will -IT them from th.- Mains which they ha i 
 
 TI from tin- ear h. When th,- 
 
 t)le tn th.- eyea of tin- Sj.aniar.l-. th.- 
 ant laui;li at ;!i . Kpense "f th.- L r nm <farrior. 
 
 the < bnaries la-t ni^h:. 
 Era : , " said Nun.. ,h- T..l>ar. - H- hath been rolli 
 
 hill, an.l in. -thinks hath 1 a-1 a taM.- of tlu- river, \vhi,-h doubl 
 fail. .l to n-Iish after the \vinc." 
 
 (eflor Nnno," was th,> rep] V, M he walkc.l awav with 
 all th.- >ivrtn<-vs which h.- >h.. \vc.l at the l..- L ri m; 
 
 . I Ut .li.l v.u not sec that h- n.-v.-r tniM.-.l hiniM-lf to tin- 
 hack of his hone. If was h-1 otn.v One of his follow.-ix .-m,! j, L . 
 away on 
 
 1 ha.l thin,- ejCfl hut fi >!lo\vel him as he sped, then 
 1st tli.Mi hav.- sn-n that his movement was soli,) an ; 
 1 k - " went not to the ri-ht n..r to the left, till the 
 
 -! him." 
 
 "Then hath he ha.l a l-rcw of his own 
 
 tll<1 ^ vt;ti ^ Of et an- th..s,. ,,f a man who hath \val!o\ v ,-ll 
 
 the l.oxoiM of his mother, \\itlioiit knowiiiir well what arm* 
 i him. A,, th. 
 
 An.l uiH-n that thou foiin.l\t thv argument !*.-: 
 
 *nd juutlfication, Q 3efior N o, and let not this h.-athen 
 
 that you lanirh at his ,, -ifsiich i 
 
 i.l ami jealoii. of hi 
 when he ha-1 - 
 
 that thy detachment !> i ; , m i 
 
 1 that there MV jnar.U upon hi- i 
 Su.-h was the policy of the Sj ftniai 
 
 i. A;i thar ;ii-iit 
 
 : : Co^all , tired. Juan wa 
 
 waiting, l.ut in an a : Mn. 
 
 n that th. 
 unfold ti. ,, i,,.,,.,!^ 
 
 
 Bpai 
 
 or ilaj-infT th M. 
 
480 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 host, but urged, in the meanwhile, that, in the event of a conflict, 
 ii. of act ion should always In- so chosen as to deprive the 
 cavalrv of all share in the battle. It was this counsel that filially 
 determined TllSCaluza to conduct the enemy to one of his largest 
 towns, named Mauvila. This was a walled town, and is si-j 
 to have >!ood upon the northern hank ot the Alabama, at a place 
 now called Choctaw Point. The town of Mauvila occupied a 
 noble plain. The walls were rude, being high embankments of 
 earth and wood, filled inbetween great forest trees; the wood 
 being fastened in piles with vines and reeds, and the face of the 
 wall being plastered with a thick coating of native elay or earlli. 
 which hardened into smooth consistency in the sun and air. The 
 defences were Alight, of course such as strong arms and good 
 iild hew down in short time, and through which the small 
 falemiets of that day could have easily blown a capacious opening. 
 But the Spaniards were without artidery of any kind. Still, they 
 had adcouate implements for breaking their way, if time were 
 allowed them. The wall was pierced with loop-holes for arrows, 
 and at certain moderate distances it was surmounted by numer 
 ous towers, each capable of holding a sc,re of fighting men. 
 There were but two gates, one on the east, the other on th 
 side. In th" centre >f the village was a great stjuare, or parade- 
 ground, around which the buildings were erected. These did not 
 
 i a hundred in number, but they were mostly vast for:: 
 capable of containing entire tribes, from five hundred to fifteen 
 hundred persons in each great halls only, without rooms ; the 
 red men lodging togeih.-r as in caravanserais. 
 
 To this place, thus constructed, the Black Warrior conducted 
 O18 destined victims. He was accompanied by few personal at 
 tendants, and no warriors. To this he had been counselled by 
 Vasconselos. I Jut he had made preparations elsewhere for tin- 
 part which his followers had to play, and the conseioiisne-- that 
 he was hdd a close prisoner bv the very courteous knight \\ho 
 attended him, did not lessen his purpose of giving the Spaniards 
 such sauce to their supper as would effectually spoil their appe 
 tite-. When the vanjnard of DC Solo s army appeared before 
 the town, the . \delanta lo leading and accompanied by Tu-calu/a, 
 a splendid array of the native warriors, flaunting in t -a!l: 
 robe- of fur and nitton. f varion- and brilliant colors, came 
 forth to m. et them. To th.-e succeeded long lin.-s ..f beautiful 
 ( | ; ,i l|S el- and they were beautiful though du k\ "d. .rk but 
 com- K" to WOT the m iid who \\.-i-, -uiig b\ tile ei iin-j mu-c t.f 
 
 Sololiion the Wise. Tli -c c:i me fort ll \\ i h - -n^s and l:r 
 
 ie- of rec.l. th -i n| "i - minis ami 
 
THE KATE FOLLOW& 481 
 
 drums, made of the gourd. eo\eivd with -kin- tightly drawn, and 
 long clarions, hollowed out of the -oft wood- common to the 
 
 merrily :i> marriage bells, aiid I)e 
 for apprchen-ion ; l.ut he h;ui some . 
 
 doubt, \\lu-n, on entering tin- town, he found that, \\hii,- I,,-. 
 him 
 
 couple of th- best bouses of the place, hia troops were to In- 
 ins w ithout the walls. The great bod) of the army 
 
 kid d. l.ut followed on. .,.! \ t) n tardily, un 
 
 der the . Luis (! \\ 
 
 ljii.- iely, but unseen, upon the steps ofW like 
 
 ug thunder eloii.l that marshals its mi^lity l-^\< >n- i.n ilu- 
 
 fthe horbou IMnli;. d,- Vtsconseloa f..!lowi-,l wirj, 
 
 a force of some thnv thousind warrioix A dn/.-u times Wai 
 he teinj.h d Ity th. inaniu-r of M tardi to d.-irt 
 
 upon him witli hi- cloud i.f ,nd destroy him, it 
 
 before he could unite with Den ; i-.n^ a fl did 
 
 hf ivpn-arh iiiin-df with not bavil , ( ..uld 1,,. j. 
 
 th- hannerrt of J >m P.alih Vivaro llamitii:^ aniid-t 
 
 tin- gay array, hr ecu; :;;,,.{_ | t 
 
 Kaltha/ar first, and ! - next, that hi- con- 
 
 Ither of th 
 
 timulate hi- r. . be might mar the : 
 
 eluded upon with the Illa.-k \\ arri<.r. },y anticipating the <]. 
 
 I nionimt. and v.m,- fuLMtiy-s mi-jlit escape ii h..ix,.ha.-k. 
 and OODvej to th.- y.-ry vietims whom h.- >..uirht. tin- iiit.-llii:.-!i-e 
 Which shouhl eiiahlr them to guard effectually againM th 
 Hungering, th.-r.-f.-re. f..r the action, h,. wa- OOmp 11 To) 
 
 himself and hi- n-d followers n .-k and which h-. j,,.r. 
 
 ll:l ! l.n.- l.ut that he was supported l,y tf, ( . 
 
 and autli. -.rail;,, tlh I 
 
 MI M h.- went, the two tMlowt-d 1,\ .l uan . with \\ild emo- 
 
 ti-.n- ,,fa ptaaipnaie love and anger mixed Th.- \\r.-teh-d ! 
 
 He, < , hi hi- temptation-, and more t! ,,) ],;, ,,. 
 
 lift his Ian,-.-, and strike it into th,- 1,-iek "ftlu- 
 , iful Princr-s. though with the e,-r?aii;ty of imm.-diat.- ! 
 liims,-lf. tl,at he might *-ud hi- pa] 
 l.\- . . and the tender d.-v..ti.,ii .f th. 
 
 IMiilip. i. red them to sl,.,-|i f.ra -iipjl.- mumi-nt. It 
 
 wm itill .1 t . h i .,!! that i him. H 
 
 sllll|l!l1 Jli - l! - : the aiiL -r in tho,,- of Philip u 
 
 he thus to 
 
 Tuscaluza ha-i !e body of warriors with him at 
 
 21 
 
482 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 Mauvila possibly three or four thousand. There were still 
 other bodies collecting. The always extravagant statements of 
 the Spanish and Portuguese authorities, by which they have 
 sought to exaggerate the importance of the Went, and to loseii 
 the seeming losses of the Spaniards in the struggle, aiv to be 
 received with many grains of allowance. Let it suffice that the 
 Black Warrior was embodying, and had embodied, a con-idera- 
 ble number of warriors, quite enough to have devoured hN ene 
 mies using his own language had there been any equality in 
 their defences and armor. But the Spaniards were clad in 
 mail, covering the most vulnerable parts; their faces only par 
 tially exposed, their thighs and legs. The darts and arrows had 
 but small marks. The savages, on the other hand, might as 
 veil have been naked. Their furs, bear skins, and even shields 
 >f hide, afforded no sort of protection from the bullet of the fusi- 
 leer, or even the sword-cuts, the lance-thrusts, and arrows of 
 the horsemen and archers. Philip de Vasconselos knew too 
 well the greatness of this inequality between the combatants, 
 and felt that the very numbers of the savages, within a certain 
 range, were rather hurtful than helpful in the action. The very 
 valor of the red men was a- danger, since they had not yet learned 
 to appreciate their foes. He strove, in every possible way. and 
 by every argument, to teach this to the Black Warrior, and his 
 favorite captain, without offending their self-esteem. Unfortu 
 nately for them he sueceeded but imperfectly. The pride and 
 passions of Tuscaluza both operated fatally to precipitate events 
 and make him forgetful of all the counsels of the Portuguese 
 knight. 
 
 It was early in the morning of the 18th of October that De 
 Soto, with the Black Warrrior, and the vanguard of the Spanish 
 army, entered the village, of Mauvila. The town, as we have 
 seen, was strongly fortified, impregnable, indeed, to Mich assaults 
 a> were common to the experience of the red men. The ar 
 rangements of Tuscaluza for the disposition of his troops vere 
 such as to offend the military caution of the Adelantado. He 
 was advised, too, of other suspicious circiim-tanees in the con 
 duct of the red chief of the gradual accumulation of large bo 
 dies of troops of the collection of vast piles of weapons of war, 
 shaft- and maeanas and of se\cral missing soldiers >tra;jglers 
 who had probably been ma>siered. De Soto wa- ATOllsed and 
 anxious, but felt that it was ne<v>siry to tempori/e until the 
 coming of Moscoso with the main body of the army. He 
 affected to be satisfied, and felt that In- was safe -o long as In- 
 bad Tuscaluza in his custody. But the haughty spirit of the 
 
I1IL K; PI I 483 
 
 ign precipitated the issue. They had < ut--iv<l the 
 
 town when he signified to De Soto tin- abode which liad been 
 
 I him. while he indicated his own purpose to occupy ano 
 ther. l)i. t the Adelantado replied, cavalier)* perhaps that he 
 diil not approve of the arrangement. 
 
 " Mi.- lilack Warrior will remain with me/ 
 Thi- haughty soul of Tu-calu/a then bla/.ed out 
 The Black Warrior is the king in all the-e countries. It is 
 for him to command. It is tor ;di others to ol.e\ . Tin- Spanish 
 chief is at iilierty to depart, but he mu-t not pretend : 
 to Tusealu/a. here -halt thoii r. main, or thither >halt tho u 
 
 go. Does the Spaniard hearl Such is the speech of th< 
 
 War 
 
 The moment wa- picious for a decisive reply to this 
 
 speech. -ii<-h a-, under other cirni 1 - .\oiild have 
 
 givi-u. Tii>-alii/a waited tor no answer to his word-. lie en 
 tered the dwelling which he had indicated a* his \\n abode, 
 leaving tlie Sj.aiii>li chief to find L the other. That in 
 
 which iielter contained a thousand warriors. I ). 
 
 tmietly proceeded to the .Iwellinjr appointed for his UM-. and in 
 stai.tly sent out his otli -e-ivtl\ amoii^ hi- tmopt-rs, 
 
 minaii-l them to hohl thei. action. 
 
 -. hile. he resolved -tiii to keep up the appearance of friend- 
 
 ship and cunliality. Break! prepared, he sent .1 nan 
 
 Ortiz, the interpreter, to invite the lliack Warrior t. lii< table. 
 
 : i-ed admittance, but lr _ was deli\ ci ed. and 
 
 the reply \\a< civil -The Uiaek Warrior will con: 
 
 IJut tin-. Uiack W. not com 
 
 and .Juan < Mti/ WAS >.-iit \\itli a second m< 
 
 same answer as before. Th- >am.- reMiIt follow. -d. Th, : 
 
 a loij^r di-lay ; and again .Inan Orti/ wa- de-patched \ v th a third 
 
 \ . \\hethei- it W&fl that lie intt-r: 
 
 ! nii-cai In hi- tone and lan- 
 
 hether the red nu-n now found then: , !v (or 
 
 a chani:e in tln-irs imi-t D6 a Sul tUTej but. when 
 
 Juan Orti/. *fanding at the door of th. S .iid to 
 
 "Tell . upon 
 
 the table; that the Adelantado awaits him. and -end- t him to 
 ." then the long siij.j .-. r;:i bn.ko 
 
 out in fury. A red warri-T sallied l "r;h to tlie entrance, crvini: 
 aloud, while hi and all K! m infla med 
 
 with an^er 
 
 VaL r al "iiil and rol.b, : I b if ii a- thoii that 
 
 . 
 
484 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 forth, come forth ! Away to thy robber master, and say to him, 
 that when Tuscaluza comes forth it is to destroy him. Hence, 
 vagabond!" And as Juan Ortiz, half frightened out of his 
 . sped away, he could hear the grim savage exclaim 
 proudly 
 
 13y the sun and moon! This is no longer to be borne. To 
 your weapons, warriors of Mauvila, and let us put an end to the 
 insolence of these wandering wretches !" 
 
 The speaker was the great leader of the Mauvilians their 
 general in their own phrase, the IJig Warrior. He had led 
 them in a hundred conflicts. He had won lame and glory from 
 them all. His triumphs were about to end with his conflicts. 
 Having spoken, he beheld a group of Spaniards in tin 
 square, closely huddled together. There were other Spaniards 
 near at hand, but passing singly. He did not notice these, but 
 making a signal to one of his followers, a bow and arrows were 
 handed him. He >ei/ed the bow, threw back from his shoulders 
 the flowing mantle of skins which he wore, and was about fixing 
 the arrow to the string, when his purpose was arrested and his 
 movements anticipated by the action of one of those cool, always 
 ready and prompt warriors, to whom constant strife has served 
 to impart resolve and instantaneous action one Haltha/ar de 
 Gallegos. The sword from this warrior, already bared in his 
 grasp, flashed in air the moment, when the 15i^ Warrior i:ra-pcd 
 the bow, and before the arrow could leave the string, the sharp 
 I. lade was ranging through the vitals of the red man, who tell 
 dead upon the spot. And thus commenced a conflict of a charac 
 ter the most terrible and bloody, destined to paralyxe the tor- 
 tunes of Ilernan de Soto. The fate which had been hoveling 
 like a storm-clovd above his head, was swooping down at la.-.t 
 upon his victim. 
 
CHAPTER XLVL 
 
 Hit ! what shout is thuf" Ouriota**t 
 
 THE soup of the Adehmtndo that day was cooled uneaten. 
 
 Scan-fly had .Juan Orti/ entered the lwelling which his ma-ter 
 
 , |iied. and declared his tiding, when the war-whoop rang 
 throughout the village, echoed ly five thousand vigorous VOl 
 
 Aarrior- poured forth from a thousand unsuspected vnnit" 
 
 They slaughtered tin- scattered Spaniard-. M, heedle-s of their 
 
 leader s order, they lounged about street and square. The latter 
 
 fought. but vainly. They were driven from the town; numbers 
 
 -axv their horse* slain, shot down before their 
 
 - ; a loss which they held to he even more serious than of 
 tlie >oldiery. To -.lay the horse- was especially the labor of one 
 lariri- portion ( .f the savages. To thi- had they been eoun-elled 
 l\ their chief-, under in-tnictioiis of Vasconselos. Unluckily for 
 theiux.-lve-. this was almost the only part of his instructions which 
 they seem to have rememheivd. But. for a time, their - 
 \\ere too flattering to MI Her them to pause. The vanguard of the 
 Spaniai-ds expelled from their walls, several slain, many nion- 
 wounded, inorv than thirty horses killed uitnL r ht. or maimed for- 
 . and the whole of the l>aL r LMi:e of the inva-liniz army, with the 
 single exccjition of one knight s etli-i-ts ; tl - -al- 
 
 culateil to turn the heads .f any savage peojile. ignorant of their 
 enemy, and incapaKlc of any true estimate of the means ly \\hieli 
 th-\ had won BUOO 
 
 Mich had l.eeii the advantau r f- gained l.y the red men in 
 tln-ir first demonstration against the Spaniard, at Mauvila. They 
 had lo>t th.-ir general, the fii-n-e brave who liad so Mimmarily 
 dismi<M-d .liian Orti/ \sith defiance to his master, and \\ ho had 
 j-eri^hed un<lerthe sudden sword-thrust of Haltha/ar de (ial!< 
 Ili^ ^on. a nolile voun^ wai rior. had perished also, in the eill.rt to 
 a\ei)L f - his death, hut not l.efore lie had pummelled (Jaii 
 ahout tin- head and ear- with his !.,\v. until the Spaniard 
 blinded with his l|oo<i, and Minnie.!. alimM t<> peri-hini:. l-- 
 ii -ath his blows. The <r ; ,l| ;U |t savji^e had in vain sent hi- an 
 at the mailed bosom of the ( a-tilian knight. In slayinj; half a 
 
 e of S| aniards the red men had lost hundred-; but there was 
 QO lack of numbers to take their places, and they scarcely felt 
 
 m 
 
486 
 
 their losses. It was nut so whh the white warriors, who were too 
 few, not to feel severely tin- loss ,f such a large proportion of 
 their whole disposable force. The result, whatever the inequality 
 of loss, was a temporary triumph with the Mauvilians. They 
 had beaten the invader from their tartnesses, and they were $ 
 ->ion of all the spoils of the field. They had also released 
 the eaptive Tamenes from the ehains of their maMers, had put 
 weapons into their hands, and thus more than made up for the 
 number which had been lost by the battle to their ranks. K\ult 
 ing in the successes whieh they had won. the red men closed their 
 gates, displayed their spolia opima fK>m the walls, and running 
 to and fro along the parapets, brandished their arms \\ith exulta 
 tion, while the welkin rang with their wild shouts of triumph and 
 defiance. 
 
 Goaded with fury by what they saw. the Spanish chivalry with 
 out the walls, organizing themselves, rapidly dashed forward to 
 the gates with the view of assailing them. or. at lea-t. for the pur 
 pose of covering the foot soldiers, who a- 1 \aiiced \\ilh their axes 
 for this purpose^. But the brave Mauvilians too valiant, eager 
 and exulting to observe a becoming prudence never sutl ered 
 them to approach the gates, but leaping the walls in hundreds, 
 resolutely took the field, exposing their naked bosoms fearlessly 
 to the superior weapons of theCastilians. A desperate conflict en- 
 sued: the numbers and reckless valor of the red men proving 
 quite a match for the superior civili/atior. of their fbcs. while the 
 struggle was confined to those who fought entirely on foot. Fierce, 
 indeed, was the affray. Mercy was neither a-ked nor expected. 
 The shafts of the savages answered to the lances of the Spaniards ; 
 the stone battle-axe and thundering maeana did not recoil from 
 the sharp collision with the polished blade of the Toledan. It was 
 only when the cavaliers of Spain dashed in to the support of their 
 comrades that the Mauvilians gave ground, and retreated to the 
 cover of their fortress. Thither the mounted men pur-ued them. 
 but were driven back by showers of --tones and arrows from the 
 walls and loop-holes of th> town. A* they wavered and recoiled. 
 the Mauvilians again sallied forth, losing with the cavalier-, sei/- 
 ing on their very bridles, grasping their lances, tearing them 
 from their hands, and clinging to the retiring hor-cs until dragged 
 awav hundred- of pace- from the walls. Such a conflict, valor so 
 inflexible, afforded but small encouragement to the hope- of thu 
 invader, and De Soto groaned over the tardy pmgiv of Mos 
 coso, and the absence of more than half his little army. 
 
 In this manner had they fmiirlit. without decisive results unloss 
 (n favor of the Mauvilian- for three mortal liuurs, when Luis de 
 
ISTALANA, ill! 487 
 
 Moscoso made his a: with the main l.ody of the Spanish 
 
 an.l at o:. 1 in the melee. Hut with his appearance 
 
 in the field, tliat of Philip de \ 
 
 .1 moment K-t us pause in this place, to -ay that none of the 
 Relations of this great event, as given ly the Spanish and 1 ortu- 
 
 , are to be entirely relied on. Thchi-tor\ which the 
 
 lion in of his achievements ha- \,.\ to lie written. Tin- 
 
 account- ot the white men an j \ coiifu-ed ami contradic 
 
 tors, lor tin- simple reason that they labored to . mod 
 
 ify, and even to pervert the details whose results li>UN- 
 
 Irons to tlieir pr I. a- they fancied, in their national pride 
 
 and vanity, so di-creditaMe to their arms. Now. <he reader will 
 please t<> understand thai our version of the -tor\ is drawn chietlv 
 be narratives of the afativilians thems< -ntaiiu-d in 
 
 eli rated MSS. ot the (iivat lawa. -.r liinh I ricM ofChiek- 
 
 ia Ithiopoholla, who wore the gat . ->onn- 
 
 al)out tlie y.^r ItJli*. only al.oii! 
 
 Tin- 11:: written on the liark of trees, in the ( hoetaw charae- 
 
 ter.aii.l.Ka- i ; esv injuries tnni eXjM^un- and time (which do 
 
 it ing to the Itattie of Mans i! . 
 
 >till In- read in the k lent ivil friend Mi 
 
 kina Ithiopolla, a lineal de^c-ndaut of the vi-neralIe lawa. l.y 
 
 hands it svas written. Our account of the atlair. whii-li sve 
 ly venture to assert IN the only one 
 
 confidence, ix <lrawn almost entirely fiom tiii> ancient and vi-ra- 
 eious chronicle. 
 
 lo reviiinr from i: - 
 
 \v had tlie hattle la-ted three mortal hour-, when ;r 
 an-1 a larger army of the Spaniard-, under one of the;. 
 
 line Lnis <le M. ide his aj i earanci- in \\i- 
 
 He had l.cen clo-rly watch, -d a:id t ollowc-l d h from 
 
 Tu>eal .,xa l.y the \\ hite ehief. to ss iii mi had iithe name 
 
 :iana. and .f wbO8 i-ruel treatment l,y th- 
 ha[.|)\ help of the great I rii: 
 
 rliiiju . tdy related ti. 
 
 bat t.rood-^ !,-d a fol C,- of Ui! 
 
 .ehiijui, full command osvr svhom ha<l he. n 
 given liim l.y the (ireat King, N >n as I>talana 
 
 to j"in with the troops un<le* 
 
 the ( a-tiiia!!. ami to ad . i<i>t the svalls of Mauvila 
 
 him ^uddeiiiy. svith a terrible a aiilt f. . :. M.- 
 
 :hat he 
 
 W9B9Q :. Hut he turned upon i 
 
 ard iii.s men and made good tight for the \ 
 
488 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 by the men upon the horses ofSoto, the Oastiliun, and great were 
 the deeds of arms that followed, and many were the blows given 
 and received, and glorious was the slaughter. The earth and sun 
 drank great streams of blood that day; and, for that the war-, 
 riors of Mauvila were too brave to need coverings for theft 
 breasts against the darts of their enemies, the slaughter fell most 
 heavily upon them ; while the Spaniards, being covered with 
 scales of hard metal, or wrapped in many folds of a thick gar 
 ment, which shook off the shafts of the Mauvila warriors when 
 delivered from a distance, they suffered less grievously, and 
 many were but hurt and wounded, when, but for reason of their 
 armor of metal, they would have died outright. But the Mau- 
 vilians hurt and smote them sorely, and bruised them with many 
 blows, so that none of them utterly escaped, while many were 
 slain with shafts rightly delivered between the rye*, ami, when 
 they chanced to turn their backs, with arrows that drove, through 
 the body beneath the -houlders and iv.-ted against the metallic 
 in front. Hundreds carried with them grievous wound* 
 in the legs and thighs, which were less sheltered by armor ; and 
 wherever the warriors of Ca-tile ami Mauvila strove together 
 hand to hand, the one with bright sword shining in the sun, the 
 other with the heavy macana, or the thundering stone hatchet, 
 then did the armor prove no help, but rather a hurt to the white 
 warriors, and they fell crushed beneath the blows of Mauvila, and 
 they fled before the might of her warrior*. And great was the 
 destruction of the strange beast which they call the horse, of 
 whom the Spaniards took great account, and, for which reason, 
 the warriors of Mauvila smote and slew them without sparing. 
 Verily, they slew more than seventy of these giant beasts in the 
 course of the day s lighting, sending the arrows right through 
 their huge bodies, so that the feathers only lay hidden in the 
 bowels of the beast. 
 
 "And when the warriors within the walls of Mauvila, who 
 were commanded by the great king himself, beheld how that the 
 Spaniards were set upon by the troops of Istalana from behind, 
 then did he rise and cry aloud : 
 
 " Now is the time for ye to go forth, ye warriors of Mauvila, 
 and all the followers of the great king! Now send ye up the 
 great shout of war which leads to victory, and get ye out from 
 the fortress to the fight, while your women, and the young 
 daughters of Mauvila gather upon the walls and cry to ye with 
 words of love and welcome, and sing the while *\\. et songs of 
 wi/.ory urd very:;ii:re ! Now to your arms! and go forth and 
 .ignt against the Spaniards frcia the walls, while Istalana, the 
 
TRIUMPHAL > ILA. 489 
 
 white warrior, who i> our general, deals death upon them from 
 behind ! 
 
 .nt forth, even n* lie commanded, with a mighty 
 
 p ..f victory. \\hich -hook the earth and struck terror to the 
 
 And the Spaniards, \sho rude tlie mighty 
 
 ;li.-r, lik- the uar- 
 
 Une for h from tin- fort: 
 
 M.l.r chief Moscoeo. And they ru-hed over many -f 
 
 t ,iir : d they trampled them under the iron hoof- of the 
 
 ; 1. lit" the rc-t parted cadi way from l.efore them, 
 
 ! them as they sped, delivering s\\ift an 
 
 tliat pi.-r. ed the Wa-t- to tl. -.and pierced the ridei 
 
 rain, so that they rolled together ii: !|(I Wltn 
 
 I upon tlie Mricken earth. And e\vn a- the I 
 ,:ik down linieath their l>ea^t<. .ihcr bra 
 d hotly fortli to take their p laces, and it gladdened th- 
 i : th, mat king tliat .lay, to l.ehold witli \\hat 
 l.rav-- . i.-d fur liis honor, and hi- country from the. 
 
 -. \\-rily.it i- UX5 much to tell ; for tl^ ^ ho 
 
 >a\\ could trulv n-j ort what glori.ni-> deaths wt-n- that day i_ f i\eii 
 ;ind huw th-- Mood gushed frum the hig lieart, and 
 
 ,11 out, and h .w 
 
 i fell du\vn at the >harj> | f the 
 
 i-r the cunning war: Wle they 
 
 la\ wounded beneath the h- i t tliem suddenly under their 
 
 1 then the I- 
 Arrow tlie-. with a horrid M-ivam. 
 
 :illtil the\ 
 
 d rolled Orer tlieir rider-, th.- chiefs iu armor. \\1. 
 
 lhe\ cru-hed l..i;cath tli.-ir .\MI weigh . 
 
 thu- slain the women and th" maiden- upon tli : Mauvihi 
 
 Ai.-i th 
 
 the Mauviiian \\liu hath >!ain the 
 mighty l.caM of ih 
 
 li. Bb , :; ! named th - - iiit? tliere 
 
 shall m for hi- bOBOm, Wltfa the picture of the 1- 
 
 And hi- name >hali r ly the inaid.ii- of Mau- 
 
 vila; uinl the \M,rr urs BhaU h a cry 
 
 .me. 
 
 the l.lue mountan 
 
 th- i til hunt in the li 
 
 on the l.ndy of ti. .lid Whcll he I llters the 
 
 the < . then vhali a \ with 
 
 a cry, saying, make wav there gi\ fur hither 
 
 21* 
 
4:90 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 comes the warrior that hath slain tin- (Jreat lea>t of the Pale 
 Faces. 
 
 " Verily, as the Mauvilian hearkened to this song, great was 
 the desire of many to become the slayer of tin- beast > which the 
 Spanish warriors rode. Yet there were some who sought rather 
 to take them captive ; for wherefore should the warm -s of Mau- 
 vila not bestride them, even as tlie Castilians J Hut the greater 
 number preferred to slay them, for they knew not by what 
 words to make the beasts know their masters, and they feaivd 
 the danger from their heels, and they wi>t not how to guide 
 them in their flight. So they slew them, whenever they could, 
 save in few oases, when, as was the counsel of the chiet Istalnna, 
 they caught them by their bridles after they luid slain their 
 riders, and led them oil into the thickets. 
 
 "Now, Istalana, the white warrior, himself had one of tlu-e 
 b -a-ts, upon which lie made to ride a strange boy who followed 
 him in silence a creature black as the great bear of Nolichucky, 
 But, when the battle drew nigh, and when lie wa< about to .. 
 u[>on the troops of Moscoso, he bade this black boy take shelter 
 with the Princess Coc,ulla in the thicket, which was at han<l. and 
 wheiv. many harbored close unseen. And Istalana raised him 
 self with a single bound upon the back of this beast ; and he had 
 strong thongs of bear skin with which to guide him; and a great 
 chair of bear skin, with horns, but without feet, was beneath him, 
 and upon the back of the beast. And Istalana armed himself 
 with a long lance which he had made, thrice as great and heavy 
 as that borne by our people. And he carried beside* 8 
 battle axe of metal which had been taken from the Spaniards. 
 And, thus armed and mounted, he prepared to ride into the bat 
 tle even as the Spaniards rode. Hut fir-t. he put large bodies 
 of our warriors in ambush, close in the woods, but beside the 
 field of battle ; and he bade them not show themselves until he 
 trave them command to do so. And he led but one third of the 
 Mauvilians into battle agaiiM MOM-O-O. being but a thousand 
 men. And t the-e he gave command that they should greatly 
 
 Scatter themselves; that thi V should shelter themselves beneath 
 
 the trees, wherever these stood, and thus escape the wrath of the 
 mighty beaMs. \\hom they were to transfix with their arrows. And 
 he taught them truly, moreover, to aim their darts only at the 
 ind the thighs of the Spaniard-, for Verily. said he, 
 What matters if \ni slay them not outright. Wound them 
 only, so that they shall In-come, disabled, and how -a-y hen to 
 run in and brain them with the hatchet of stone. And, of a 
 j-uth, had they followed thi> coun>el of Istalana, then had not so 
 
TJIK KK1> r.XVALIKR. 491 
 
 many great warri- .vila fallen on tliat ilay. Rut it was 
 
 ,11 the wildne-s of their valor, which sutVeivd them to fear no 
 danger. that BO many of them yielded their naked life to the death 
 shall of the Spanianl. 
 
 "Now, it D in the moment when ti 3 h warriors 
 
 who ; trampling down the brav.-s of Mauvila. striving 
 
 to keep them back from the conflict which had l.e-jun betw< 
 
 the I-talana and MOSCOW), that the chief I-talana 
 
 red in front, mounted on one of the great bea-t- of the Span 
 iards. Verilv. tin- bea-t was of a beautiful strength and maje- 
 
 te with his ma>ter, and he was called Bajardo. 
 
 And when the Spaniards beheld the beast though they 1; 
 
 nothing of th.- great chief btalana. (tir he was no longer of the 
 
 pale -iekly color of the white men. hut had been made comely 
 
 by the war paint of the Mauvilians. and h he 
 
 birds of Mauvila and Apalaehia, and a robe ofl salVron-cotton ol 
 
 our people, and upon his shoulders a rich robe of fur which the 
 
 !: Kiniz had givi-n him when he made him a chief, 1 when, I 
 
 iards brheld tlie bea>t. they siid one to anotlu-r, 
 
 U not that Bajanlo. the hor-e which was ridden of old by the 
 
 .hian. the Pa-e of the kniizbt of rortu-ul ] And 
 
 they answered, Verily, it doth -eem so. Yet hath he loiiiz 
 
 they saw nothing of the Uhu-kamoor. and they knew not 
 the kniu ht of Portnizal. in the ,-o-tume and tlie war paint of the 
 IB. And the kniirht of Portugal, now the chief Istalana, 
 h to\varU tin- warriors of Spain, evm to \\ : 
 . making irn-at sho\v al ove the rot, the chief S 
 
 ,-ral and >rrior. And Soto and - 
 
 riors marvelled much when they -aw a red warrior of Mauvila 
 
 -allantly riding toward- them; and they wonder. 
 \\hen th.-y -aw him -hake out his hmce in detiai. 
 
 . him-elf. and, in the manner of the pale 
 thu- to bid him come t< : iwl 
 
 . :m.l they said. I. 
 i-uni-h this in- .lent savage ; l>ut S 
 It is fop me to punish his i; 
 i little ahead of th 
 said to the Mauvilians 
 
 back all, and leave Soto, of > me. On 
 
 hat other- come not If I slay him. or ye se. 
 
 :-thro\\u. then fall h erc.-U upon tl that follow him; 
 
 and r tin- thi- 
 
 44 And the warriors of Mauvila fell back. And Istalana pre 
 
492 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 pared himself for Soto, though he carried no weapon but the 
 heavy lance, and the great axe of metal, such as the Spaniards 
 bore. And he had no armor upon his limbs, and he wore no 
 buckler upon his arm. And he went unafraid to the encounter 
 with Soto, of Castile. And Soto came on briskly, with his lance 
 couched for the encounter, and he little wist of the enemy who 
 stood before him ; and knew not but that it was a brave native 
 warrior of Mauvila ; for he saw that they were a people the most 
 daring of all the world, who were willing to fight with any foe, anl 
 with any weapons, or according to any fashion. And knowing 
 this, Soto said within himself 
 
 " Now, verily, these warriors of Mauvila have a world of 
 impudence. Here is a savage that hath gotten him a beast 
 which he knows not how to manage, yet would he undertake 
 the warfare with me after my own fashion. Yet, in sooth, he 
 keeps his seat with a tolerable grace and steadiness, and with 
 proper teaching might be rendered a right comely and formida 
 ble cavalier. Yet shall I have to punish him with a death thrust, 
 that I may rebuke the overweening presumption of his people. 
 
 "And so thinking and speaking to himself, Soto, the Tamil 
 ian, spurred his beast forward to the meeting with Istalana, who, 
 nothing loth, or slow, made his beast go to meet him, with a 
 great rushing. And the two leveled their long lances, and 
 there was a great cloud that wrapt them; and lo, when the cloud 
 lifted, there could be seen Soto, the cavalier, falling upon the 
 ground, and Istalana wheeling his great beast backward, and 
 making towards Soto, with his lance ready to do him to death 
 with a thrust." 
 
CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 Tom thou the mouth of thy artillery 
 Against these saucy walls." Kjya Jon. 
 
 WB have given a sufficient specimen of our Chen-taw chronicler 
 for a while. Relying on his authority as heretofore, we shall vet 
 forego the stately simplicity, and the quaint solemnity of his style, 
 as far as possible in the future, and trust to that which is m<>iv 
 natural to ourselves and readers. We need repeat, after this 
 pie of our authority, that his account is the most trustworthy 
 of all the parties; and our materials will show that he supp. 
 thousand deficiencies, in the details, which the vexed vanity of the 
 Spanish invaders would never allow them to put on record. 
 We proceed now to our history. 
 
 The fall of De Soto occasioned naturally a tremendous 
 tion. The wild exultation of the red men rang throughout the 
 field as for a victory already gained, and a most unexpected tri 
 umph rendered certain. The Adelantado of the Spaniards was 
 considered by the simple natives in the light somewhat of a 
 man a demi-god, who was in some degree invincible, or like 
 Achilles, only vulnerable in some small region not easily reach. -d 
 by dart or tomahawk. They were now dk-il.ii-ed of this super 
 stition, and their spirits rose in consequence to the highest pitch 
 of hope and enthusiasm. They knew not but that he was al 
 ready slain ; at least, he was in the power of their champion ; that 
 icd certain, and a single stroke of the terrible lance which 
 Vasconselos carried was alone needed tor the coup de grace. 
 Ntalana, now doubly glorious, and a favorite in their med 
 
 prepared to satisfy their expectation* Wheeling about 
 turn to th.- Charge, III- lance was coueh.-d. and the vulture, 
 missioned by the fates for hi- destruction, already threatened I K- 
 with the consummation of his d<> 
 
 Hut the Spanish chivalry were not prepared to suffer th. 
 <jiieror to complete his work of vengeaiic.-. Tli.-v had 
 fall of th.-ir governor; and. with a mixed howl and shout, th. 
 lant cavaliers who had attended him, an. 1 who had oiilv r< 
 
 a short distance tn> m . of the pa tween hin 
 
 and Istalana. now da-h.-d forward to his rescue. I m-t 
 
 in season. Our Portuguese Mauvilian was already upon" hi < 
 
494 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 enemy. De Soto who had succeeded in recovering his feet, had 
 drawn his sword, and was ready to defend himself. 
 
 " Hernan de Soto," cried Vasconselos, to the complete aston 
 ishment of his opponent, "thy hour is come! The doom for thee 
 is written ! Thou .shalt die beneath the hand and curse of the 
 man thou hast basely dishonored !" 
 
 lie knew the voice. He could no longer doubt the person. 
 
 " Philip de Vasconselos !" 
 
 " Ay ! and thy fate ! Prepare thee !" 
 
 " I fear thee not, renegade and traitor !" 
 
 " Ha ! thou shalt feel me !" 
 
 And the lance was couched at his breast. De Soto raised his 
 sword in defence. Philip would have sprung from his steed and 
 encountered him on more equal footing with the battle-axe, but 
 just then the rush behind him required him to guard himself. 
 The Spanish knights were upon him. There were Nuno de To- 
 bar, and Baltha/ar de Gallegos, and many others. Philip gave 
 the rowels to Bajardo. He dashed through the thick array. 
 Gonzalo de Sylvestre was rolled over upon the earth; Alonzo de 
 Piftos was reached by the lance which failed to slay him, but 
 knocked out several of his front teeth, and greatly disfiguring his 
 mouth, spoiled the prettiest face in the army. Others were 
 handled only less roughly, and thundering through them as the 
 great buffalo thunders through a forest of prairie dogs, the won 
 derful cavalier of the red men broke away from the network of 
 foes which for a moment seemed to threaten him with captivity 
 or death. His forest followers were not idle. The warriors of 
 Mauvila launched themselves, with desperate valor, into the 
 thickest of the wild array, and the battle, with all its terrors, \vas 
 resumed on every side. 
 
 It raged with no abatement for more than an hour, and with 
 no seeming change of fortune. Many of tin- Spaniards perished ; 
 many of their hois.--. Hardly one escaped without wounds; 
 but the naked^red men suffered death, and not vounds, \vith c\ 
 hurt. More than a thousand had perished in the strife, when 
 Istalana. whose plans had been wholly baflle.l by the impatient 
 pride and haughty valor of Tusealiwa and his general, succeeded 
 in drawing off a portion of his forces to the shelter of the forest, 
 into recesses where the horses could not pursue, and whence tin- 
 arrow could be shot with unerring and unexpected aim. The 
 red men disappeared almost in the twinkling of eye, leaving the 
 field -tn-wn with their bodies. 
 
 CogalJa was the. fir>t to Deceive Vasconselos. But whc: 
 Juan] Philip looked about him with inquiry. The page was 
 
I A.-s/AtJES. 495 
 
 behind him ea T\ .. .: d arrow-, and w;: i with the 
 
 du-t and hi.M.d of the fu-lil. 
 
 "Ah! boy; and I bade theenot?" said V a ivr.roach- 
 
 fully. 
 
 " 1 >aw them as they surrounded thee, Seflor, and I could no 
 longer remain ;. 
 
 p -miled >ad!y on the Moor. But when he looked a 
 "\ time 01 too had 1, i the 
 
 /lunate than .Juan, 
 
 had been \vmi::ded in the arm Oh ! w! 
 of that young attendant when he beheld 
 
 beautiful arm of Cocalla into his hands and <-aivfuiiy hei|> to 
 . .ip the still bleeding limb. The hurt was fortunately slight. 
 ; : wa- a \\.mnd received in his defeiiee ; and. mmv fortn 
 Mill. Ml arrow from her bow that stuck in the thijih of 
 
 \\. goto him-elf, giving a painful wound, which would 1 
 driven from the Held that day any cavalier <f merely ordinary 
 
 ver. that 
 
 hurt 1! .y his riding, though he kne\\ 
 
 the nature of the wound. Little did he dream what hand had 
 the shaft. When he did know, whe i he eoiieeiv.-d fuliv that 
 and princess had b.;h gone i\>r\}\ to liis roeiie the moirieiit 
 that they beheld his peril, the heart of the melancholy k; 
 was very full. \,, . .uh.-red in his eyes. I Ie had forgot 
 
 ten how to w.-.-p; but iieverdid ey. -u -h tender emo 
 
 tions; and he looked from .Juan "to (Walla, and he took the 
 of the prinerss and ki--ed it. while he drew the trembling 
 to his bo-. MH. and -aid to him fondly 
 "Boy, thou shall evermore be brother to me. I ha 
 ntht-r brother now but tln-e." 1 
 
 Andre^ de Vasoonselofl had been one of the cavaliers whose 
 rank- that day he had BO li.-iv.-ly broken through, liut he had 
 rai-ed no !ain-- ajrainM that youn^ kiiiMnan > boom. 
 
 -Juan trembled with t-rril>le *- lotions a-, for the first time, 
 he was strained M> warmly to the biva-t of }\\< lord. II,- folt 
 that the heart within him was like a molten sea all fire, all 
 tear-, scalding ami Mreaminir. but ready all the while | 
 through all b. 1 be pmin-.l out like water on the -ands. 
 
 But the teiiderne- .1 mom, nt only, and even while the 
 
 ht >trainel the M.-.-ri-h page to hi- bo-om. the Prh, 
 Co<jal!a interj)o-ed. and laid her hand fir-t. and then her ii 
 \ipon hi- shoulder, and said in the nx-t melting manner 
 -Ah! i hilip! Ah braye Philip." 
 But, just then, Juan eri.-d out with a change of feeling : 
 
496 v.\ os 
 
 "Oh! Senor, thou art wounded." 
 
 The red stain was apparent through the *hite cotton of n 
 vest. The garments were sticking to the wound upon his 
 bosom. 
 
 " Let it remain," said Philip, as page and princess, now both 
 excited with fear, proposed to attend the hurt. 
 
 " Let it remain. It is nothing, and now bleeds no longer." 
 
 It was but a flesh-wound made by the partly spent shaft from 
 a cross-bow. He had pulled out the arrow during the fight, and, 
 pressing the garments upon the wound, hail succeeded in stop 
 ping the flow of blood. There was no time now for surgerv. 
 The Spaniards had renewed the action, and Istalana was required 
 to go forth again. 
 
 Furious with the sanguinary courage of the Mauvilians. QOQ- 
 M-ious of the peril which awaited his own and the fortunes of his 
 army, and mortified deeply with the disgrace of his overthrow in 
 the sight of foes and followers. Ilcrnaii de Soto only delayed the 
 action long enough to enable his followers to recover from ex 
 haustion. It was necessary to obtain po-sr^ion of the town. 
 There his people would find shelter and provisions, both of which 
 they began to need. There had the red men stored their supplies 
 for the winter. Several of the houses were- great granaries of 
 maize, beans, and potatoes. There, too, were their great armo 
 ries arrows, arrow-bolts, and macanas. darts, and stone hatchets. 
 To possess himself of these, was to supply his own soldiers, and 
 greatly to impoverish and enfeeble the red men. There, too. 
 ulting in his savage pride and power, was the hateful and insolent 
 Tuscaluza, the only cassi<me among the native princes who had 
 ever shown himself really formidable to the Spaniard! in Apa- 
 lachia, up to the present moment. All his passions and all his 
 reflections conspired to goad him to the most desperate efforts to 
 make his way into the fortress .f Maiivila. To remain without, 
 exposed to the perpetual assaults of thousands of enemies, spring 
 ing up in the twinkling of an eye, and melting away as suddenly 
 into their great forest shelters, was a prospect that threatened 
 nothing short of ruin. 
 
 Hut it was necessary to plan the attack upon the fortress with 
 a due regard to the thousands who guarded it, and of the other 
 thousands who swarmed throughout the forests in his rear. The 
 latter, too, were led by one who knew equally well what was pro 
 per to the warfare of the red men and the Sp.-miards. Hitter and 
 savage were the moods whVh po->e>-ed Ue Soto as he thought 
 of Philip de Vasconselos. 
 
"ONCE MOKE UNTO THE BREACH." 497 
 
 "And 1 have fallen beneath his lance th!- ; .!, l>ut for 
 
 my followers. I had been >lain by the very man whom I had 
 
 di-honor and left (o d< 
 
 I! - gloomy inn-; interrupted by the entrance of 
 
 .: and Andiv> de VasCOH- 
 
 .iinong tlu-iii. lit- Wta about to declare : which 
 
 :tat of tlu- identity of tin- red warrior I-tala- 
 
 na with the outlawed knight of Portugal. But the -%ht of An* 
 
 .!!! the r. innate intimacy be- 
 
 >ar and Philip, led him to a prudent - 
 
 ! Let them once know 
 
 that Philip lives, and that this is In reinembt : hat he 
 
 hath been wrongly doomed and will they strive ><> bl 
 Miiainst him ? will tl. vathi-r this l.n>:hT of his. strive in 
 
 half? Max h" DOt L r <> over to him? May he not carry 
 
 In the moment r, who i-Vm^ to an old i 
 
 What numier> wii. ; he mommt to ja^s into the 
 
 eml-raci-s .t*tlu- MICCC ful party? And know we not that many 
 to dn>f> away upon the m;ireh, and wiving 
 
 with n % "men to ar..w to JM.WIT amotii: thetril-? 
 
 No! no! 1 mii>t hu>h and hide Una damnable di>eo\er. 
 in tin- la-art, where it only \\orks to torture." 
 
 Su.-h w-re ;he brief, hurried, and natural, but un-poken thoughts 
 
 which to the Adi-Iantado. when he behel.l hi> knights 
 
 their Qfden. 1 ) 9 .!.! not throw ..H the 
 
 m that i iiis -on! and filled his countenance, 
 
 but i [ty. 
 
 " \Vell. - f, It is tir UN now to 
 
 \sith all our >oul and ?ti\-n^th. to 
 
 tile ntti-Mii- thi- da\ . We IiiuM 
 
 ler lortn--.. It w.- fail. < iir da\ i 
 
 i h-eil me, all ? While this -mi !a-l- \\e mu-t eoli.jUi-r 
 
 wn. and hold it in . V..nd-r ! .ml lie 
 
 shuddered as he |iointi-d to them i thousand eiie- 
 
 i! and hating us, without pity or alli-etioii; with num- 
 
 !ioi;r!y i: .iirirn: in the vultures 
 
 thronir ab"ut li. I . BI _ tl.rih." 
 
 >n in fui. .1 in the field. I). 
 
 : his plan,. li 
 ter portion of his cavali.-rs f -r : ; 
 
 i th- fort iwx. ! ;, 
 larly re^-ryed. the b,-tter to avoid 
 the trails. The\ 
 
498 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 plain in which the steed can ex. -r.-ise the chief faculty, that of 
 fleetness, which confers upon him his peculiar use- in war. 
 
 The battle was resumed. Tuscaluza and his warriors prepared 
 for the Spaniards along the walls. I.ta!ana led forth his troops 
 from the forest, and against their rear. IK- wa- eiicnunteivd bv 
 the picked chivalry of De Soto which, in separate bodies of ten 
 men each, occupied the { lain in their front, and. ca-ed in armor 
 all the vital parts protected except the eyes tl en d but small 
 marks for the archery of the red men. while in their sue, 
 charges they swept down hundreds Tin- hor>e was more vul 
 nerable, however, though >ome pains had been taken to i 
 him in the more exposed and sensitive regions >fhi> body. Kta- 
 lana, or, as we shall henceforth prefer to call him. \ 
 aimed at two objects to bring his troops, onlv a- archers, into 
 full play, and at the same time to cover them a- mueli a- 
 ble with the trees of the fmv>t from the sweeping charges of the 
 hoi-semen. But, if he kept the eo\vr of the foiv>t \\holly. lie 
 failed to reach the cavalry with his arrows, the plain being of 
 such extent; and not to drive them from it. was to leave the 
 garrison without succor, or diversion, to endure the whole weight 
 of De Soto s assault. lie accordingly prepared to throw a body 
 of live- hundred active warriors, good with spear and battle axe 
 between tlie detachment of cavalry in front of him and the forces 
 with which De Soto assailed the \\ alK while the n- 1 of his troops, 
 covered as miK-i. ible by the forest, kept the horse in full 
 
 employment with their arrows, He. himself, on foot, prepared 
 to lead his -pear-m ii into the thickest of the light, and between 
 the two divisions of tin- Si.-nMi army. 
 
 "And now," saith our old Clioctaw chronicler, tin- glorious 
 fight began once more, \\ith a shock as of many thunderbolts 
 And Soto, of Castile, led his great men close up against the 
 walls of Maiivila: and th- un-at king coiilVonted him then- with 
 a terrible flight of arrows; and with heavy stones he drove him 
 back from the fortiv--. And when Soto. of Castile. wa- thus 
 driven back, he fell upon the warriors of tin- great chief I-ta- 
 lana. and very terrible was the battle that ensued between these 
 mighty men of war. But. though many of the Spaniard- were 
 slain and more hurt, yet, by rea-on of the armor of toiign metal 
 which they wore, many ex-aped, who else had been done to 
 death, by the valiant strokes of Istalana and his spearmen. These, 
 on the other hand, being all men of naked valor, wen- sore 
 stricken by the Spanish bolts and darts; and the \\i-c chieftain, 
 Istalana, when that he beheld how the battle went against his 
 
MANY \VKKK SI,, 499 
 
 people, ! hem cunningly away from between the ranks 
 
 of tM Spaniards, and ; Iter for I 
 
 \llil I>e Soto. it ( 
 
 \vilh the i.Mvat kini: au ain-t tin- walk- of Mauvila. and hi- a\e-men 
 
 hou^di tin- \valis, ami to beat down ti, : the 
 
 fortie.--; anda-eci>iid t ime were tin- v dri\ /ten, 
 
 .vcivd from tin- !< 
 
 again did the ln% e I-talana givt- battle to tl. .:in^ 
 
 Spaniard-, and to th.^r \vli. t ciinh I nun tlu- l>a<-k- .t tii 
 
 And thi- liattK- went now om- way. and now the Ol 
 
 i-on, lu-ithrr party j.rrvaiu-d in tlu- i-onflict. iiut 
 
 th.- llow> ot blood which 
 
 i en ln.fh Bidea ani"!! _r tin- chanijii -ns. And, ariion^r the 
 
 ivila, tht-: jhti-r. Many i-assiques 
 
 :iu- prri-hr.l in valiant anonit-s. cryiiiu to tlu- >\<cn 
 
 th- Klur inan>i iis in the h:ij>py vallry. and to -did l ..r them tlie 
 
 Jit maidt :. ,sl to jue!i-h the i. 
 
 1 sj.irit. first 
 
 to tail. liaviiiLi slain many fo---. Th.-n Chinalu-.- Him.. 
 up tin- uhovt. wrai-inir more than thirty scalp lock- upon arm 
 and ihinh: and many more, brave like the-c. who 
 
 j of the la^t iii:iit. An.l mai real 
 
 < hi-- . l.-k.-nanil bort in the fighting of this da/, l-.Jana, 
 
 .-hicf hiniM-lf. was -trick- ii twice, but he said nuthii.. 
 his hurts, whib- he ^ave death to oth.-r men to drink 
 the will of him \\ ho hath no thiiM. 
 
 ly t. the chiefs of Mauvila that the hur 
 
 the death n rea The (in-at ("hi.-f of th,. g 
 
 .ie. felt t^ie warp arrows in his thigh and side ; but he was not 
 
 . The l\:i._r pp. ph.-; of tin- pale : -cor. d with a f\y 
 
 . like a coward, in the back. Hut he lived, that ; 
 
 might aajr, thk is the mark rhofled And th. 
 
 goodly \outh. a kin-man of 
 
 throat the UTOW : 
 I ; many were the \s : 
 
 for whom they made bitier mnanin^ that ui^jlit in the . amp of 
 I 
 the truth demand- that I d . the thir i 
 
 he wan 
 
 . A . 1 thej ; PI > ; i : ;. | 
 
 
 Nsn<T n ftbe fortress. 
 
 And when the 
 
 the) ^-nt u[> a mighty n, \sith t- 
 
500 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 spread it along the walls and through the town, that the Great 
 King was slain, even Tt:scaluza; but, of a truth, it was IK.- 
 Grievous was his hurt, and glorious, since it was made upon his 
 open breast, in full front, and even in the moment when, with his 
 mighty stone-hatchet, he elove the brain of a great warrior of 
 the Spaniards. But, nevertheless, men thought him slain; and 
 when his people bore him away from .he irate to a place of safety 
 without the walls, and into the forests on the other *idi as wa> 
 counselled by the prophet then the women lamented, and the 
 foolish warriors broke their weapons and fled from the walls 
 which they were bade to defend, and went hither and thither, not 
 knowing what to do; and, by reason of this folly, the followers 
 of Soto, of Castile, broke their way through the walls, and ! 
 down the gates, and their great captains, on their mighty bea-ts. 
 rode headlong through the streets of Mauvila, smiting as they 
 went. Then was it too late, when our warriors hastily caught up 
 their arms, and renewed the fight. 
 
 " And the women of Mauvila strove, too, in the ranks of battle, 
 and very great and glorious was the slaughter. But the 
 Spaniards prevailed in battle against our people, and when this 
 was beheld by the brave women of Mauvila, they sei/ed bright 
 torches of the living flame. And they gave it wings; and they 
 sent it from housetop to housetop; and they hid it away in the 
 hearts of the houses. And where they had their husbands slain, 
 they flung themselves into the burning houses, and they wel 
 comed the coming of the Spaniards with arms of (lame, waving 
 them on, as they passed over the walls and through the gales 
 with songs of triumph and defiance, It was a day of rich 
 blood. And the people of Mauvila left for the Spaniards only a 
 f-ast of famine, and music of agony and groans, with a raging 
 fire to quench the thirst which they knew, from eating at Mich a 
 banquet. The brave Tuscaluza, the son of the (Ireat King, was 
 slain; but the Great King himself was mad.- safe in the big 
 forests lying toward Chickasah. Thither came also the mighty 
 chief Malaria, who had grevious hurts upon his brea-t. upon his 
 (ace, upon his arms and side. Sorely was he stricken; and 
 they brought him upon the shoulders of the Tamenes toward 
 ( hii-kasah, and the princess Cocalla, of Cofachiqui, tended him, 
 while he lay hurt, and the strange black page, Juan, watched be 
 side hnn nightly when he slept." 
 
CHAPTER XLVIIL 
 
 " He bear* 
 A tampeM wkich his mortal veMel tear*. 
 
 PBUCIJR. 
 
 SUCH was the terrible battle of Muuvila. The Spaniards had 
 
 obtained tlif victory. They had won the chief fortified eit 
 the Mauvilians. They had expelled tlu- inhabitants or !- r"\ - d 
 them. Thousands of the redmen had peri-h- 10 many, 
 
 by thousands, as the conquerors claim to have d , but still 
 
 the havoc had been terrible, ai.d tin- victims \\vre live time- 
 numerous as the whole army of De Soto. The rash valor of the 
 Mauvilians, their naked bo-..ins. the superiority of the Spani>h 
 anus and armor, had naturally rendered the defeat a massac 
 
 But the triumph of the invaders was dashed by their own 
 terrible losses, and I )e So*to lamented his vietory in the language ot 
 I yrrhus. Nay, it did not require siu-h another vietory to leave 
 the Tamilian conqueror undone. lie \va- already undone, and 
 he felt it. The gloom of despair was on his soul. Hi- face wore 
 a perpetual scowl. His language was harsh to all when he 
 sj.oke. He was no longer the confident, frank, impulsive cava 
 lier, who could sweetly smile upon hi- friends, and who bore in 
 his bosom an exulting hope and consciousness of desert, which 
 filled all who beheld \sith unvaiVmu auguries of niCOeet, He 
 . ap . Mi-pieioii- ; di-tnMtul of frinids and for 
 tune; wish the m<-rtif\ inu conviction that he had not only failed, 
 in i. >pe- which had in-piivd his enterprise, luit donmed 
 
 her failures, involving fame as well as fortune; perilou- 
 life as to success. He thought of tin- noble woman, his \\ife, K-tl 
 behind him in the Government of Cuba, and bitterly reinemb 
 tha* her and himself rolled the great sea, and bi-tv. 
 
 that sea and his warriors, spread hundreds of miles of imj 
 tra: :y thicket of \\hich harbored its ho-(s (,f im- 
 
 ! condition n,. the gloom 
 
 ! within his soul. \ -h- d 
 
 was tion of the Spaniards alter the battle of Mauvila. 
 
 More than two hundred of them had Keen -lain rs de 
 
 cvmbat. Scarcely a man had H unhurt. 1 
 
 Ml 
 
502 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 himself was thrice wounded, and though not, in either instance, 
 severely, yet the hurts were of a sort to goad, to mortify hi.s 
 passions, and to vex his pride. We have seen, what were his 
 personal humiliations also. But he was not allowed to brood mi 
 them. The condition of his army demanded all his thoughts. 
 His soldiers, covered with wounds, were attended by a single 
 surgeon, and he was at once, slow and unskilful. Ther< 
 neither lint, nor linen, nor liniments; neither medicines nor 
 bandages; neither ointments nor instruments; not even elothii:i: 
 and shelter. The fires of the wild Mauvilians had consumed all 
 the sforesof commissary and surgeon all the food and pint 
 ail that was needful for the hralthy.no less than the sutlering and 
 sick. The dwellings were all consumed, and but a j 
 was found in the miserable tents <>f boughs and branches, whirh 
 could be raised by the feeble etVorts of the least wounded among 
 the Spaniards. For bandaging wounds, they tore the shirts fn.m 
 their backs; to procure unguents for the hurt, the slain Indians 
 were torn open, and the fat taken from their bodies ; the slain 
 horses were cut up and their flesh preserved, for sustenance for 
 all. Even their devotions were interrupted, in the loss of the 
 wine and wheaten flour which they had used in the performance 
 of the mass; and to the superstitious, the question became one of 
 erious importance, whether bread of Indian meal might be em 
 ployed for the sacrament, a question gravely discussed among 
 them, and terminating in the unfavorable resolve, that it wa< not 
 tolerated by the canons of the church. When to the real physical 
 miseries of their situation, we add those of their spiritual hunger. 
 we may conjecture the terrible gloom which overspread the en 
 campment of the Spaniards. 
 
 This gloom of his followers was naturally of deeper and darker 
 complexion in the soul of DeSoto, than it was among his people. 
 His had been the loftie>t ambition, the most exulting hope. His 
 pride, and station, and responsibility, were greater than all the 
 rest He was proportionately overwhelmed in the common catas- 
 trophe. He was utterly unmanned by his reverses. Not that 
 a unwilling to fight and peril him-elf a< before ; but that he 
 was no longer able to control his pas-inn*, and hide his iniirmi- 
 md develop the strength and resources of his genius. 
 moody irritable and savage, he \vas now purposeless in his aim, 
 and utterly hopeless of favorable events in his future pr- 
 He had no longer the heart for enterprise, or the spirit for ad 
 venture ; and, forelghl days, he lay in his rude and inadequate 
 encampment, among jj,,. mins of Mauvila. like a wounded tiger, 
 licking his wound- in hi-; jungle. Meanwhile, the wounded suf 
 
503 
 IV armj 
 
 slowlr t< repair its hurts an.! I ter a fa>h : - 
 
 maims and bruises. Hut it was th former 
 
 iinl beauty. The d t their 
 
 chief oppressed the spirits of all. Hoj 
 they now only sighed t<r the opportunity to return t 
 taut homo which few of them v. -,,-h. 1<1 
 
 It was while they lay thus and Mitr.-n.-d. in th.- town of the 
 Mauvilians, groaning with their hurts, and dreading 
 
 Mt that the red men would surround, and cmnpi-l th.-iu to 
 rc-uine the stniLTill 1 to which they f.^lt thnn-eives so in. 
 that t!, ived intellirrmv Which wa- calculate<l t 
 
 them with the hope of eseape from tlie p.-ril.us nie-he^ in \\hi.-h 
 iiail involved them. Tiding reached them. , m - 
 dly. of the arrival, at Aehuxi (i. 
 ships from ( ul.a. under the command of 
 
 :;ado. The moment thi- 11.- BCeived, \ 
 
 and men l.e-^an to ealeiilate the <li>tai 
 Aehu/i. It was according to th 
 days journey to the sea coast; and ail heurN }x-^m to 
 
 with the hope of soon n-a.-liin^ ih.- ships, th.- 
 <.f th.-ir comrades, and finally th- whi, h all 
 
 DOW irerc prepared t.. n-givt that they ha-1 BO idly l-iV No one 
 , f to remain in a region which yielded t he:n 
 
 pie of wliieh 1 ctrayd -ue!i imp 
 
 sl " h : e eouniLre. and s,,,-h -.-it, quinary li- 
 
 character. They discussed th.-inaf Th,-\ 
 
 m. -..ura^ -d eaeh oth.-r with their new ln.ni 1. 
 a country, in which they beheld n>thin<: l.ut i ;1 id |,|,,,,dv 
 
 I In which they could now aiitieip.-i-,. nothing : 
 and a gloomy fate for all. Th 
 
 h mm -n -oldi, 
 
 IK. in which the 
 nd wi>h- ,-SM-d }.\ i 
 
 . that m-meni. hi> reoolye w&s tak :.. /A oould ; 
 
 turn a va^alumd to Cuha. II,- ffho 1. I 
 
 .-awl Lack in tl 
 
 H -k.-n fugitive, II . . r. II-- 
 
 innst win the tpotifl h-- -.tiirht. He must carry I .-ick the 
 
 and the trophi.-s of jj,,. golden oil h h.- had pn-i: 
 
 had faith in th.- hidden tr. H He 
 
 Still looked to the OOOquesI l a M-mi-chi; 
 
604 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 those of Mexico and Peru, the overthrow and dominion of whom 
 would crown the close of his life with glory, and redeem and re 
 pair the hurts of character and credit which had confessedly 
 accrued from his enterprise, up to the present moment. He 
 d to confound his cowardly followers, and to baffle all 
 their imbecile calculations. He determined that they should 
 share his fortunes, in spite of all their frars. He did not sutler 
 tin-in to know that he was awaiv of their secret hopes. He 
 simply gave his orders to turn their hacks upon his -hipping, and 
 go forward, deeper, deeper, into the wild abodes of toe - 
 Apalachian. 
 
 II:< cavaliers, as soon as they heard these orders, boldly un 
 dertook to expostulate with him upon them. They spoke of 
 the sea, of the shipping at Achuzi, of their hopes and homes in 
 Cuba. 
 
 " Tell me not of sea, or ships, or Cuba !" was the angry reply 
 of the Adelantado. " I will see neither, until I have conquered 
 these savage Apalachians, and won possession of their great 
 cities." 
 
 They would still have expostulated. "There were no great 
 cities" was the answer. " These people are mere savages. Our 
 people despond. They have not the heart for further adventure. 
 Their hearts are set only on returning to the sea coast, and 
 availing themselves of the shipping, of once more reaching Cuba. 
 They are already discontent with the delay. They will 
 mutiny ." 
 
 Ha ! mutiny ! Tell you this to me? Then get ye ready your 
 executioner, and prepare to do as 1 require, for by the Holy 
 so long as I breathe, the Vice-Gerent here of our Royal Master, 
 I will put to sharp justice the soldier who shall only dare to 
 murmur. Away, Sir Knights, and let me hear no more of 
 this." 
 
 "The habitual exercise of authority had imparted to De Soto 
 a power of command, which was admirably seconded by a sub- 
 mi-^ion as habitual, as well among his cavaliers, as common 
 soldiers. The obedience of the one, necessarily enforced that of 
 the other. The army was put under marching orders, and, with 
 weary footstep-, and desponding hearts, tin- remnant of the army 
 took its way into the great solitudes once more. 
 
 Hut the one purpose ,,f progress; in Do, Solo s mind, was un 
 directed by that aim and design which constitute the first true 
 a!s of successful adventure on the part of the soldier. 
 Disappointed hitherto in the results which followed his several 
 ente prises, he knew not now whither to direct his footstep* 
 
Wli A I ANA. 605 
 
 From this moment, hisonh dis. 
 
 tamv 
 
 -imply hurried forward, on a route that perpetually 
 
 hither and thither, but 
 . no purpo-e. He knew i.< 
 hither h 
 
 .filiation. !! wandered thus in 
 y pilgrimage, clay by day, pa-ing from forest t.i foi 
 from village to village, fighting wherever the re<l m i his 
 
 path which they .n.l fighting always without 
 
 ,;,jcrt. < >. ed to think, seeing bow erratic WM his 
 
 h..\v reck inenrre<l all perils that his ival 
 
 |, n ,. hidi brought him vexation only, 
 
 :ui.l a life \vhieh. his pride taught him, was dishonored by the de- 
 
 \Vhileo\irSpaiiiar.U\\. .ting thcmseh /.ivila, 
 
 wliat of the propU- of tlie (ireat King, Tusi-aluxa ? what of the 
 
 tuguese Kni-l.t. \\hoin \\e now tana, th- im- 
 
 Mant if tiie Mauvilian Cassi.juc. son-ly wounded 
 in the final battle with the Spaniard^. 
 
 j tlirir red f ( .ll.)\\ of 
 
 ntigiKM; A- :!. ft all 
 
 1 with th 1 in the 
 
 utmo-t subt .. . as cunnii 
 
 : the 
 l 
 
 li,. . iti-r number-, wh" WOOD tin; 
 
 iiiain>t them. The Mauvilian- iiad 
 probably thn-- i warriors and a f 
 
 li.-id perish* i : but a nir inny 
 
 stil, - \lau- 
 
 . ; while ntlu-rs dai into hi- i by the 
 
 Had h 
 
 ^paniar.ls had ; 
 inoni.-iit in Mauviia ; had nev-r been j pair 
 
 ruit them 
 1 1 . i ;h :! m .htly with 
 
 ut off \\hrin-ver th :lh ; 
 
 it i- j.robalil. 
 
 :iany <lay- of -tru^j -.n. .-nding in their utter 
 
 annihilation. They were then in no condition to tight, and as 
 little to end , 
 
 Hut, in the wounds and in- : their great leadei 
 
506 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 red men did not dare to venture upon tin- enterprise for them 
 selves. They were content to gather and prepare th.-mselves; 
 to provide a new armory ; to lay in sup plies of provisions; to 
 guard their wounded monareh ; and wateli clo-elv all the move- 
 inents of the Spaniards. Tusealu/a had been severely hull, lint 
 the red men. rarely outraging nature with the too fiv.jt ently im 
 j)ertinent pretensions of art. were good nurses, and not had Mir 
 geons. in tliat day, when they did not feel their own deficiencies 
 and had not learned to succumb to the genius of the white man. 
 They had considerable knowledge of pharmacy , and dealing with 
 green wounds, which were not necessarily mortal, they were 
 singularly successful. The conquering people have Inn-rowed 
 many good lessons, and much knowledge, from their skill in, 
 medicine. 
 
 Of course, Istalana shared with the Great King, in the best at 
 tentions of his people. Nay, he had probably even better attend 
 ance. lot- was not Co^alhi his nurse, and was not Juan nigh, 
 jealous of her cares, and watehful of every opportunity to inter 
 pose his own ? Yasconselos had suffered from several wound-. 
 lie had lii-en brought from the field in a state of utter insen 
 sibility. Borne on a litter through the fl -rests to a p. 
 safety. remte from the BOene of aetion. he had undergone a long 
 struggle with the mortal enemy of life. Youth, nival vigor >( 
 constitution, fond and sleepless cares, and a loVing solicitude that 
 neglected nothing ; to those he owed h ry, Durini: all 
 
 his sull d-imfs. through a long insensibility, lever and delirium. 
 Toi.-alla never slept. Ah ! the devotedness of the loving heart 
 the loving woman ! How it galled the soul of Juan to see hei 
 officious tenderness, when he could not interpose when he dare ! 
 Dot. How it angered him, when (Walla bonnd the fever bain, 
 to the forehead of the unconscious Knight when she bathed hh 
 hands and arms in cooling waters ; when she applied the bruised 
 herbs to his wounded side and bosom, when she poured th 
 inn hi-veraires into his burning lips, \\heii she sate by liim. and 
 lifted his head upon her arm-<. and aiTaiiM her bosom, and mur 
 mured softlv in his oars, her fond, exulting consciousness u <>h ! 
 Philip ! my Philip." 
 
 Then would the pane chafe with vexation. He betrayed his 
 aniT T. He was rud" to (Walla. He complained even of her 
 officious /eal. and sleeple attendance. 
 
 And Co^alla pleaded with him as ifvhe had been no pri 
 She knew that the boy loved the cavalier, and for this ^he 
 forgave him all his offences. It \va^ ijuite enough with her, that 
 the rude boy wa-, devoted to his ma-ter. That, she saw. Shu 
 
was n< . Hut -lie -aid to Juan, one day 
 
 when lu- v .vly in-o! 
 
 "Why.: hilip grow angry ? Doth 1 ; . 
 
 loVC hi- 111,: 
 
 loT6t him too^ tndbei i him, that she wa .i.and 
 
 i.-m, and < ;nds. an-! makr- hi- COUch of 
 
 1 would Juan de-ire l>ut to m.ik 
 :>py hi- master 1 would lu- hav.- C(.(;a!la I 
 (Vu-alla will not halt- Philip! Coralla lo\vs I hilij. \\itli lu-r 
 
 :iin,L r , nohody, so wt-11 a- l j hilij>." 
 vhat Juan <li<l not cL-ii\-. Hut. : 
 nl<l h- an^wi-r ? ll.-<-oulti only turn a\sav. and . 
 UPS, an-! -urM lii< late, that MitK-n- l otlu-r hamls and oth-r 
 nan his own. to nnr>c and tt-nd. and minister to the brm{Z 
 whom be so much loved^ with a like love also. \ - wnv 
 
 th.- tort Miring that long trial, while \ 
 
 unded and in<eii>iMe iijmii !h- frii I aiitifui 
 
 princr--. and so l(>>i<r a< she alin- had power to wateh I 
 him. 
 
 But _ dually both Tu-.-aiu/a and I-talana jrrew hrter from 
 tht-ir hurt-, and the eyes of tin- Por .ui: d to a 
 
 know:- :nl>; and he took the h :dla within 
 
 i. and the hand of Juan too; a- they stood on 0] 
 fthe couch; and hf ki e.l the hand of ( ..calla ; while th^ 
 . i^h.-d merrily with joy, and ki ed Jiis lorvh. ad in 
 return. Hut as fur Juan, he eouid i-nly turn away, and \\.-i-p. 
 Tn- j -y >f the prii r. w;u> tluj -"rmw of the page. 
 
CHAPTER XL1X. 
 
 t we forward . 
 Never was a war did << 
 Ere bloody hands were wusln iV 
 
 Cr 
 
 THE warriors of the Apalaohian had been set in motion, by tin 
 impatient Tuscaluxa. betb.v Vasconselofl was aMe to take tin 
 field. His pride made liiin impatient. Advised of ever; 
 hi the progress of the Spaniards, he had commanded th;. - 
 steps should be followed; and. taking counsel. f..r awhile, from 
 Istalana. he had pursued a eantious policy, which sludiou>l\ foiv- 
 bore risking anything mi a genera! battle. His present chief 
 warrior was Chica/a, who controlled an immen-e district of 
 country, and could bring at least live thousand warriors into tin- 
 field. The progress of DeSoto had now brought him into the 
 territories of this Chief. To him. TiiM-aiii/a - preparing himself 
 to take the field had sent instructions to harass the Spaniard >. 
 OOt Off detachments and supplies, whenever occa-ion c! r .-ivd. but, 
 on no account, to engage in genera! action. It wa^ the fortune ! 
 the Great King to Apaiachia. t<> \- t ( aptains. who. lil,,. 
 
 the ambitious ( liief> among more eivili/ed tuitions, ha. 
 miU h self-esteem to hearken to the words of counsel, or even to 
 obey the commands of their superiors always. < ntnivil 
 
 battle with the eiiemv. and \va-- dct -atel. But not till a dread 
 ful mas-acre had taken place, as terribly murderous to 
 men as that of Mauvila. and (jtiite as fatal to the Spaniard-. 
 
 De SotO had possessed himself of the \illaue of < hic:;/a. 
 The first aet of the, ii .pie was the .I.--t IMC; ion of his own 
 
 town. He decreed it to the flames. It was a bitter ;-M night 
 in February, the north wind blowing wildly, and dark clouds 
 scudding aCTOSfl the sky, when the Ca->ijue led liis lor 
 
 rate bodies, to the attack. Tint Spaniards knew not o, 
 their danger, till the dwellings, in which they had sheltered them- 
 i in flam- ts and sentinels, officer- and 
 
 men, had been alike neu r e<-ffiil of dat\ . The red men -tole into 
 an unwatched camp. Thev gave no alarm, until they had laid 
 their inflammable, torches beneath th- . and until their 
 
 shafts, tipped with lighted matche-, had swept to the straw-roofed 
 
 1608) 
 
BAT1 AGO. 609 
 
 lodges, and fastened tlu ni-rlv.-- inextricably amonu th 
 Then did the war-whooj. M>und th- signal tor assault; trn-n did 
 the wild eoiu-h- deliver their mournful * l.-i. 
 
 drums and rattles of the ( ;;d f.-arfully about the 
 
 : ed habitations. Then did the red in- hou-and 
 
 in mimlier, ru-h to the battle, surrounding 
 
 and dealing their etleetual ario. 
 sallied forth. 
 
 \\ .- must not enter into the details of tliis battle. \V 
 
 lltS. The ivd men \\vr- that K they n 
 
 :: . lor shelter, to their thiekets and .-everal liundrrd "I 
 tin-in were >iain. lint the victory, like that of Maiivila. wa- one 
 whieh the Sjariia r -an, not exult! Fifty 
 
 of tht-ir soldier^ had been slain. \\ ; 
 
 them; a- DUUHjf bonefl had ; fi-hed al-n. ami a like mil: 
 \\,r, :ime. but l\>r Nnno de Tobar and 
 
 niards mii-t have le-n m 
 i. An entire company il.-d in p.. 
 
 brought baek by Tbar. Th- ; 
 
 eaptain and hi- i . taet. were the true Bfiviora .t the 
 
 annv. \Vh-n .lie mo:row > -un -hone upon the work, she hot 
 
 be of him>rlf. iru-hcd liirth from the eyes of tit.- l.ai.irhiy 
 
 .ward progreaa of. i 
 
 :,.! the complete annihilation of all hi-> h 
 Hi- u!o.,iii and \c\ati. .11 of spirit inerea--l the pilph bet v\ 
 hiniM-lf and 1. H- had for them n w i , 
 
 ||, f daily inju-tiiv. !! niortilii-d th.-ir |rid< 
 
 hi- haughty- o th-ir >uir-rinx- i and wishe- ; h- 
 
 mj-athies by the r.j.eii .n of all OOQimu 
 
 With tilt :;. Hi- I) 
 
 ii.-.l li mi with . \iior- 
 
 r.-min-U-d him j.ainfid:; bom h.- a-eribed the ru 
 
 lii- f. rtun. -. ThojiLih he named n-t 1 hilip de Vase, .n-i-1. 
 .-ill,. ; what h<- ki.-- 
 
 th.-m no duoa to i:i of his o\\n 
 
 1 to them \sith a bitt. rin- tha 
 their 
 
 "Oh, ye do well ! ,n.l toeotreftt, and eoun-.-l. W)jy 
 
 do \ 
 
 
 
 not the d IIU1 ih it haunts our 1- 
 
 U-rrors. innoeeiit 
 
610 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 Yet why do ye go with him in )our hearts, that ye may the 
 
 better plu.-k tlown ruin on my head." 
 
 M What means his Excellency," demanded the confounded 
 Nuno ile Tul>ar. The scowling eyes of De Soto were set upon 
 Ai. tires de V,i-con-c!os. The latter jruudly answered, and with 
 i calm eold sterness of manner, which made the resemblance 
 between himself and brother much more evident than ever. 
 
 M 1 know not what your Excellency design- to sav. lor a truth 
 all that you have spoken sounds strange and unmeaning in mine 
 
 ut if their be any purpo>e to charge aught of our di , 
 upon my neglect of duty or want of loyalty, then do 1 demand 
 that vou name mv accuser, and my sword shall answer to hN 
 hood." 
 
 - Kven thus he spoke! Thus he look. .1 ! Thus he defied me 
 cried De SotO, his memory still retaining full recollection of 
 the reserve and self-esteem which in the case of Philip deVaBCOD- 
 selos had always offended the amour prjin- of the Castilian. 
 
 "Of whom speaks the Adelantado . " .icmanded Tobar. 
 
 "Of win. ml Jesu ! one would think you had slept, without 
 hearing the cries of war. without feeling the shock of battle, 
 without scathing in tin- scorching flame- that swept over us ly 
 night,during the last thirty days of strife and honor. 
 
 Such was the Midden btuM of seeming astonishment, with which 
 the adclantado replied to his lieutenant. lie continued, ardently 
 and wildly 
 
 kt ( >f whom should I speak, but of that insolent .late which has 
 1 our step.-, from Chiala, ami which hang- over u- with ruin. 
 < Mi ! ye know not. Ve are blind. Ye will remain blind until the 
 knife is at your throats, and there i- no means left ye f>r escape. 
 Hark ye! Ye have seen De Soto overthrown, for the first time 
 overthrown, in single combat ; man opposed to man. lance to lance 
 -teed to steed. And ye have seen all this achieved bv a naked 
 savage of the Apalachian! No mail ujion his biva-t. no helmet 
 upon his brow, no crest upon gleaming shield, declaring hi - ileeds 
 in war. Yet he had a name. Once he had ere-t and shield, and 
 cuirass. Ha! Ha! A red -avage ! and ye thought it wa-> a mere 
 savage, a naked Apalachian of the hills, whose lance could toil that 
 of lid-nan DC Soto. \vho-e charge and thruM could roll tlie ( as- 
 tilian warrior into the dust. Oh ! blind! Hark ye! It \\asno 
 red man no Apaiachian. iho i-h wearing hi- .-cmblance. It was 
 tlii- abouned Fat\ I tell you, that purMies u- now. that will still 
 pursue us. that will feed upon i sail, even a- the vulture and the 
 wolf glean among our bones bl- aching in the wilderness. But 1 
 t fall in vain ! Then- \\iiJ be a bloody i-sueyet. His crest 
 
. 1TKAR3. Ml 
 
 gainst mine, ami 10 help me. Blessed Jesu, M I *hall yet plant a 
 fatal stroke of the battle-*] n hi- aeci, that Fate 
 
 of mint- ! He -hall not overthrow me quite. In my fall, \ 
 behold his also ! ay. ay ! Imt a little while. But a few days now 
 so gentlemen. <:et \e ready for i 
 
 The f De Soto wa 
 
 dently 1! .in wa> wild a; :; and such for 
 
 i! lays continued to he the mood which prevailed with him, 
 and the manner of his -perch. Bi.t hi- inflexible will w; 
 active and comm Hiding, and Mifticed for authority. lie drove 
 
 ird. after a very lrief delay, 
 
 spent in ivpairinir >word< and ann- r. and L iviii^ re-t to thu 
 wounded. But dreadful were the sutlerin^ "f the trooj.s. The 
 winter wa- v. ry oold, and. dreadini: th-- 1 men, 
 
 they could no . ture to (MMMIPV the villa. 
 
 aluzn and Ntalana were now hoth in tin- field once umre, 
 and the authority of the latter prevailed with the (Jivut Kinu r . 
 Tin- rednieii were no loi;. iilideiit of tin ir jr\v.->-; as to 
 
 rUk a general Action, Th.-y contented thcm-dvc- with guerilla 
 warfare. They hung upon the wii;-_ r <. and in the rear of th 
 Spaniards, harra^ini: them at every -tep. Th--v enc<unti-red 
 them in front with sudden dart-;, whenev-r the thickets eiiaMcd 
 them to cover then.- -.dily from the cavaJiy. I > 8 
 
 maddeiiini: with every d h fi-vi-r hurnii 
 
 in his t.mplc-. and uncicatri/cd wound^ -valdini: him l.eiieath hi-* 
 armor, urew m J6 in his m>< more and more 
 
 himself that a h ate lnm _ r ftbove his l.amicr, which 
 should finally x\voop down in . luiryin^ it in Mood \ ,,\. 
 
 With siK-h a -up.-r^tition w>rk:i 
 
 fain. wl).> had ,,n in arm-. 
 
 ond not even to tha 
 now moody and CtpH 
 
 of purpose, without ] :.-riiiL r , 
 
 like a vagrant with hU army, to and fr. a- th-- wind- llew and 
 
 th-- waten ran. 
 
 told him of a red man KGD on hor-eback. 
 thi-n in -iL r ht ot :h,- anny. th 
 Mi 1 It i- th- 
 
 -liall m. - I ! . 1 1 . 
 
 n w -hall we - 
 
 And he K-ide them help l.ii.-kle on hi- 
 at the head of hi- : 
 
 tood the i 
 
 u Now," cried De JSoto tu i 
 
512 . VASCONSELOS. 
 
 back, while ye see me transfix this indolent enemy this Fate 
 that haunts my footsteps to destroy with but a single thrust of 
 my good spear. Ho ! Sant lago, to the rescue !" 
 
 And with the famous slogan of Spani>h battle, tin- maddened 
 cavalier dashed forward to the assault. 
 
 Meanwhile, as the Spaniards clearly saw, the red warrior wel 
 comed the encounter; for he waved .his long lance aloft in the 
 sunlight, and he, too, advanced as if glad to engage in the mortal 
 struggle with the noble Castilian. Put it ua> no part of tlm 
 policy of the Spanish knights or soldiers to Miller tin- Adelantado 
 to peril himself in singly combat, in his present diseased and 
 feeble state. Besides, they had seen the wonderful and unac 
 countable prow r ess which the red warrior had shown on horseback 
 They naturally concluded the one before them to be the ^ame 
 who had already overthrown their leader, and they begai. to share 
 in the superstitions which he had taught them to ropeet. They 
 dashed forward in a body to the support of I)e Soto, and. with 
 their approach, the strange warrior of Apalachia mclte.i irom 
 sight, man and horse, into the dim shadows of the impenetrable 
 forest 
 
 "Whither went he?" demanded the Adelantado. -Did the 
 earth swallow him? Did ye see him ride away ?" 
 
 "Verily, 7 said one, "he disappeared as suddenly as he came ! 
 We saw not how ! Perhaps into the foivM. 
 
 " But had he not been a fiend from hell, couUl he have sped 
 from sight unseen unheard?" 
 
 The. knights crossed themselves solemnly, and each multi-red 
 to himself a prayer. 
 
 "It i- the Kate my Fate !" exclaimed DC Soto as they led 
 him back ; " but 1 shall cross weapon with him \ la-jo 
 
 against the Kieiid. my friends! 1 will compier mine enemy / 
 
 Days pas>.-d ; tin- Spaniards still piv ed forward ; still har- 
 Bssed i.v their sh-epless enemies, and unable, with all their arts, 
 to bring tin- wily red men to a general action. Put I Soto wa> 
 told of a fortress into which .ue. had thrown 
 
 IniiM-lf. upon the very borders of his province, and where he 
 appeared preparing 1" defend himself. The news seemed t<. con 
 centrate all the energies and purposes, of I )e Sutn. It nave him 
 a definite purp.-e. Th< fortress was railed Alabama, aii-i 
 upon the banks of the Ya/oo river. The garrM>n wa- large, 
 The fortress v\as Mmnir and built like th.i .f M-iM\i!a. Tin 
 Ad -iMi, 1 .! i .- at once led his army Miriiii l i f : cU Udn of the red men, 
 under Tusealu/a and iMalana upM! hi- id rear. 
 
 A tflj-r -siiling 
 
DESPAIR OK I>K SOTO. 513 
 
 the fortress, while their cavalry wa^ required to defend llieir rear 
 against th> n that hou-ivd on their flanks. The 
 
 again victorious at the u-u.-d price of victory. 
 They lost - { their I : diers, 1 In . 
 
 I men wa- . hut not Mich ;i-* tin- siiperlat ivcl v 
 
 extravagant chroniclers of tW-ir people would Lave us belies 
 tact, the defence of tin- fort;-- uly oi:r of thoxc modes 
 
 which the policy of the Apalachians taught them to cni|>l<>\, b\ 
 which gradually to 1 exhaust the stivngth of \\\<- in- 
 
 vailcrs. They did not e \poM- them^elve-> unnccev -;n-ilv ; I K.^e 
 v In fo ught without the f-Ttrcsv had tl. 
 
 . with a thousand avciiiu- oj-.-n to thcii- light-licchd i 
 for (light, while they Wen- alnit inipeiictralilc to th-- c;i\;d:-\ of 
 their - -he i.iln-r hand, when 
 
 pressed on three sides of the fnrt !<. sim| l\ leapt the riser. ai;l 
 
 to the other side. In this conflict, lu.th I E 
 
 Philip de Vascons r ], j.nn wounded, nut neither M-vcivl\. 
 
 A snare was laid hy the Spanish knight^ ll.r taking the ; 
 boFnmiD of the Apalachian^; luit the plan was badly con. 
 or badly managed. It w.--. ted, and l-talana fought on foot, 
 
 with battle-axe and macana. Once he ran-..- nta.-ly to blo\\ 
 
 to, and, hut lor the sudden fluctuation-, of the combat, \\onld 
 
 in his etK.rN to do BO, A pren of kn-glr 
 
 denly threw a wall of iron and defensive ^prars bet \\ecn him ;.nd 
 
 - baflled. The red men melted a\\a\ fri-iu 
 
 D as the mornini: mi-t^ bet ore the -1111. 
 
 d with what was done, and leaving to their eoemiefl Imt a 
 
 barri-n c-oiKjii 
 
 1 of this }>attle was to confirm De Sot,, in the bitter- 
 :d that strange phrcn/\ n.-t. h"Wi-\rr. un 
 natural which had taken poss t .<>i(,n .f hi* brain. Il.-\\a- a 
 terribly stricken man. and his mind frequently wandered, \\hilc 
 r capable of that hftraj end), 
 
 ,:.ibit that t-la-f . \\hi.-h liad 
 
 hitherto cKstingliishod it in -v-ry proL r re-s. I .m *>\}\\ }K- j 
 
 ,rd, heedless wh ither. except that lie Always rdig- 
 i .uvly strove to leave the sea behind liim. II. 
 
 template th- lea, He dared "JUllUS 
 
 in that direct},, i | en j,j^ i;,!|,, u -,. r , u tll }.,, 
 
 unable to control their future cOUne, Tli.-\ ha-i tOO fuil\ -h..\\:i 
 him the lii,. ,;,, in th 
 
 
 ^ he hod proiijibL-d. he pr. ..- rn-J to bury hi^ furtui. 
 
614 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 shame together in the depths of the wilderness. He was a fine 
 example of the terrible selfishness of ambition. 
 
 The erratic progress of De Soto at length brought him to the 
 banks of the Mississippi. His was the tir-t European eye, ac 
 cording to the authentic history in our pos>es>ion, which ever In- 
 held the vast, turbid and wondrous strejyns of the "Father of 
 Waters." De Soto gazed upon them with but little in?. 
 He dreamed not of the glorious territories which they watered. 
 He saw not, through the boundless vistas of the future, the im 
 merous tribes who should dwell upon their prolific border- 
 crowning them with the noblest evidence- ..f life, and with tin- 
 loveliest arts of civilization. The spirit of the Adelantado \\.i> 
 crushed. The fires of ambition were ijiienchcd in his boson,. 
 His heart was withered : his hope was blasted forever. He was 
 now a dying man; not exactly a maniac, but with a mind ill at 
 ease, disordered, vacant, capricious ; striving with itself: wearv, 
 and longing only for the one blessing, which he had never suffered 
 himself to enjoy ; Peace! His heart did not exactly crave a res 
 toration to his home in Cuba, but the image of the noble wom 
 an, his wife, rose frequently, reproachful in his sight. He had 
 loved her, as fervently as he could have loved any woman ; bur, 
 in the ambitious soul, love is a verv tributary passion. It craves 
 love, but accords little in return. Its true passion is glory ! 
 
 Wehave foreborne a thousand details of strife, anxiety, dread and 
 
 suffering, which the Spaniards were doomed to experience before 
 they reached the Mississippi. They were haunted by the perpetual 
 terrors of the Apalaehians. Tuscalu/a and hi> Portuguese Lieu 
 tenant Istalana gave them no respite. They crossed the Mi<sis.ip- 
 pi. They penetrated the country of the Kaskaskias. and still they 
 were under the eye and the influence of the Great King of the 
 Apalaehians. The terrors of his name met them on every >ide. 
 The powers of his arm smote them in all their progress,..;. The 
 Fate! The haunting and pursuing Fate! Oh! Philip de Ya--:i- 
 selos !" cried De Soto to himself thou art terribly ave: 
 Would that we could meet, mine enemy ! would that, alone, we 
 stood naked, front to front, on the borders of this great heathen 
 river, spear to spear, and none to come between. Then, then ! 
 Thy spear or mine! Thy fate or mine! 1 have wronged thee, 
 Philip de Vasconselos, but 1 should ^lay thee invert h lc-^. 
 Verily, thou art terribly avenged. I have wrong.-, 1 thee, but 
 what had these done to thee, thy Christian brethren, that thou 
 should st decree their destruction also ? Yet thou shalt not ! 
 
BACKKI* i:r; : . >iv. 515 
 
 Sant lago! there shall come :in hour when thoii sh:\lt be nY]i\ 
 
 .y hand<." 
 
 The uriefs. the suU erinns of DeSot<> prompted :\ revival of Ins 
 religious enthusiasm. He commanded that a pine of iiiuantic 
 :ht should be hewn int<> the form of a cro-<. He had it plant- 
 Mil rnvmoiiials upon the bank- of the stream, 
 eon-rented its inauguration with great solemnitv, a:>d \vitii 
 
 pitiatory sacrifice-. II p | U Iliade the 
 
 nil infliiei; :-t ;i!pl .l.-f -at I he terr<>r> -t that li-n i.-- 
 
 that Fate. with which he imw l.eiievt-d hiniM lf to he piir-ue.l. 
 
 n, more than thr- huinlred years ar<>, tin- embl* 
 Cliristian faith t",\ itlu-r of \Vat- 
 
 lian rit. iti-l hi- mighty billows as they hurried with 
 -:lad ti.liniis to the 
 
 Hut these solemn ceremonials compelled no friend: 
 
 further manl, - , only brought him to the b! 
 
 nnln-aee of n.-wr ene ni -. lb>\\- the ;inns an! influen- 
 
 the A palarhians j>ursned him wherever he sped how th> 
 
 linsl him the warrior- of ( apaha. Tula and ot!i.-r tribi-s ; what 
 
 the combat-, what th- !o es. tin- Mirprisrs, the fear-, th- 
 ferin^ of the Spaniards, in their daily pr- ntlv 
 
 i from tln-ir own meagre chronicles. Incessant si 
 
 I nights, weary marcii.--, w^mid- an 1 t"il. these, with final 
 mutiny arnon^ hi- own followers, utterly broke down the soid of 
 !) SotO, and to,k from him all his -trench. L-t it ^uili.-e t!i.-\t 
 the noble CastUian at la-t con-t-nt.-d n. r. trace hi- step-. The 
 
 daoid late t or ! ! t\. H.it he despatcln-d a 
 
 :ivel\ with the hpe to find the 
 vhile. warring at < \ \\itli 
 
 new rti-nii--. I )- S- -t plant. d liim elf at Irtish at a village whirh 
 he had captured, call, d ( Iiia.-h- >\ a. ..n ti, 1-at.ks , ,f th.- 
 
 Mi i ijipi. i 1 to build brigaatines, and m 
 
 hi- way out of a country in which deati, | his 
 
 heels, and an I mt d<-f.-: k f i 
 
 hop- h.- veiitur.-d to plant h p- 
 
CHAPTER L. 
 
 " IABI Kent of a l 
 Phat end* <K trange eventful hiury." 
 
 SHAKSPKIKK. 
 
 OUR previous narrative of events has brought us to tin- opt-;-, 
 ing of the summer of the ye^r 1542. We have readied the 
 melancholy close of all those glorious prospects, and trinm pliant 
 hopes, with which Hernando de Soto left the shores of Cuba, tor 
 the country of the savage Apalachian. He was a subdued and 
 broken-hearted man; humbled in spirit, mortified in pride, 
 ruined in fortune. He had survived all his hopes. Despair had 
 taken possession of his soul. To crown his misery, physical 
 sutlering was superadded to his griefs of mind, and wounds, and 
 travail, fatigue and fever, had combined to prostrate the iron 
 frame of him, who, in the pride of muscular vigor, had never 
 dreamed that any toil or trial should have forced him to succumb. 
 Nothing short of this utter prostration of his physical strength 
 and energies, would ever have compelled him to yield the point 
 to Fate would ever have moved him to listen to the entreat ies<>f 
 his followers now urged with a stern resolution that would no 
 longer brook denial, to turn back from the forest- to il, 
 iml endeavor once more, to regain the shores of that beant ; fu! 
 island, which, even the proud spirit of De Soto himself, be. 
 noaiied in secret, with a fond and fearful anxiety. On the banks 
 of the vast and lonely Mississippi, occupying the Indian village 
 f Guachoya, the Adelantado gave his orders for the construction 
 > ,i couple of brigantines, such as would enable him to seek the 
 
 sea. 
 
 His people set themselves to this work, with the eagern- 
 IM !!. to whom the fruition of all their hopes is promised. While 
 of them were engaged felling and seasoning tiniin-r. o h.-rs 
 secured the country, seeking adventures and pro\ i>ions ; and 
 all, to prevent the too near approach of the swarming 
 hordes of red men, by whom, ever since their approach to the 
 territories of Tuscaluza, their fortunes had been followed. That 
 Kate, as De Soto himself esteemed it which had hung upon 
 their steps and striven against them, with a bitter hostility from 
 the moment when Vasconselos was lost to the ( astilian columns, 
 and Istalana suddenly sprang into existence, as the leader of those 
 
DE WEI) m ME. 617 
 
 of the Apalachian, uas Mill i ill a haunting terror, 
 
 still making itself felt unseen, still cutting <>ff detachm* 
 striking at posts, boating up the bivouac, carrying ofl*. or smiting 
 down. th i\ anl -h< " " 
 
 vident purpo-e to POOt out and utterly i he inva- 
 
 Tu-ra!u/a s power and inlluen< ver\ where hmugh 1 
 
 thi- FatC aii-1 promote thi< terrible purpo-e. His rtllH 
 traversed th< M :ntry, pa ing from tribe to tribe, brii . 
 
 tidings of the Spaniards \vhnv thry Came; "t thrir b!.i.|\ 
 rha, thfl powr f tlu-ir anus thr grasping 
 
 of tlu-ir desires. Tli.- Ckptainsof l u--a!u/a i 
 
 th, i: - volunteers in tin- rondurt of n : His 
 
 I priiicipals or auxiliaries. \v-re to ]. t - found carrying the 
 
 banner of the Creat King; \vitl its bright ground of yell. -w. and 
 
 its thrre broad -tripe of blue ; a -ign that now waved ominously 
 
 in the eye* of .ur Ah-!anta-!o. \vhein-vi-r it appeart -l. I; had 
 
 to him the omen of evil (Uw be trembled in his 
 
 d When he beheld it. He -\itll the 
 
 : that my- : lie red men mysterious to 
 
 . 11 known to him-r,: m he had 
 
 hrown in single combat! That overthrow rankled ii. 
 
 .soul, but it al><> lended to di-ami his >pirit. 1 )e S,.to \\ a- .-..\\.-.l 
 by hi- Fate! The fore-t chieftain > -ciit him insolent n 
 
 defy ing his arms and challenging him to combat. Once, and su<-h 
 
 defiance would have spurred him to the i 
 
 ment ! Now. he sutU-n-tl it to L r " unliee.led. Like a tii^er. with 
 bn-keii limb, he lay crouching in his lair. fuIKof venom, but \\ith- 
 p to spring upon hi- \ictim. Tin- Adelai/ 
 h hi- care-. gn,\\ii.^ daily i wrowe, i 
 
 morbid ( ,f j!;ind. !y. Ili- f.-ro. ity sul-ided 
 
 i.is bloo,! 
 :, is brain. His ph\ -irian at length dc>pairvd. 
 
 1 b- hill, " HI NMIS, 
 
 . withheM from lii- people. 
 
 iwhile. th.- work of the briganti 1 1 pidly jm 
 
 ..ii-d. under the eager a Spaiiian: the 
 
 inhnsjiitable tenr .K-hian. While comp i 
 
 red timber, others gathered rosinfromt 
 
 third divi-i irth was 
 
 kept in hand, vigilant and ready, for the : imp. 
 
 j in- 
 
 tlie bil-i: 
 milted to relax. . ike Mauvila, a for 1 
 
518 VASCON6ELOS. 
 
 town, and the scattered dwellings of the place, required to be well 
 watched. De Soto, to his usual habits of pn -caution, had, oflate, 
 adopted others of an extreme sort, betraying a nun-hid appre 
 hension of danger. His sentinels were doubled ; each night )iis 
 cavalry mounted guard in the >uburh> of the villas- 
 hand, and ready for the sally or defence. A pair- -I of trumps 
 alternated, during the night, between the several stal 
 while, along the river, cross-bo vim-ii in canoes kept vigilant 
 watch upon all approaches from e opp..>it,- -h. 
 
 But this vigilance was observed onlv wiiile 1 )e Soto \\.is him 
 self able to assert his authority. With his inert a>ii:_ iii: 
 this organization fell to pieces The extra sentinei< were dU- 
 pensed with; the cavalry found it hard to mount guard during the 
 night, when they had probably been on a foray all day; the trooper-* 
 finding there were no alarms, gave up patrolling . bow 
 
 men fell asleep in the canoes. The Spaniards wejv now stead 
 fast only in the labor of building their hrigantines; and all duties 
 that seemed to interfere with the prosecution of this work, wen*. 
 either in part, or entirely foregone. Gradually, as the heats of 
 summer began to prevail, all toils in the sun were relaxed. Tlx- 
 forbearance of the red men, for several weeks, had persuaded tin: 
 Spaniards that they had endured the worst of their dangers from 
 this source. They little knew hew much of thi- forhraramv they 
 owed to that person, who had grown into the embodied Fate 
 of their great leader; and to \\hose agency, in ope.-ial. he a-- 
 cribed the defeat of his enterprise and the destruction of his for- 
 tunes. 
 
 Philip deVasconselos the Cas^i.jue Istalana, -who had n>>\v 
 the entire charge of the forces of Tuscalu/a on the Mississippi 
 seeing how the Spaniards \\-eiv engaged in the const [-net ion of 
 their brigantines, readily divine* 1 their object. He had no motive 
 to prevent their departure, and, consequently no de-ire to em 
 barrass them in their progress. Still, there was one host 
 ing, the gratification of which he had not enjoyed. His revenge 
 was incomplete. Could he have separated the Spaniards from 
 their Captain could he have struck at Atm /// /// and anothir 
 there had been nothing left him to de-ire ! He well knew that 
 through him De Soto had been ballled that he wa> a subdued 
 and broken-hearted man ; but it must be confessed that he still 
 yearned for the opportunity to bring the long NMIC between 
 them, to the final settlement of blood! This was the black spot 
 in the soul of the Portuguese Cavalier. 
 
 It was a warm and sunny afternoon of summer. The { 
 Urds might be seen in groups a!:.-ng the shore, strolling through 
 
CRY OK VK\ 619 
 
 the camp, or fishing alt >nr tin- river in canoes. Iln-y little- 
 pected the nrarn-i:hl><>rh" d of the m . rarrior, u ho could 
 
 manage tin- war h I 
 
 a close fortn - it in the immediate proximitj ap. 
 
 what isolated th,- ^:<>\. It 
 r! of jiriimntr\. An ann ! tin- river i ;. to 
 
 ;he viilap . Thi- P 
 i-il with canes, an<l the den- natural t< 
 
 II. re I-:a!ana f. .mid M. ith a select body of hi 
 
 Ilere he kept >lec: ii ujM ii tlu- III<>YI i 
 
 \Vitljraii -x al\vay- at han<l. lu 
 le at pleasure ; an.l was thu- 
 irvi-illaiuv wln-iu-vt-r h* 1 th-^i.iiht |>r- 
 harlmrs in th.- >ha.l..\v offfreal tn ea \\lii.-li iia\. 
 tiu- l.ank- .fih- river, tlu-ir Ixiunli.s lian^in.ir "V-r an.l .lij : 
 
 earn. \\< . in t 
 
 : an<l tlu- ! 
 
 hr j>ai;i .luaii h-aiK xailly anain<t a L r iL. r .- nti< COtton-M 
 in th.- r.-ar. an-i l..k- L r l" inil y uj-on the j, !,iin ! 
 
 [Of lia> IM-.-H t "r >inu- tinu- siU-nt. h i-|> in tic 
 
 lie ha- oooasionallj answered, 1-nt in m.n<. -\liai.les un 
 
 jui Mint* C<(;alla. Slu- ha-> In en v.-ry Curious about that \\<>rhl 
 l,,-y.)i;.l th- ^ iiieh eoiil.l si-n.l f! h. \\itln.ut i 
 
 .. xu.-h a n< l.le creature as tin- warri. .r \\ h.-ni ^he n\v l...hl!\ . 
 h. r own! .Juan \\i\< l" l( n li^trnini: with lie. .Itul and curl 
 
 .; but wh^ growing soUenness of aspect Sud.lenly \ 
 
 . He approaches .limn, and. rath.-r in tin- man 
 
 nrr . bo BOlfloqufeeS than asks a qu< Ition, remarl. 
 
 " Verily th.-n- i^ one thinir that trnnl.les in.-. 1 liav.- Mrivrn 
 in vain I ter one hitter . n. iny. Ott t oul spirit, in that 
 
 in vain ! 1 hav.- Wltcned 
 
 uhen.-ver thi-v have l..-,-n UJH.II the march. I ha\ -< ii-ht l ..r 
 him thro i-h all the rank- of t,.v .rfnl 
 
 hour wh.-n his Kitt.-r malice wrnrht mi 
 
 i vi>a-. or hrin<: him within the -tr 1, 
 
 } n \\ \< colon still vM). 
 
 :!. Still do I see his hanneret waviiiLl a!- tt. \\ h n the;. 
 ii|..n th- 1 trow he li.-itl. 
 
 \V, :-. j HOW, I -nould feel as if nothing had ; 
 
 doiu- for niv o\vn -nothing for \\\>- r.-pair of hi> hrul-l 
 
 wrnni: " One, hut no. 1 \\\\. .k of her! 1 
 
 whom .! 
 bitter enemy i> ti. 
 
 boy, of whom w,- huv.- hotli had fre.jucnt cin: 
 
520 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 anger and suspicion. Don Balthazar dc Alvaro! Have you 
 seen ought of him since we have followed the fortunes of the 
 red men ?" 
 
 " Had I known, my Lord, that siu-h had been thy quest, in es- 
 pecial, I had spared thee iniu-h search and unn. oessary peril. 
 The Sefior Balthazar was >lain the very night upon which 1 tied, 
 in search of thee, from tlu- camp at Chialm. 
 
 " ITa ! slain! slain! and whv did st thm tell me nothing ot 
 this?" 
 
 "The Sefior will remember how little hath been said between 
 us, safe from other ears, since that time." 
 
 And the page looked gloomily in the direction of Coral la. 
 Verily, the page had beensufferel but few opportunities to com 
 mune with his master. 
 
 "And wherefore thy reserve of speech in the hearing of the 
 Princess? She hath no reserves from u> Sin- is faithful, boy : 
 what hadst thou to fear?" 
 
 " Fear, Sefior !" 
 
 The words and manner were those of one who would rather 
 say 
 
 " What had I not to fear ?" 
 
 "Ay, fear! But speak, Juan, and tell me how the villain 
 perished! Thou sayst the very night when thou hadst that 
 perilous and maddening ride in search of me ?" 
 
 " Even then Sefior ; that very night!" 
 
 " And how? was it in sudden strife with the red men. that he 
 perished!" 
 
 " No, Sefior." 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " He died of dagger stroke, Sefior, dagger stroke from some 
 unknown hand !" 
 
 " Ha! dagger stroke, and from unknown hand ! Speak. boy, 
 tell me all that thou knowst. Where did this hap . and how 
 knowst thou that he, who L r ave the blow was unknown? tell me 
 that !" 
 
 The lips of the page quivered. He c;ist his eyes upon the 
 ground. He was silent. Thrm:in i ir memories and violent 
 emotion- <eem to confound hi< speech, and to -hake his frame. 
 Philip beheld his emotion, and a new light seemed to nMher 
 befoiv his -enses. 
 
 What troubles thee. ,Iuan ? What hadst thou to do in this 
 matter? Ha ! the night thou fledM ; that fearful flight of thine! 
 Sp"ak, boy. tell me where was the blow given; where did Bal 
 thazar de Alvaro fall ]" 
 
,IM. 621 
 
 It require ] a L 
 
 "It was in the el.-imlu-r ft thy own 1 
 Culth,.. 
 
 i thou wert then- 
 
 it thy hand tliat >tnirk the Mow at 
 
 I d.- In.y n- dded tlj,. answi-r that he could not speak. 
 " \Yh-.t ! tlieii thou w.-i t in} "ii that }>;\-<- and 
 
 A li too ! was the halt ; 
 But Philip !! ! int liear. Hi- Caughl ; 
 
 "I tlmnk tlirc. loy ; next f" uiii.c iwn. it \v,. 
 
 r thy liaini to do tin- deed! V--t woiilii it ha-1 ; 
 iiiii!- ii\\u ! Kii<>: u-t think n is 
 
 ; duty in my thou- 
 Hf ; . uan tVom hi- 
 
 ilia upon lii- >lmuldiT. and heard 
 
 Philip n PMli] angry with Coealla! - 
 
 .luaii l>roke away from th- L r nu|) at this DO md luirii d 
 
 in th.- thicket, with a h.-art <[ < h. 
 
 ! riiiliji!" murmurt froin 
 
 rejnains ! ijuoth Philip d.- \ a- 
 
 ! 1 ii ! 
 
 .r hath croaeed ti. 
 
 A in 
 *. himself. He mi; 
 
 No arm -hall deal with him li;: 
 
 i- h- .id. x - 
 
 \\ill pr<>\e to li 
 
 . ulieii all 
 i- hum 
 ( h 
 
 eiir.nL r li ! 1 1- mai 
 
 H ih< 
 
 !e,i him 
 
 from the l...jee- ! , 
 
 has i!;_r a Idle. H I men 
 
622 VASCONSELOS. 
 
 as he went ; Juan also saw and followed him. He rowed him 
 self rapidly across the crock, and stood upon tin- opposite bank, 
 at no great distance from the line of lodges which the Spani. 
 occupied. 
 
 All was quiet in the encampment. Groups of the : .ldier> and 
 workmen could be seen in the distance, along tin- l>ank- of the 
 river. An occasional figure wound his way along the j 
 thoroughfares. The approach to the cabins was parti 
 by trees: but beneath them not a single sentinel couiu 
 Philip eagerly pushed forward, but with thcMibiie stealth 
 the red man, and taking care always to cover his per-on from 
 sight. How was the page, Juan, astonished, when, .the 
 
 creek as rapidly as he could after his lord, and ase 
 
 the level of the high ground leading to tin- Spani>h camp, he 
 
 beheld the Knight entering one of the lodges of the enemy ! 
 
 At that moment, he was called to by name from some one in 
 the rear. He looked back. Co^alla had crossed abo ; bo\\ 
 arrow in hand, and her face and voice equally d I her 
 
 alarm. She was followed by several well manned canoes. Very 
 hateful was the beautiful and loving Coral la in the eyes oi the. 
 page. He never answered her call, hut, a> it vexed by her pres 
 ence and pursuit, he too pushed forward, in the direction uhich 
 his lord had taken, seeming quite reckless of the peril which he 
 ran. 
 
 Hernan De Soto, a mere skeleton of himself, lay weak, rma 
 ciated, weary of life, upon his bed of death ! He was alone he- 
 had been left to sleep by his attendants who had withdi. 
 to an outer apartment. The building wa- one of th- 
 odges of the red men, which were capable upon oo 
 holding a thousand men. It had been divided by the Spaniards 
 into several compartments by the employment of <jiiilted lull s, 
 hides of -wild beasts, and of their own hor>es. and mattings 
 wrought by Indian art from native 1 grasses and the bright \ello\v 
 reeds which grew along the banks, woven together \\ith \\i!n 
 oziers which wen- evrrv where found in great abundance. Tin 
 couch of De Soto was prepared of like materials, orer which 
 oft dry rushes were stiv\\n in sufficient quantity. The lo.i. 
 thus divided, as we have di-M-rihed. atlbrded >e\eral capacious 
 chambers; the best of which, fronting the smith \\est. wafl OCCtt- 
 pied by De Soto, but having in front of it a verandah which had 
 been Carefully enclosed with vines and mats, in order to th 
 elusion of the fierce iflaiv of the sunshine. In this verandah, lay 
 irowsing a group of his attendants ; other* weie wont to occupy 
 
TH 
 
 AMP. 523 
 
 the ch.iniler immediately adjoining, which -filial of I ) 
 
 e upon th." north, was usual 1 to hi- b 
 
 guard. ;i corps no\s n-due. d to h;i!t a d<>/en men. RlOM, th- 
 
 the di-tiii" the < JhiefUin s slumbers, had 
 
 thi> northern chamlcT, and 
 
 .ii beyond it. Here they usually kept \vati-li. 
 
 : a little whi n they were not 
 
 lrow-*!!;L f in he \crandah. they were at play in the court without. 
 
 1 ! re th v lay upon the loiii: . 1. spreftdi tk r -kin. 
 
 with -h >i.le up\\ar.l. tln-y r.ll,-.l th.- ,11.-,.. to th 
 
 ual . and fortuiif. : : ti 
 
 :lh to the >o:it!i, was a n-xt and natural tr. - 
 
 ; in til.- laniruid iulluein-. of the eliniate. and in the utter 
 
 :n all alarm, the Spaniard- iv!a\.-d all 
 
 t a. ir vii;ilaii-f. and soon he himself totally un. th- 
 
 d\ ;:. \ _iianletl thai! the eainp 
 
 \va- th.- condition f the seenc the evening when w; lln.i 
 Philip de \ _ his entrance into .dcd 
 
 without Allows >r -oiind> of war without followers; hii: 
 arriic.l only with battle-axe and daL iZcr. Nothii I irse, 
 
 Spani-h cncanipinciit. whieh was not 
 well known to the vigilant red m.-n who watched it - 
 
 :;iu f ht. 1 ii.- v.-ry lo ral Spanish 
 
 had all be I lie 1" DeS 
 
 -. tr.irn its and superior -tnicture it 
 
 :ioya ni-ees<arily in-li- 
 
 th" .in.- ino-t jm.p. r tor ih- S b ailelauta-: 
 
 OODf with direct aim and undev; ^:.-p 
 
 ifiiral caution which li.- 
 
 witii linih. \\li.-r.-ver h- could t-mploy them while mak 
 
 ing -he wfiit not . 
 
 i i. I hev migl - in 
 
 th- 9 ith a ,d XV 1 in the 
 
 mks ,f the river, look!: 
 tli.- th-wett showed DO 
 
 
 
 la\ \ hian. It WM fr-m this 
 
 \ <. In hi 
 
 it fre jUellt jliu .p 
 
 B jrr.iup- the 
 
 ipon 
 during the cooler p<> Now they ulef 
 
524 VASCOXSELOS. 
 
 gamed, or wandered in the shady thickets thev did anything 
 but watch. They left this duty" to the t -A ho. under 
 
 several of the most aetive knights, usually made a daily p; 
 over a circuit of ten or fifteen miles along the higher countr 
 thus scouring it daily, persuaded themselves that they kept the 
 danger at a distance. It would have been easy to !: iv e darted it 
 upon the camp, thus loosely guarded, desti vth of 
 
 the brigantines, and eut oil", at one fell swoop, the entire garrison. 
 with its once brilliant eat. tain. Hut the soul of Hiili|. 
 selos, even while it nursed loudly the pas>ion for 
 was not prepared to fall upon {lie people with whom he had M. 
 long marched as a companion. He found it easy to persuade the 
 Great King to consent to the wiser policy of suffering toe Spaniards 
 to depart, rather than to risk the live? of thousands m>re .if tin- 
 red men, in the effort at their violent extermination bv battle. 
 Tliscaluea had lost so many of his bravest warriors already, that 
 he listened to the counsel thus given him. and the war. {hen. e- 
 forth, was conducted at the discretion of Istalana. 
 
 Hut Philip de Vasconselos demanded his one victim. Had h- 
 been able to see IT.-rnan de Soto. in field or camp, he might have 
 curbed his passion until the opportunity should otl cr of cutting 
 him off when but, few troops should be engaged on either side. 
 Not seeing him for so long a space, h.- began to apprehend that 
 he, too, might have fallen in battle, or by disease, and had been 
 buried secretly by his followers, who naturally dreaded le<t the 
 red men should wreak their savage fury on his remains, .should 
 they be discovered. Curious to ascertain the truth, eager to 
 pacify his great revenge, Vasoonseloe could no b.nger forbear th- 
 inquiry, though urged at the peril of his own life and liberty. 
 
 Circumsi we have shown, favored his adventure. 
 
 no guards in attendance; there was no watch about 
 
 t ne lodge of De Soto, and though certain exjiiiivs oeeiipied the 
 
 mlah upon the south-west, whom Philip could i, 
 and who-e presence he did not suspect, yet were these as little 
 prepared for danger, or a^.-mlt. as were the several gmups th.,t 
 lay in the shadows of the trees, and brigantim-s. or who |oit.-n-d 
 ainoiin the broad avenues of the woods. The L rn. ; ,t.-r b..d\ ! 
 the Spaniards in camp, wrre distributed among the 
 
 mini:, or eiijoNiiiir that repose which the heal- of 
 I0QD be^-tii to render exceedingly grateful, aft 
 hours of labor in the sun. A dc .p sj|, ., d\\ell- 
 
 ing in which De Soto wa 
 
 passed bet \s -irt;il>. lb- i. utterly un.-s. n. Ik- 
 
 paused in the ante-chamber, on the nort c 
 
THE KATE AM) I l S VKT1M. 526 
 
 and listened. Sounds, as of a slight moai !<> nini from 
 
 the inner apartment. He div\v a-ide the great bear-akin wl 
 
 tituted the door-way, and a.i :ently within tin- dim 
 
 shadows of the room. Ii ined foot- 
 
 sound. The moaning eontini; 
 
 of exhaustion, and of approaching death. 
 Philip approa. upon the bl 
 
 and Moo ;re- of him whom 1 60 in hi- hour 
 
 pride and hope, -exulting in all the vii_ r "r "f manfa I in 
 
 (be indolgenoe of (he mott exulting hope, and the most e . 
 ambition* Iii> hand gra-ped the battle-axe, l>ut th.- - 
 
 .: riu d his rage. II" WM chilled l>y the survey. . . -ral 
 
 i in silence upon the foe. whom lie ha- . 
 ined as the one victim whose death alwie could paeif\ his 
 
 lie now scarcely felt this emotion. 
 
 "And this then," he murmured to himself" this i> the hriil- 
 iant eavalier, the haughty warrior, the proud chieftain, the i: 
 
 . amhitious Tamilian. This i- the man l.y \\ ree 1 
 
 was dishonored made to face and to endure a terror \\.u--e than 
 death destroyed in hope degraded from position, dishonored in 
 
 i<jht of man forever. Verily, I would give ill" life that I : 
 pa^rd when lit .- wa- a joy and ewry einoti>n pr.nni-ed delight any 
 triumph, could I once more lu-hold thee. ll.-n.ai. de > 
 1 have seen thee SO "ft. as tboa look dsi on that terriMe 
 
 !i thy doom L r ave my honor to di-gracr. and left m-- to tin- 
 
 death in the wiiderm^> of the Apalaehi.m ." 
 .ips of tin- l\ing man parted. V-n as lie slej-t. sprakinf ii. 
 
 " Philip df \ -." he murmured taintly. l.ut Mill in 
 
 telligibly, u give me back my forces. Philipde \ a>- iK-u 
 
 DM "f all my fame. Thou ha^t - m- |i>r- 
 
 . in hope and fortune. Oh ! that 1 had th- ! nari:i 
 
 t.> InterpOM bet* .sith weapon liar-d. and thy lit .- 
 
 mine upon tli 
 
 I la ! h- invok -s me in his dream !" 
 
 "Then art ii murmured tl. i li;^t 
 
 r>l l>-d I Oh! that I e. hld : 
 
 upon th.-r th- of m\ -<.|d; 
 
 1 : 
 Bel I am with th-- i h- K:i- thou 
 
 v\ ; i 
 
 i i . ! . 
 
 %nd the eye- 
 
 was the 2&zt- ^lo^s iind 
 
526 VASCONSKLOS. 
 
 uncertain. But, as the light of consciousness gradually dawned 
 upon his mind, the gaze quickened with intelligence. 
 
 " Ha !" he said" I dream ! 1 do not see !" 
 
 " Thou dost see. 1 1 en i an de Soto ! thou dost not dream. The 
 Fate thou hast challenged is beside th 
 
 " Ha ! then ! It is true. Thou art here. Ah ! wilt thou strike 
 when I have no weapon. Let me but prepare for thee. Philip 
 de Vasconselos, by the Holy Virgin, thou shalt see what is the 
 prowess of a true man, against the bosom of the renegade and 
 traitor !" 
 
 And the feeble chieftain lifted his hand and pointed to his 
 armor hanging against the wall, and motioned as if he would 
 have risen ; but he sank back feebly and shut his eyes, mur 
 muring 
 
 " Be it as thou wilt ! strike, if thou hast the heart for it f I 
 have no prayer to oifer to thee, traitor as thou ait." 1 
 
 "That word alone should doom thee to sudden blow. Hai 
 nan de Soto," answered the Knight with stern emphasis, 
 " but I will not strike thee. 1 will lay no hand upon thee now 
 in anger. There is a more powerful grasp upon thee than any I 
 can lay. Thou art in the hands of the ^ivat master of lite, and 
 1 willjjo nothing more against thee. Yet. Hra\vn l>e my witness, 
 de Soto, if I would not gladly help thee to thy armor, and 
 thee once more put on all thy strength, while 1 stood hetoie 
 thee, with battle-axe, armed as now. and thou with any weapo.i 
 or armor that thou wouldst, with none to come between us. 
 Mid thv life and mine decreed to han^ upon the justice of <>m 
 cause. Traitor! Who made me a traitor, if I be one? \Vlu 
 robbed me of my rights, my good name, my honors and my 
 manhood 1 ? Who drove me into the arms of the red men. who 
 despoiled me of my abode, and security among a Christian 
 people? Who but thou? and it is thou that daiv-t now, with 
 the hand of death upon thee. and the dread of eternal judgment 
 Muring thee in the face thou. to call me traitor ! It is thou. I 
 tell thee, Hemaii de Soto, that art the traitor and the criminal ! 
 Thou that ha-t di-h.iuivd the noble order of knighthood by 
 dMione-t judgment ; thou that did>t debase thee from the rank 
 of the gentle, and the noble, in becoming the tool and the slave 
 f th- cunning criminal, who warped thee to hi* villanous pur- 
 MiakiiiL "f thy >oul a tiling even fouler than his own T 
 
 Ha ! >hall I submit to this insolence !" answered De Soto Ml 
 louder accent-. Hi- -oiil. goaded by the >peeeh of Vaseon-elos 
 
 n*>came arou>ed for the moment. There was a sudden lighting 
 
A DIGS. 627 
 
 up of the fires in his eye and bosom. Nature, nei ved by indig 
 nation, put on tin* ap: iu r th. 
 
 ill I listen t-i tlii- f. .:!-mouth<-d i 
 
 in still louder accents; and, \vith t -in hi* 
 
 couch. .ith uiu \; 
 
 vigor, the last iction "f expiring 
 
 d the til! 
 
 "What, ho! without there! Guar iiians. 
 
 seize on ti. lleh>. t. ; .t I nttaj 
 
 Vasconsclos > .nd the dyinji 
 
 .ado sank ha-k up 
 
 in th" a/e. The n. 
 
 over. d, Hi- , .1, the 
 
 spasm 1 the agonies ol death. 
 
 :.;ii:i: upwanl. I e 
 Soto lay befir. him ;. . 
 
 a moment, the Portugese cavalier contemplated the riL r i l 
 
 -the unconscious rlare of his .. 
 starinu BYet, But, suddenly. . I, battK -ax.- in hi- j 
 
 anl strode Across the chamber. Tii .nnorin th- 
 
 southern vrranuali. .d of hea . 
 
 hurryiriL tVet in the eliamber whieh lay brtweeii. I )e ! 
 had bren heard by his drow-iiii: attendai: 
 
 n-elos lifted thr b.-a r-k in, e!i-ii :i r 
 
 the c:, .--ni chamber, and j-a -d ti, 
 
 iu>t a f De 3 ! from tiu- 
 
 r. He pa-.-ed \\ithout interruption through the 
 iorth< ~. through th- v.-randah un- d th-- 
 
 t oiirt, and sped 
 the for h.- emerged S;idd,-nly. a \vil.i 
 
 to ari-e lu-hind hiiii. 
 He looked backward : a group 01 
 
 from the quarters of 1 ) up- in 
 
 In- i i- 
 stim tive drfiance in th \ . prompted the 
 
 .var-whooji with which he r- hem in tl 
 
 of the red men. 
 
 lid not inereas. 
 >ul was at its full stature, aii l i, 
 
 the fuirit: . . 11 
 onward witli the ii iit of one who would r e th.m 
 
 escape 
 
 bifl juir-jn r. H<- \S;IN MI fairly 
 them that : t havu 
 
62b VASCONSELOS. 
 
 crossed weapon with his own ; and the river swainj) was nigh, Oft 
 the edge of which lay his canoe. 
 
 At that moment, the voice of Juan was heard ; hind him, cry 
 ing aloud, 
 
 "Hasten, Senor Philip- -Listen my lord, they prepare to 
 shoot." 
 
 He turned with surprise, in the direction whence the sounds 
 arose, much wondering to perceive the boy behind him; \\hen, 
 even at that instant, the holt fas delivered from the cros-howot 
 one of the Spaniards, /i 1 he beheld the boy. as he thivw himself 
 directly upon his path. The next instant he saw Juan mil over 
 upon the sward, with the arrow quivering in his bosom. The 
 boy had thrown off his arm-mr of eqcaupU, as mosl of the red 
 men had dor.o in that wai . and not expecting strife; and 
 
 in his jacket of thin, unbuilt." . the deadly -hat! h;,d met 
 
 with no resistance. 
 
 With a dee]> cry of sincere corrow. Yasconselos darted back 
 ward to where the hoy lay upon UK strand. To ..rather him up in 
 his powerful arms, and hurry with him down the slope, to the 
 canoe, was the work of a few nu ncnt, only. As he reached the 
 shore, he heard the voice of Coral la, Drying 
 
 " Hither, Philip, hither! Jleiv canoe." 
 
 He followed the sound... and s;.feiv em- red the canoe with his 
 spe elik-ss burden. Hi.- rowers 1- sk, the boat sh..t 
 
 through the reedy thicket, and k, :\ ne.-.rly re.ich. d the opposite 
 shore, when a crowd of Spaniards, all armed with ar<{Uelnse and 
 cross-bow, appeared along the margin of the shore which they 
 had left. There were shots sent after the fugitives, bullet and 
 arrow, but. with hurried aim, they were delivered frui- 
 and while a thousand of tin- red men answered with their tearful 
 whoops, the shouts and threats of the Spaniards, the cai 
 Cogalla shot safely into cover, in a lai^une hidden from all sight 
 by the dense thickets of its reedy shore. 
 
 In a green lodge by the river side, they laid the insensible form 
 of Juan, the pnire, upon a bank of rushes ; and Philip de V 
 selos, with a grievous sadness at his heart for he saw that the 
 wound of the boy was mortal proceeded tenderly to withdraw 
 the deadly shaft from his bosom, where it was deeply lodged. 
 But, at the very first effort, when it became ncce-s-iry to tear open 
 the vest of the boy, his eye- opened, and he raised his bands, and 
 pressed down his irarments, and murmured that they should 
 desist. But in this elTort he ;iL r ai:i fainted; and while li- 
 thus unconscious. Philip de Vnseonsclos cut the strings which 
 secured the jacket of the boy in front, and lo, when he had open- 
 
TH: 529 
 
 it, tin- \\ bite -l<in b- m ath, a:nl tin- full, round, white 
 
 I la ! 1 hl. ;alla. who had as- 
 
 1 the knight in his efl ort ; "ha! Philip ! it is a daughter of 
 
 the pal*- tact--. It i- oi . a woman who hath 
 
 : hilip to the battle." 
 
 Anil Philip ^n-atly wonder.-d, u> much at his own blind igno 
 rance, which had kept him so lon.H in darkm--, M a! :!. 
 
 uion. th- irhich he now oomp linainoi: 
 
 : limed. " II,.ly Maria:" and ti. 
 ot ti. a -.:a in unclosed; and .-In- now knew what hud 
 
 i what had been di.-eovi-ivd ; and .-he .-L hed deeply, and 
 the t-ar> ^atlim-d i t" h-r -yt-s. and she .-trove to cover them with 
 h.-r i inMi the kni.irht .-aid 
 
 1 ;\ :a ! i- it thoii ?" 
 
 murmured 
 
 \Vi!t li. 
 
 r ; 
 
 i wept, :uni !i -r -ob- w- re lonu and deep, 
 
 bi-il. ihe kni _ r !:t l-nd-i-ly withdrew the bai bed 
 
 arrow from tii- wouihl ; a-id though he -tnvi to -ave her from 
 
 t the ac:ony wafl very proat, and M^ iin she faintrd. But 
 
 1 issned freely froi: .ixi \\hfi: I ve to 
 
 .nch it. her eyes <n the li^ht, and 
 
 rjilhi who w. i- J the bleeding 
 
 and to bind up the wound ; :md with a - 
 her :IA iv, ami tore oil the buudfiges. Then IMiilip inter] 
 and she lay -ilent, ns he strove to do for 1 had 
 
 denied -h. uld le done by CoQftlla. Hut though tin 
 up the hurt, p of liniment ;>ties 
 
 \vh i men knew well how to use, yet was all i 
 
 vain, for d bled inwardly, rind tl 
 
 hurt was mortal, and that the life waa fast 
 
 et fountain which it had wanned with sueh fidelity, and made 
 !o%v with so much passion, and such feminine devotion ; and the 
 k irl mnr: Philip, speak ii dla 
 
 " I.- t !.- r go hence for a while, Sen show 
 
 Philip whispered CoQulla away, and Olivia do Alvaros 
 aid- 
 
 It is well. Now, Philip, that I am about to lose thee, let mt 
 tell thee how much I love t: 
 
 " Alul 1 he tiaid, "my poor Olivia, it needs not. Know I not 
 
 fltftf/" 
 
 And the answered 
 
630 
 
 "But thou knowot not that I am innocent of wrongdoing, 
 Philip, and this is what I would show tlioe." 
 
 She spoke but little more, but of this she was most eager to 
 <pi-:ik. And she hade him look into her jacket of esoaupil. where 
 a packet had been sewn up, which r-hould touch him all her cruel 
 ni>tory ; how the had been wronged, but how sho w;.s innocent; 
 how she had been dishonored, but how she was an unwilling and 
 unconscious vicfim to tin- base and cruel arts of her brutal k 1118- 
 inan. In this packet thus delivered, he read the terrible history 
 of her grief-., ( - V en as \\c have already delivered it. But he did 
 not read uniil >he. \\a- no more. 
 
 She died in the arms of Philip ; but she bade that Cocalla should 
 turn away her face, and leave the spot, ere the parting moment 
 came. Then she bade that Philip should lift her from the rushe^ ; 
 and when he did so, she threw her arms about his neck, and laid 
 her head upon his bosom, and so her pure and suffering spirit went, 
 with a sweet sigh, and a. fond embrace, the memory of which, in 
 l G --g years after, sweetened greatly the solitude to the heart of the 
 knight of Portugal. They buried her, in the great solitudes of the 
 Mississippi, under the shades of many guardian trees, and the river 
 oils ever along with a deep murmur near the hallowed spot, ad if 
 it .~ang fond anthems for the repose of a troubled soul. 
 
 Midnight, and there was a solemn stir in the Spanish encamp 
 ment. There was a roll of martial music, and the wail of solemn 
 voices, as they sang ihe awful dirge of death over the remains of 
 the once mighty Adelantado. 1 Ionian de Soto. Then, in the deep 
 ening darkness of the night, they placed the corse of the Adelan 
 tado in the core of a green pine-tree, which had been hollowed 
 out to receive it, and, nailing over this a cover of heavy plank, 
 they towed it from the shore, under an escort of a hundred canoes, 
 to the centre of the river, and there, with a solemn service, they 
 consigned it to a bed beneath the great stream, sinking it deeply 
 k-t the avenging red men should possess themselves of the corse 
 of him who had wrought them so much evil while he lived, and 
 wreak upon his unconscious frame the fury which possessed their 
 souls a-rainst -him. 
 
 But Philip de Vasconselos, who beheld the scene, and readily 
 divined the nature of the solemn service, would not suffer his wur- 
 rior> to disturb its progress; and from the banks of the river, in 
 the darkne-s of the night, his eye watched, and his soul brooded 
 gloomily over the close of !) Soto s career, and he reflected upon 
 the -trarig--ne*s of that ambition.- fortune, which should have found, 
 in all iUs wild career, nothing so wonderfnl as the river which b* 
 
COr.M.LA. Hill." HIQOT. 581 
 
 burial-place of the hero. Nor, when I). S.;. was thus 
 
 con-iL r ned in hi- I- . did Philip suffer that the Spaniards 
 
 1 hi- troubled hy his follower-. !! saw them depart in their 
 
 Mowing the Homing- ot the Mississippi in it- pa 
 to the ... a, and, when on.- of the ve>.-els hearing the banner of his 
 brother Andre- glided down the stream, beneath the banks upon 
 which he it went hy, he cried audibly 
 
 " Faivwi-11 to tlu-e. my brotln-r ; fare thee well, Andres de Vas- 
 lOi ; tan-well for ever!" 
 
 And the Spaniards went from sight; and in due season, after 
 i:rany -trite- and trinls did they reach their homes. But Philip, 
 leading his warriors hack to the great king, Tuscaluza, turned 
 auav once more loward the mountains of the Apalachian ; and 
 when he had left the territory of Tuscaluza, and om * more got 
 hack to that of Cofachitpii and when the warriors of Cofachiqui 
 -i -rnbled with greeting and songs of welcome about 
 their prince-s, the well-In -loveil Cor-alla then did that noble crea- 
 ture lay her hand- upon the shoulder of the knight and say 
 
 Philip i< now the great chief, the well-beloved of the people 
 of Cofachiqui !" 
 
 And the knight smiled witn a sweet sadness upon the dusky 
 prince-s a- they pa ed into tlie great thickets leading to the aji- 
 ( ient village, where the two fir-t met, on the banks of the Savaa- 
 nah. And how the heart of the woman gladdened, when at last, 
 in reply to her frequent murmur of the name of Philip, he i- 
 iwered with that of Cocalla ! 
 
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