Valdivia, founded in 1551 by the Spanish conqueror Don Pedro de Valdivia, is a charming city, two leagues from the sea, upon the left bank of a river, which large vessels can easily ascend into the fertile valley of Guadallanguen. The aspect of the city, the advanced post of civilization in these remote countries, is most agreeable; the streets are large, uniformly built; the white houses, only one story high, on account of the frequency of earthquakes, are terrace-roofed. Here and there rise in the air the steeples of the numerous churches and convents, which occupy more than a third of the city. It is astonishing to what an extent convents are multiplied in South America. It might be supposed that the New World was the land of promise for monks; they appear to rise out of the earth at every step. Thanks to the extensive commerce which Valdivia carries on by means of its port, which is visited by the numerous whalers fishing in those seas, and ships which come there to refit, after doubling Cape Horn, or before passing it, – its streets have more animation than is generally to be met with in American cities.

Don Tadeo arrived in Valdivia, accompanied by Don Gregorio and Doña Rosario, on the evening of the sixteenth day after his departure from his friend's chacra. They had used all diligence, and for that country, where there are no other means of travelling but on horseback, it might be considered a quick journey. If the two gentlemen had thought proper to do so, they might have entered the city about three o'clock in the afternoon, but they deemed it advisable that no one in a place where so many people knew them should be made aware of their arrival: in the first place, because the causes which brought them there required the greatest secrecy; and, further, because Don Tadeo was forced to conceal himself, in order to avoid the police agents of the president of the republic, who had orders to arrest him wherever they might meet with him. Fortunately, in these countries the police never arrest anybody when not absolutely compelled, unless those whom they pursue come and deliver themselves up into their hands – an event, we may safely say, that rarely happens.

As during his sojourn at Valdivia, his manner of living must be regulated by the affairs which brought him there, he could not openly keep house or appear in public, Don Tadeo went straight to the convent of the Ursulines, and committed the young lady he had brought with him to the care of the abbess, who was not only his relation, but was a worthy person, in whom he had perfect confidence. Doña Rosario accepted without hesitation the asylum which was offered to her, and where she fancied she should be safe from the attacks of her invisible enemies. Don Tadeo took an affectionate leave of her and the venerable abbess, and hastened to a house of the calle San-Xavier, where Don Gregorio, who had left him on entering the city, to avoid observation, awaited his coming.

"Well?" asked Don Gregorio, as soon as he saw him.

"She is in safety; at least I suppose so," Don Tadeo replied, with a sigh.

"So much the better, for we must redouble our precautions."

"Why so?"

"After leaving you I made inquiries; I observed, I questioned people as I walked about and loitered at the port and the Almeda."

"Well, what have you learnt?"

"As we imagined, General Bustamente is here."

"Already?"

"He arrived three days ago."

"What reason could be so important as to bring him here?" said Don Tadeo, with an uneasy expression. "Oh, I will know!"

"Another thing: who do you think accompanies him?"

"The executioner, no doubt!" said Don Tadeo, with an ironical smile.

"Almost as bad," Don Gregorio replied.

"Whom do you mean, then?"

"The Linda!"

The chief of the Dark-Hearts turned deadly pale.

"Oh," he said, "that woman! for ever that woman! you must be mistaken, my friend; it is impossible!"

"I have seen her."

Don Tadeo walked about in great agitation for several minutes; then, stopping short in front of his friend, said, in a husky voice —

"Dear Don Gregorio, are you certain you have not been misled by a resemblance? Are you quite sure it was she?"

"You had just left me, and I was coming hither, when the sound of horses made me turn my head, and I saw, I repeat I saw, the Linda; she also appeared to have just arrived at Valdivia; two lancers escorted her, and an arriero led the baggage mules.

"Oh!" said Don Tadeo, "will the infernal malice of that demon ever pursue me?"

"My friend," Don Gregorio remarked, "in the path we have undertaken to tread, every obstacle must, unhesitatingly, be destroyed."

"What, kill a woman?" the gentleman said, with horror.

"I do not say that, but place her in such a position that she cannot possibly injure anyone. Remember, we are Dark-Hearts, and, as such, we ought to be without pity."

"Silence!" Don Tadeo murmured, as two low, quick taps were struck on the door.

"Come in!" cried Don Gregorio.

The door opened, and Don Pedro showed his polecat face. He did not recognize the two men whom, in the various meetings he had had with them, he had always seen masked.

"God preserve you, gentlemen!" he said, with a profound bow.

"What is your pleasure, sir?" Don Gregorio asked, in a coldly-polite tone, while returning his salutation.

"Sir," said Don Pedro, looking about for a seat which was not offered him, "I have just arrived from Santiago."

Don Gregorio bowed again.

"On my departure from that city, a banker in whose hands I had placed funds, gave me several bills; among others this, addressed to Don Gregorio Peratla, payable at sight."

"That is my name, sir; be so kind as to hand it to me."

"As you see, sir, the bill is for twenty-three ounces."

"Very well, sir," replied Don Gregorio, as he took it, "allow me to examine it."

Don Pedro bowed in his turn, whilst Don Gregorio, approaching a flambeau, looked attentively at the bill of exchange, put it into his pocket, and took some money from his purse.

"Here are the twenty-three ounces, sir," he said, giving them.

The spy took them, counted the gold pieces, examining them attentively, and then put them into his pocket.

"It is very singular, sir," he said, just as the two gentlemen thought they were about to be relieved of his presence.

"What is it, sir?" asked Don Gregorio; "do you not find the amount right?"

"Oh, pardon me, perfectly right; but," he added, with a slight hesitation, "I thought you had been a merchant?"

"And what leads you to think otherwise?"

"Because I see no desks."

"They are in another part of the house," Don Gregorio replied; "I am a private trader."

"Oh, very well, sir."

"And, if I had not thought you had pressing need of the money – "

"Very pressing!" the other interrupted.

"I should have begged you to call again tomorrow, for, at this late hour, my cashbox is closed."

And thereupon he waved his hand, rather haughtily, as dismissing him. Don Pedro retired, visibly disappointed.

"That is a double-faced fellow, I am sure," said Don Gregorio; "I should not wonder if he were a spy of the General."

"Oh, I know him!" Don Tadeo replied; "I have about me proofs of his treachery. He has been a necessary instrument; at present he may injure us. He must be crushed."

Don Gregorio drew from his pocket the bill which had been presented to him, and holding it to Don Tadeo —

"Look at this," he said.

This bill, payable at sight, appeared perfectly like others. It was drawn in the usual form: At sight, please pay, &c. &c.; but, in two or three places, the pen, too hard, no doubt, had spluttered and formed a certain number of little black spots, of which some were almost imperceptible. It appeared that these black spots had a meaning for the two men; for as soon as Don Tadeo had cast his eyes over the bill, he seized his cloak, and folded himself in it.

"It is Heaven that protects us!" he said; "we must go thither without delay."

"That is my opinion, likewise," Don Gregorio replied, holding the bill to the light, and burning it till there was not a particle of it left. The two men took each a long dagger and a brace of pistols, which they concealed under their clothes – the conspirators were too well acquainted with their country to neglect these precautions – they pulled the flaps of their hats over their faces, and wrapping themselves up to the very eyes, like two lovers or seekers of adventures, they descended into the street.

It was one of those splendid nights unknown in our foggy climates; the sky, of a dark blue, was thickly studded with an infinite number of stars, among which conspicuously shone the brilliant Southern Cross; the air was embalmed with a thousand odours, and a light sea breeze refreshed the atmosphere, which had been heated by the torrid sunbeams during the past day. The two men passed silently and rapidly through the joyous groups which traversed the streets in all directions. It is in the evening that the Americans leave their homes to take the air and enjoy the freshness.

The conspirators appeared to hear neither the enticing sounds of the vihuela which vibrated in their ears, nor the refrains of sambacuejas which flew in gusts from the chinganas, nor the bursts of fresh, silvery laughter of the black-eyed, rosy-lipped girls, who elbowed them on their way. They walked thus for a long time, turning round at intervals to ascertain if they were followed, plunging by degrees into the lowest quarters of the city, and at length stopped at a house of mean appearance, from which issued the loud but not very melodious strains of music eminently national.

This house was a chingana, a name which has no equivalent in French or English. A Chilian chingana presents so eccentrically droll an appearance, that it would defy the pencil of Callot, and is beyond all description. Let the reader figure to himself a low room, with smoky walls, the floor of which is but beaten earth, and rendered filthy by the detritus left by the feet of incessantly arriving and departing visitors. In the centre of this den, lighted only by a smoky lamp called a candil, by which it is impossible to distinguish more than the shadows of the customers, are seated four men upon stools. Two of them are twanging wretched guitars, which have lost most of their strings, with the backs of their hands; the third plays the tambourine with his thumbs upon a crippled table, striking it with all his might; whilst the fourth rolls between his hands a piece of bamboo six feet long, split into several strips, which yield the most discordant sound that can possibly be imagined. The four musicians, not content with the formidable clatter made by their instruments, shout, at the very top of their voices, songs which we can neither venture to repeat nor translate.

All this infernal noise is made to excite the dancers, who flutter about, assuming the most lascivious postures they can invent, amidst the hearty applause of the spectators, who writhe with delight, stamp their feet with pleasure, and sometimes, carried away by the harmony, thunder out all together, the burthen of the song, with the musicians and dancers. Amidst this disturbance, these cries and stampings, wind in and out the master of the establishment and his waiters, armed with couis of chicha, bottles of aguardiente, and even guarapo, to slake the thirst of the customers, who, to do them justice, the more they drink the more thirsty they become, and the more they wish to drink.

Twice or thrice in the course of an evening, it may happen that some of the guests, more heated than the rest, or seized by the demon of jealousy, take it into their heads to quarrel. Then knives are drawn from the polena, ponchos are rolled round the left arm to serve as bucklers, the music ceases, and a circle is formed round the combatants. The sanguinary contest begins, and when one of the combatants has fallen, he is carried into the street, the music is resumed, the dance recommences, and no more is thought of the poor wounded or dying man.

It was in front of one of these establishments that the chief of the Dark-Hearts and his friend had stopped; they did not hesitate. Pulling up the folds of their cloaks so as to completely conceal their faces, they entered the chingana: in spite of the pestilential atmosphere which nearly choked them, they passed unnoticed through the drinkers, and gained the further end of the room. The cellar door stood ajar; they opened it softly, and disappeared down the steps. After descending ten of these, they found themselves in a cellar, where a man, leaning over a barrel, which he appeared to be occupied in putting in its place, said to them, without interrupting his work —

"Would you like some aguardiente de pesco, some mescal, or some chica?"

"Neither the one nor the other," Don Tadeo replied; "we wish for some French wine."

The man sprang up as if moved by a spring. The two adventurers had put on their masks.

"Do you wish to have it white or red?" the man asked.

"Red – as red as blood," said Don Tadeo.

"Of what year?" the unknown rejoined.

"Of that vintaged on the 5th of April, 1817," said Don Tadeo.

"Then you must come this way, gentlemen," the man replied, with a respectful bow; "the wine you do me the honour to call for is extremely valuable; it is kept in a separate cellar."

"To be drunk at Martinmas," Don Tadeo remarked.

The man, who seemed only to wait for this last reply to his question, smiled with an air of intelligence, and laid his hand lightly on the wall. A stone turned slowly round upon itself, without the least noise, and opened a passage to the conspirators, which they immediately entered, and the stone instantly returned to its place.

In the chingana, the cries, the songs, and the music had acquired an intensity really formidable; the joy of the tipplers was at its height.

CHAPTER XXIV
THE TWO ULMENS

If we were writing a romance instead of a true history, there are certain scenes of the recital which we would pass over in silence. The one which follows would certainly be of this number; and yet, though of a rather hazardous puerility, it carries with it its lesson, by showing what is the influence of the early habits of a miserable life, even upon natures the best endowed, and how difficult it is, at a later period, to shake them off. We will add, to the praise of Valentine, the man of whom we are speaking, that his gaminism, if we may be allowed to employ such a term, was much more feigned than real, and that his aim, in allowing himself to be sometimes led away by it, was to bring a smile to the lips of his foster brother, and thus cheat the sorrow that was undermining his peace.

This necessary preamble being gone through, we will resume the course of our narrative, and, abandoning for a time Don Tadeo and his friend, we will request the reader to follow us back to the tribe of the Great Hare. The looked-for morrow was a great day for the tribe, a day expected with impatience by all housekeepers, who were about to learn how to discover, to use Valentine's word, a new dish, which promised to please the palates of their race. As soon as it was daylight, men, women, and children assembled on the great Square of the village, and formed numerous groups, in which the merit of the unknown dish about to be revealed to them was discussed. Louis, for whom the experiment his friend was going to make had very little interest, wished to remain in the toldo; but Valentine insisted upon his being present at the experiment, and much against his will, he consented.

The Parisian was already at his post, standing in an open spot, in the middle of the Square, watching with a laughing eye the anxious or incredulous expression by turn displayed upon the faces directed towards him. A table, which was to serve for his culinary preparations, a lighted brasier, upon which boiled an iron pot filled with water, a kitchen knife, an enormous frying-pan, found I know not where, a sort of tub, a wooden spoon, some parsley, a bit of bacon, some salt, some pepper, and a basket full of fresh eggs, had been prepared at his desire by the cares of Trangoil-Lanec.

All eagerly looked for the arrival of the Apo-Ulmen of the tribe, with which the exhibition was to commence. A kind of dais had been erected for him in front of the operator, and when he had taken his lighted calumet from the hands of his pipe-bearer, he bent a little on one side and whispered a few words in the ear of Curumilla, who stood respectfully beside him. The Ulmen bowed, came down from the dais, went straight to the Parisian to tell him he might begin, and then resumed his post.

Valentine returned the salutation of this master of the ceremonies, took off his poncho, which he folded up and laid carefully at his feet, and turning up his sleeves above his elbows with the studied grace of a performer, he leant slightly forward, placed his right hand upon the table, and assuming the tone of a vendor of quack medicines who boasts of the efficacy of his nostrums to gaping clowns, he thus commenced his demonstration in a loud voice and with a perfectly clear utterance: —

"Illustrious Ulmens, and you redoubtable warriors of the noble and sacred tribe of the Great Hare, listen attentively to what I have the honour of explaining to you. In the beginning of time the world did not exist; water and clouds, which continually clashed against each other in space, then formed the universe. When Pillian created the world, as soon as at his voice man had issued from the bosom of the red mountain, he took him by the hand, and pointing to all the productions of the earth, the air, and the water, he said to him, – 'Thou art the king of creation: consequently, animals, plants, and fishes all belong to thee, and are, each in proportion with its strength, instincts, or conformation, to minister to thy welfare and thy happiness in the world in which I have placed thee; thus the horse shall bear thee with fiery speed across the deserts, fleecy lamas and sheep clothe thee with their wool, and nourish thee with their succulent flesh.' When Pillian had analyzed, one after the other, the diverse qualities of the animals, before proceeding to the plants and fishes, he stopped at the hen, which was moving carelessly about, and picking up the grains of corn scattered on the ground. Pillian took her by the wings, and showing her to man, said, 'Here is one of the most useful animals I have created for thy service; boiled in a pot, the hen will afford thee an excellent broth when thou art sick; roasted, its white flesh will acquire a delicious flavour; of her eggs thou canst make omelettes with herbs, omelettes with mushrooms, omelettes with ham, and, above all others, with bacon. If thou art indisposed, and solid food should be too heavy for thy weak stomach, thou canst boil her eggs in the shell, and then thou wilt say something, indeed!'

"Thus," continued Valentine, attitudinizing before the Indians, who, with open mouths and staring eyes, lost not a single word he uttered, whether they understood it or not, whilst, in spite of his secret grief, Louis literally writhed with laughter; "thus it was that Pillian spoke to the first man at the commencement of ages; you were not there, Araucano warriors, it is therefore not astonishing that you know nothing about it; neither was I there, it is true; but, thanks to the talent we white men possess of transmitting our thoughts from age to age, by means of writing, these words of the Great Spirit have been carefully collected, and have come down to us in their purity. Without further prelude, I am going to have the honour of producing before you a boiled egg! Listen to me; it is as simple as saying good-day, and within the reach of the most limited capacity. In order to enjoy a boiled egg, two things are necessary – in the first place, an egg, and then, some boiling water! You take the egg in your fingers, thus, you uncover your saucepan, you place the egg in a spoon and deposit it carefully in the saucepan, where you allow it to boil gently three minutes. Mind, three minutes, neither more nor less: pay attention to that important detail, for a longer time would compromise the success of your operation. There it is!"

The action suited the word; the three minutes were past: Valentine took out the egg, beheaded it, sprinkled a little salt on it, and presented it to the Ulmen with some long strips of maize bread. All this was performed with the most imperturbable seriousness, amidst the profound silence of the attentive crowd. The Apo-Ulmen proceeded to taste this wonderful egg with the most deliberate gravity. An air of doubt appeared for a second on his lips, as he raised the first mouthful towards them; but, by degrees, the features of his broad face expanded under the influence of joy and pleasure, and he at last exclaimed enthusiastically, —

"Wah! It is good! Very good!"

Valentine returned to his brasier with a modest smile, and set about boiling eggs, which he distributed among the Ulmens and principal warriors, who quickly mingled their felicitations with those of the Apo-Ulmen. A delirious joy took possession of the poor Indians, and Valentine could hardly keep his ground, so eagerly did they press round him, to examine closely his mysterious mode of cooking the eggs. At length, calm was re-established, and the curiosity of the majority was satisfied. The Apo-Ulmen, who had not been able to make his voice heard in the tumult, was able to restore a little order, and obtain silence. Valentine looked at his public with an air of satisfaction. From that moment the Indians were believers – the most incredulous were convinced, and all awaited with impatience the continuation of his experiments.

"Listen to me!" he continued, striking a sharp blow on the table with the knife he held in his hand; "listen to me, but, above all, observe closely how I proceed. A boiled egg was child's play to me, but the omelette requires to be considered seriously, and executed with care, in order to obtain that finish, that smoothness, flavour, and perfection so much prized by real judges. I am about to make a bacon-omelette, and when I name that, I name the most exquisite dish in the world! Whilst explaining to you the manner in which you should set about it, I will produce it: follow my reasonings closely, and observe attentively the manner in which I mingle the various ingredients which enter into the composition of this dish. To make a bacon omelette, I must have bacon, eggs, salt, pepper, parsley, and some butter – there they are, as you see, all on that table. Now I will mix them."

Then, with incredible address, and the greatest quickness, he commenced a monster bacon-omelette, of at least sixty eggs, while continuing his explanation with inexpressible freedom and copiousness. The interest of the Indians was warmly excited, their enthusiasm betraying itself by shouts, leaps, and laughter; but it was carried to its height, and the stamping, crying, and screaming became terrific, when the Puelches saw Valentine seize the long handle of the frying-pan with a firm grasp, and toss the omelette three different times into the air, without any apparent effort, and with the style and ease of a finished cook. When the omelette was done to the moment, the Frenchman placed it upon a dish, taking care to double it with the talent which cordons bleus alone possess, and was then preparing to carry it smoking to the Apo-Ulmen, but he, enticed by the flavour of the boiled egg, and with appetite excited to the highest pitch, spared him that trouble; for he forgot all decorum, and rushed towards the table, followed by the principal Ulmens of the tribe. The success of the Parisian was enormous. Never, in the history of the divine art, did a cook obtain such a glorious triumph! Valentine, with the modesty peculiar to men of real talent, stole away from the honours they wished to pay him, and hastened to conceal himself with his friend in the toldo of Trangoil-Lanec.

On the morrow of this eventful day, at the moment when the young men were about to leave the quarters they inhabited in common, their host presented himself, followed by Curumilla. The two chiefs saluted them, sat down upon the beaten earth which served instead of flooring, and lit their pipes. Louis, already accustomed to the ceremonious habits of the Araucanos, and convinced that their friends had something of importance to say, reseated himself, as did also his foster brother, and awaited patiently the expected communication. When the chiefs had deliberately smoked out their pipes, and shaken the last ashes upon their nails, they replaced them in their belts, and, after exchanging a glance, Trangoil-Lanec began: —

"Are my pale brothers still resolved to leave us?"

"Yes," replied Louis.

"Has Indian hospitality been wanting towards them?"

"So far from that, chief," the young man said, warmly pressing his hands, "you have treated us like children of your own tribe."

"Then why leave us?" Trangoil-Lanec asked; "we know not what we lose, do we ever know what we shall find?"

"You are right, chief; but you know we came into this country for the purpose of visiting Antinahuel," Louis observed.

"And does my golden-haired brother," for so he called Valentine, "absolutely wish to see him?"

"Absolutely," replied the young man.

The two chiefs exchanged a second glance.

"He shall see him," replied Trangoil-Lanec; "Antinahuel is at his village."

"Good!" said Valentine. "In that case we will set out tomorrow."

"My brothers shall not go alone."

"What do you mean by that?" Valentine asked.

"The Indian soil is not safe for palefaces; my brother has saved my life, I shall follow him."

"My brother has preserved me a friend," said Curumilla, who had till that time preserved silence; "I shall follow him."

"You cannot think of such a thing, chief," Valentine remarked. "We are travellers whom chance knocks about at its pleasure; we know not what destiny has in reserve for us, nor whither it will conduct us, after having seen the man to whom we are sent."

"What does it signify?" Curumilla replied; "where you go, we will go."

The young men were greatly moved by such frank and noble devotion.

"Oh!" Louis exclaimed, warmly, "it is impossible! your friends, your wives, and your children."

"Our wives and children will be taken care of by our relations until our return."

"My friends, my good friends," said Valentine, with emotion, "you are wrong; we cannot impose such a sacrifice upon you, we will not consent to it for your sake; I have already told you, we are ignorant of what awaits us, or what we shall do; allow us to go alone."

"We will follow our pale brothers," Trangoil-Lanec said in a tone that admitted of no reply; "my brothers are not acquainted with the llanos; four men are a force in the desert – two men are dead."

The Frenchmen contested the matter no longer, they accepted the offer of the Ulmens, and did so the more readily, because they plainly perceived what an immense advantage these men would be to them. They were accustomed to a life in the woods, they knew all its mysteries, and had fathomed all its depths. The chiefs took leave of their guests, to prepare for their departure, which was irrevocably fixed for the next day. At sunrise, a small party, composed of Louis, Valentine, Trangoil-Lanec, and Curumilla, all four mounted upon excellent horses of that mixed Andalusian and Arabian breed, which the Spaniards imported into America, and Cæsar, who trotted at their side in close file, left the toldería, escorted by all the members of the tribe shouting: "Come back again! come back again! – A good journey! a good journey!"

After repeated farewells to these worthy people, the four travellers directed their course towards the toldería of the Black-Serpents, and soon disappeared in the numberless defiles formed by the quebradas.