The Free Lances Part 26

Something better still, at length. Jose back home with the carriage and horses, and nothing besides--no weapons nor spare wraps! All gone off, the tell-tale file along with them.

Pepita brought this intelligence in to the ladies, who longed to have a private interview with the _cochero_. But he had first to deliver his to Don Ignacio, who had sallied out into the stables to receive it.

A strange tale it was, imparted to an angry listener, who, while listening, looked upon his costly harness, patched and mended with ropes, where it had been cut. His fine _frisones_ too, abused, possibly injured for good, the ear of one of them well-nigh severed from the head! Slow to wrath though he was, this was enough to make him wrathful, without the further knowledge of his other losses, about which Jose took care _not_ to enlighten him.

At a later hour the circ.u.mspect _cochero_ told his tale to other ears in terms somewhat different, and with incidents. His master, summoned to the Palace, gave the opportunity so much desired by his young mistress and the Condesa for speaking with him; and he was soon in their presence, getting interrogated with a volubility which made sober reply almost impossible.

His questioners, however, after a time calming down, listened to his narration in a detailed form, though not without repeated interruptions.

He told them about the slow driving of the carriage along the garden wall of San Francisco, the putting on the disguises, and how cleverly they had outwitted the guard at the _garita_.

"Like Ruperto!" at this juncture exclaimed the Countess.

Then, of their onward course along the _calzada_, horses in a gallop, till stopped on the Coyoacan road, with the action taken there--quick as it was varied and strange.

Donna Luisa, in her turn, here interrupted in triumphant exclamation--

"Like Florencio!"

In fine, when made known to them how the fugitives had mounted and ridden off, both cried out together, in terms almost the same--

"Thanks to the Virgin, blessed Mother of G.o.d! We now know they are safe."

Their confidence was strengthened by further questioning, for the trusted _cochero_ was able to tell them more. How his horses had been caught, and brought back to him by two Hussars, one of whom he chanced to have a speaking acquaintance with. From the soldier he had learnt all about the pursuit, after it had pa.s.sed beyond him; how they had searched the _chapparal_, but fruitlessly; the latest reports being that the _escapados_ had got into the Pedregal.

That was enough for the Countess, who, springing to her feet and clapping her hands, cried out--

"Joy, Luisita! They're safe, I'm sure. Ruperto knows the Pedregal, every path through it, as well as we the walks of the Alameda. I shall sleep this night better than the last, and you may do the same."

So a.s.sured, Luisa Valverde, devout as was her wont, responded with a phrase of thanksgiving, arms crossed over her bosom, eyes turned to the picture of Santa Guadalupe on the wall.

Jose stood waiting, not for any reward. Recompense for the service he had done them--so modestly declaring it--was not in his thoughts at that moment, though it might be after. But the Condesa was thinking of it then. Sure to promise and contract, she said to him--

"Faithful fellow--courageous as faithful--take this; you've fairly earned it."

Whilst speaking, she drew the jewelled watch from her waist, and, pa.s.sing the chain over her head, held it out to him.

"And this too!" added the Donna Luisa, plucking a diamond ring from one of her fingers, and presenting it at the same time.

"No!" protested the faithful servitor. "Neither the one nor the other.

Enough reward to me to know I've done your ladys.h.i.+p a service--if I have."

"But, good Jose," urged the Countess, "you must either take my watch or the worth of it in gold _doblones_! That was the understanding, and I shall insist on your adhering to it."

"_Muy bein, Condesa_; I consent to that. But only on the condition that the gentlemen get safe off. Till we're sure of that, I beg your ladys.h.i.+p won't look upon me as a creditor."

"If her ladys.h.i.+p should," here put in a third personage of the s.e.x feminine, who had just entered upon the scene, "if she should, I'll pay the debt myself. I pay it now--there!"

It was Pepita who thus delivered herself, as she did so bounding forward, flinging her arms around his neck, and giving him a sonorous kiss upon the cheek! Then, as she released her lips after the smack, adding--

"I've given you that, _hombre_, for what? Why nothing more than doing your duty. Ha, ha, ha!"

The laughter neither disconcerted nor vexed him. It was not scornful, while the kiss had been very sweet. Long-coveted, but hitherto withheld, he looked upon it as an earnest of many others to follow, with a reward he would more value than all the watches and rings in Mexico-- the possession of Pepita herself.

CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

A HOLY BROTHERHOOD.

"Where the deuce am I?"

It was Florence Kearney who asked this question, interrogating himself; time, the morning after their retreat up the mountain. He was lying on a low pallet, or rather bench of mason work, with a palm mat spread over it, his only coverlet the cloak he had brought with him from Don Ignacio's carriage. The room was of smallest dimensions, some eight or nine feet square, pierced by a single window, a mere pigeon-hole without sash or gla.s.s.

He was yet only half awake, and, as his words show, with but a confused sense of his whereabouts. His brain was in a whirl from the excitement through which he had been pa.s.sing, so long sustained. Everything around seemed weird and dream-like.

Rubbing his eyes to make sure it was a reality, and raising his head from the hard pillow, he took stock of what the room contained. An easy task that. Only a ricketty chair, on which lay a pair of duelling pistols--one of the pairs found under the carriage cus.h.i.+ons--and his hat hanging on its elbow. Not a thing more except a bottle, greasy around the neck, from a tallow candle that had guttered and burnt out, standing on the uncarpeted stone floor beside his own boots, just as he had drawn them off.

Why he had not noticed these surroundings on the night before was due to extreme fatigue and want of sleep. Possibly, the Burgundy, mixed with the Madeira and Old Pedro Ximenes, had something to do with it. In any case he had dropped down upon the mat of palm, and became oblivious, almost on the moment of his entering this strange sleeping chamber, to which the mayor-domo had conducted him.

"Queer crib it is," he continued to soliloquise, after making survey of the room and its containings, "for a bedroom. I don't remember ever having slept in so small a one, except aboard s.h.i.+p, or in a prison-cell.

How like the last it looks!"

It did somewhat, though not altogether. There were points of difference, as a niche in the wall, with a plaster cast on a plinth, apparently the image of some saint, with carvings in the woodwork, crosses, and other emblems of piety.

"It must be an old convent or monastery," he thought, after noticing these. "Here in Mexico they often have them in odd, out-of-the-way places, I've heard. Out of the way this place surely is, considering the climb we've had to reach it. Monks in it, too?" he added, recalling the two men he had seen on the preceding night, and how they where habited. "A strange sort they seem, with a _captain_ at their head--my prison companion! Well, if it give us sanctuary, as he appears to think it will, I shall be but too glad to join the holy brotherhood."

He lay a little longer, his eyes running around the room, to note that the rough lime-wash on its walls had not been renewed for years; green moss had grown upon them, and there were seams at the corners, stains showing were rainwater had run down. If a monastery, it was evidently not one in the enjoyment of present prosperity, whatever it might have been in the past.

While still dreamily conjecturing about it, the door of his room was gently pushed ajar, and so held by whoever had opened it. Turning his head round, Kearney saw a man in long loose robes, with sandalled feet and shaven crown, girdle of beads, crucifix, cowl, and scapular--in short, the garb of the monk with all its insignia.

"I have come to inquire how you have slept, my son," said the holy man, on seeing that he was awake. "I hope that the pure atmosphere of this, our mountain home--so different from that you've been so lately breathing--will have proved conducive to your slumbers."

"Indeed, yes," rejoined he inquired after, conscious of having slept well. "I've had a good night's rest--the best allowed me for a long time. But where--"

While speaking, he had dropped his feet to the floor, and raised himself erect on the side of the bed, thus bringing him face to face with the friar. What caused him to leave the interrogatory unfinished was a recognition. The countenance he saw was a familiar one, as might be expected after having been so close to his own--within a few feet of it--for days past. No disguise of dress, nor changed tonsure, could hinder identification of the man who had partaken of his chain in the Acordada; for he it was.

"Oh! 'tis you, Don Ruperto!" exclaimed Kearney, suddenly changing tone.

"The same, my son," rejoined the other, with an air of mock gravity.

At which the young Irishman broke out into a loud guffaw, saying:--

"Well, you're the last man I should ever have supposed to be a monk!"

He recalled some strong denunciations of the Holy Brethren he had heard pa.s.s the lips of his late fellow-prisoner.

"Ah! Senor Don Florencio, in this our world of Mexico we are called upon to play many parts, and make out home in many places. Yesterday, you knew me as a prisoner, like yourself in a loathsome gaol; to-day, you see me in a monastery. And no common monk, but an Abbot, for know, _amijo mio_, that I am the head of this establishment. But come! As your host I am not now playing the part I should. You must be half famished; besides, your toilet needs attending to. For the first, breakfast will be ready by the time you have looked to the last. Here, Gregorio!" this was a call to the mayor-domo outside, who instantly after appeared at the door. "Conduct this gentleman to the lavatory, and a.s.sist him in making his ablutions." Then again to Kearney: "If I mistake not, you will find a clean s.h.i.+rt there, with some other changes of raiment. And may I ask you to be expeditious? It has got to be rather a late hour for breakfast, and the Holy Brethren will be getting a little impatient for it. But, no doubt, your appet.i.te will prompt you. _Hasta Luega_!"

With which salutation--the Mexican custom at parting for only a short while--he pa.s.sed out of the room, leaving his guest to be looked after by Gregorio.