"What is the matter?" Doña Angela asked him.
"I hesitate about troubling my friend's repose. Perhaps he will be angry with me for having brought you to him."
"No," she said, "you are deceiving me: that is not your thought at this moment."
He regarded her with amazement.
"Good heavens!" she continued with animation, "do you fancy I do not know what is troubling you now? It is to see a girl of my age, rich and well born, take what your countrymen would call an improper step, and which, were it known, would inevitably destroy her reputation. But we Americans are not like your cold and staid European women, who do everything by weight and measure. We love as we hate. It is not blood, but the lava of our volcanoes that circulates in our veins. My love is my life! I care naught for anything else. Remain here a few moments, and let me go on alone. Don Louis, I am convinced, will understand and appreciate my conduct at its just value. He is no common man, I tell you. I love him. In a love so true and ardent as mine there is a certain magnetic attraction which will prevent it being spurned."
The young Mexican was splendidly lovely as she uttered these words. With her head thrown haughtily back, her flashing eye and quivering lip, she was at once a virgin and a Bacchante. Subdued, in spite of himself, by the maiden's accent, and dazzled by her glorious beauty, the hunter bowed respectfully before her, and said, with considerable emotion in his voice, —
"Go, then; and may Heaven grant that, by your aid, my brother may be again led to take an interest in life!"
She smiled with an undefinable expression of archness and serenity, and flew, lightly as a bird, into the thicket. Valentine and Curumilla, who were near enough to the camp to see what occurred, though the sound of voices could not reach them, resolved to wait where they were till their presence became absolutely necessary.
The encampment was in the same state as when the hunter quitted it to go and meet the general. Don Louis and Don Cornelio were fast asleep. Doña Angela remained for a moment silent, fixing on Don Louis a glance in which an unbending resolution flashed. Then she stooped down gently over him. But at the moment when she was about to lay her hand on his shoulder to arouse him, a sudden sound caused her to tremble. She sprang back, threw a startled glance around, and disappeared once again in the thicket.
Hardly had she retired ere the sound which smote on her ears, and interrupted the execution of her project, became louder; and it was soon easy to distinguish the cadenced sound of a large body of men on the march, and the harsh creaking of cartwheels.
"Your companions are arriving," Doña Angela said hurriedly to Valentine as she rejoined him; "they are only a short distance from the mission. Can I still count on you?"
"Always," he answered.
"I have changed my mind: I will not explain my views to the count in this way, but in the presence of all of you, by the light of the sun. You shall soon see me again in your midst. Good-by! I am going back to the hacienda. Prepare the count for my visit."
After making a parting sign to the hunter, and smiling on him, the young girl remounted her horse, and set off at a gallop, followed by her escort.
"Yes, I will prepare Louis to receive her," the hunter muttered, as he followed her with his eyes for a moment. "That child has a noble heart: she really loves my foster brother. Who knows what will be the consequences of this love?"
And, after shaking his head two or three times dubiously he re-entered the encampment, accompanied by Curumilla, whose Indian stoicism was unshaken, and who seemed perfectly a stranger to all that was taking place around him.
Valentine awoke Louis. The latter sprang up at once.
"Have you any news?" he asked.
"Yes, the company is coming up."
"Already! Oh, oh! it has pushed on. That is a good omen."
"Shall we stay here long?"
"No, two days at the most, or long enough to rest the men and cattle."
"Perhaps it would be better to push on at once – "
"I should like it as much as yourself, but it is impossible, as the 40,000 rations we ought to have found here have not yet arrived, and we are forced to await them."
"That is true."
"I am the more annoyed at this oversight, because our provisions are rapidly diminishing. Still, do not let our comrades see our disappointment, but let us put on a good face. They know we went ahead of them to make the commissariat arrangements, so let them fancy we have succeeded."
Valentine bowed in affirmation. The night was almost at an end; already the sky on the horizon was beginning to be shaded with large white strips of cloud; the stars had all disappeared one after the other; and the sun was just about to rise. Curumilla threw a handful of dried wood on the fire in order to make a flame, and neutralise the effect of the icy night air.
"Caramba!" Don Cornelio exclaimed, as he woke up suddenly; "I am frozen; the nights are so cold."
"Are they not?" Valentine said to him. "Well, if you want to warm yourself, nothing is easier. Come along with me."
"I am quite willing. Where are you going?"
"Listen."
"I am doing so. Stay!" he said at the expiration of an instant. "Can that be the company?"
"It is. But it is unnecessary for us to put ourselves out of the way, for here they come."
In fact, at this moment, the French advanced guard entered the mission. According to the treaty made with the Atrevida Company, 40,000 rations should have been prepared at the mission for the troop. The count gave the command to Colonel Florés, with orders to push on, and, accompanied by Valentine, Curumilla, and Don Cornelio, had gone on ahead. Unfortunately the company had not carried out its engagements with that loyalty the count had a right to expect. Instead of 40,000 rations he had found scarce half, ranged with a certain degree of symmetry in a ruined cabin. This breach of faith was the more injurious to the interests of the expedition, because the count, owing to this perfidious manoeuvre, found himself almost unable to push on, as he was about definitively to leave the inhabited and cultivated plains to bury himself in the desert.
Indeed, since the company had left Guaymas, the ill-will of the Mexicans had been so evident under all circumstances, that Don Louis had required a superhuman energy and will of iron not to give way to discouragement, and withdraw in the face of these obstacles raised in his path with unparalleled animosity. Still, up to the present, the Mexicans had never dared to break their engagements so boldly as now: hence they must feel themselves very strong, or at least their precautions were so well taken, and they felt so sure of success, that they raised the mask.
Besides, the count had found no one at the mission to hand him over the stores in the name of the company; and the persons who treated him so unworthily had not deigned to weaken by an excuse the treachery of which they were guilty at this moment. Don Louis foresaw, then, that after such behaviour, the dénouement of the odious farce played by the Mexicans was at hand, and he prepared to face the storm bravely.
The mission was held in military fashion by the company; for they were on the edge of the desert, and it was wise to begin a careful watch. Cannon were planted at each angle of headquarters – sentinels placed at regular distances; in short, this mission, sad and abandoned on the previous day, seemed to have sprung magically into life again; the rubbish was removed, and the old Jesuit church, more than half in ruins, suddenly assumed the appearance of a fortress.
When the count had given the necessary orders for the instalment of the company, and was assured of their perfect execution, he inquired of Colonel Florés how he had performed his duties as temporary chief. The colonel, alone among the French, and feeling himself consequently in the wolfs throat, was too crafty not to act ostensibly with the utmost loyalty; hence on every occasion he offered proofs of goodwill, and acted with a degree of circumspection by which Valentine, that eternal doubter, was nearly duped,