Читать книгу The Pearl of the Andes: A Tale of Love and Adventure - Aimard Gustave, Gustave Aimard, Jules Berlioz d'Auriac - Страница 2

The sordid clothes which covered the person of the Indian were stained with mud, and torn by thorns and briers. It was evident that he had made a hasty journey through woods and along bad roads. He bowed with modest grace to the three gentlemen, and waited.

"Does not my brother belong to the valiant tribe of the Black Serpents?" Don Tadeo asked.

The Indian made a sign in the affirmative. Don Tadeo was well acquainted with the Indians, and knew that they only spoke when necessity required.

"What is my brother's name?" he resumed.

"Joan," the Indian said; "in remembrance of a warrior of the palefaces whom I killed."

"Good," Don Tadeo replied, with a melancholy smile; "my brother is a chief renowned in his tribe."

Joan smiled haughtily.

"My brother has arrived from his village; he has, no doubt, business to transact with the palefaces."

"My father is mistaken," the Indian replied sharply; "Joan asks the help of no one; when he is insulted, his own lance avenges him."

"My brother will excuse me," Don Tadeo said; "he must have some reason for coming to me."

"I have one," said the Indian.

"Let my brother explain himself then."

"I will answer my father's questions." said Joan, bowing.

Don Tadeo knew what sort of man he had to do with. A secret presentiment told him that he was the bearer of important news: he, therefore, followed up his questions.

"Whence does my brother come?"

"From the toldería of San Miguel."

"That is some distance from the city; is it long since my brother left it?"

"The moon was about to disappear and the Southern Cross alone shed its splendid light upon the earth, when Joan commenced his journey."

It was nearly eighteen leagues from the village of San Miguel to the city of Valdivia. Don Tadeo was astonished. He took from the table a glass, which he filled to the brim with aguardiente, and presented it to the messenger, saying —

"My brother will drink this coui of firewater; probably, the dust of the road sticking to his palate prevents him from speaking as easily as he could wish."

The Indian smiled; his eyes sparkled greedily; he took the glass and emptied it at a draught.

"Good," he said, smacking his lips. "My father is hospitable; he is truly the Great Eagle of the Whites."

"Does my brother come from the chief of his tribe?" Don Tadeo continued.

"No." Joan replied; "it was Curumilla that sent me."

"Curumilla!" the three men cried.

Don Tadeo breathed more freely.

"Curumilla is my friend," he said; "no harm has happened to him, I hope?"

"Here are his poncho and his hat," Joan replied.

"Heavens!" Louis exclaimed – "he is dead!"

"No," said the Indian, "Curumilla is brave and wise. Joan had carried off the young, pale, blue-eyed maiden; Curumilla might have killed Joan; he was not willing to do so; he preferred making a friend of him."

"Curumilla is good," Don Tadeo replied; "his heart is large and his soul is not cruel."

"Joan was the chief of those who carried off the young white girl. Curumilla changed clothes with him," the Indian continued, sententiously; "and said 'Go and seek the Great Eagle of the Whites, and tell him that Curumilla will save the young maiden, or perish!' Joan has come."

"My brother has acted well," said Don Tadeo.

"My father is satisfied," he said – "that is enough."

"And my brother carried off the pale girl? Was he well paid for that?"

"The great cavale with the black eyes is generous," the Indian said, smiling.

"Ah! I knew it!" cried Don Tadeo, "still that woman! – still that demon!"

Louis rose and said, in a voice trembling with emotion, "My friend, Doña Rosario must be saved!"

"Thanks, boundless thanks, for your devotion, my friend!" said Don Tadeo; "but, you are very weak."

"Of what consequence is that!" the young man exclaimed eagerly. "Were I to perish in the task, I swear to you, Don Tadeo de León, by the honour of my name, that I will not rest till Doña Rosario is free."

"My friend," Don Tadeo said, "three men – three devoted men, are already on the trail of my daughter."

"Your daughter?" Louis said with astonishment.

"Alas! yes, my friend, my daughter! Why should I have any secrets from you? That blue-eyed angel is my daughter! the only joy left to me in this world."

"Oh! we will recover her! We must!" Louis cried with great emotion.

"My friend," Don Tadeo continued, "the three men of whom I spoke to you are at this moment endeavouring to deliver the poor child. However dearly it costs me, I think it is best to wait."

Louis moved uneasily.

"Yes, I comprehend that this inaction is painful to you. Alas! do you think it is less so to a father's heart? Don Louis, I endure frightful torments. But I resign myself, while shedding tears of blood at not being able to do anything."

"That is true," the wounded man admitted; "we must wait, Poor Father! Poor daughter!"

"Yes," said Don Tadeo, faintly, "pity me, my friend, pity me!"

"But," the Frenchman continued, "this inactivity cannot last. You see I am strong, I can walk."

"You are a hero as to heart and devotion," Don Tadeo said with a smile; "and I know not how to thank you."

"Oh! how much the better if you regain hope," cried Louis, who had blushed at his friend's words.

Don Tadeo turned towards Joan.

"Does my brother remain here?" he asked.

"I am at my father's orders," the Indian replied.

"May I trust my brother?"

"Joan has but one heart and one life."

"My brother has spoken well; I will be grateful to him."

The Indian bowed.

"Let my brother return here on the third sun; he shall place us upon the track of Curumilla."

"On the third sun Joan will be ready."

And saluting the three gentlemen gracefully, the Indian retired to take a few hours of a repose which his great exertions had rendered necessary.