"Before proceeding there," the hunter said, "we must have a little conversation together, señora."
"What have you to say to me that is so interesting, or rather, so urgent?"
"You shall judge for yourself."
The young lady made a gesture signifying her readiness to hear something which she knew beforehand would be disagreeable.
"Speak!" she said.
The hunter did not allow the invitation to be repeated.
"Where did Curumilla meet you?"
"At the hacienda, just as I was mounting to start. I only awaited him to begin my journey."
"He tried to dissuade you from this step?"
"He did; but I insisted on coming, and compelled him to guide me here."
"You were wrong, niña."
"For what reason?"
"For a thousand."
"That is no answer. Mention one."
"Your father, in the first place."
"He has not yet arrived at the hacienda. I shall have got back before he comes. I have nothing to fear on that side."
"You are mistaken. Your father has arrived: I have seen him—spoken with him."
"You! Where? When?"
"Here, scarce half an hour ago."
"That is impossible," she said.
"It is the fact. I will add that he wanted to kill me."
"He!"
"Yes."
The young lady remained thoughtful for a moment; then she raised her head, and shook it several times.
"All the worse," she said resolutely. "Whatever happens, I will carry it out to the end."
"What do you hope from this interview, niña? Do you not know that your father is our most inveterate foe?"
"What you say is too late now. You ought to have urged these objections when I sent my request to you."
"That is true; but at that time I still had hopes, which I can no longer entertain. Believe me, niña, do not insist on seeing Don Louis. Return as speedily as possible to the hacienda. What will your father think if he does not see you on his arrival?"
"I repeat to you that I will have a most important conversation with Don Louis. It must be, for his sake and for mine."
"Think of the consequences of such a step."
"I think of nothing. I warn you that, if you still refuse to perform your promise to me, I will go alone to find the conde."
The hunter regarded her for an instant with a singular expression. He shook his head sorrowfully, and took her hand, which he pressed affectionately.
"Your will be done," he replied gently. "No one can alter his destiny. Come, then, as you insist on it. God grant that your obstinacy does not entail frightful disaster!"
"You are a bird of ill omen," she said with a laugh. "Come, let us start. You will see all end better than you anticipate."
"I consent; but trust yourself to me, and leave your escort here."
"I ask nothing better. I will only take Violanta with me."
"As you please."
At a sign from her mistress the camarista went up to the peons, who were still motionless, and gave them orders not to leave the clearing under any pretext before her return. Then, guided by Valentine, the two females proceeded toward the camp of the filibusters, Curumilla forming the rear guard. On arriving about a hundred yards from it Valentine stopped.
"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