In the state of anarchy in which Chili was plunged at the period of our history, the parties were numerous, and everyone was manoeuvring in the shade, as skilfully as possible, in order to gain possession of power. General Bustamente, as we have stated, aimed at nothing less than the protectorate of a confederation similar to that of the United States, which, then but little understood, dazzled his ambition. He could not divine that those ancient outlaws, those sectarian fanatics exiled from Europe, those thriving merchants, had already begun to dream in America of a universal monarchy, a senseless Utopia, the application of which will one day cost them the loss of that so-called nationality of which they are so proud, and which, in reality, does not exist. Probably General Bustamente did not look so far into the future, or, if he did divine the tendencies of the Anglo-Americans, perhaps he dreamt of himself following also that ambitious aim, as soon as his power should repose upon solid bases.

The Dark-Hearts, the only true patriots in this unhappy country, on their side, wished that the government should adopt measures of a rather democratic nature, but they had no intention to overturn it, for they were persuaded that a revolution could only be prejudicial to the general welfare of the nation. Beside General Bustamente and the society of the Dark-Hearts, a third party, more powerful, perhaps, than the two first, was at work silently, but active. This party was represented by Antinahuel, the toqui of the most important Uthal-Mapus of the Araucanian confederacy. We have said that from its geographical position, this little insignificant republic is placed like a wedge in the Chilian territory, which it separates sharply in two. This position gave Antinahuel immense power. All Araucanos are soldiers; at a signal from their chiefs, they take up arms, and are able, in a few days, to get together an army of experienced warriors. The republicans and the partizans of Bustamente were fully aware how much it was to their interest to attach the Araucanos to their party; with the aid of these ferocious soldiers victory would be certain. Already had the King of Darkness and Bustamente made proposals to Antinahuel, – of course, unknown to each other. These overtures the redoubtable toqui had appeared to listen to, and had feigned to reply to both, for the following reasons: —

Antinahuel, in addition to the hereditary hatred which his ancestors had bequeathed to him against the white race, or perhaps on account of that hatred, had dreamt, since he had been elected supreme chief of an Uthal-Mapus, not only of the complete independence of his country, but moreover of re-conquering all the territory which the Spaniards had deprived it of; he hoped to drive them back to the other side of the Cordilleras of the Andes, and restore to his nation the splendour it had enjoyed before the arrival of the whites in Chili. And this patriotic project Antinahuel was just the man to carry through. Endowed with vast intelligence, at once daring and subtle, he allowed himself to be stopped by no obstacle, conquered by no reverse. Almost entirely brought up in Chili, he spoke Spanish perfectly, was thoroughly acquainted with the manners of his enemies, and by means of numberless spies spread everywhere, he was well informed with regard to the Chilian policy, and of the precarious situation of those whom he wished to conquer; he habitually took advantage of the dissensions which separated them, and feigned to lend an ear to the propositions made to him on all parts, in order, when the moment should arrive, to crush his enemies one after the other, and be left alone standing.

He wanted a plausible pretext for keeping his Uthal-Mapus under arms, without inspiring the Chilians with mistrust: and this pretext General Bustamente and the Dark-Hearts supplied him with by their preparations. No one could be surprised, for this reason, at seeing, in a time of peace, the toqui gather together a numerous army on the Chilian frontiers, since, in petto, either party flattered itself that this army was destined to aid its cause. The conduct of the toqui was, therefore, most skilful; for he not only inspired mistrust in no one, but, on the contrary, gave hopes to all. The position was becoming serious; the hour for action could not long be delayed; and Antinahuel, whose measures were all prepared, awaited impatiently the moment for beginning the struggle.

Things were at this point on the day when Doña Maria came to the toldería of the Black-Serpents, to visit the friend of her childhood. As soon as she awoke, the Linda gave orders for her departure.

"Is my sister going to leave me already?" said Antinahuel, in a tone of mild reproach.

"Yes," Doña Maria replied, "my brother knows that I must reach Valdivia as quickly as possible."

The chief did not press her stay; a furtive smile played round his lips. After Doña Maria was on horseback, she turned towards the toqui.

"Did not my brother say he should be soon in Valdivia?" she asked, in a perfectly well-played tone of indifference.

"I shall be there as soon as my sister," he replied.

"We shall see each other again, then?"

"Perhaps we may."

"We must!"

This was said in a positive tone.

"Very well," the chief replied, after a moment's pause; "my sister may depart – she shall see me again."

"Till then, farewell, then," she said, and rode away at a quick pace.

She soon disappeared in a cloud of dust, and the chief returned thoughtfully to his toldo.

"Woman," he said, to his mother, "I am going to the great toldería of the palefaces."

"I heard everything last night," the Indian woman replied, sorrowfully; "my son is wrong."

"Wrong! how, or why?" he asked, passionately.

"My son is a great chief; my sister deceives him, and makes him subservient to her vengeance."

"Or rather my own," he replied, in a singular tone.

"The young white girl has a right to the protection of my son."

"I will protect the Pearl of the Andes."

"My son forgets that she of whom he speaks saved his life."

"Silence, woman!" he shouted, in a passionate tone.

The Indian woman held her peace, but sighed deeply.

The chief summoned his mosotones, and selecting from among them a score of warriors upon whom he could place entire reliance, ordered them to be ready to follow him within an hour. He then threw himself upon a bench, and sank into serious and agitating reflections. Suddenly a great noise was heard from without, and the chief sprang from his recumbent position, and went to the door of his toldo. He was surprised to see two strangers, mounted upon excellent horses, and preceded by an Indian, advancing towards him. These strangers were Valentine and Louis, who had left their friends a short distance from the toldería.

Valentine, on leaving the village of the Puelches, had opened the letter addressed to himself, and placed in his hands by the major-domo, with a recommendation not to open it till the last minute. The young man was far from expecting the contents of this strange missive. After carefully reading it, he communicated it to his friend, saying —

"Here, read this, Louis; – hem! who knows but that this singular letter is the first step to our fortune?"

Like all men in love, Louis was sceptical upon every subject that did not bear some relation to his passion, and he returned the paper, shaking his head.

"Politics burn the fingers," he said.

"Yes, of those who don't know how to handle them," Valentine replied, with a shrug of the shoulders. "Now, it is my opinion that in this country, in which it has pleased fate to drop us, the most promising element of fortune we have at command happens to be those very politics which you so much disdain."

"I must confess, my friend, that I care very little for these Dark-Hearts, of whom I know nothing, and who have done us the honour to affiliate us."

"I do not share your opinion at all; I believe them to be resolute, intelligent men, and am persuaded they will, some day, gain the upper hand."

"Much good may it do them! But of what consequence is that to us Frenchmen?"

"More than you may think for; and I am determined, immediately after my interview with this said Antinahuel, to go directly to Valdivia, in order to be present at the meeting they appoint."

"As you please," said the Count, carelessly. "As such is your advice, we will go thither; only I warn you that we shall risk our heads. If we lose them, it will be all very well; but I wash my hands of the matter beforehand."

"I will be prudent, caramba! My head is the only thing I can call my own," Valentine replied, laughing, "and be assured I will not risk it for nothing. Besides, do you not partake of my curiosity to see how these people understand politics, and in what a fashion they set about conspiring?"

"Well, that may become interesting; we travel partly for instruction; let us gain it, then, when it offers itself."

"Bravo! that's the way in which I like to hear a man speak. Let us go and seek the redoubtable chief to whom we have a letter to deliver."

Trangoil-Lanec and Curumilla were too prudent to venture to let Antinahuel know of the friendship which bound them to the two Frenchmen. Without suspecting the reasons which induced their friends to present themselves to the toqui, they foresaw that a day might come when it would be advantageous that their relations should be unknown. When they arrived, therefore, at a short distance from the toldería, the Indian warriors remained concealed in a secluded corner, keeping Cæsar with them, and allowing the two Frenchmen to continue their route to the village of the Black-Serpents, with whom, in addition, they had not lately been upon the best terms.

The reception given to the Frenchmen was most friendly; for in time of peace the Araucanos are exceedingly hospitable. As soon as they perceived the strangers, they crowded round them; and as all the Indians speak Spanish with astonishing facility, Valentine had no difficulty in making himself understood. One warrior, more polite than the rest, took upon himself to be their guide through the village, in which, of course, they were at a loss. He led them to the toldo of the chief, in front of which were drawn up twenty horsemen, armed, and apparently waiting.

"That is Antinahuel, the great toqui of the Inapire-Mapu," said the guide, emphatically, pointing with his finger at the chief, who at that moment came out of his toldo, attracted by the noise.

"Thank you," said Valentine; and the two Frenchmen advanced rapidly towards the toqui, who, on his part, made a few steps to meet them.

"Eh, eh!" Valentine said, in a subdued voice, to his companion; "here is a man with a good bearing, and with a rather intelligent air for an Indian."

"Yes," Louis replied, in the same tone, "but he has a contracted brow, a sinister look, and compressed lips – he inspires me with very little confidence."

"Bah!" said Valentine, "you are too difficult by half; did you expect to find an Indian an Antinous or an Apollo Belvedere?"

"No; but I should like a little more open frankness in his look."

"Well, well, we shall see."

"I do not know why, but that man produces the effect of a reptile upon me; he inspires me with invincible repulsion."

"Oh, nonsense! you are too impressionable. I am sure that the man, who, I cannot deny, has the air of a thorough rascal, is, at bottom, one of the best fellows in the world."

"God grant I may be deceived! But I experience, on seeing him, a feeling for which I cannot account; it seems as if a kind of presentiment warned me to be on my guard against that man, and that he will be fatal to me."

"All folly! What relations can you ever have with this individual? We are charged with a mission to him; who knows whether we may ever see him again? and then what interests can connect us with him hereafter?"

"You are right; and I do not know what makes me think as I have said; besides, we shall soon know what we have to trust to on his account – here he is."

The adventurers were, in fact, at that moment in front of the chief's toldo. Antinahuel stood before them; and, although appearing to be giving orders to his men, examined them very attentively. He stepped towards them quickly, and, bowing with perfect politeness, said, in a pleasant tone, and with a graceful gesture —

"Strangers, you are welcome to my toldo. Your presence rejoices my heart. Condescend to pass over the threshold of this poor hut, which will be yours as long as you deign to remain among us."

"Thanks for the kind words of welcome you address to us, powerful chief," Valentine replied. "The persons who sent us to you assured us of the kind reception we might expect."

"If the strangers come on the part of my friends, that is a further reason why I should endeavour to make their abode here as agreeable as my humble means will allow me."

The two Frenchmen bowed ceremoniously, and alighted from their horses. At a sign from the toqui, two peons led the horses away to a vast corral behind the toldo.

CHAPTER XXVI
THE MATRICIDE

We have repeatedly said that in times of peace the Araucanos are exceedingly hospitable. This hospitality, which on the part of the warriors is cordial and simple, on that of the chiefs becomes extravagant. Antinahuel was far from being a rude Indian, attached though he was to the customs of his fathers; and although in his heart he hated not only the Spaniards, but indiscriminately all belonging to the white race, the half-civilized education he had received had given him ideas of comfort completely above Indian habits. Many of the richest Chilian farmers would have found it impossible to display greater luxury than he exhibited when his caprice or his interest led him to do so. On the present occasion, he was not sorry to show strangers that the Araucanos were not so barbarous as their arrogant neighbours wished it to be supposed, and that they could, when necessary, rival even them. At the first glance, Antinahuel had discovered that his guests were not Spaniards; but, with the circumspection which forms the foundation of the Indian character, he confined his observations to his own breast. It was with the kindest air and in the most winning tone of voice that he pressed them to enter his toldo.

The Frenchmen followed him in, and with a gesture he requested them to be seated. Peons placed a profusion of cigars and cigarettes upon the table, near a tasty filigree brasero. In a few minutes other peons entered with the maté, which they respectfully presented to the chief and his guests. Then, without the silence being broken – for the Araucanian laws of hospitality require that no question should be addressed to strangers until they think proper to speak themselves – each sipped the herb of Paraguay, while smoking. This preliminary operation being gone through, Valentine rose.

"I thank you, chief, in the name of myself and my friend, for your cordial hospitality."

"Hospitality is a duty which every Araucano is jealous to fulfil!"

"But," replied Valentine, "as I have been given to understand that the chief is about to set out on a journey, I do not wish to detain him."

"I am at the orders of my guests; my journey is not so pressing as not to admit of being put off for a few hours."

"I thank the chief for his courtesy, but I hope he will soon be at liberty."

Antinahuel bowed.

"A Spaniard has charged me with a letter for the chief."

"Ah!" the toqui exclaimed, with a singular intonation, and fixing a piercing look upon the face of the young man.

"Yes," the Frenchman continued; "and that letter I am about to have the honour of handing to you."

And he put his hand to his breast, to take out the letter.

"Stop!" said the chief, laying his hand upon his arm, as he turned towards his servants; adding, "leave the room." The three men were left alone.

"Now you may give me the letter," he continued.

The chief took it, looked carefully at the superscription, turned the paper in all directions in his hand, and then, with some hesitation, presented it to the young man.

"Let my brother read it," he said; "the whites are more learned than we poor Indians: they know everything."

Valentine gave his countenance the most silly expression possible.

"I cannot read this," he said, with well-assumed embarrassment.

"Does my brother then refuse to render me this service?" the chief pressed him.

"I do not refuse you, chief; only I am prevented doing what you request by a very simple reason."

"And what is that reason?"

"It is that my companion and I are both Frenchmen."

"Well, and what then?"

"We speak a little Spanish, but we cannot read it."

"Ah!" said the chief, in a tone of doubt; but, after walking about, and reflecting a minute, he added, – "Hem! that is possible."

He then turned towards the two Frenchmen, who, on their part, were, in appearance, impassive and indifferent.

"Let my brothers wait an instant," he said; "I know a man in my tribe who understands the marks which the whites make upon paper: I will go and order him to translate this letter."

The young men bowed, and the chief left the apartment.

"Why the devil did you refuse to read the letter?" Louis asked.

"In good truth," Valentine replied, "I can scarcely tell you why; but what you said of the expression of this man's countenance, produced a certain effect upon me. He inspires me with no confidence, and I am not anxious to be the depository of secrets which he may some day reclaim in a disagreeable manner."

"Yes, you are right! We may, some day, congratulate ourselves upon this circumspection. Hush! I hear footsteps."

And the chief re-entered the room.

"I know the contents of the letter," he said; "if my brothers see the man who charged them with it, they will inform him that I am setting out this very day for Valdivia."

"We would, with pleasure, take charge of that message," replied Valentine; "but we do not know the person who gave us the letter, and it is more than probable we may never see him again."

The chief darted at them a stolen and deeply suspicious glance.

"Good! Will my brothers remain here, then?"

"It would give us infinite pleasure to pass a few hours in the agreeable society of the chief, but with us time presses; with his permission, we will take our leave."

"My brothers are perfectly free; my toldo is open for those who leave it, as well as for those who enter it."

The young men rose to depart.

"In what direction are my brothers going?"

"We are bound for Concepción."

"Let my brothers go in peace, then! If their course lay towards Valdivia, I would have offered to journey with them."

"A thousand thanks, chief, for your kind offer; unfortunately we cannot profit by it, for our road lies in a completely opposite direction."

The three men exchanged a few more words of courtesy, and left the toldo. The Frenchmen's horses had been brought round; they mounted, and after having saluted the chief once more, they set off. As soon as they were out of the village, Louis, turning to Valentine, said, —

"We have not an instant to lose. If we wish to reach Valdivia before that man, we must make all speed. Who knows whether Don Tadeo may not be awaiting our arrival impatiently?"

They soon rejoined their friends, who looked for them anxiously, and all four set off at full speed in the direction of Valdivia, without being able to explain to themselves why they used such diligence. Antinahuel accompanied his guests a few paces out of his toldo. When he had taken leave of them, he followed them with his eyes as far as he could see them, and when they disappeared at the extremity of the village, he returned thoughtfully and slowly to his toldo, saying to himself, —

"It is evident to me that these men are deceiving me; their refusal to read the letter was nothing but a pretext. What can be their object? Can they be enemies? I will watch them!"

When he arrived in front of his toldo, he found his mosotones mounted, and awaiting his orders.

"I must set out at once," he said; "I shall learn all yonder, and, perhaps," he added, in a voice so low that he could hardly hear it himself, "perhaps I shall find her again. If Doña Maria breaks her promise, and does not give her up to me, woe, woe be to her!"

He raised his head, and saw his mother standing before him. "What do you want, woman?" he asked, harshly; "this is not your place!"

"My place is near you when you are suffering, my son," she mildly replied.

"I suffering! You are mad, mother! age has turned your brain! Go back into the toldo, and, during my absence, keep a good watch over all that belongs to me."

"Are you, then, really going, my son?"

"This moment," he said, and sprang into his saddle.

"Where are you going?" she asked, and seized his horse's bridle.

"What is that to you?" he replied, with an ugly glance.

"Beware! my son; you are entering on a bad course. Guérubu, the spirit of evil, is master of your heart."

"I am the best and sole judge of my actions."

"You shall not go!" she exclaimed, as she placed herself resolutely in front of his horse.

The Indians collected round the speakers looked on with mute terror at this scene; they were too well acquainted with the violent and imperious character of Antinahuel not to dread something fatal, if his mother persisted in endeavouring to prevent his departure.

The brows of the chief lowered – his eyes gleamed like lightning – and it was not without a great effort that he mastered the passion boiling in his breast.

"I will go!" he said, in a loud voice, and trembling with rage; "I will go, if I trample you beneath my horse's hoofs!"

The woman clung convulsively to the saddle, and looked her son in the face.

"Do so," she cried; "for, by the soul of your father, who now hunts in the blessed prairies with Pillian, I swear I will not stir, even if you pass over my body!"

The face of the Indian became horribly contracted; he cast around a glance which made the hearts of the bravest tremble with fear.

"Woman! woman!" he shouted, grinding his teeth with rage; "get out of my way, or I shall crush you like a reed!"

"I will not stir, I tell you!" she repeated, with wild energy.

"Take care! take care!" he said again; "I shall forget you are my mother!"

"I will not stir!"

A nervous tremor shook the limbs of the chief, who had now attained the highest paroxysm of fury.

"If you will have it so," he cried, in a husky, but loud voice, "your blood be upon your own head!"

And he dug the spurs into the sides of his horse, which plunged with pain, and then sprung forward like an arrow, dragging along the poor woman, whose body was soon but one huge wound. A cry of horror burst from the quivering lips of the terrified Indians. After a few minutes of this senseless course, during which she had left fragments of her flesh on every sharp point of the road, the strength of the Indian woman abandoned her; she left her hold of the bridle, and sank dying.

"Oh!" she said, in a faint voice, and following, with a look dimmed by agony, her son, as he was borne away like a whirlwind, "my unhappy son! my unhappy – "

She raised her eyes towards heaven, clasped her mangled hands, as if to offer up a last prayer, and fell back.

She died pitying the matricide, and pardoning him. The women of the tribe took up the body respectfully, and carried it, weeping, into the toldo. At the sight of the corpse, an old Indian shook his head several times, murmuring in a prophetic tone, —

"Antinahuel has killed his mother! Pillian will avenge her!"

And all bowed down their heads sorrowfully: this atrocious crime made them dread horrible misfortunes in the future.