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diff --git a/4957-0.txt b/4957-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..514e673 --- /dev/null +++ b/4957-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6609 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 4957 *** + + + + +THE HEART’S SECRET + +Or, The Fortunes Of A Soldier. + + +By Lieutenant Murray Ballou + + + + +Boston + +1852 + + + + +PUBLISHER’S NOTE.—The following Novellette was originally published in the +PICTORIAL DRAWING-ROOM COMPANION, and is but a specimen of the many deeply +entertaining Tales, and gems of literary merit, which grace the columns of that +elegant and highly popular journal. The COMPANION embodies a corps of +contributors of rare literary excellence, and is regarded as the ne plus ultra, +by its scores of thousands of readers. + + + + +CONTENTS + + PREFACE + THE HEART’S SECRET + CHAPTER I.—THE ACCIDENT + CHAPTER II.—THE BELLE AND THE SOLDIER + CHAPTER III.—A SUDDEN INTRODUCTION + CHAPTER IV.—CUBAN BANDITTI + CHAPTER V.—THE WOUNDED SOLDIER + CHAPTER VI.—THE CHALLENGE + CHAPTER VII.—THE PRISONER + CHAPTER VIII.—THE FAREWELL + CHAPTER IX.—THE EXECUTION SCENE + CHAPTER X.—THE BANISHMENT + CHAPTER XI.—THE PROMOTION + CHAPTER XII.—THE QUEEN AND THE SOLDIER + CHAPTER XIII.—UNREQUITED LOVE + CHAPTER XIV.—THE SURPRISE + CHAPTER XV.—THE SERENAPE + CHAPTER XVI.—A DISCOVERY + CHAPTER XVII.—THE ASSASSIN + CHAPTER XVIII.—THE DISGUISE + CHAPTER XIX.—THE AVOWAL + CHAPTER XX.—HAPPY FINALE + + + + +PREFACE. + + +The locale of the following story is that gem of the American +Archipelago; the Island of Cuba, whose lone star, now merged in the +sea, is destined yet to sparkle in liberty’s hemisphere, and radiate +the light of republicanism. Poetry cannot outdo the fairy-like +loveliness of this tropical clime, and only those who have partaken of +the aromatic sweetness of its fields and shores can fully realize the +delight that may be shared in these low latitudes. A brief residence +upon the island afforded the author the subject-matter for the +following pages, and he has been assiduous in his efforts to adhere +strictly to geographical facts and the truthful belongings of the +island. Trusting that this may prove equally popular with the author’s +other numerous tales and novelettes, he has the pleasure of signing +himself, + +Very cordially, + +THE PUBLIC’s HUMBLE SERVANT. + +DEDICATED TO THE READERS OF GLEASON’S PICTORIAL DRAWING-ROOM COMPANION, +FOR WHICH JOURNAL THESE PAGES WERE ORIGINALLY WRITTEN, BY THEIR VERY +HUMBLE SERVANT, LIEUTENANT MURRAY. + + + + +THE HEART’S SECRET. + + + + +CHAPTER I. +THE ACCIDENT. + + +The soft twilight of the tropics, that loves to linger over the low +latitudes, after the departure of the long summer’s day, was breathing +in zephyrs of aromatic sweetness over the shores and plains of the +beautiful Queen of the Antilles. The noise and bustle of the day had +given place to the quiet and gentle influences of the hour; the slave +had laid by his implements of labor, and now stood at ease, while the +sunburnt overseers had put off the air of vigilance that they had worn +all day, and sat or lounged lazily with their cigars. + +Here and there strolled a Montaro from the country, who, having +disposed of his load of fruit, of produce and fowls, was now preparing +to return once more inland, looking, with his long Toledo blade and +heavy spurs, more like a bandit than an honest husbandman. The evening +gun had long since boomed over the waters of the land-locked harbor +from the grim, walls of Moro Castle, the guard had been relieved at the +governor’s palace and the city walls, and now the steady martial tread +to the tap of the drum rang along the streets of Havana, as the guard +once more sought their barracks in the Plaza des Armes. + +The pretty senoritas sat at their grated windows, nearly on a level +with the street, and chatted through the bars, not unlike prisoners, to +those gallants who paused to address them. And now a steady line of +pedestrians turned their way to the garden that fronts the governor’s +palace, where they might listen to the music of the band, nightly +poured forth here to rich and poor. + +At this peculiar hour there was a small party walking in the broad and +very private walk that skirts the seaward side of the city, nearly +opposite the Moro, and known as the Plato. It is the only hour in which +a lady can appear outside the walls of her dwelling on foot in this +queer and picturesque capital, and then only in the Plaza, opposite to +the palace, or in some secluded and private walk like the Plato. Such +is Creole and Spanish etiquette. + +The party referred to consisted of a fine looking old Spanish don, a +lady who seemed to be his daughter, a little boy of some twelve or +thirteen years, who might perhaps be the lady’s brother, and a couple +of gentlemen in undress military attire, yet bearing sufficient tokens +of rank to show them to be high in command. The party was a gay though +small one, and the lady seemed to be as lively and talkative as the two +gentlemen could desire, while they, on their part, appeared most +devoted to every syllable and gesture. + +There was a slight air of hauteur in the lady’s bearing; she seemed to +half disdain the homage that was so freely tendered to her, and though +she laughed loud and clear, there was a careless, not to say heartless, +accent in her tones, that betrayed her indifference to the devoted +attentions of her companions. Apparently too much accustomed to this +treatment to be disheartened by it, the two gentlemen bore themselves +most courteously, and continued as devoted as ever to the fair creature +by their side. + +The boy of whom we have spoken was a noble child, frank and manly in +his bearing, and evidently deeply interested in the maritime scene +before him. Now he paused to watch the throng of craft of every nation +that lay at anchor in the harbor, or which were moored; after the +fashion here, with their stems to the quay, and now his fine blue eye +wandered off over the swift running waters of the Gulf Stream, watching +for a moment the long, heavy swoop of some distant seafowl, or the +white sail of some clipper craft bound up the Gulf to New Orleans, or +down the narrow channel through the Caribbean Sea to some South +American port. The old don seemed in the meantime to regard the boy +with an earnest pride, and scarcely heeded at all the bright sallies of +wit that his daughter was so freely and merrily bestowing upon her two +assiduous admirers. + +“Yonder brigantine must be a slaver,” said the boy, pointing to a +rakish craft that seemed to be struggling against the current to the +southward. + +“Most like, most like; but what does she on this side? the southern +shore is her ground, and the Isle of Pines is a hundred leagues from +here,” said the old don. + +“She has lost her reckoning, probably,” said the boy, “and made the +first land to the north. Lucky she didn’t fall in with those Florida +wreckers, for though the Americans don’t carry on the African trade +nowadays, they know what to do with a cargo if it gets once hard and +fast on the reefs.” + +“What know you of these matters?” asked the old don, turning a curious +eye on the boy. + +“O, I hear them talk of these things, and you know I saw a cargo ‘run’ +on the south side only last month,” continued the boy. “There were +three hundred or more filed off from that felucca, two by two, to the +shore.” + +“It is a slaver,” said one of the officers, “a little out of her +latitude, that’s all.” + +“A beautiful craft,” said the lady, earnestly; “can it be a slaver, and +so beautiful.” + +“They are clipper-built, all of them,” said the old don. “Launched in +Baltimore, United States.” + +Senorita Gonzales was the daughter of the proud old don of the same +name, who was of the party on the Plato at the time we describe. The +father was one of the richest as well as noblest in rank of all the +residents of the island, being of the old Castilian stock, who had come +from Spain many years before, and after holding high office, both civil +and military, under the crown, had at last retired with a princely +fortune, and devoted himself to the education of his daughter and son, +both of whom we have already introduced to the reader. + +The daughter, beautiful, intelligent, and witty to a most extraordinary +degree, had absolutely broken the hearts of half the men of rank on the +island; for though yet scarcely twenty years of age, Senorita Isabella +was a confirmed coquette. It was her passion to command and enjoy a +devotion, but as to ever having in the least degree cherished or known +what it was to love, the lady was entirely void of the charge; she had +never known the tenderness of reciprocal affection, nor did it seem to +those who knew her best, that the man was born who could win her +confidence. + +Men’s hearts had been Isabella Gonzales’s toys and playthings ever +since the hour that she first had realized her power over them. And yet +she was far from being heartless in reality. She was most sensitive, +and at times thoughtful and serious; but this was in her closet, and +when alone. Those who thought that the sunshine of that face was never +clouded, were mistaken. She hardly received the respect that was due to +her better understanding and naturally strong points of character, +because she hid them mainly behind an exterior of captivating +mirthfulness and never ceasing smiles. + +The cool refreshing sea breeze that swept in from the water was most +delicious, after the scorching heat of a summer’s day in the West +Indies, and the party paused as they breathed in of its freshness, +leaning upon the parapet of the walk, over which they looked down upon +the glancing waves of the bay far beneath them. The moon was stealing +slowly but steadily up from behind the lofty tower of Moro Castle, +casting a dash of silvery light athwart its dark batteries and grim +walls, and silvering a long wake across the now silent harbor, making +its rippling waters of golden and silver hues, and casting, where the +Moro tower was between it and the water, a long, deep shadow to +seaward. + +Even the gay and apparently thoughtless Senorita Isabella was struck +with delight at the view now presented to her gaze, and for a moment +she paused in silence to drink in of the spirit-stirring beauty of the +scene. + +“How beautiful it is,” whispered the boy, who was close by her side. + +“Beautiful, very beautiful,” echoed Isabella, again becoming silent. + +No one who has not breathed the soft air of the south at an hour such +as we have described, can well realize the tender influence that it +exercises upon a susceptible disposition. The whole party gazed for +some minutes in silence, apparently charmed by the scene. There was a +hallowing and chastening influence in the very air, and the gay +coquette was softened into the tender woman. A tear even glistened in +Ruez’s, her brother’s eyes; but he was a thoughtful and delicate-souled +child, and would be affected thus much more quickly than his sister. + +The eldest of the two gentlemen who were in attendance upon Don +Gonzales and his family, was Count Anguera, lieutenant-governor of the +island; and his companion, a fine military figure, apparently some +years the count’s junior, was General Harero of the royal infantry, +quartered at the governor’s palace. Such was the party that promenaded +on the parapet of the Plato. + +As we have intimated, the two gentlemen were evidently striving to +please Isabella, and to win from her some encouraging smile or other +token that might indicate a preference for their attentions. Admiration +even from the high source that now tendered it was no new thing to her, +and with just sufficient archness to puzzle them, she waived and +replied to their conversation with most provoking indifference, +lavishing a vast deal more kindness and attention upon a noble +wolf-hound that crouched close to her feet, his big clear eye bent ever +upon his mistress’s face with a degree of intelligence that would have +formed a theme for a painter. It was a noble creature, and no wonder +the lady evinced so much regard for the hound, who ever and anon walked +close to her. + +“You love the hound?” suggested General Harero, stooping to smooth its +glossy coat. + +“Yes.” + +“He is to be envied, then, upon my soul, lady. How could he, with no +powers of utterance, have done that for himself, which we poor gallants +so fail in doing?” + +“And what may that be?” asked Isabella, archly tossing her head. + +“Win thy love,” half whispered the officer, drawing closer to her side. + +The answer was lost, if indeed Isabella intended one, by the father’s +calling the attention of the party to some object on the Regla shore, +opposite the city, looming up in the dim light. + +Ruez had mounted the parapet, and with his feet carelessly dangling on +the other side, sat gazing off upon the sea, now straining his eye to +make out the rig of some dark hull in the distance, and now following +back the moon’s glittering wake until it met the shore. At this moment +the hound, leaving his mistress’s side, put his fore paws upon the top +of the parapet and his nose into one of the boy’s hands, causing him to +turn round suddenly to see what it was that touched him; in doing which +he lost his balance, and with a faint cry fell from the parapet far +down to the water below. Each of the gentlemen at once sprang upon the +stone work and looked over where the boy had fallen, but it would have +been madness for any one, however good a swimmer; and as they realized +this and their helpless situation, they stood for a moment dumb with +consternation. + +At that moment a plunge was heard in the water from the edge of the +quay far below the parapet, and a dark form was traced making its way +through the water with that strong bold stroke that shows the effort of +a confident and powerful swimmer. + +“Thank God some one has seen his fall from below, and they will rescue +him,” said Don Gonzales, springing swiftly down the Plato steps, +followed by Isabella and the officers, and seeking the street that led +to the quay below. + +“O hasten, father, hasten!” exclaimed Isabella, impatiently. + +“Nay, Isabella, my old limbs totter with fear for dear Ruez,” was the +hasty reply of the old don, as he hurried forward with his daughter. + +“Dear, dear Ruez,” exclaimed Isabella, hysterically. + +Dashing by the guard stationed on the quay, who presented arms as his +superiors passed, they reached its end in time to see, through the now +dim twilight, the efforts of some one in the water supporting the half +insensible boy with one arm, while with the other he was struggling +with almost superhuman effort against the steady set of the tide to +seaward. Already were a couple of seamen lowering a quarter-boat from +an American barque, near by, but the rope had fouled in the blocks, and +they could not loose it. A couple of infantry soldiers had also come up +to the spot, and having secured a rope were about to attempt some +assistance to the swimmer. + +“Heave the line,” shouted one of the seamen. “Give me the bight of it, +and I’ll swim out to him.” + +“Stand by for it,” said the soldier, coiling it in his hand and then +throwing it towards the barque. But the coil fell short of the mark, +and another minute’s delay occurred. + +In the meantime he who held the boy, though evidently a man of cool +judgment, powerful frame, and steady purpose, yet now breathed so +heavily in his earnest struggle with the swift tide, that his panting +might be distinctly heard on the quay. He was evidently conscious of +the efforts now making for his succor and that of the boy, but he +uttered no words, still bending every nerve and faculty towards the +stemming of the current tint sets into the harbor from the Gulf Stream. + +The hound had been running back and forth on the top of the parapet, +half preparing every moment for a spring, and then deterred by the +immense distance which presented itself between the animal and the +water, it would run back and forth again with a most piteous howling +cry; but at this moment it came bounding down the street to the quay, +as though it at last realized the proper spot from which to make the +attempt, and with a leap that seemed to carry it nearly a rod into the +waters, it swam easily to the boy’s side. + +An exclamation of joy escaped from both Don Gonzales and Isabella, for +they knew the hound to have saved a life before, and now prized his +sagacity highly. + +As the hound swung round easily beside the struggling forms, the +swimmer placed the boy’s arm about the animal’s neck, while the noble +creature, with almost human reason, instead of struggling fiercely at +being thus entirely buried in the water, save the mere point of his +nose, worked as steadily and as calmly as though he was merely +following his young master on shore. The momentary relief was of the +utmost importance to the swimmer, who being thus partially relieved of +Ruez’s weight, once more struck out boldly for the quay. But the boy +had now lost all consciousness, and his arm slipped away from the +hound’s neck, and he rolled heavily over, carrying down the swimmer and +himself for a moment, below the surface of the water. + +“Holy mother! they are both drowned!” almost screamed Isabella. + +“Lost! lost!” groaned Don Gonzales, with uplifted hands and tottering +form. + +“No! no!” exclaimed General Harero, “not yet, not yet.” He had jumped +on board the barque, and had cut the davit ropes with his sword, and +thus succeeded in launching the boat with himself and the two seamen in +it. + +At this moment the swimmer rose once more slowly with his burthen to +the surface; but his efforts were so faintly made now, that he barely +floated, and yet with a nervous vigor he kept the boy still far above +himself. And now it was that the noble instinct of the hound stood his +young master in such importance, and led him to seize with his teeth +the boy’s clothes, while the swimmer once more fairly gained his +self-possession, and the boat with General Harero and the seamen came +alongside. In a moment more the boy with his preserver and the dog were +safe in the boat, which was rowed at once to the quay. + +A shout of satisfaction rang out from twenty voices that had witnessed +the scene. + +Isabella, the moment they were safely in the boat, fainted, while Count +Anguera ran for a volante for conveyance home. The swimmer soon +regained his strength, and when the boat reached the quay, he lifted +the boy from it himself. It was a most striking picture that presented +itself to the eye at that moment on the quay, in the dim twilight that +was so struggling with the moon’s brighter rays. + +The father, embracing the reviving boy, looked the gratitude he could +not find words to express, while a calm, satisfied smile ornamented the +handsome features of the soldier who had saved Ruez’s life at such +imminent risk. The coat which he had hastily thrown upon the quay when +he leaped into the water, showed him to bear the rank of lieutenant of +infantry, and by the number, he belonged to General Harero’s own +division. + +The child was placed with his sister and father in a volante, and borne +away from the spot with all speed, that the necessary care and +attention might be afforded to him which they could only expect in +their own home. + +In the meantime a peculiar satisfaction mantled the brow and features +of the young officer who had thus signally served Don Gonzales and his +child. His fine military figure stood erect and commanding in style +while he gazed after the volante that contained the party named, nor +did he move for some moments, seeming to be exercised by some peculiar +spell; still gazing in the direction in which the volante had +disappeared, until General Harero, his superior, having at length +arranged his own attire, after the hasty efforts which he had made, +came by, and touching him lightly on the arm, said: + +“Lieutenant, you seem to be dreaming; has the bath affected your +brain?” + +“Not at all, general,” replied the young officer, hastening to put on +his coat once more; “I have indeed forgotten myself for a single +moment.” + +“Know you the family whom you have thus served?” asked the general. + +“I do; that is, I know their name, general, but nothing further.” + +“He’s a clever man, and will remember your services,” said the general, +carelessly, as he walked up the quay and received the salute of the +sentinel on duty. + +Some strange feeling appeared to be working in the breast of the young +officer who had just performed the gallant deed we have recorded, for +he seemed even now to be quite lost to all outward realization, and was +evidently engaged in most agreeable communion with himself mentally. He +too now walked up the quay, also, receiving the salute of the sentinel, +and not forgetting either, as did the superior officer, to touch his +cap in acknowledgement, a sign that an observant man would have marked +in the character of both; and one, too, which was not lost on the +humble private, whose duty it was to stand at his post until the middle +watch of the night. A long and weary duty is that of a sentinel on the +quay at night. + + + + +CHAPTER II. +THE BELLE AND THE SOLDIER. + + +Whoever has been in Havana, that strange and peculiar city, whose every +association and belonging seem to bring to mind the period of centuries +gone by, whose time-worn and moss-covered cathedrals appear to stand as +grim records of the past, whose noble palaces and residences of the +rich give token of the fact of its great wealth and extraordinary +resources—whoever, we say, has been in this capital of Cuba, has of +course visited its well-known and far-famed Tacon Paseo. It is here, +just outside the city walls, in a beautiful tract of land, laid out in +tempting walks, ornamented with the fragrant flowers of the tropics, +and with statues and fountains innumerable, that the beauty and fashion +of the town resort each afternoon to drive in their volantes, and to +meet and greet each other. + +It was on the afternoon subsequent to that of the accident recorded in +the preceding chapter, that a young officer, off duty, might be seen +partially reclining upon one of the broad seats that here and there +line the foot-path of the circular drive in the Paseo. He possessed a +fine manly figure, and was perhaps of twenty-four or five years of age, +and clothed in the plain undress uniform of the Spanish army. His +features were of that national and handsome cast that is peculiar to +the full-blooded Castilian, and the pure olive of his complexion +contrasted finely with a moustache and imperial as black as the dark +flowing hair that fell from beneath his foraging cap. At the moment +when we introduce him he was playing with a small, light walking-stick, +with which he thrashed his boots most immoderately; but his thoughts +were busy enough in another quarter, as any one might conjecture even +at a single glance. + +Suddenly his whole manner changed; he rose quickly to his feet, and +lifting his cap gracefully, he saluted and acknowledged the particular +notice of a lady who bent partially forward from a richly mounted +volante drawn by as richly it caparisoned horse, and driven by as +richly dressed a calesaro. The manner of the young officer from that +moment was the very antipodes of what it had been a few moments before. +A change seemed to have come over the spirit of his dream. His fine +military figure became erect and dignified, and a slight indication of +satisfied pride was just visible in the fine lines of his expressive +lips. As he passed on his way, after a momentary pause, he met General +Harero, who stiffly acknowledged his military salute, with anything but +kindness expressed in the stern lines of his forbidding countenance. He +even took some pains to scowl upon the young soldier as they passed +each other. + +But what cared Lieutenant Bezan for his frowns? Had not the belle of +the city, the beautiful, the peerless, the famed Senorita Isabella +Gonzales just publicly saluted him?-that glorious being whose +transcendent beauty had been the theme of every tongue, and whose +loveliness had enslaved him from the first moment he had looked upon +her-just two years previous, when he first came from Spain. Had not +this high-born and proud lady publicly saluted him? Him, a poor +lieutenant of infantry, who had never dared to lift his eyes to meet +her own before, however deep and ardently he might have worshipped her +in secret. What cared the young officer that his commander had seen fit +thus to frown upon him? True, he realized the power of military +discipline, and particularly of the Spanish army; but he forgot all +else now, in the fact that Isabella Gonzales had publicly saluted him +in the paths of the Paseo. + +Possessed of a highly chivalrous disposition, Lieutenant Bezan had few +confidants among his regiment, who, notwithstanding this, loved him as +well as brothers might love. He seemed decidedly to prefer solitude and +his books to the social gatherings, or the clubs formed by his brother +officers, or indeed to join them in any of their ordinary sports or +pastimes. + +Of a very good family at home, he had the misfortune to have been born +a younger brother, and after being thoroughly educated at the best +schools of Madrid, he was frankly told by his father that he must seek +his fortune, and for the future rely solely upon himself. There was but +one field open to him, at least so it seemed to him, and that was the +army. Two years before the opening of our story he had enlisted as a +third lieutenant of infantry, and had been at once ordered to the West +Indies with his entire regiment. Here promotion for more than one +gallant act closely followed him, until at the time we introduce him to +the reader as first lieutenant. Being of a naturally cheerful and +exceedingly happy disposition, he took life like a philosopher, and +knew little of care or sorrow until the time when he first saw Senorita +Isabella Gonzales-an occasion that planted a hopeless passion in his +breast. + +From the moment of their first meeting, though entirely unnoticed by +her, he felt that he loved her, deeply, tenderly loved her; and yet at +the same time he fully realized how immeasurably she was beyond his +sphere, and consequently hopes. He saw the first officials of the +island at her very feet, watching for one glance of encouragement or +kindness from those dark and lustrous eyes of jet; in short, he saw her +ever the centre of an admiring circle of the rich and proud. It is +perhaps strange, but nevertheless true, that with all these +discouraging and disheartening circumstances, Lieutenant Bezan did not +lose all hope. He loved her, lowly and obscure though he was, with all +his heart, and used to whisper to himself that love like his need not +despair, for he felt how truly and honestly his heart warmed and his +pulses beat for her. + +Nearly two entire years had his devoted heart lived on thus, if not +once gratified by a glance from her eye, still hoping that devotion +like his would one day be rewarded. What prophets of the future are +youth and love! Distant as the star of his destiny appeared from him, +he yet still toiled on, hoped on, in his often weary round of duty, +sustained by the one sentiment of tender love and devotedness to one +who knew him not. + +At the time of the fearful accident when Ruez Gonzales came so near +losing his life from the fall he suffered off the parapet of the Plato, +Lieutenant Bezan was officer of the night, his rounds having +fortunately brought him to the quay at the most opportune moment. He +knew not who it was that had fallen into the water, but guided by a +native spirit of daring and humanity, he had thrown off his coat and +cap and leaped in after him. + +The feelings of pleasure and secret joy experienced by the young +officer, when after landing from the boat he learned by a single glance +who it was he had so fortunately saved, may be better imagined than +described, when his love for the boy’s sister is remembered. And when, +as we have related, the proud Senorita Isabella publicly saluted him +before a hundred eyes in the Paseo, he felt a joy of mind, a brightness +of heart, that words could not express. + +His figure and face were such that once seen their manly beauty and +noble outline could not be easily forgotten; and there were few ladies +in the city, whose station and rank would permit them to associate with +one bearing only a lieutenant’s commission, who would not have been +proud of his notice and homage. He could not be ignorant of his +personal recommendations, and yet the young officer sought no female +society-his heart it knew but one idol, and he could bow to but one +throne of love. + +Whether by accident or purposely, the lady herself only knew, but when +the volante, in the circular drive of the Paseo, again came opposite to +the spot where Lieutenant Bezan was, the Senorita Isabella dropped her +fan upon the carriage-road. As the young officer sprang to pick it up +and return it, she bade the calesaro to halt. Her father, Don Gonzales, +was by her side, and the lieutenant presented the fan in the most +respectful manner, being rewarded by a glance from the lady that +thrilled to his very soul. Don Gonzales exclaimed: + +“By our lady, but this is the young officer, Isabella, who yesternight +so promptly and gallantly saved the life of our dear Ruez.” + +“It is indeed he, father,” said the beauty, with much interest. + +“Lieutenant Bezan, the general told us, I believe,” continued the +father. + +“That was the name, father.” + +“And is this Lieutenant Bezan?” asked Don Gonzales, addressing the +officer. + +“At your service,” replied he, bowing respectfully. + +“Senor,” continued the father, most earnestly, and extending at the +same time his hand to the blushing soldier, “permit me and my daughter +to thank you sincerely for the extraordinary service you rendered to us +and our dear Ruez last evening.” + +“Senor, the pleasure of having served you richly compensated for any +personal inconvenience or risk I may have experienced,” answered +Lieutenant Bezan; saying which, he bowed low and looked once into the +lovely eyes of the beautiful Senorita Isabella, when at a word to the +calesaro, the volante again passed on in the circular drive. + +But the young officer had not been unwatched during the brief moments +of conversation that had passed between him and the occupants of the +vehicle. Scarcely had he left the side of the volante, when he once +more met General Harero, who seemed this time to take some pains to +confront him, as he remarked: + +“What business may Lieutenant Bezan have with Don Gonzales and his fair +daughter, that he stops their volante in the public walks of the +Paseo?” + +“The lady dropped her fan, general, and I picked it up and returned it +to her,” was the gentlemanly and submissive reply of the young officer. + +“Dropped her fan,” repeated the general, sneeringly, as he gazed at the +lieutenant. + +“Yes, general, and I returned it.” + +“Indeed,” said the commanding officers, with a decided emphasis. + +“Could I have done less, general?” asked Lieutenant Bezan. + +“It matters not, though you seem to be ever on hand to do the lady and +her father some service, sir. Perhaps you would relish another cold +bath,” he continued, with most cutting sarcasm. “Who introduced you, +sir, to these people?” + +“No one, sir. It was chance that brought us together. You will remember +the scene on the quay.” + +“I do.” + +“Before that time I had never exchanged one word with them.” + +“And on this you presume to establish an acquaintance?” + +“By no means, sir. The lady recognized me, and I was proud to return +the polite salute with which she greeted me.” + +“Doubtless.” + +“Would you have me do otherwise, sir?” + +“I would have you avoid this family of Gonzales altogether.” + +“I trust, general, that I have not exceeded my duty either to the +father or daughter, though by the tone of your remarks I seem to have +incurred your disapprobation,” replied Lieutenant Bezan, firmly but +respectfully. + +“It would be more becoming in an officer of your rank,” continued the +superior, “to be nearer his quarters, than to spend his hours off duty +in so conspicuous and public a place as the Tacon Paseo. I shall see +that such orders are issued for the future as shall keep those attached +to my division within the city walls.” + +“Whatever duty is prescribed by my superiors I shall most cheerfully +and promptly respond to, General Harero,” replied the young officer, as +he respectfully saluted his general, and turning, he sought the city +gates on the way to his barracks. + +“Stay, Lieutenant Bezan,” said the general, somewhat nervously. + +“General,” repeated the officer, with the prompt military salute, as he +awaited orders. + +“You may go, sir,” continued the superior, biting his lips with +vexation. “Another time will answer my purpose quite as well, perhaps +better. You may retire, I say.” + +“Yes, general,” answered the soldier, respectfully, and once more +turned away. + +Lieutenant Bezan was too well aware of General Harero’s intimacy at the +house of Don Gonzales, not to understand the meaning of the rebuke and +exhibition of bitterness on the part of his superior towards him. The +general, although he possessed a fine commanding figure, yet was +endowed with no such personal advantages to recommend him to a lady’s +eye as did the young officer who had thus provoked him, and he could +not relish the idea that one who had already rendered such signal +services to the Senorita Isabella and her father, even though he was so +very far below himself in rank, should become too intimate with the +family. It would be unfair towards Lieutenant Bezan to suppose that he +did not possess sufficient judgment of human nature and discernment to +see all this. + +He could not but regret that he had incurred the ill will of his +general, though it was unjustly entertained, for he knew only too well +how rigorous was the service in which he was engaged, and that a +superior officer possessed almost absolute power over those placed in +his command, in the Spanish army, even unto the sentence of death. He +had too often been the unwilling spectator, and even at times the +innocent agent of scenes that were revolting to his better feelings, +which emanated solely from this arbitrary power vested in heartless and +incompetent individuals by means of their military rank. Musing thus +upon the singular state of his affairs, and the events of the last two +days, so important to his feelings, now recalling the bewitching +glances of the peerless Isabella Gonzales, and now ruminating upon the +ill will of General Harero, he strolled into the city, and reaching La +Dominica’s, he threw himself upon a lounge near the marble fountain, +and calling for a glass of agrass, he sipped the cool and grateful +beverage, and wiled away the hour until the evening parade. + +Though Don Gonzales duly appreciated the great service that Lieutenant +Bezan had done him, at such imminent personal hazard, too, yet he would +no more have introduced him into his family on terms of a visiting +acquaintance in consequence thereof, than he would have boldly broken +down any other strict rule and principle of his aristocratic nature; +and yet he was not ungrateful; far from it, as Lieutenant Bezan had +reason to know, for he applied his great influence at once to the +governor-general in the young officer’s behalf. The favor he demanded +of Tacon, then governor and commander-in-chief, was the promotion to a +captaincy of him who had so vitally served the interests of his house. + +Tacon was one of the wisest and best governors that Cuba ever had, as +ready to reward merit as he was to signally punish trickery or crime of +any sort, and when the case was fairly laid before him, by reference to +the rolls of his military secretary, he discovered that Lieutenant +Bezan had already been promoted twice for distinguished merit, and +replied to Don Gonzales that, as this was the case, and the young +soldier was found to be so deserving, he should cheerfully comply with +his request as it regarded his early promotion in his company. Thus it +was, that scarcely ten days subsequent to the meeting in the Paseo, +which we have described, Lieutenant Bezan was regularly gazetted as +captain of infantry, by honorable promotion and approval of the +governor-general. + +The character of Tacon was one of a curious description. He was prompt, +candid, and business-like in all things, and the manner of his +promoting Lieutenant Bezan was a striking witness of these very +qualities. The young officer being summoned by an orderly to his +presence, was thus questioned: + +“You are Lieutenant Lorenzo Bezan?” + +“Yes, your excellency.” + +“Of the sixth infantry?” + +“Excellency, yes.” + +“Of company eight?” + +“Of company eight, excellency.” + +“Your commander is General Harero?” + +“Excellency, yes.” + +“You were on the quay night before last, were you not?” + +“Excellency, I was.” + +“And leaped into the water to save a boy’s life who had fallen there?” + +“I did, excellency.” + +“You were successful.” + +“Excellency, I was.” + +“You were promoted eleven months since in compliment for duty.” + +“Yes, excellency.” + +“Captain Bezan, here is a new commission for you.” + +“Excellency you are only too kind to an humble soldier.” + +A calm, proud inclination of the head on the part of the +governor-general, indicated that the audience was over, and the young +officer returned, knowing well the character of the commander-in-chief. +Not a little elated, Lorenzo Bezan felt that he was richly repaid for +the risk he had run by this promotion alone; but there was a source of +gratification to him far beyond that of having changed his title to +captain. He had served and been noticed by Isabella Gonzales, and it is +doubtful if he could have met with any good fortune that would have +equalled this, in his eye; it was the scheme of his life-the +realization of his sleeping and waking dreams. + +This good fortune, as pleasant to him as it was unexpected, was +attributed by the young officer to the right source, and was in reality +enhanced and valued from that very fact. + +“A bumper,” exclaimed his brother officers, that day at the mess-table, +when all were met. “A bumper to Captain Lorenzo Bezan. May he never +draw his sword without cause; never sheathe it without honor!” + +“But what’s the secret of Bezan’s good fortune?” asked one. + +“His luck, to be sure-born under a lucky star.” + +“Not exactly luck, alone, but his own intrepidity and manliness,” +replied a fellow-officer. “Haven’t you heard of his saving the life of +young Gonzales, who fell into the bay from the parapet of the Plato?” + +“Not in detail. If you know about the affair, recite it,” said another. + +Leaving the mess, as did Captain Bezan at this juncture, we will follow +the thread of our story in another chapter, and relating to other +scenes. + + + + +CHAPTER III. +A SUDDEN INTRODUCTION. + + +It was again night in the capital; the narrow streets were brilliantly +lighted from the store windows, but the crowd were no longer there. The +heat of the long summer day had wearied the endurance of master and +slave; and thousands had already sought that early repose which is so +essential to the dwellers in the tropics. Stillness reigned over the +drowsy city, save that the soft music which the governor-general’s hand +discourses nightly in the Plaza, stole sweetly over the scene, until +every air seemed heavy with its tender influence and melody. Now it +swelled forth in the martial tones of a military band, and now its +cadence was low and gentle as a fairy whisper, reverberating to the ear +from the opposite shore of Regla, and the frowning walls of the Cabanas +behind the Moro, and now swelling away inland among the coffee fields +and sugar plantations. + +The long twilight was gone; but still the deep streak of golden +skirting in the western horizon lent a softened hue to the scene, not +so bright to the eye, and yet more golden far than moonlight: “Leaving +on craggy hills and running streams A softness like the atmosphere of +dreams.” + +At this favorite hour the Senorita Isabella Gonzales and her young +brother, Ruez, attended only by the wolf hound, who seemed to be almost +their inseparable companion, were once again strolling in the cool and +retired walk of the Plato. The lady moved with all the peculiar grace +so natural to the Spanish women, and yet through all, a keen observer +might have seen the lurking effects of pride and power, a consciousness +of her own extraordinary beauty, and the control it gave her over the +hearts of those of the other sex with whom she associated. Alas! that +such a trait should have become a second nature to one with so heavenly +a form and face. Perhaps it was owing to the want of the judicious +management of a mother, of timely and kindly advice, that Isabella had +grown up thus; certainly it seemed hard, very hard, to attribute it to +her heart, her natural promptings, for at times she evinced such traits +of womanly delicacy and tenderness, that those who knew her best forgot +her coquetry. + +Her brother was a gentle and beautiful boy. A tender spirit of +melancholy seemed ever uppermost in his heart and face, and it had been +thus with him since he had known his first early grief-the loss of his +mother-some four or five years before the present period of our story. +Isabella, though she was not wanting in natural tenderness and +affection, had yet outgrown the loss of her parent; but the more +sensitive spirit of the boy had not yet recovered from the shock it had +thus received. The father even feared that he never would regain his +happy buoyancy, as he looked upon his pale and almost transparent +features, while the boy mused thoughtfully to himself sometimes for the +hour together, if left alone and undisturbed. + +“Ruez, dear, we’ve not been on the Plato since that fearful night,” +said Senorita Isabella, as she rested her hand gently upon the boy’s +shoulder. + +“It was a fearful night, sister,” said the boy recalling the +associations with a shudder. + +“And yet how clear and beautiful it seemed just before that terrible +accident.” + +“I remember,” said the boy. + +“And the slaver in the distance, with her soft white sails and +treacherous business.” + +“And the sparkling moon upon the bay.” + +“It was very beautiful; and we have a night now almost its equal.” + +“Did you notice how stoutly that Lieutenant Bezan swam with me?” + +“Yes, brother. You forget, though, that he is Captain Bezan now,” she +added. + +“Father told me so,” said the boy. “How fearfully the tide ran, and the +current set against us! He held me way up above the water, while he was +quite under it himself,” continued Ruez. “I was sure he would drown; +didn’t it seem so to you, sister?” + +“It did, it did; the deed was most gallantly done,” said Isabella, as +she stooped down and kissed her brother; “and you will never be so +careless again, Ruez?” + +“No, sister. I shall be more. careful, but I should like to see that +Captain Bezan again. I have never seen him since that night, and his +barracks are within pistol shot from here.” + +“Hark! what was that?” asked Isabella, starting at some unusual noise. + +“I heard nothing,” said the boy. + +“There it is again,” she continued, nervously, looking around. + +“Down, Carlo, down,” said the boy, sharply to the hound, as it sprang +at the same time from a crouching posture, and uttered a deep, angry +growl, peculiar to its species. + +But the animal seemed too much aroused to be so easily pacified with +words, and with heavy bounds sprang towards the seaward end of the +Plato, over the parapet of which, where it joined a lofty stone wall +that made a portion of the stone barracks of the army, a man leaped to +the ground. The hound suddenly crouched, the moment it fairly reached +the figure of the new coiner, and instead of the hostile attitude, it +had so lately he assumed, now placed its fore paws upon the breast of +the person, and wagged its tail with evident tokens of pleasure at the +meeting. + +“That is a very strange way to enter the Plato,” said Isabella, to her +brother, drawing nearer to his side as she spoke. “I wonder who it can +be?” + +“Some friend of Carlo’s, for he never behaves in that way to +strangers,” said the boy. + +“So it would seem; but here he comes, be he whom he may.” + +“By our lady!” said the boy, earnestly, with a flash of spirit and +color across his usually quiet and pale face. “Sister, it is Captain +Bezan!” + +“Captain Bezan, I believe,” said Isabella, courtesying coolly to his +respectful bow. + +“The same, lady.” + +“You have chosen a singular mode of introduction, sir,” said the +Senorita Isabella Gonzales, somewhat severely, as she drew herself up +with an air of cold reserve. + +“It is true, lady, I have done a seemingly rash action; but if you will +please to pause for one moment, you will at once realize that it was +the only mode of introduction of which a poor soldier like myself could +have availed himself.” + +“Our hall doors are always open,” replied Isabella Gonzales. + +“To the high born and proud, I grant you, lady, but not to such as I +am.” + +“Then, sir,” continued the lady, quickly, “if custom and propriety +forbid you to meet me through the ordinary channels of society, do you +not see the impropriety of such an attempt to see me as that which you +have but just now made?” + +“Lady, I can see nothing, hear nothing but my unconquerable love!” + +“Love, sir!” repeated the lady, with a curl of her proud but beautiful +lip. + +“Ay, love, Isabella Gonzales. For years I have loved you in secret. Too +humble to become known to you, or to attract your eye, even, I have yet +nursed that love, like the better angel of my nature; have dreamed of +it nightly; have prayed for the object of it nightly; have watched the +starry heavens, and begged for some noble inspiration that would make +me more worthy of thy affection; I have read nothing that I did not +couple in some tender way with thee; have nursed no hope of ambition or +fame that was not the nearer to raise me to thee, and over the midnight +lamp have bent in earnestness year after year, that I might gain those +jewels of the mind that in intelligence, at least, would place me by +thy side. At last fortune befriended me, and I was able by a mischance +to him, thy brother, to serve thee. Perhaps even then it might have +ended, and my respect would still have curbed the promptings of my +passion, had you not so kindly noticed me on the Paseo. O, how wildly +did my heart beat at that gentle, kind and thoughtful recognition of +the poor soldier, and no less quickly beats that heart, when you listen +thus to me, and hear me tell how deeply I love.” + +“Audacity!” said Isabella Gonzales, really not a little aroused at the +plainness of his speech. “How dare you, sir, to address such language +to me?” + +“Love dares do anything but dishonor the being that it loves. A year, +lady, a month ago, how hopeless was my love-how far off in the blue +ether was the star I worshipped. Little did I then think that I should +now stand so near to you-should thus pour out of the fullness of my +enslaved and devoted heart, ay, thus look into those glorious eyes.” + +“Sir, you are impertinent!” said Isabella, shrinking from the ardor of +his expression. + +“Nay, lady,” said the young officer, profoundly humble, “it is +impossible for such love as mine to lead to impertinence to one whom I +little less than worship.” + +“Leave me, sir!” + +“Yes, Isabella Gonzales, if you will repeat those words calmly; if you +will deliberately bid me, who have so often prayed for, so hoped for +such a moment as this, to go, I will go.” + +“But, sir, you will compromise me by this protracted conversation.” + +“Heaven forbid. But for you I would risk all things-life, reputation, +all that is valuable to me in life; yet perhaps I am forgetful, perhaps +a thoughtless.” + +“What strange power and music there is in his voice,” whispered +Isabella, to herself. + +Completely puzzled by his deep respect, his gallant and noble bearing, +the memory of his late noble conduct in saving Ruez’s life, Isabella +hardly knew what to say, and she stood thus half confused, trotting her +pretty foot upon the path of the Plato with a vexed air. At last, as if +struggling to break the spell that seemed to be hanging over them, she +said: + +“How could one like you, sir, ever dare to entertain such feelings +towards me? the audaciousness of your language almost strikes me dumb.” + +“Lady,” said the young soldier, respectfully, “the sincerity of my +passion has been its only self-sustaining power. I felt that love like +mine could not be in vain. I was sure that such affection was never +planted in my breast to bloom and blossom simply for disappointment. I +could not think that this was so.” + +“I am out of all patience with his impertinence,” said Isabella +Gonzales, to herself, pettishly. “I don’t know what to say to him.” + +“Sir, you must leave this place at once,” she said, at last, after a +brief pause. + +“I shall do so, lady, at your bidding; but only to pray and hope for +the next meeting between us, when you may perhaps better know the poor +soldier’s heart.” + +“Farewell, sir,” said Isabella. + +“Farewell, Isabella Gonzales.” + +“Are you going so soon?” asked Ruez, now approaching them from a short +distance in the rear, where he had been playing with the hound. + +“Yes, Ruez,” said the soldier, kindly. “You are quite recovered, I +trust, from the effects of that cold bath taken off the parapet +yonder.” + +“O yes, I am quite recovered now.” + +“It was a high leap for one of your age.” + +“It was indeed,” said the boy, with a shudder at the remembrance. + +“And, O, sir, I have not thanked you for that gallant deed,” said +Isabella Gonzales, extending her hand incontinently to Captain Bezan, +in the enthusiasm of the moment, influenced by the sincerity of her +feelings, his noble and manly bearing, and the kind and touching words +he had uttered to Ruez. + +It would be difficult for us to describe her as she appeared at that +moment in the soldier’s eye. How lovely she seemed to him, when +dropping all reserve for the moment, not only her tongue, but her +eloquent eyes spoke from the tenderness of her woman’s heart. A sacred +vision would have impressed him no more than did the loveliness of her +presence at that moment. + +Bending instinctively at this demonstration of gentle courtesy on her +part, he pressed her hand most respectfully to his lips, and, as if +feeling that he had gone almost too far, with a gallant wave of the +hand he suddenly disappeared from whence he had so lately come, over +the seaward side of the parapet towards the army barracks. + +Isabella gazed after him with a puzzled look for a while, then said +half to herself and in a pettish and vexed tone of voice: + +“I did not mean that he should kiss my hand. I’m sure I did not; and +why did I give it to him? How thoughtless. I declare I have never met +so monstrously impudent a person in the entire course of my life. Very +strange. Here’s General Harero, Don Romonez, and Felix Gavardo, have +been paying me court this half year and more, and either of them would +give half his fortune for a kiss of this hand, and yet neither has +dared to even tell me that they love me, though I know it so well. But +here is this young soldier, this new captain of infantry, why he sees +me but half a minute before he declares himself, and so boldly, too! I +protest it was a real insult. I’ll tell Don Gonzales, and I’ll have the +fellow dishonored and his commission taken from him, I will. I’m half +ready to cry with vexation. Yes, I’ll have Captain Bezan cashiered, and +that directly, I will.” + +“No you wont, sister,” said Ruez, looking up calmly into her face as he +spoke. + +“Yes I will, brother.” + +“Still I say no,” continued the boy, gently, and caressing her hand the +while. + +“And why not, Ruez?” asked Isabella, stooping and kissing his handsome +forehead, as the boy looked up so lovingly in her face. + +“Because he saved my life, sister,” replied Ruez, smiling. + +“True, he did save your life, Ruez,” murmured the beautiful girl, +thoughtfully; an act that we can never repay; but it was most presuming +for him to enter the Plato thus, and to—to—” + +“Kiss your hand, sister,” suggested the boy, smiling in a knowing way. + +“Yes, it was quite shocking for him to be so familiar, Ruez.” + +“But, sister, I can hardly ever help kissing you when you look kind to +me, and I am sure you looked very kind at Captain Bezan.” + +“Did I!” half mused Isabella, biting the handle of her Creole fan. + +“Yes; and how handsome this Captain Bezan is, sister,” continued the +boy, pretending to be engaged with the hound, whom he patted while he +looked sideways at Isabella. + +“Do you think him so handsome?” still half mused Isabella, in reply to +her brother’s remarks, while her eye rested upon the ground. + +“I know it,” said the boy, with spirit. “Don Miguel, General Harero, or +the lieutenant-general, are none of them half so good looking,” he +continued, referring to some of her suitors. + +“Well, he is handsome, brother, that’s true enough, and brave I know, +or he would never have leaped into the water to save your life. But +I’ll never forgive him, I’m sure of that, Ruez,” she said, in a most +decided tone of voice. + +“Yes you will, sister.” + +“No, I will not, and you will vex me if you say so again,” she added, +pettishly. + +“Come, Carlo, come,” said Ruez, calling to the hound, as he followed +close upon his sister’s footsteps towards the entrance of Don +Gonzales’s house on the Plato. + +The truth was, Isabella Gonzales, the proud beauty, was pleased; +perhaps her vanity was partly enlisted also, while she remembered the +frankness of the humble soldier who had poured out his devotions at her +feet in such simple yet earnest strains as to carry conviction with +every word to the lady’s heart. Image, even from the most lowly, is not +without its charm to beauty, and the proud girl mused over the late +scene thoughtfully, ay, far more thoughtfully than she had ever done +before, on the offer of the richest and proudest cavalier. + +She had never loved; she knew not what the passion meant, as applied to +the opposite sex. Universal homage had been her share ever since she +could remember; and if Isabella Gonzales was not a confirmed coquette, +she was certainly very near being one. The light in which she regarded +the advances of Captain Bezan, even puzzled herself; the phase of his +case and the manner of his avowal were so far without precedent, that +its novelty engaged her. She still felt vexed at the young soldier’s +assurance, but yet all unconsciously found herself endeavoring to +invent any number of excuses for the conduct he had exhibited! + +“It is true, as he said,” she remarked, half aloud to herself, “that it +was the only way in which he could meet me on terms of sufficient +equality for conversation. Perhaps I should have done the same, if I +were a high-spirited youth, and really loved!” + +As for Lorenzo Bezan, he quietly sought his quarters, as happy as a +king. Had he not been successful beyond any reasonable hope? Had he not +told his love? ay, had he not kissed the hand of her he loved, at last, +almost by her own consent? Had not the clouds in the horizon of his +love greatly thinned in numbers? He was no moody lover. Not one to die +for love, but to live for it rather, and to pursue the object of his +affection and regard with such untiring and devoted service as to +deserve, if not to win, success. At least this was his resolve. Now and +then the great difference between their relative stations would lead +him to pause and consider the subject; but then with some pleasant +sally to himself he would walk on again, firmly resolved in his own +mind to overcome all things for her whom he loved, or at least to +strive to do so. + +This was all very well in thought, but in practice the young soldier +will not perhaps find this so easy a matter. Patience and perseverance +are excellent qualities, but they are not certain criteria of success. +Lorenzo Bezan had aimed his arrow high, but it was that little blind +fellow, Cupid, that shot the bow. He was not to blame for it-of course +not. + +“Ha! Bezan, whence come you with so bright a face?” asked a brother +officer, as he entered his quarters in the barracks of the Plaza des +Armes. + +“From wooing a fair and most beautiful maid,” said the soldier, most +honestly; though perhaps he told the truth as being the thing least +likely to be believed by the other. + +“Fie, fie, Bezan. You in love, man? A soldier to marry? By our lady, +what folly! Don’t you remember the proverb? ‘Men dream in courtship, +but in wedlock wake.’” + +“May I wake in that state with her I love ere a twelvemonth,” said +Lorenzo Bezan, smiling at his comrade’s sally and earnestness. + +“Are you serious, captain?” asked the other, now trying to half believe +him. + +“Never more so in my life, I assure you,” was the reply. + +“And who is the lady, pray? Come, relieve your conscience, and +confess.” + +“Ah, there I am silent; her name is not for vulgar ears,” said the +young soldier, smiling, and with really too much respect to refer +lightly to Isabella Gonzales. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. +CUBAN BANDITTI. + + +It was one of those beautiful but almost oppressively hot afternoons +that so ripen the fruits, and so try the patience of the inhabitants of +the tropics, that we would have the patient reader follow us on the +main road between Alquezar and Guiness. It is as level as a parlor +floor, and the tall foliage, mostly composed of the lofty palm, renders +the route shaded and agreeable. Every vegetable and plant are so +peculiarly significant of the low latitudes, that we must pause for a +moment to notice them. + +The tall, stately palm, the king of the tropical forest, with its +tufted head, like a bunch of ostrich feathers, bending its majestic +form here and there over the verdant and luxuriant undergrowth, the +mahogany tree, the stout lignumvit, the banana, the fragrant and +beautiful orange and lemon, and the long, impregnable hedge of the +dagger aloe, all go to show us that we are in the sunny clime of the +tropics. + +The fragrance, too, of the atmosphere! How soft to the senses! This +gentle zephyr that only ruffles the white blossoms of the lime hedges, +is off yonder coffee plantation that lies now like a field of clear +snow, in its fragrant milk-white blossoms; and what a bewitching +mingling of heliotrope and wild honeysuckle is combined in the air! how +the gaudy plumed parrot pauses on his perch beneath the branches of the +plantain tree, to inhale the sweets of the hour; while the chirps of +the pedoreva and indigo birds are mingled in vocal praise that fortune +has cast their lot in so lovely a clime. O, believe us, you should see +and feel the belongings of this beautiful isle, to appreciate how +nearly it approaches to your early ideas of fairy land. + +But, alas! how often do man’s coarser disposition and baser nature +belie the soft and beautiful characteristics of nature about him; how +often, how very often, is the still, heavenly influence that reigns in +fragrant flowers and bubbling streams, marred and desecrated by the +harshness and violence engendered by human passions! + +In the midst of such a scene as we have described, at the moment to +which we refer, there was a fearful struggle being enacted between a +small party of Montaros, or inland robbers, and the occupants and +outriders of a volante, which had just been attacked on the road. The +traces that attached the horse to the vehicle had been cut, and the +postilion lay senseless upon the ground from a sword wound in their +head, while the four outriders were contending with thrice their number +of robbers, who were armed with pistols and Toledo blades. It was a +sharp hand to hand fight, and their steel rang to the quick strokes. + +In the volante was the person of a lady, but so closely enshrouded by a +voluminous rebosa, or Spanish shawl, as hardly to leave any of her +figure exposed, her face being hid from fright at the scene being +enacted about her. At her side stood the figure of a tall, stately man, +whose hat had been knocked over his head in the struggle, and whose +white hairs gave token of his age. Two of the robbers, who had received +the contents of his two pistols, lay dead by the side of the volante, +and having now only his sword left, he stood thus, as if determined to +protect her by his side, even at the cost of his life. + +The robbers had at last quite overmatched the four outriders, and +having bound the only one of them that had sufficient life left to make +him dangerous to them, they turned their steps once more towards the +volante. There were in all some thirteen of them, but three already lay +dead in the road, and the other ten, who had some sharp wounds +distributed among them, now standing together, seemed to be querying +whether they should not revenge the death of their comrades by killing +both the occupants of the volante, or whether they should pursue their +first purpose of only robbing them of what valuables they possessed. + +Fierce oaths were reiterated, and angry words exchanged between one and +another of the robbers, as to the matter they were hastily discussing, +while the old gentleman remained firm, grasping the hilt of his +well-tempered sword, and showing to his enemies, by the stern, deep +resolve they read in his eye, that they had not yet conquered him. +Fortunately their pistols had all been discharged, or they might have +shot the brave old man without coming to closer quarters, but now they +looked with some dread upon the glittering blade he held so firmly! + +That which has required some time and space for us to describe, was, +however, the work of but a very few moments of time, and the robbers, +having evidently made up their minds to take the lives of the two +persons now in the vehicle, divided themselves into two parties and +approached the volante at the same moment on opposite sides. + +“Come on, ye fiends in human shape,” said the old man, flourishing his +sword with a skill and strength that showed he was no stranger to its +use, and that there was danger in him. “Come on, ye shall find that a +good blade in an old man’s hands is no plaything!” + +They listened for a moment: yes, that half-score of villains held back +in dismay at the noble appearance of the old man, and the flashing fire +of his eye. + +“Ha! do you falter, ye villains? do you fear a good sword with right to +back it?” + +But hark! what sound is that which startles the Montaros in the midst +of their villany, and makes them look into each other’s faces with such +consternation and fear? It is a very unfrequented spot-who can be near? +Scarcely had the sound fallen on their ears, before three horsemen in +the undress uniform of the Spanish infantry, dashed up to the spot at +full speed, while one of them, who seemed to be the leader of the +party, leaped from his horse, and before the others could follow his +example, was engaged in a desperate hand to hand conflict with the +robbers. Twice he discharged his pistols with fatal effect, and now he +was fighting sword and sword with a stout, burly Montaro, who was +approaching that side of the volante where the lady sat, still half +concealed by the ample folds of her rebosa, though the approach of +assistance had led her to venture so far as to partially uncover her +face, and to observe the scene about her. + +The headlong attack, so opportunely made by the fresh horsemen, was too +much for treble their number to withstand, more especially as the +leader of them had met with such signal success at the outset-having +shot two, and mortally wounded a third. In this critical state of +affairs, the remaining banditti concluded that discretion was the +better part of valor, and made the best of their time and remaining +strength to beat a hasty retreat, leaving the old gentleman and his +companion with their three deliverers, quite safe in the middle of the +road. + +“By our lady, sir, ’twas a gallant act. There were ten of those +rascals, and but three of you,” said the old gentleman, stepping out of +the volante and arranging his ruffled dress. + +“Ten, senor? a soldier would make nothing of a score of such +scapegraces as those,” replied the officer (for such it was now +apparent he was), as he wiped the gore from his reeking blade with a +broad, green leaf from the roadside, and placed it in the scabbard. + +One of the soldiers who had accompanied the officer had now cut the +thongs that bound the surviving outrider, who was one of the family +attaches of the old gentleman, and who now busied himself about the +vehicle, at one moment attending to the lady’s wants, and now to +harnessing the horse once more. + +Removing his cap, and wiping the reeking perspiration from his brow, +the young officer now approached the volante and said to the lady: + +“I trust, madame, that you have received no further injury by this +unfortunate encounter than must needs occur to you from fright.” + +As he spoke thus, the lady turned quickly from looking towards the old +gentleman, who was now on the other side of the vehicle, and after a +moment exclaimed: + +“Is it possible, Captain Bezan, that we are indebted to you for this +most opportune deliverance from what seemed to be certain destruction?” + +“Isabella Gonzales!” exclaimed the young officer, with unfeigned +surprise. + +“You did not know us, then?” she asked, quickly, in reply. + +“Not I, indeed, or else I should sooner have spoken to you.” + +“You thus risked your life, then, for strangers?” she continued. + +“You were the weakest party, were attacked by robbers; it only required +a glance to realize that, and to attack them and release you was the +next most natural thing in the world,” replied the soldier, still +wiping the perspiration from his forehead and temples. + +“Father!” exclaimed Isabella, with undisguised pleasure, “this is +Captain Bezan!” + +“Captain Bezan?” repeated the old don, as surprised as his daughter had +been. + +“At your service,” replied the soldier, bowing respectfully to Don +Gonzales. + +“Why, sir,” said the old man, “what possible chance could have brought +you so fortunately to our rescue here, a dozen leagues from the city?” + +“I was returning with these two companions of my company from a +business trip to the south side of the island, where we had been sent +with despatches from Tacon to the governor of the department.” + +“No, matter, what chance has brought you here, at all events we owe our +lives to you, sir,” said Don Gonzales, extending his hand cordially to +the young officer. + +After some necessary delay, under the peculiar circumstances, the +horses were finally arranged so as to permit of proceeding forward on +the road. The bodies of the servants were disposed of, and all was +ready for a start, when Isabella Gonzales turned to her father and +pressing his arm said: + +“Father, how pale he looks!” + +“Who, my child!” + +“There, see how very pale!” said Isabella, rising up from her seat. + +“Who do you speak of, Isabella?” + +“Captain Bezan, father; see, there he stands beside his horse.” + +“He does look fatigued; he has worked hard with those villains,” said +the old man. + +“Why don’t he mount? The rest have done so, and we are ready,” +continued the old man, anxiously. + +At that moment one of the horsemen, better understanding the case than +either Isabella Gonzales or her father, left his well-trained animal in +the road, and hastened to his officer’s side. It required but a glance +for him to see that his captain was too weak to mount. + +Directing the outrider, who had now mounted one of the horses attached +to the volante, and acted as postilion, to drive towards him whom his +companion was partially supporting, Don Gonzales asked most anxiously: + +“Captain Bezan, you are ill, I fear; are you much hurt?” + +“A mere trifle, Don Gonzales; drive on, sir, and I will follow you in a +moment.” + +“He is bleeding from his left arm and side, father,” said Isabella, +anxiously. + +“You are wounded-I fear severely, Captain Bezan,” said the father. + +“A mere scratch, sir, in the arm, from one of the unlucky thrusts of +those Montaros,” he replied, assuming an indifference that his pale +face belied. + +“Ah! father, what can be done for him?” said Isabella, quickly. + +“I am unharmed,” said the grateful old man, “and can sit a horse all +day long, if need be. Here, captain, take my seat in the volante, and +Isabella, whom you have served at such heavy cost to yourself, shall +act the nurse for you until we get to town again.” + +Perhaps nothing, save such a proposition as this, could possibly have +aroused and sustained the wounded officer; but after gently refusing +for a while to rob Don Gonzales of his seat in the volante, he was +forced to accept it even by the earnest request of Isabella herself, +who seemed to tremble lest he was mortally wounded in their behalf. + +Little did Don Gonzales know, at that time, what a flame he was feeding +in the young officer’s breast. He was too intently engaged in his own +mind with the startling scenes through which he had just passed, and +was exercised with too much gratitude towards Captain Bezan for his +deliverance, to observe or realize any peculiarity of appearance in any +other respect, or to question the propriety of placing him so +intimately by the side of his lovely child. Isabella had never told her +father, or indeed any one, of the circumstance of her having met +Captain Bezan on the Plato. But the reader, who is aware of the scene +referred to, can easily imagine with what feelings the soldier took his +seat by her side, and secretly watched the anxious and assiduous +glances that she gave his wounded arm and side, as well as the kind +looks she bestowed upon his pallid face. + +“I fear I annoy you,” said the soldier, realizing his proximity to her +on the seat. + +“No, no, by no means. I pray you rest your arm here,” said Isabella +Gonzales, as she offered her rebosa supported in part by her own +person! + +“You are too kind-far too kind to me,” said the wounded officer, +faintly; for he was now really very weak from loss of blood and the +pain of his wounds. + +“Speak not, I beseech of you, but strive to keep your courage up till +we can gain the aid of some experienced surgeon,” she said, supporting +him tenderly. + +Thus the party drove on towards the city, by easy stages, where they +arrived in safety, and left Captain Bezan to pursue his way to his +barracks, which he did, not, however, until he had, like a faithful +courier, reported to the governor-general the safe result of his +mission to the south of the island. + +The story of the gallant rescue was the theme of the hour for a period +in Havana, but attacks from robbers on the road, under Tacon’s +governorship, were too common an occurrence to create any great wonder +or curiosity among the inhabitants of the city. But Captain Bezan had +got wounds that would make him remember the encounter for life, and now +lay in a raging fever at his quarters in the infantry barracks of the +Plaza des Armes. + + + + +CHAPTER V. +THE WOUNDED SOLDIER. + + +The fervor and heat of the mid-day atmosphere had been intense, but a +most delightfully refreshing sea breeze had sprung up at last, and +after fanning its way across the Gulf Stream, was dallying now with the +palms and orange trees that so gracefully surrounded the marble statue +of Ferdinand, in the midst of the Plaza, and ruffling the marble basin +of water that bubbles forth from the graceful basin at its base. Light +puffs of it, too, found their way into the invitingly open windows of +the governor’s palace, into an apartment which was improved by General +Harero. Often pausing at the window to breathe in of the delightful +atmosphere for a moment, he would again resume his irregular walk and +seemingly absorbed in a dreamy frame of mind, quite unconscious of the +outward world about him. At last he spoke, though only communing with +himself, yet quite aloud: + +“Strange, very strange, that this Captain Bezan should seem to stand so +much in my way. Curse his luck, the old don and his daughter feel under +infinite obligations to him already, and well they may, as to the +matter of that. If it was not for the girl’s extraordinary stock of +pride, we should have her falling in love with this young gallant +directly, and there would be an end to all my hopes and fancies. He’s +low enough, now, however, so my valet just told me, and ten to one, if +his physician knows his case, as he pretends, he’ll make a die of it. +He is a gallant fellow, that’s a fact, and brave as he is gallant. I +may as well own the fact that’s what makes me hate him so! But he +should not have crossed my path, and served to blight my hopes, there’s +the rub. I like the man well enough as a soldier, hang it. I’d like +half the army to be just like him-they’d be invincible; but he has +crossed my interest, ay, my love; and if he does get up again and +crosses me with Isabella Gonzales, why then-well, no matter, there are +ways enough to remove the obstacle from my path. + +“By the way,” he continued, after crossing and re-crossing the room a +few times, “what a riddle this Isabella Gonzales is; I wonder if she +has got any heart at all. Here am I, who have gone scathless through +the courts of beauty these many years, actually caught-surprised at +last; for I do love the girl; and yet how archly she teazes me! +Sometimes I think within myself that I am about to win the goal, when +drop goes the curtain, and she’s as far away as ever. How queenly she +looks, nevertheless. I had much rather be refused by such a woman, to +my own mortification, than to succeed with almost any other, if only +for the pleasure of looking into those eyes, and reading in silent +language her poetical and ethereal beauty-I might be happy but for this +fellow, this Captain Bezan; he troubles me. Though there’s no danger of +her loving him, yet he seems to stand in my way, and to divert her +fancy. Thank Heaven, she’s too proud to love one so humble.” + +Thus musing and talking aloud to himself, General Harero walked back +and forth, and back and forth again in his apartment, until his orderly +brought him the evening report of his division. A far different scene +was presented on the other side of the great square, in the centre of +which stands the shrubbery and fountain of the Plaza. Let the reader +follow us now inside the massive stone walls of the Spanish barracks, +to a dimly lighted room, where lay a wounded soldier upon his bed. The +apartment gave token in its furniture of a very peculiar combination of +literary and military taste. There were foils, long and short swords, +pistols, hand pikes, flags, military boots and spurs; but there were +also Shakspeare, Milton, the illustrated edition of Cervantes’s Don +Quixote, and a voluminous history of Spain, with various other prose +and poetic volumes, in different languages. A guitar also lay +carelessly in one corner, and a rich but faded bouquet of flowers +filled a porcelain vase. + +At the foot of the bed where the wounded soldier lay, stood a boy with +a quivering lip and swimming eye, as he heard the sick man moan in his +uneasy sleep. Close by the head of the bed sat an assistant-surgeon of +the regiment, watching what evidently seemed to be the turning point as +to the sufferer’s chance for life or death. As the boy and the surgeon +watched him thus, gradually the opiate just administered began to +affect him, and he seemed at last to fall into the deep and quiet sleep +that is generally indicated by a low, regular and uninterrupted +respiration. + +The boy had not only watched the wounded man, but had seemed also to +half read the surgeon’s thoughts, from time to time, and now marked the +gleam of satisfaction upon his face as the medicine produced the +desired effect upon the system of his patient. + +“How do you think Captain Bezan is, to-day?” whispered the boy, +anxiously, as the surgeon’s followed him noiselessly from the sick-room +to the corridor without. + +“Very low, master Ruez, very low indeed; it is the most critical period +of his sickness; but he has gone finely into that last nap, thanks to +the medicine, and if he will but continue under its influence thus for +a few hours, we may look for an abatement of this burning thirst and +fever, and then—” + +“What, sir?” said the boy, eagerly, “what then?” + +“Why, he may get over those wounds, but it’s a severe case, and would +be little less than a miracle. I’ve seen sicker men live, and I’ve seen +those who seemed less sick die.” + +“Alas! then there is no way yet of deciding upon his case,” said the +boy. + +“None, Master Ruez; but we’ll hope for the best; that is all that can +be done.” + +Ruez Gonzales walked out of the barracks and by the guard with a sad +countenance, and whistling for Carlo, who had crouched by the parapet +until his young master should come out, he turned his steps up the +Calla de Mercaderes to his home. Ruez sought his sister’s apartment, +and throwing himself upon a lounge, seemed moody and unhappy. As he +reclined thus, Isabella regarded him intently, as though she would read +his thoughts without asking for them. There seemed to be some reason +why she did not speak to him sooner, but at last she asked: + +“Well, Ruez, how is Captain Bezan, to-day? have you been to the +barracks to inquire?” She said this in an assumed tone of indifference, +but it was only assumed. + +“How is he?” repeated Ruez, after turning a quick glance of his soft +blue eyes upon his sister’s face, as though he would read her very +soul. Isabella felt his keen glance, and almost blushed. + +“Yes, brother, pray, how is Captain Bezan, to-day? do you not know?” + +“His life hangs by a mere thread,” continued the boy, sadly, resuming +again his former position. “The surgeon told me that his recovery was +very doubtful.” + +“Did he tell you that, Ruez?” + +“Not those words, sister, but that which was equivalent to it, +however.” + +“He is worse, then, much worse?” she continued, in a hasty tone of +voice. + +“Not worse, sister,” replied Ruez. “I did not say that he was worse, +but the fever rages still, and unless that abates within a few hours, +death must follow.” + +Isabella Gonzales sat herself down at an open balcony and looked off on +the distant country in silence, so long, that Ruez and the hound both +fell asleep, and knew not that she at last left her seat. The warmth +and enervating influence of the atmosphere almost requires one to +indulge in a siesta daily, in these low latitudes and sunny regions of +the earth. + +“He is dying, then,” said Isabella Gonzales, to herself, after having +sought the silence and solitude of her own chamber, “dying and alone, +far from any kindred voice or hand, or even friend, save those among +his brothers in arms. And yet how much do we owe to him! He has saved +all our lives-Ruez’s first, and then both father’s and mine; and in +this last act of daring gallantry and bravery, he received his death +wound. Alas! how fearful it seems to me, this strange picture. Would I +could see and thank him once more-take from him any little commission +that he might desire in his last moments to transmit to his distant +home-for a sister, mother, or brother. Would that I could smooth his +pillow and bathe his fevered brow; I know he loves me, and these +attentions would be so grateful to him-so delightful to me. But alas! +it would be considered a disgrace for me to visit him.” + +Let the reader distinctly understand the feelings that actuated the +heart of the lovely girl. The idea of loving the wounded soldier had +never entered the proud but now humbled Isabella’s thoughts. Could such +a thought have been by any means suggested to her, she would have +spurned it at once; but it was the woman’s sympathy that she felt for +one who would have doubtless sacrificed his life for her and hers; it +was a simple act of justice she would have performed; and the pearly +tear that now wet her cheek, was that of sympathy, and of sympathy +alone. Beautiful trait, how glorious thou art in all; but how doubly +glorious in woman; because in her nature thou art most natural, and +there thou findest the congenial associations necessary for thy full +conception. + +General Harero had judged Isabella Gonzales well when he said that +there was no danger of her loving Lorenzo Bezan-she had too much pride! + +But let us look once more into the sick room we so lately left, where +the wounded soldier lies suffering from his wounds. A volante has just +stopped at the barracks’ doors, and a girl, whose dress betokens her to +be a servant, steps out, and telling her errand to the corporal of the +guard, is permitted to pass the sentinel, and is conducted to the sick +man’s room. She brings some cooling draughts for his parched lips, and +fragrant waters with which to battle his fevered temples and burning +forehead. + +“Who sends these welcome gifts to Captain Bezan?” asked the +assistant-surgeon. + +“My lady, sir.” + +“And who is your lady, my good girl, if you please?” he asked. + +“The Senorita Isabella Gonzales, sir,” was the modest reply of the +maid. + +“Ah, yes; her brother has been here this afternoon, I remember,” said +the surgeon; “the sick man fell asleep then, and has not since +awakened.” + +“Heaven grant the sleep may refresh him and restore his strength,” said +the girl. + +“Amen, say I to that,” continued the surgeon, “and amen says every man +in the regiment.” + +“Is he so popular as that?” asked the girl, innocently. + +“Popular, why he’s the pet of the entire division. He’s the best +swordsman, best scholar, best-in short we could better lose half the +other officers than Captain Bezan.” + +“Do you think him any better than he was this morning?” + +“The sleep is favorable, highly favorable,” replied the surgeon, +approaching the bedside; “but in my judgment of the case, it must +entirely depend upon the state in which he wakes.” + +“Is there fear of waking him, do you think?” asked the girl, in a +whisper, as she drew nearer to the bed, and looked upon the high, pale +forehead and remarkably handsome features of the young soldier. Though +the few days of confinement which he had suffered, and the acute pain +he had endured by them, had hollowed his checks, yet he was handsome +still. + +“No,” replied the surgeon, to her question; “he will sleep quite long +enough from the opiate, quite as long as I wish; and if he should wake +even now, it would not be too soon.” + +“How very slightly he breathes,” continued the girl, observantly. + +“Very; but it is a relief to see him breathe in that way,” replied the +surgeon. + +“Stay, did he not murmur something, then?” asked the maid. + +“Possibly,” replied the surgeon. “He has talked constantly during his +delirium. Pray, my good girl, does he know your mistress very well?” + +“I think not,” was the reply. “But why do you ask that?” + +“Because he seems constantly to dream and talk about her night and day. +Indeed she is all he has spoken of since the height of his fever was +upon him.” + +“Indeed!” said the girl, musing at the surgeon’s words abstractedly. + +“Have you not heard your mistress speak of him at all?” + +“Yes, that is, he once did the family some important service. Do you +say that he talked of Senorita Isabella in the hours of his delirium?” + +“Yes, and in looking into his dressing-case, a few days since, to find +some lint for his wounds, I discovered this,” said tire surgeon, +showing the girl a miniature, painted on ivory with great skill and +beauty. “I think it must be a likeness of the Senorita Isabella,” +continued the surgeon, “though I have never seen her to know her but +once.” + +“It is indeed meant for her,” said the girl, eagerly scanning the soft +and delicate picture, which represented the Senorita Isabella Gonzales +as sitting at an open window and gazing forth on the soft, dreamy +atmosphere of a tropical sunset. + +“You think it is like her?” + +“O, very.” + +“Well, I was sure that it was meant for the lady when I first saw it.” + +“May I bathe his temples with this Florida water?” asked the girl, as +she observed the sick man to move slightly and to moan. + +“Yes, it will have a tendency to rouse him gently, and it is now time +for him to wake.” + +The girl smoothed back the dark locks from the soldier’s brow, and with +her hands bathed his marble-like forehead and temples as gently as she +might have done had he been an infant. The stimulating influence of the +delicate spirits she was using was most delightful to the senses of the +sick man, and a soft smile for a moment breathed his lips, as half +awake and half dreaming, he returned thanks for the kindness, mingled +with Isabella’s name. + +The girl bent over his couch to hear the words, and the surgeon saw a +tear drop upon the sick man’s hand from the girl’s eyes as she stood +there! In a moment more the soldier seemed to arouse, and uttered a +long deep sigh, as though relieved from some heavy weight that had long +been oppressing him, both mentally and physically. He soon opened his +eyes, and looked languidly about him, as if striving to recall his +situation, and what had prostrated him thus. + +The girl stepped immediately back from the bedside, as she observed +these tokens, and droping the rebosa that had been heretofore confined, +veil-like to the crown of her head, and partially screened her +features, but she showed most unmistakable signs of delight, as she +read in the soldier’s eyes that reason had once more returned to her +throne, and that Lorenzo Bezan was once more rational. + +“How beautiful!” uttered the surgeon, half aloud, as he stood gazing at +the girl. “If the mistress be as lovely as the maid, no wonder Captain +Bezan has talked of her in his delirium!” + +“Step hither, step hither, he is awake!” whispered the girl to the +surgeon. + +“And his reason too has returned,” said the professional man, as soon +as his eyes rested on the wounded soldier’s face. “There is hope now!” + +“Thank Heaven for its infinite mercy!” said the girl, with an earnest +though tremulous voice, as she gathered her rebosa about her face and +prepared to depart. + +“He will recover now?” she asked, once more, as she turned towards the +surgeon. + +“With care and good nursing we may hope so,” was the reply of the +attendant, who still looked earnestly into the face of the inquirer as +he spoke. + +“My lady knew not the pecuniary condition of Captain Bezan at this +time, and desired that this purse might be devoted to his convenience +and comfort; but she also desires that this may not be known to him. +May I trust to you, sir, in this little matter?” + +“It will give me great pleasure to keep the secret, and to improve the +purse solely for the sick man’s individual benefit,” was the reply. + +“Thank you, sir; I see you are indeed his friend,” she answered, as she +bowed low and withdrew. + +Scarcely had the door closed after the visitor, before the surgeon, +turning hastily once more to the miniature he had shown, examined it in +various lights, now carefully within a part shaded by the hand, and now +as a whole, and now near to, and then at a distance. + +“I more than suspected it,” he exclaimed, with emphasis; “and now I +know it; that lady was Senorita Isabella Gonzales, the belle of +Havana!” + +And so indeed it was. Unable longer to restrain her desire to see him +who had so infinitely served the interests of herself and her father’s +house, the proud girl had smothered every adverse prompting in her +bosom, and donning her dressing-maid’s attire, had thus dressed in +humble costume, stepped into a volante, and ordering the calesaro to +drive to the infantry barracks, where she knew the sick man was, had +entered as we have seen, under pretext of bringing necessities from her +pretended mistress to the wounded soldier. Her scheme had succeeded +infinitely well, nor would she have betrayed herself to even the +surgeon’s observant eye, had it not been for that single tear! + +“What angel was that?” whispered the sick man, to his attendant, who +now approached his bedside to administer some cooling draught to his +parched lips. + +“You have been dreaming, my dear fellow,” said the discreet surgeon, +cautiously, “and are already much better; keep as quiet as possible, +and we will soon have you out again. Here, captain, drink of this fruit +water, it will refresh you.” + +Too weak to argue or even to talk at all, the sick man drank as he was +desired, and half closed his eyes again, as if he thought by thus doing +he might once more bring back the sweet vision which had just gladdened +his feeble senses. + +Like a true-hearted fellow as he was, the surgeon resolved not to +reveal the lady’s secret to any one-not even to his patient; for he saw +that this was her earnest desire, and she had confided in part to him +her errand there. But those who saw the surgeon in the after part of +that day, marked that he bore a depressed and thoughtful countenance. + +Isabella Gonzales had filled his vision, and very nearly his heart, +also, by her exquisite loveliness and beauty! + + + + +CHAPTER VI. +THE CHALLENGE. + + +The Tacon Theatre is one of the largest in the world, and is situated +in the Paseo, just outside the city walls. You enter the parquet and +first row of boxes from the level of the street, and above this are +four ranges of boxes, besides seats in the parquet for six hundred +persons. The gildings are elaborate and beautiful, and the frescoes are +done by the first Italian artists; the whole being brilliantly lighted +by an immense chandelier in the centre, and lesser ones pendant from +the half moon of boxes, and supplied with gas. It is a superb +establishment, and when it is filled with the beauty and fashion of the +city, it is a brilliant sight indeed. + +It is nearly a month subsequent to the scene that closed the last +chapter of our story, that we would carry the reader with us within the +brilliantly lighted walls of the Tacon Theatre. How lively and gay is +the prospect that presents itself to the eye-the glittering jewelry and +diamonds of the fair senor’s and senoritas, casting back the brilliant +light, and rivalled in lustre by the sparkle of a thousand eyes of jet. +The gilded and jewelled fans rustle audibly (what would a Spanish or +Creole lady do without a fan?)-the orchestra dashes off in a gay and +thrilling overture, intermingled by the voices, here and there, of +merry groups of the audience, while the stately figures of the soldiers +on duty are seen, with their many-colored dresses and caps, amid the +throng and at the rear of the boxes. + +In a centre box of the first tier sits Senorita Isabella Gonzales, with +her father, brother, General Harero, and a party of friends. All eyes +are turned towards the peerless beauty-those of the ladies with envy at +her extraordinary charms of person, and those of the young cavaliers +and gentlemen with undisguised admiration at the picture of loveliness +which met their eyes. Isabella herself sat with an easy and graceful +air of unconsciousness, bowing low to the meaningless compliments and +remarks of General Harero, and now smiling at some pleasantry of Ruez +who was close to her side, and now again regarding for a moment the +tall, manly figure of an officer near the proscenium box, who was on +duty there, and evidently the officer of the evening. This may sound +odd to a republican, but no assembly, no matter how unimportant, is +permitted, except under the immediate eye and supervision of the +military. + +“There is Captain Bezan,” said Ruez, with undisguised pleasure, +pointing towards the proscenium box where the young officer stood. + +“Yes, I see him, Ruez,” replied Isabella, “and it is the first time he +has been out on duty, I think, since his dangerous and protracted +illness.” + +“I know it is the first time,” said the boy, “and I don’t think he’s +hardly able to be out now. How very pale he is looking, Isabella.” + +“Do you think he’s very pale, Ruez?” she asked, turning towards the +soldier, whose arm and sword were now outstretched, indicating some +movement to a file of soldiers on the other side. + +“He’s too ill, I should think, to be out in the night air.” + +“One would certainly think so,” answered Isabella. + +“His company was ordered out to-night,” said Ruez, “and though the +surgeon told him to remain in, he said he must be with his command.” + +“You seem to know his business almost as well as himself, Master Ruez,” +said General Harero, who had overheard the remarks relating to Captain +Bezan. + +“The captain and I are great friends, famous friends,” replied Ruez, +instantly. “He’s a noble fellow, and just my idea of what a soldier +should be. Don’t you think him a fine soldier, General Harero?” asked +the boy, most frankly. + +“Humph!” ejaculated the general, “why, yes, he’s good enough for aught +I know, professionally. Not quite rough and tough enough for a thorough +bred one, I think,” was the reply of his superior, who was plainly +watching Isabella Gonzales’s eyes while he spoke to the boy, and who +was anything but pleased to see how often she glanced at Captain Bezan. + +“I don’t know what you may mean by rough and tough, general,” said +Ruez, with evident feeling evinced in his voice; “but I know, very +well, that Captain Bezan is as brave as a lion, and I don’t believe +there is a man in your service who can swim with such weight as he can +do.” + +“May be not,” replied the general, with assumed indifference. + +“Then why say that he’s not rough and tough? that means something,” +continued the boy, with not a little pertinacity in defence of his new +friend. + +“There’s some difference, let me tell you, Master Ruez, between facing +an enemy with blazing gunpowder before your eyes, and merely swimming a +while in cold water.” + +“The very wounds that came so near proving fatal to Captain Bezan, +prove that he can fight, general, as well as swim,” said Ruez, rather +smartly, in reply, while Isabella Gonzales glanced at her brother with +evident tokens of satisfaction in her face. + +“You are enthusiastic in your friend’s behalf,” said General Harero, +coldly. + +“And well I may be, since I not only owe him my own life, but that of +my dear sister and father,” continued Ruez, quite equal to the +general’s remark in any instance. + +“Certainly, you are right, Master Ruez,” said General Harero, biting +his lips, as he saw that Isabella was regarding him with more than +ordinary attention. + +In the meantime Lorenzo Bezan remained, as in duty bound, at his post, +while many an admiring eye was resting upon his fine figure and martial +bearing. He was quite unconscious of being the subject of such +particular remark and criticism within the bearing of her he so nearly +worshipped-the beautiful Isabella Gonzales. Though his heart was with +her every moment, and his thoughts were never off the box, even where +she sat, yet it was only now and then that he permitted himself to turn +his eyes, as though by accident, towards Don Gonzales and his daughter. +He seemed to feel that General Harero was particularly regarding him, +and he strove to be less thoughtful of Isabella, and if possible, more +observant of his regular duty. It is the duty of the officer of the +night for the occasion, to fill the post during the performance, where +the young officer now stood, as it commanded a view of the entire +house, and was the point, where, by an order from him, he could at once +summon a much larger force under arms than that which under ordinary +circumstances was required. Each division of the guard was set from +this point, therefore Captain Bezan, as was his custom, remained here +during the performance. + +“It must be very tedious to stay thus standing just there,” remarked +Ruez, pointing to Captain Bezan, and speaking to Isabella. + +“I should think so,” was the reply of his sister, who had often turned +that way, to the no small annoyance of the observant General Harero. + +“A soldier’s duty,” replied the general, “should content him with his +post.” + +It was nearly the middle of the evening’s entertainment, when turning +his eyes towards the box occupied by Don Gonzales and his party, +Captain Bezan caught the eye of Isabella Gonzales, and at the same time +observed distinctly the peculiar wave of the fan, with which a Spanish +lady invites in a friendly manner the approach of a friend of the +opposite sex. He could not be mistaken, and yet was it possible that +the belle of all that proud assemblage deigned openly to notice and +compliment him thus in public? Impelled by the ardor of his love, and +the hope that he had rightly construed the signal, he approached the +box from the rear, and stepping to its back, gave some indication to +one of his orderlies sufficiently loud in tone to cause Isabella and +her father to turn their heads, as they at once recognized the voice of +the young officer. + +“Ah! Captain Bezan,” said Don Gonzales, heartily, as he caught the +young officer’s eye, “glad to see you once more with epaulets on-upon +my soul I am.” + +“Thank you, sir,” said the soldier, first saluting in due form his +superior, and then bowing low and gracefully to Isabella Gonzales, who +honored him with a gracious smile. + +“You are looking comparatively well, captain,” said Don Gonzales, +kindly. + +“O yes, sir, I am as well as ever, now,” replied the officer, +cheerfully. + +Ruez Gonzales loved Lorenzo Bezan like a brother; first, because he had +so materially served him at imminent peril of his own life, and +secondly, because he saw in him just such traits of character as +attracted his young heart, and aroused it to a spirit of emulation. +With the privilege of boyhood, therefore, he sprang over the seats, +half upsetting General Harero to get at the young officer’s side, +which, having accomplished, he seized his hand familiarly. General +Harero frowned at this familiarity, and his face grew doubly dark and +frowning, as he saw now how closely Isabella was observing the young +officer all the while. + +“I trust you find yourself quite recovered, captain, from your severe +illness,” said Isabella, reaching by her father, as she addressed +Lorenzo Bezan kindly. + +“I am quite recovered, lady; better, if possible, than before,” he +replied, respectfully. “Master Ruez has been a constant nurse to me, +thoughtful and kind,” he continued, as he looked down upon the boy’s +handsome features with real affection lighting up his own pale face. + +Ruez only drew the closer to his side at these words, while his father, +Don Gonzales, watched both the soldier and his boy with much interest +for a moment, then turning to General Harero, he made some earnest and +complimentary remark, evidently referring to Captain Bezan, though +uttered in a low tone of voice, which seemed to increase the cloud on +the general’s brow. + +But the young soldier was too much interested in gazing upon the lovely +features of Isabella, to notice this; he seemed almost entranced by the +tender vision of beauty that was before him. At the same moment some +slight disturbance occurred in a distant part of the extensive +building, which afforded a chance for General Harero to turn quickly to +the young soldier, and in a sharp tone say: + +“Your duty calls you hence, sir!” + +For it moment the blood mantled to the officer’s face at the tone of +this remark, but suppressing his feelings, whatever they might be, with +a respectful acknowledgement of the order, Lorenzo Bezan hastened to +the quarter from whence the noise had come, and by at simple direction +obviated their trouble immediately. But he remembered the bitter and +insulting air of his superior, and it cut him to the quick, the more +keenly too as having been given in the presence of Isabella Gonzales. + +As he returned from this trifling duty, he necessarily again passed the +box where were Don Gonzales, amid his party, and seeing Ruez standing +there awaiting his return, he again paused for a moment to exchange at +word with the boy, and once more received a pleasant greeting from +Isabella and her father. At this but reasonable conduct, General Harero +seemed nettled and angry beyond all control, and turning once more +towards Lorenzo Bezan, with a face black with suppressed rage, said: + +“It strikes me, sir, that Captain Bezan would consult his own interest, +and be best performing his ordinary duty by maintaining his post at the +proscenium!” + +“I proposed to return there immediately, General Harero, and stopped +here but for one moment,” said the young officer, with a burning cheek, +at the intended insult. + +“Shall I put my words in the form of an order?” continued General +Harero, seeing that Bezan paused to assist Ruez once more over the +seats to his position in the box. + +“It is not necessary, general,” replied the officer, biting his lips +with vexation. + +“I declare, general,” said Isabella, unable longer to remain quiet at +his repeated insults to the young officer, “you soldiers are so very +peremptory, that you half disconcert me.” + +“It is sometimes necessary,” was the quick and stern reply, “to be +prompt with young and headstrong officers who do not well understand +their duty, or rather, I may say, who knowing their duty, fail to +perform it,” emphasizing the last part of the sentence. + +This was intended not only for the lady’s ear, but also for that of +Lorenzo Bezan, who barely succeeded in commanding his feelings for the +moment, so far as to turn silently away to return to his post of +observation. The effect of the scene was not lost upon the +high-spirited beauty. Isabella had marked well the words and tone of +voice with which General Harero spoke, and she saw, too, the effect of +his words upon the free, manly spirit of the young soldier, and from +that moment, either intentionally, or by accident, she paid no further +attention during the whole evening to General Harero, neither turning +towards him, nor even speaking to him at all. + +The general, of course, observed this particularly, desiring as he did +to stand in the best possible light as it regarded Isabella’s favor, +and imputing her conduct to the presence of Captain Bezan, and the +conversation that had taken place relative to his duty between Captain +Bezan and himself; he hated the young officer more than ever, as being +in some degree the cause of preventing the consummation of his hopes as +it regarded the favor of the lady. He had long cherished a regard for +the beautiful daughter of Don Gonzales, for her personal charms, as +well as the rich coffers which her father could boast. As the reader +has already surmised, he had been a constant and ardent, though +unsuccessful suitor, for no inconsiderable period. It will not, +therefore, be wondered at, that he should have felt very sensitive upon +this point. As he passed Lorenzo Bezan, therefore, at the close of the +performance, in going out of the theatre that night, while still in the +most immediate proximity to Isabella Gonzales, her father, and the +party with them, he took occasion to speak very loud, and in the most +peremptory manner to him, saying: + +“I find you exceedingly lax, Captain Bezan, as it regards the exercise +of your duty and command. You will report yourself to me, after morning +parade, for such orders as shall be deemed proper for you under the +circumstances, as a public reproof for dereliction from duty.” + +“Yes, general,” replied the young officer, with the usual salute to his +superior. + +Still curbing his feelings, the young officer contented himself with a +kind glance from Isabella Gonzales, who had overheard the last act of +petty tyranny on the general’s part, and for that very reason redoubled +her passing notice and smiles upon Captain Bezan. The officer marched +his company to their barracks, and then sought the silence and quiet of +his own room, to think over the events of the past evening. + +His temples burned still with the angry flush that the insult of his +superior officer had produced there, and throwing himself into a chair, +he recalled the whole scene at the theatre, from his answering +Isabella’s friendly signal, until the time when General Harero passed +him at the entrance, and for the last time reproved him. + +He weighed the cause of these repeated attacks upon him by his +superior, and could at once divine the cause of them. That was obvious +to his mind at the first glance. He could not but perceive the strong +preference that General Harero evinced for Isabella Gonzales, nor could +he disguise the fact to his own heart that she cared not a farthing for +him. It required but a very simple capacity to understand this; any +party, not interested in the general’s favor, could easily discern it. +But the general counted upon his high rank, and also upon the fact that +his family was a good one, though his purse was not very long. + +Lorenzo Bezan remembered not alone the annoyance of that evening. He +had not yet forgotten the insult from the general in the Paseo, and +coupling that with other events, he saw very well that his commanding +officer was decidedly jealous of him. He saw, too, that there was not +any chance of matters growing any better, but that on the contrary they +must continue to grow worse and worse, since be had determined, come +what might, he should pursue his love with the fair lady Isabella. + +Could he bear to be insulted thus at every turn by such a man as +General Harero? No! He felt himself, in courage, intellectual +endowments, birth, ay, everything but the rank of a soldier, to be more +than his equal. His heart beat quickly when he recollected that the +latter taunt and threat had been given in the presence of Don Gonzales +and his daughter. The malignity, the unfairness of this attack upon him +at this time, was shameful, and deserved to be punished. Brooding upon +these things alone and at a late hour of the night, he at last wrought +himself up to such a point, perhaps in some degree aggravated by his +late wounds, which were hardly yet healed, that he determined he would +challenge General Harero to martial and mortal conflict. + +True this was preposterous in one of his rank, as contending against +another so vastly his superior in position and influence; but his +feelings had begun to assume an uncontrollable character; he could not +bear to think that he had been thus insulted before Isabella Gonzales. +It seemed to him that she would think less of him if he did not resent +and punish such an insult. In the heat of his resentment, therefore, he +sat down and wrote to his superior as follows: + +“GENERAL HARERO: Sir-Having received, at different periods and under +peculiar circumstances, insults from you that neither become me as a +gentleman tamely to submit to, nor you as a soldier to give, I do +hereby demand satisfaction. It would be worse than folly in me to +pretend that I do not understand the incentive that governs you-the +actuating motive that has led to these attacks upon me. In my duty as +an officer I have never failed in the least; this you know very well, +and have even allowed before now, to my very face. Your attacks upon me +are, therefore, plainly traceable to a spirit of jealousy as to my +better success with the Senorita Gonzales than yourself. Unless I +greatly mistake, the lady herself has discovered this spirit within +your breast. + +“Now, sir, the object of this note is to demand of you to lay aside the +station you hold, and to forget our relative ranks as officers in the +Spanish army, and to meet me on the platform of our individual +characters as gentlemen, and render me that satisfaction for the insult +which you have placed upon me, which I have a right to demand. A line +from you and a friend can easily settle this business. LORENZO BEZAN.” + +This note was carefully sealed and addressed, and so despatched as to +reach its destination early on the following morning. It was a most +unfortunate epistle for Captain Bezan, and could the young officer have +calmly considered the subject, he would never have been so imprudent as +to send it to his superior. So long as he bore the petty annoyances of +General Harero without murmuring he was strong, that the step he had +now taken greatly weakened his cause and position. Perhaps he partly +realized this as he sent the note away on the subsequent morning; but +he felt too much pride to relent, and so only braced himself to meet +the result. + +The note gave General Harero what he wanted, and placed Captain Bezan +completely at his mercy. It gave him the opportunity to do that which +he most desired, viz., to arrest and imprison the young officer. +Consulting with the governor general, merely by way of strengthening +himself, he took his opinion upon the subject before he made any open +movement in the premises. This was a wary step, and served in some +degree to rob the case of any appearance of personality that it might +otherwise have worn to Tacon’s eye. + +As it was, the wary old soldier felt some degree of suspicion in the +matter, as was evident by his remarks to the general, who brought the +charge. It did not seem very natural that one who had just experienced +such favor and promotion should so early be guilty of at breach of +discipline. He was accustomed to judge of men and matters with care, +and judiciously, and for this reason he now rested his head upon his +hand for a moment, upon the table by his side, and after a pause of +some minutes thus passed in silence, during which he had considered the +verbal charge brought against Lorenzo Bezan by his commanding officer, +he once more cast a searching glance upon General Harero. He had never +detected him in any small or unfair business, but he had suspected him +of being capable of such things. + +“Is this not the young man whom I have lately promoted for gallantry?” +asked the governor-general. + +“Excellency, yes.” + +“It is strange that he should be guilty of such insubordination.” + +“Very strange, excellency.” + +“You know not the reason that has induced this conduct?” + +“No—that is—” continued General Harero, as he saw Tacon’s piercing eye +bent upon him, “I can easily presume.” + +“Have you the letter of challenge that Captain Bezan sent?” + +“Excellency, yes.” + +“I will see it.” + +“Excellency, at your pleasure,” said the general, hoping not to have +been obliged to show this document. + +“Now, if you please, general.” + +“At once, excellency.” + +General Harero produced the letter, and handed it with something very +like a blush tinging his sunburnt check, to his commander-in-chief. +Tacon read it slowly, pausing now and then to re-read a line, and then, +remarked, as he slowly folded it up once more: + +“A love affair.” + +“Why, your excellency will easily understand that the young officer has +dared to lift his eyes to one above his rank, and she cares nothing for +him. His causes for complaint are all imaginary.” + +“Well, be this as it may, in that I shall not interfere. He has been +guilty of a serious breach of discipline and must suffer for it. You +may take the necessary steps at once in the matter, general.” + +“Excellency, yes,” said General Harero, hastening away with secret +delight, and at once taking such measures as should carry out his own +wishes and purposes. + +The result of the matter was, that before ten o’clock that morning the +note conveying the challenge was answered by an aid-de-camp and a file +of soldiers, who arrested Captain Bezan for insubordination, and +quietly conducted him to the damp underground cells of the military +prison, where he was left to consider the new position in which he +found himself, solitary and alone, with a straw bed, and no convenience +or comfort about him. And it is not surprising that such a situation +should have been particularly suggestive to a mind so active as that of +Lorenzo Bezan. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. +THE PRISONER. + + +To know and fully realize the bitter severity exercised in the Spanish +prisons, both at Madrid and in Havana, one must have witnessed it. +Cold, dark and dreary cells, fit only to act as supports to the upper +and better lighted portions of the dismal structure, are filled by +those persons who have incurred in any way the displeasure of the +military board of commission. Here, in one of the dampest and most +dreary cells, immured with lizards, tarantulas, and other vile and +unwholesome reptiles, Captain Bezan, but so very recently-risen from a +sick bed, and yet smarting under his wounds, found himself. He could +now easily see the great mistake he had made in thus addressing General +Harero as he had done, and also, as he knew very well the rigor of the +service to which he was attached when he considered for a moment, he +had not the least possible doubt that his sentence would be death. + +As a soldier he feared not death; his profession and experience, which +had already made him familiar with the fell destroyer in every possible +form and shape, had taught him a fearlessness in this matter; but to +leave the air that Isabella Gonzales breathed, to be thus torn away +from the bright hopes that she had given rise to in his breast, was +indeed agony of soul to him now. In the horizon of his love, for the +first time since his heart had known the passion, the sun had risen, +and the genial rays of hope, like young spring, had commended to warm +and vivify his soul. + +Until within a very short time she whom he loved was to him as some +distant star, that might be worshipped in silence, but not approached; +but now, by a series of circumstances that looked like providential +interference in his behalf, immense barriers had been removed. Thinking +over these matters, he doubly realized the misstep he had taken, and +the heart of the lone prisoner was sad in the depths of his dreary +dungeon. + +Many days passed on, and Lorenzo Bezan counted each hour as one less +that he should have to live upon the earth. At first all intercourse +was strictly denied him with any person outside the prison walls, but +one afternoon he was delighted as the door of his cell was thrown open, +and in the next moment Ruez sprang into his arms. + +“My dear, dear friend!” said the boy, with big tears starting from his +eyes, and his voice trembling with mingled emotions of pleasure and of +grief. + +“Why, Ruez,” said the prisoner, no less delighted than was the boy, +“how was it possible for you to gain admittance to me? You are the +first person I have seen, except the turnkey, in my prison.” + +“Everybody refused me; General Harero refused father, who desired that +I might come and see if he could not in some way serve you. At last I +went to Tacon himself. O, I do love that man! Well, I told him General +Harero would not admit me, and when I told him all—” + +“All of what, Ruez?” + +“Why, about you and me, and sister and father. He said, ‘Boy, you are +worthy of confidence and love; here, take this, it will pass you to the +prison, and to Captain Bezan’s cell;’ and he wrote me this on a card, +and said I could come and see you by presenting it to the guard, when I +pleased.” + +“Tacon is just, always just,” said Lorenzo Bezan, “and you, Ruez, are a +dear and true friend.” As the soldier said this, he turned to dash away +a tear-confinement and late sickness had rendered him still weak. + +“Captain?” + +“Master Ruez.” + +“I hate General Harero.” + +“Why so?” + +“Because sister says it is by his influence that you are here.” + +“Did Isabella say that?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, tell me of your father and sister, Ruez. You know I am a hermit +here.” + +Lorenzo Bezan had already been in prison for more than ten days, when +Ruez thus visited him, and the boy had much to tell him: how General +Harero had called repeatedly at the house, and Isabella had totally +refused to see him; and how his father had tried to reason with General +Harero about Captain Bezan, and how the general had declared that +nothing but blood could wash out the stain of insubordination. + +With the pass that the governor-general had given him, Ruez Gonzales +came often to visit the imprisoned soldier, but as the day appointed +for the trial drew near, Ruez grew more and more sad and thoughtful at +each visit, for, boy though he was, he felt certain of Lorenzo Bezan’s +fate. He was not himself unfamiliar with military examinations, for he +was born and brought up within earshot of the spot where these scenes +were so often enacted by order of the military commission, and he +trembled for his dearly loved friend. + +At length the trial came; trial! we might with more propriety call it a +farce, such being the actual character of an examination before the +military commission of Havana, where but one side is heard, and +condemnation is sure to follow, as was the case so lately with one of +our own countrymen (Mr. Thrasher), and before him the murder by this +same tribunal of fifty Americans in cold blood! Trial, indeed! Spanish +courts do not try people; they condemn them to suffer—that is their +business. + +But let us confine ourselves to our own case; and suffice it to say, +that Captain Bezan was found guilty, and at once condemned to die. His +offence was rank insubordination, or mutiny, as it was designated in +the charge; but in consideration of former services, and his undoubted +gallantry and bravery, the sentence read to the effect, as a matter of +extraordinary leniency to him, that it should be permitted for him to +choose the mode of his own death-that is, between the garote and being +shot by his comrades. + +“Let me die like a soldier,” replied the young officer, as the question +was thus put to him, before the open court, as to the mode of death +which he chose. + +“You are condemned, then, Lorenzo Bezan,” said the advocate of the +court, “to be shot by the first file of your own company, upon the +execution field.” + +This sentence was received with a murmur of disapprobation from the few +spectators in the court, for the condemned was one of the most beloved +men in the service. But the young officer bowed his head calmly to the +sentence, though at close observer might have seen a slight quiver of +his handsome lips, as he struggled for an instant with a single inward +thought. What that thought was, the reader can easily guess,—it was the +last link that bound him to happiness. + +Lorenzo Bezan had no fear of death, and perhaps estimated his life +quite as lightly as any other person who made a soldier’s calling his +profession; but since his heart had known the tender promptings of +love, life had discovered new charms for him; he lived and breathed in +a new atmosphere. Before he had received the kind considerations of the +peerless daughter of Don Gonzales, he could have parted the thread of +his existence with little regret. But now, alas! it was very different; +life was most sweet to him, because it was so fully imbued with love +and hope in the future. + +Wild as the idea might have seemed to any one else, the young officer +had promised his own heart, that with ordinary success, and provided no +extraordinary difficulty should present itself in his path, to win the +heart and love of the proud and beautiful Isabella Gonzales. He had +made her character and disposition his constant study, was more +familiar, perhaps, with her strong and her weak points than was she +herself, and believed that he knew how best to approach her before whom +so many, vastly higher than himself, had knelt in vain, and truth to +say, fortune seemed to have seconded his hopes. + +It was the death of all these hopes, the dashing to earth of the fairy +future he had dreamed of, that caused his proud lip to tremble for a +moment. It was no fear of bodily ill. + +General Harero had accomplished his object, and had triumphed over the +young officer, whose impetuosity had placed him within his power. The +sentence of death cancelled his animosity to Lorenzo Bezan, and he now +thought that a prominent cause of disagreement and want of success +between the Senorita Isabella Gonzales and himself was removed. Thus +reasoning upon the subject, and thus influenced, he called at the house +of Don Gonzales on the evening following that of Captain Bezan’s +sentence, expecting to be greeted with the usual courtesy that had been +extended to him. Ruez was the first one whom he met of the household, +on being ushered to the drawing-room by a slave. + +“Ah! Master Ruez, how do you do?” said the general, pleasantly. + +“Not well at all!” replied the boy, sharply, and with undisguised +dislike. + +“I’m sorry to learn that. I trust nothing serious has affected you.” + +“But there has, though,” said the boy, with spirit; “it is the +rascality of human nature;” at the same moment he turned his back +coldly on the general and left the room. + +“Well, that’s most extraordinary,” mused the general, to himself; “the +boy meant to hit me, beyond a doubt.” + +“Ah, Don Gonzales,” he said to the father, who entered the room a +moment after, “glad to see you; have had some unpleasant business on my +hands that has kept me away, you see.” + +“Yes, very unpleasant,” said the old gentleman, briefly and coldly. + +“Well, it’s all settled now, Don Gonzales, and I trust we shall be as +good friends as ever.” + +Receiving no reply whatever to this remark, and being left to himself, +General Harero looked after Don Gonzales, who had retired to a balcony +in another part of the room, for a moment, and then summoning a slave, +sent his card to Senorita Isabella, and received as an answer that she +was engaged. Repulsed in every quarter, he found himself most awkwardly +situated, and thought it about time to beat a retreat. + +As General Harero rose and took his leave in the most formal manner, he +saw that his pathway towards the Senorita Isabella’s graces was by no +means one of sunshine alone, but at that moment it presented to his +view a most cloudy horizon. The unfortunate connection of himself with +the sentence of Captain Bezan, now assumed its true bearing in his eye. +Before, he had only thought of revenge, and the object also of getting +rid of his rival. Now he fully realized that it had placed him in a +most unpleasant situation, as it regarded the lady herself. Indeed he +felt that had not the matter gone so far, he would gladly have +compromised the affair by a public reprimand to the young officer, such +as should sufficiently disgrace him publicly to satisfy the general’s +pride. But it was too late to regret now, too late for him to turn +back-the young soldier must die! + +In the meantime Lorenzo Bezan was remanded to his dismal prison and +cell, and was told to prepare for the death that would soon await him. +One week only was allowed him to arrange such matters as he desired, +and then he was informed that he would be shot by his comrades in the +execution field, at the rear of the city barracks. It was a sad and +melancholy fate for so young and brave an officer; but the law was +imperative, and there was no reprieve for him. + +The cold and distant reception that General Harero had received at Don +Gonzales’s house since the sentence had been publicly pronounced +against Captain Lorenzo Bezan, had afforded unmistakable evidence to +him that if his victim perished on account of the charge he had brought +against him, his welcome with Isabella and her father was at an end. +But what was to be done? As we have said, he had gone too far to +retrace his steps in the matter. Now if it were but possible to get out +of the affair in some way, he said to himself, he would give half his +fortune. Puzzling over this matter, the disappointed general paced back +and forth in his room until past midnight, and at last having tired +himself completely, both mentally and physically, he carelessly threw +off his clothes, and summoning his orderly, gave some unimportant +order, and prepared to retire for the night. + +But scarcely had he locked his door and drawn the curtains of his +windows, when a gentle knock at the door caused him once more to open +it, when an orderly led in a person who was closely wrapped up in a +cloak, and after saluting respectfully left the new comer alone with +his superior. + +“Well, sir, did you obtain me those keys?” asked General Harero. + +“I did, and have them here, general,” was the reply. + +“You say there is no need of my entering at the main postern.” + +“None. This first key opens the concealed gate in the rear of the guard +house, and this the door that leads to the under range of the prison. +You will require no guide after what I have already shown you. But you +have promised me the fifty ounces.” + +“I have.” + +“And will hold me harmless?” + +“At all hazards.” + +“Then here are the keys.” + +“Stay; it would be as well for you to be about at the time specified, +to avert any suspicions or immediate trouble.” + +“I will be on the alert, general. You may rely upon me in this +business, since you pay for my services so liberally.” + +“Good night, sir.” + +“Good night, general.” + +And gathering his cloak about him, the stranger vanished stealthily +through the door, which General Harero closed and locked after him. +Having consummated the preliminaries to some piece of rascality or +secret business that he did not care to make public. + +More than half of the time allotted to the prisoner for preparation in +closing up his connection with life, had already transpired since his +sentence had been pronounced, and he had now but three days left him to +live. Ruez Gonzales, improving the governor-general’s pass, had visited +the young officer daily, bringing with him such luxuries and +necessities to the condemned as were not prohibited by the rules of the +prison, and which were most grateful to him. More so, because, though +this was never intimated to him, or, indeed, appeared absolutely +obvious, he thought that oftentimes Isabella had selected these gifts, +if indeed she had not prepared them with her own hands. A certain +delicacy of feeling prevented him from saying as much to her brother, +or of even questioning him upon any point, however trivial, as to any +matter of a peculiar nature concerning Isabella. Sometimes he longed to +ask the boy about the subject, but he could not bring himself to do so; +he felt that it would be indelicate and unpleasant to Isabella, and +therefore he limited himself to careful inquiries concerning her health +and such simple matters as he might touch upon, without risk of her +displeasure. + +Lorenzo Bezan took the announcement of his fate calmly. He felt it his +duty to pray for strength, and he did so, and sought in the holy +silence and confidence of prayer for that abiding and inward assurance +that may carry us through the darkness and the valley of death. Ruez, +poor boy, was almost distracted at the realization of the young +soldier’s fate. Boy though he was, he had yet the feelings, in many +respects, of manhood, and though before Lorenzo Bezan he said nothing +of his coming fate, and indeed struggled to appear cheerful, and to +impart a pleasant influence to the prisoner, yet when once out of his +presence, he would cry for the hour together, and Isabella even feared +for the child’s reason, unless some change should take place ere long. + +When his mother was taken from him, and their home made desolate by the +hand of death, Ruez, in the gentleness and tenderness of his heart, had +been brought so low by grief, that it was almost miraculous that he had +survived. The influence of that sorrow, as we have before observed, had +never left him. His father’s assiduous care and kindness, and +Isabella’s gentle and sisterly love for him, had in part healed the +wound, when now his young and susceptible heart was caused thus to +bleed anew. He loved Lorenzo Bezan with a strange intensity of feeling. +There was an affinity in their natures that seemed to draw them +together, and it was strange that strength of consolation and happiness +that weak and gentle boy imparted to the stern soldier! + +In his association of late with Ruez, the condemned officer felt +purified and carried back to childhood and his mother’s knee; the long +vista of eventful years was blotted out from his heart, the stern +battles he had fought in, the blood he had seen flow like water, his +own deep scars and many wounds, the pride and ambition of his military +career, all were forgotten, and by Ruez’s side he was perhaps more of a +child at heart than the boy himself. How strange are our natures; how +susceptible to outward influence; how attunable to harshness or to +plaintive notes! We are but as the olian harp, and the winds of heaven +play upon us what times they will! + +It was midnight in the prison of Havana; nought could be heard by the +listening ear save the steady pace of the sentinels stationed at the +various angles of the walls and entrances of the courtyard that +surrounded the gloomy structure. It was a calm, tropical light, and the +moon shone so brightly as to light up the grim walls and heavy arches +of the building, almost as bright as if it were day. Now and then a +sentinel would pause, and resting upon his musket, look off upon the +silvery sea, and perhaps dream of his distant Castilian home, then +starting again, he would rouse himself, shoulder the weapon, and pace +his round with measured stride. Lorenzo Bezan, the condemned, had knelt +down and offered up a prayer, silent but sincere, for Heaven’s +protection in the fearful emergency that beset him; he prayed that he +might die like a brave man, yet with a right feeling and reconciled +conscience with all mankind. Then throwing himself upon his coarse +straw bed, that barely served to separate him from the damp earthen +floor, he had fallen asleep-a calm, deep, quiet sleep, so silent and +childlike as almost to resemble death itself. + +He had not slept there for many minutes, before there was heard a most +curious noise under the floor of his prison. At first it did not awaken +him, but partially doing so, caused him to move slightly, and in at +half conscious, half dreamy state, to suggest some cause for the +unusual phenomenon. It evidently worked upon his brain and nervous +system, and he dreamed that the executioner had come for him, that his +time for life had already expired, and the noise he heard was that of +the officers and men, come to execute the sentence that had been +pronounced upon him by the military commission. + +By degrees the noise gradually increased, and heavy bolts and bars +seemed to be removed, and a gleam of light to stream across the cell, +while the tall form of a man, wrapped in a military cloak, came up +through the floor where a stone slab gave way to the pressure applied +to it from below. + +Having gained a footing, the new comer now turned the light of a dark +lantern in the direction of the corner where the prisoner was sleeping. +The figure approached the sleeping soldier, and bending over him, +muttered to himself, half aloud: + +“Sleeping, by Heaven! he sleeps as quietly as though he was in his +camp-bedstead, and not even under arrest.” + +As the officer thus spoke-for his cloak now falling from one shoulder, +partially exposed his person and discovered his rank-the strong light +of the lantern fell full upon the sleeper’s face, and caused him +suddenly to awake, and partially rising from the floor, he said: + +“So soon! has my time already come? I thought that it was not yet. +Well, I am ready, and trust to die like a soldier!” + +“Awake, Captain Bezan, awake!” said the new comer. “I have news for +you!” + +“News!” + +“Yes.” + +“What possible news can there be that I can feel interested in?” + +“Rise, and I will tell you,” replied the other, while he shaded the +lantern with his hand. + +“Speak on, I am listening,” replied Lorenzo Bezan, rising to his feet. + +“I would speak of your liberty.” + +“My liberty? I am condemned to die, and do you come to mock me?” + +“Be patient; the way is open, and you may yet escape from death.” + +“And what should interest you, General Harero, in my fate? Your purpose +is gained; I am removed from your path; why do you visit me thus at +this still hour of the night, and in so extraordinary a manner by a +secret entrance to my cell?” + +“All this matters nothing. I came not here to answer questions. On one +condition you are free. I have the means of your escape at hand.” + +“Name the condition,” said the prisoner, though without exhibiting the +least interest. + +“There is a vessel which will sail for America with the morning tide; +swear if I liberate you that you will take passage in her, and never +return to this island.” + +“Never!” said the soldier, firmly. “I will never leave those I love so +dearly.” + +“You refuse these terms?” continued the general, in a hoarse tone of +voice. + +“I do, most unhesitatingly. Life would be nothing to me if robbed of +its brightest hope.” + +“You will not consider this for a moment? it is your only chance.” + +“I am resolved,” said Lorenzo Bezan; “for more than one reason I am +determined.” + +“Then die for your obstinacy,” said General Harero, hoarse with rage +and disappointment. + +Thus saying, General Harero descended into the secret passage from +whence he had just emerged, and replacing the stone above his head, the +prisoner heard the grating of the rusty bolts and bars as they were +closed after him. They grated, too, most harshly upon his heart, as +well as upon their own hinges, for they seemed to say, “thus perishes +your last hope of reprieve-your last possibility of escape from the +fate that awaits you.” + +“No matter,” said he, to himself, at last, “life would be of little +value to me now if deprived of the presence of Isabella, and that dear +boy, Ruez, and therefore I decided none too quickly as I did. Besides, +in honor, I could hardly accept my life at his hands on any terms-he +whom I have to thank for all my misfortunes. No, no; let them do their +worst, I know my fate is sealed; but I fear it not. I will show them +that I can die as I have lived, like a soldier; they shall not triumph +in my weakness so long as the blood flows through my veins.” + +With this reflection and similar thoughts upon his mind, he once more +threw himself upon the hard damp floor, and after thinking long and +tenderly of Isabella Gonzales and her brother, he once more dropped to +sleep, but not until the morning gun had relieved the sentinels, and +the drum had beat the reveille. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. +THE FAREWELL. + + +The apartment in Don Gonzales’s house appropriated as Ruez’s sleeping +room, led out of the main reception hall, and adjoined that of his +sister Isabella. Both rooms looked out upon the Plato, and over the +Gulf Stream and outer portions of the harbor, where the grim Moro tower +and its cannon frown over the narrow entrance of the inner bay. One +vessel could hardly work its way in ship shape through the channel, but +a thousand might lay safely at anchor inside this remarkably +land-locked harbor. At the moment when we would introduce the reader to +the house of the rich old Don Gonzales, Isabella had thrown herself +carelessly upon a couch in her room, and half sighing, half dreaming +while awake, was gazing out upon the waters that make up from the +Caribbean Sea, at the southward, and now and then following with her +eyes the trading crafts that skimmed the sparkling waters to the north. + +As she gazed thus, she suddenly raised herself to a sitting position, +as she heard the suppressed and most grievous sobs of some one near the +room where she was, and rising, she approached the window to discover +the cause of this singular sound. The noise that had excited her +curiosity came from the next chamber, evidently, and that was her +brother’s. Stealing softly round to the entrance of his chamber, she +went quietly in and surprised Ruez as lay grieving upon a couch with +eyes filled with tears. + +“Why, Ruez, what does this mean? Art sick, brother, that you are so +depressed?” asked the beautiful girl, seating herself down by his side. + +“Ay, sister, sick at heart,” said the boy, with a deep drawn sigh. + +“And why, Ruez?” she continued, gently parting the hair from his +forehead. + +“How can you ask such a question, sister? do you not know already?” he +asked, turning his deep blue eyes full upon her. + +“Perhaps not, brother,” replied Isabella, struggling to suppress a +sigh, while she turned her face away from her brother’s searching +glance. + +“Do you not know, sister, that to-morrow Captain Bezan is sentenced to +die?” + +“True,” said Isabella Gonzales, with an involuntary shudder, “I do know +it, Ruez.” + +“And further, sister,” continued the boy, sagely, “do you not know that +we have been the indirect cause of this fearful sacrifice?” + +“I do not see that, brother,” said Isabella, quickly, as she turned her +beautiful face fully upon her brother, inquiringly. + +Ruez Gonzales looked like one actuated by some extraordinary +inspiration; his eyes were wonderfully bright, his expression that of +years beyond his actual age, and his beautiful sister, while she gazed +thus upon him at that moment, felt the keen and searching glance that +he bestowed upon her. She felt like one in the presence of a superior +mind; she could not realize her own sensations. The boy seemed to read +her very soul, as she stood thus before him. It was more than a minute +before he spoke, and seemed to break the spell; but at last-and it +seemed an age to Isabella Gonzales-he did so, and said: + +“Sister?” + +“Well, Ruez?” + +“Captain Bezan loves you.” + +“Perhaps so.” + +“I say he does love you.” + +“It is possible.” + +“I say he loves you,” continued the boy, almost sternly. + +“Well, brother, what of that?” she asked, with assumed indifference. + +“It is that, sister, which has led General Harero to persecute him as +he has done, and it is that which has led him like a noble spirit to +turn to bay.” + +A moment’s pause ensued. + +“Is it not so, sister?” he asked, still looking keenly at her. “Have +you not yourself intimated that Captain Bezan was to suffer owing to +his interest and services for us?” + +“You do indeed speak truly, brother,” said the lovely girl, breathing +more quickly, and half amazed at Ruez’s penetration and prophetic +manner of speech. + +“Alas!” said the boy, once more relapsing into his former mood, “that +he might be saved!” + +“Has our father seen the governor-general, Ruez?” asked his sister, +earnestly. + +“Yes.” + +“And to no effect?” + +“None. Tacon, you know, is most strict in his administration of +justice, and he says that if he were to pardon one such breach of +military discipline as Captain Bezan as been guilty of, the whole army +would at once be impregnated with insubordination.” + +“Would that I could see Captain Bezan, if only for one single moment,” +murmured Isabella Gonzales, half aloud, yet only to herself. + +“Do you mean so, sister?” asked Ruez, catching quickly at his sister’s +words, and with an undisguised expression of delight written upon his +handsome countenance. + +“Yes, no, brother, that is to say, if I could see him with propriety, +you know, Ruez; that is what I meant to say.” + +“Nothing easier, than for you to do so, if you desire it,” said the +boy. + +“Do you think so, Ruez?” said his sister, somewhat eagerly. + +“Certainly, Isabella, my pass will serve for you with a trifling +disguise.” + +“But our difference in size; besides, you know that my voice—” + +“Will not be noticed by those stiff sentries, or the turnkey,” +interrupted the boy. “They do not know me at all, and would not suspect +you.” + +“Ah! but I can see many impediments in the way of one of my sex,” added +Isabella Gonzales, with a deep sigh. + +Captain Lorenzo Bezan awoke on the day previous to that appointed for +his execution, with cheerful spirit. He found no guilt in his heart, he +felt that he had committed no crime, that his soul was free and +untrammelled. His coarse breakfast of rude cassava root and water was +brought to him at a late hour, and having partaken of sufficient of +this miserable food to prevent the gnawings of hunger, he now sat +musing over his past life, and thinking seriously of that morrow which +was to end his career upon earth forever. A strange reverie for a man +to be engaged in a most critical period-the winding up of his earthly +career. + +“I wonder,” said he to himself, somewhat curiously, “why Ruez does not +come to-day? it is his hour-ay, must be even past the time, and the boy +loves me too well to neglect me now, when I am so near my end. Hark! is +that his step? No; and yet it must be; it is too light for the guard or +turnkey. O yes, that is my door, certainly, and here he is, sure +enough. I knew he would come.” + +As the prisoner said this, the door slowly opened on its rusty and +creaking hinges, and the turnkey immediately closed it after the new +comer, who was somewhat closely wrapped in the profuse folds of a long +Spanish cloak. + +Well, Ruez,” said Captain Bezan, quite leisurely, and without turning +his head towards the door, “I had begun to fear that you would not come +to-day. You know you are the only being I see, except the turnkey, and +I’m quite sensitive about your visits, my dear boy. However, you are +here, at last; sit down.” + +“Captain Bezan, it appears to me that you do not welcome me very +cordially,” said Isabella Gonzales, in reply, and a little archly. + +“Lady!” said the prisoner, springing to his feet as though he had been +struck by an electric shock, “Senorita Isabella Gonzales, is it +possible that you have remembered me at such a time-me, who am so soon +to die?” + +Isabella Gonzales had now thrown back the ample folds of the cloak she +wore, and lifting her brother’s cap from her head, her beautiful hair +fell into its accustomed place, and with a slight blush tinging either +cheek, she stood before the young soldier in his cell, an object of +ineffable interest and beauty. + +“Heaven bless you, lady,” said the prisoner, kneeling at her feet. + +“Nay. I pray you, sir, Captain Bezan, do not kneel at such a time.” + +“Ah! lady, how can I thank you in feeble words for this sweet ray of +sunshine that you have cast athwart my dark and dreary path? I no +longer remember that I am to die-that my former comrades are to pierce +my heart with bullets. I cannot remember my fate, lady, since you have +rendered me so happy. You have shown me that I did not mistake the +throne at which I have secretly worshipped-that, all good and pure as +you are, you would not forget Lorenzo Bezan, the poor, the lonely +soldier who had dared to tell you how dearly he loved you.” + +As he spoke, Isabella Gonzales seemed for one moment to forget herself +in the realizations of the scene. She listened to his thrice eloquent +words with eyes bent upon the ground at first, and then gazing tenderly +upon him, and now that he had ceased to speak, they sought once more +the floor of the room in silence. He could not but construe these +delicate demonstrations in his favor, and drawing close to her side, he +pressed her hand tenderly to his lips. The touch seemed to act like +magic, and aroused her to present consciousness, while she started as +if in amazement. All the pride of her disposition was instantly +aroused; she felt that for a single moment she had forgotten herself, +and to retrieve the apparent acquiescence that she had seemed to show +to the condemned soldier’s words and tale of love, she now appeared to +think that she must assume all the hauteur of character that usually +governed her in her intercourse with his sex and the world generally. +It was but a simple struggle, and all her self-possession was rallied +again to her service and absolute control. + +“Captain Bezan,” she said, with assumed dignity, and drawing herself up +in all her beauty of to person to its full height, “I came not hither +to hear such talk as this from you, nor to submit to such familiarity, +and I trust, sir, that you will henceforth remember your station, and +respect mine.” + +The breast of the prisoner heaved with inward emotion, in the struggle +to suppress its outward show, and he bit his lips until the blood +nearly flowed. His face instantly became the picture of despair; for +her words had planted that grief and sorrow in his heart which the fear +of death could not arouse there. Even Isabella Gonzales seemed for a +moment struck with the effect of her repulse; but her own proud heart +would not permit her to recall one word she had uttered. + +“I would not leave you, Captain Bezan,” said she, at length, as she +gathered the ample folds of the cloak about her, “without once more +tendering to you my most earnest thanks for your great services to our +family. You know to what I refer. I need not tell you,” she continued, +with a quivering lip, “that my father has done all in his power to have +your sentence remitted, but, alas! to no effect. Tacon seems to be +resolved, and unchangeable.” + +As she spoke thus, spite of all her assumed pride and self-control, a +tear trembled in her eye, and her respiration came quickly-almost in +sobs! + +The young soldier looked at her silently for a moment; at first he +seemed puzzled; he was weighing in his own mind the meaning of all this +as contrasted with the repulse he had just received, and with the +estimate he had before formed of her; at last, seeming to read the +spirit that had possessed her, he said: + +“Ah, lady, I bless you a thousand times for that tear!” + +“Nay, sir, I do not understand you,” she said, quickly. + +“Not your own heart either, lady, else you disguise its truth. Ah! why +should all this be so? why should hearts be thus masked?” + +“Sir, this is positive impertinence,” said Isabella Gonzales, +struggling once more to summon her pride to sustain her. + +“Impertinence, lady?” repeated the prisoner, sadly. + +“That was my word, sir,” answered the proud girl, with assumed +harshness. + +“No, it would be impossible for me, on the very brink of the grave, to +say aught but the truth; and I love you too deeply, too fervently, to +be impertinent. You do not know me, lady. In my heart I have reared an +altar to worship at, and that shrine for three years has been thy +dearly loved form. How dearly and passionately I have loved-what a +chastening influence it has produced upon my life, my comrades, who +know not yet the cause, could tell you. To-morrow I must die. While I +hoped one day to win your love, life was most dear to me, and I was +happy. I could then have clung to life with as much tenacity as any +one. But, lady, I find that I have been mistaken; my whole dream of +fancy, of love, is gone, and life is no better to me than a burden. I +speak not in haste, nor in passion. You must bear me witness that I am +calm and collected; and I assure you that the bullets which end my +existence will be but swift-winged messengers of peace to my already +broken heart!” + +“Captain Bezan,” said Isabella, hesitating, and hardly speaking +distinctly. + +“Well, lady?” + +“How could you have so deceived yourself? How could you possibly +suppose that one in your sphere of life could hope to be united to one +in mine?” asked Isabella Gonzales, with a half averted face and a +trembling voice, as she spoke. “It was foolhardy, sir; it was more than +that; it was preposterous!” + +“Lady, you are severe.” + +“I speak but truth, Captain Bezan, and your own good sense will sustain +it.” + +“I forgot your birth and rank, your wealth-everything. I acknowledge +this, in the love I bore you; and, lady, I still feel, that had not my +career been thus summarily checked, I might yet have won your love. +Nay, lady, do not frown; true love never despairs-never is +disheartened—never relinquishes the object that it loves, while there +is one ray of light yet left to guide it on. It did seem to me now, +when we are parting so surely forever, that it might have been, on your +part, more kindly, and that you would, by a smile, or even a tear-drop, +for my sake, have thus blessed me, and lightened my heavy steps to the +field of execution and of trial.” + +Isabella Gonzales, as she listened to his words, could no longer +suppress her feelings, but covering her face with her hands, she wept +for a moment like a child. Pride was of no avail; the heart had +asserted its supremacy, and would not be controlled. + +“You take advantage of my woman’s heart, sir,” she said, at last. “I +cannot bear the idea that any one should suffer, and more particularly +one who has endeared himself to me and mine by such important service +as you have done. Do not think that tears argue aught for the wild tale +you have uttered, sir. I would not have you deceive yourself so much; +but I am a woman, and cannot view violence or grief unmoved!” + +“Say, rather, lady,” added the soldier, most earnestly, “that you are +pure, beautiful, and good at heart, but that pride, that only alloy of +thy most lovely character, chokes its growth in your bosom.” + +“Sir!” + +“Well, Senorita Isabella.” + +“Enough of this,” she said, hastily and much excited. “I must leave you +now, captain. It is neither fitting that I should hear, nor that you +should utter such words as these to Isabella Gonzales. Farewell!” + +“Lady, farewell,” replied the prisoner, more by instinct than by any +comprehension that she was actually about to leave him. + +“I pray you, Captain Bezan, do not think that I cherish any unkind +thoughts towards you,” she said, turning when at the door; “on the +contrary, I am by no means unmindful of my indebtedness to you; but far +be it from me to sanction a construction of my feelings or actions +which my heart will not second.” + +“Lady, your word is law to me,” replied the submissive prisoner. + +When she had gone, and the rough grating of the turnkey’s instruments +had done sounding in his ear, Captain Bezan remained a moment looking +upon the slot where she had stood, with apparent amazement. He could +not realize that she had been there at all; and hardest of all, that +she had left him so abruptly. But her “farewell” still rang in his +ears, and throwing himself upon his rude seat, with his face buried in +his hands, he exclaimed: + +“Welcome, welcome death! I would that thou wert here already!” + +After a few moments thus passed, as it were, in the very depths of +despair, he rose and walked his dreary cell in a sad and silent +reverie, a reviewal of all these matters. + +“How I have mistaken that beautiful creature, how idolized, how loved +her! I knew that there was much, ay, very much, of pride in her heart. +I knew the barriers that rose between her and me; but, alas, I thought +them not so very at high, so very impregnable. I would not, could not, +have believed that she would have left me thus. It was our last +farewell. She might have been more kind; might, without much risk of +loss of pride have permitted me such a parting as should have rendered +my last hours happy! Alas! alas! what toys of fortune we are; what +straws for every breeze to shake-for every wind to shatter! + +“We set our hearts upon an object, and blinded by our warm desires, +believe, like children, that which we hope for. I have never paused to +think in this matter of my love, I have been led ont too precipitately +by the brilliancy of the star that I followed; its light blinded me to +all other influences; and, too truly, I feel it, blinded me to reason +also. Isabella Gonzales, the belle of this brilliant city, the courted, +beloved, rich, proud Isabella Gonzales; what else might I have +expected, had one moment been permitted to me for reason, for cool +reflection. I was mad in my fond and passionate love; I was blind in my +folly, to ever dream of success. But the end will soon be here, and I +shall be relieved from this agonizing fever at my heart, this woeful +pain of disappointed love, of broken-heartedness.” + +He folded his arms, and permitting his head to sink upon his breast, +sat down, the very picture of despair. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. +THE EXECUTION SCENE. + + +The morning was bright and beautiful that ushered in the day which was +appointed for the execution of Captain Lorenzo Bezan, in accordance +with the sentence passed upon him. The birds carolled gaily in the +little grove that is formed about the fountain which fronts the +governor-general’s palace and the main barracks of the army, while the +fresh, soft air from inland came loaded with delicious flavors and +sweet aroma. Nature could hardly have assumed a more captivating mood +than she wore at that time. + +The soldiers, who sauntered about the Plaza, and hung around the doors +of the guard house, wore an air quite different from that which the +bright and beautiful tropical morning might be supposed to induce. They +knew only too well of the tragedy that was that day to enacted; such +occasions-the spilling of the tide of life, in cold blood-suited not +their chivalrous notions at any time, much less so now, for they loved +the officer who was to lose his life-a victim to Harero-whom, again, +few men respected, either as a soldier or a man-his character was +repulsive to nearly all. + +“So the captain is to be shot to-day,” remarked one of Captain Bezan’s +own company, to a comrade whom he had just met in the Plaza. + +“Yes, I had rather it had been—” + +“Hush, Alonzo,” said his companion, observing General Harero walking +across the street. + +“That is he, and he is the only man I ever saw,” continued the officer, +“that I would like to see shot in cold blood. Poor Bezan, he’s +sacrificed to the general!” + +“I wonder what gave the trouble between them.” + +“Don’t know; some say there’s a lady in the case.” + +“I hadn’t heard of that.” + +“Yes, you know he challenged the general?” + +“Yes,” + +“Well, that was about a lady, in some way; I heard one of the officers +say so.” + +“The first file do the business.” + +“Yes, and thankful am I, Alonzo, that you and I are in the fourth +section.” + +The hour appointed for the execution of the sentence had nearly +arrived, and the steady roll of the drum beat the regiment to which +Captain Bezan’s company belonged, to the line. His own immediate +company was formed on the side of the Plaza at right angles with the +rest of the line, in all some thousand rank and file. This company +“stood at ease,” and the men hung their heads, as if ashamed of the +business they were about to perform. In the rest of the line the men +exchanged a few words with each other, now and then, quietly, but the +company referred to, spoke not a word. to each other. Their officers +stood in a little knot by themselves, and evidently felt sad at heart +when they remembered the business before them, for their comrade +condemned to die had been a universal favorite with them. + +But a few moments transpired, after the forming of the line, before an +aid-de-camp approached and transmitted an order to the +first-lieutenant, now commanding the company, and the first file of +twelve men were marched away to the rear of the barracks, while the +rest of the company were sent to the prison to do guard duty in +escorting the prisoner to the ground. It seemed to them as though this +additional insult might have been spared to the prisoner-that of being +guarded by his late command, in place of any other portion of the +regiment being detailed for this service. But this was General Harero’s +management, who seemed to gloat in his own diabolical purposes. + +In the meantime the prisoner had risen that morning from his damp, rude +couch, and had completed his simple toilet with more than usual +neatness. After offering up a sincere prayer, and listening to the +words of the priest who had been sent to prepare him for the last hour, +he declared calmly that he was ready to die. He had looked for Ruez +Gonzales, and wondered not a little that the boy had not come to bid +him farewell that morning-a last, long farewell. + +“Perhaps his young heart was too full for him to do so,” said the +doomed soldier; “and yet I should have felt happier to see him again. +It is strange how much his purity and gentleness of character have +caused me to love him. Next to Isabella Gonzales, surely that boy is +nearest to my heart. Poor Ruez will miss me, for the boy loves me +much.” + +As he mused thus to himself, the steady and regular tread of armed men +was heard approaching his prison door, and the young soldier knew full +well for what purpose they came. In a few moments after, he who had +formerly been his second in command entered the cell and saluted the +prisoner respectfully. + +“Captain Bezan,” said the lieutenant, “I need not explain in detail to +you the very unpleasant business upon which I have been at this time +sent, nor add,” continued the officer, in a lower tone of voice, “how +much I regret the fate that awaits you.” + +“Nay, Ferdinand,” answered Captain Bezan, calmly, “say nothing of the +matter, but give me your hand, my friend, and do your duty.” + +“Would to God I could in any way avoid it, Lorenzo,” said his brother +officer, who had long been associated with him, and who had loved him +well. + +“Regrets are useless, Ferdinand. You know we all have our allotted +time, and mine has come. You shall see that I will die like a soldier.” + +“Ay, Lorenzo; but in such a way; so heartlessly, so needlessly, so in +cold blood; alas! why were you so imprudent? I am no woman, comrade. +You have fought in the same field, and slept in the same tent with me +oftentimes, and you know that I have laid the sod upon my companion’s +breast without a murmur, without a complaint; but this business is too +much for me!” + +“Fie, fie, man,” said the prisoner, with assumed indifference; “look +upon it as a simple duty; you but fulfil an order, and there’s the end +of it.” + +“I can’t, for the life of me, I can’t!” + +“Why, my good fellow, come to think of it, you should not complain, of +all others, since it gives you promotion and the command of our brave +boys.” + +A look of deep reproach was the only answer he received to this remark. + +“Forgive me, Ferdinand, forgive me, I did but jest,” he continued, +quickly, as he again grasped the hand of his comrade between his own. + +“Say no more, Lorenzo. Is there aught I can do for you before we +march?” + +“Nothing.” + +“No little boon-no service you would like to trust to a friend and +comrade?” + +“My papers are all arranged and addressed to you, with directions how I +should like to have them disposed of. There is nothing else, +Ferdinand.” + +“It will be my melancholy pleasure to follow your wishes implicitly,” +was the reply. + +“Thank you, Ferdinand.” + +“Is that all?” + +“All.” + +“Then we must at once away.” + +“One moment-stay, Ferdinand; tell my poor boys who act the +executioners, those of the first file, to fire low-at my heart, +Ferdinand! You will remember?” + +“Alas! yes,” said his comrade, turning suddenly away from the prisoner. + +“And tell them, Ferdinand, that I most heartily and sincerely forgive +them for the part they are called upon to play in this day’s drama.” + +“I will-I will.” + +“That is all. I have no other request, and am prepared now to follow +you,” he added, with a calm and resigned expression of countenance. + +The drum beat-the file opened-the prisoner took his position, and the +detachment of men whom he had so often commanded amid the carnage of +battle and the roar of cannon, now guarded him towards the place of his +execution. + +Lorenzo Bezan had but a little way to march; but still a blush suffused +his face as he passed, thus humiliated, through the public Plaza, where +he had so often paraded his company before. All eyes were low bent upon +him, from the humblest to the highest, for he was well known, and his +fate had created much remark among all. He was marched quietly to the +rear of the barracks, and as the company filed by the guard house, to +the long open space on the city side, just opposite Moro Castle, he +distinctly heard a voice from one of the windows say: + +“God bless and help you, Captain Bezan!” + +He turned partially round to see the speaker, but no one was visible. +He was sure it was Ruez’s voice, and wondering why he did not come +forward to meet his eye, he marched on to the plain where the entire +division of General Harero’s command was drawn up to witness the scene. +It is difficult to conceive, and much more so to describe, such an +impressive sight as presented itself at this moment to the spectator. +There was so much mockery in the brilliant uniforms, flaunting plumes +and gilded accoutrements of the soldiery, when contrasted with the +purpose of the scene, that one could hardly contemplate the sight even +for a moment with ordinary composure. + +The prisoner, attended by a private and two officers, was led to his +position, where, divested of his coat, he stood simply in his linen and +nether garments, and quietly submitted to have his hands bound behind +him, while he exchanged a few pleasant words with those who were about +him. At a signal from the provost marshal, one of the officers essayed +to bind a handkerchief before his eyes, but at an earnest request to +the contrary by the prisoner, he desisted, and in a moment after he +stood alone beside the open grave that had been dug to receive his +remains! + +Behind him rolled the ocean, mingling with the waters of the Gulf +Stream; on either side were ranged the long line of infantry that +formed his division, while in front was ranged his own company, and +some ten yards in front of them stood the file of thirteen men who were +to be his executioners. They had just been supplied with their muskets +by an officer, and were told that one was without ball, that each one +might hope his was not the hand to slay his former comrade in arms. +Another signal from the provost, and the lieutenant commanding Captain +Bezan’s company advanced from the rear to the side of the first file to +his regular position, at the same time saying in a low voice: + +“Fire low, my men, as you love our former comrade-aim at his heart!” + +A glance, and a sad one of intelligence, was all he could receive from +the men. Two or three successive orders brought the file to the proper +position for firing. + +At that moment Lorenzo Bezan, with a slight exertion of the great +physical strength which he possessed, easily broke the cords asunder +that bound his wrists behind him, and dashing the dark hair from his +high and manly forehead, he calmly folded his arms upon his breast, and +awaited the fire that was to end his existence. The fearful word was +given by the officer, and so still was every one, so breathless the +whole scene, that the order was distinctly heard through the entire +length of the lines. + +The morning sun shone like living fire along the polished barrels of +the guns, as the muzzles all ranged in point towards the heart of the +condemned. In spite of the effort not to do so, the officer paused +between the order to aim, and that to fire. The word appeared to stick +in his throat, and he opened his mouth twice before he could utter the +order; but at last he did so, distinctly, though with a powerful +effort. + +The, sharp, quick report of the muskets that followed this order, +seemed to jar upon every heart among that military throng, except, +indeed, of him who sat upon a large dapple gray horse, at the right of +the line, and whose insignia bespoke him to be the commanding officer, +General Harero. He sat upon his horse like a statue, with a calm but +determined expression upon his features, while a stern smile might be +observed to wreathe his lips for an instant at the report of the guns +fired by the executing file. + +But see, as the smoke steadily sweeps to seaward, for a moment it +completely covers the spot where the victim stood, and now it sweeps +swiftly off over the water. But what means that singular murmur so +audible along the line-that movement of surprise and astonishment +observed in all directions? + +Behold, there stood erect the unharmed form of Lorenzo Bezan! Not a +hair of his head was injured; not a line of his noble countenance was +in the least distorted. As calm as though nought had happened, he stood +there unmoved. He had so braced himself to the effort, that nothing +human could have unnerved him. Hastily directing an aid-de-camp to the +spot with some new order, General Harero issued another to his officers +for the lines to be kept firm, and preparations were instantly set +about for another and more certain attempt upon the life of the +condemned, who seemed to the spectators to have escaped by some divine +interposition, little less than a miracle. + +At that instant there dashed into the area a mounted aid-de-camp, +bearing the uniform of the governor-general’s suite, and riding +directly up to General Harero, he handed him a paper. It was done +before the whole line of military and the spectators, all of whom +seemed to know as well its purport, as did the general after reading +it. + +“A reprieve! A reprieve!” ran from mouth to mouth along the whole +length of the line, until at last it broke out in one wild huzza, +defying all discipline. + +Those nearest to General Harero heard him utter a curse, deep but +suppressed, for the surmise of the multitude was correct. Captain Bezan +had been reprieved; and, probably, in fear of this very thing, the +general of the division had taken upon himself to set the time of +execution one hour earlier than had been announced to Tacon-a piece of +villany that had nearly cut off the young soldier from the clemency +that the governor had resolved to extend to him at the very last +moment, when the impressiveness of the scene should have had its +effect. + +Issuing one or two hasty orders, General Harero put spurs to his horse +and dashed off the grounds with chagrin but too plainly written in his +face not to betray itself. He could even detect a hiss now and then +from the crowd, as he passed; and one or two, bolder than the rest, +cast epithets at him in vile language, but he paused not to listen. He +was no favorite with citizens or soldiers, and hastily dismounting at +the door of the palace, he sought his own room with deep feelings of +suppressed rage and bitterness. + +But what was the meaning of those twelve musketeers all missing their +aim? So vexed was General Harero at this, that his first order was for +their united arrest; but that had been countermanded now, since the +governor had reprieved the prisoner; for the general saw that he stood +in a false position, in having changed the hour for execution, and did +not care to provoke a controversy that might lead to his exposure +before the stern justice of Tacon, and he did well to avoid it. + +It was very plain to officers and men that there had been foul play +somewhere, and so excited had the division become by this time, that +the officers began to look seriously at each other, fearing an +immediate outbreak and disregard of discipline. It was a time to try +the troops, if one had ever occurred. They would have stood firm and +have received an enemy’s fire without wavering; but there seemed some +cold-blooded rascality here, in the arriving of the reprieve after the +twelve men had fired, even though they did so ineffectually. + +Quick, stern orders were quickly passed from line to line, the division +was wheeled into column, the drums beat a quick march, and the whole +column passed up the Calle del Iganasio towards the front of the main +barracks, where, lest the symptoms, already referred to, should ripen +into something more serious still, orders were issued to keep the +division still under arms. In the meantime, Captain Lorenzo Bezan, +still as calm as though nought had occurred, was marched back to his +cell in the prison, to hear the conditions upon which the reprieve, as +dictated by Tacon, was granted. As he passed the guard house again, on +his return, he heard his name called as he had heard it when he marched +with the guard: + +“God bless you, Captain Bezan!” + +“Strange,” thought the prisoner-he knew it for Ruez Gonzales’s voice at +once; “where can that boy be secreted?” He mused for a second of time. +This was the portion of the guard room where the officer on duty had +loaded the guns for his execution, and from here they had been taken +and passed into the hands of the men. It did not require much +penetration on the part of the reprieved soldier to understand now the +reason why these twelve men had missed their aim! + +Had they exercised the skill of Kentucky sharp-shooters they could have +done no harm; blank cartridges don’t kill. But how unexpected, how +miraculous it appeared, how strange the sensations of the young +officer, after that loud sounding discharge, to find himself standing +thus unharmed,—no wound, no bullet whistling by his ears, the dead, +sluggish smoke alone enveloping his person for a moment, and then, as +it swept away seaward, the shout of the astonished division rang upon +his senses. He felt that all eyes were upon him, and adamant itself +could not have remained firmer than did he. Few men would have +possessed sufficient self-control to bear themselves thus; but he was a +soldier, and had often dared the bullet of the enemy. He was familiar +with the whistling of bullets, and other sounds that carry on their +wings the swift-borne messengers of death. Besides this, there was an +indifference as to life, existing in his bosom at that moment, that led +him to experience a degree of apathy that it would be difficult for us +to describe, or for the reader to realize. He felt as he did when he +exclaimed, in his lonely cell in prison, as he was left for the last +time by her he so loved—“Welcome, welcome, death! I would that thou +wert here already!” + +How it was accomplished, of course he knew not; nor could he hardly +surmise in his own mind, so very strictly is the care of such matters +attended to under all like circumstances; but one thing he felt +perfectly sure of, and indeed he was right in his conjecture—Ruez had +drawn the bullets from the guns! + + + + +CHAPTER X. +THE BANISHMENT. + + +Lorenzo Bezan had hardly reached his place of confinement, once more, +before he was waited upon by the secretary of the governor-general, who +explained to him the terms on which his reprieve was granted, viz., +that he should leave the territory and soil of Cuba by the next +homeward bound packet to Spain, to remain there, unless otherwise +ordered by special direction of the government. His rank as captain of +infantry was secured to him, and the usual exhortation in such cases +was detailed, as to the hope that the present example might not be lost +upon him, as to the matter of a more strict adherence to the subject of +military discipline. + +Repugnant as was the proposition to leave the island while life was +his, Lorenzo Bezan had no alternative but to do so; and, moreover, when +he considered the attraction that held him on the spot, how the +Senorita Isabella Gonzales had treated him, when she had every reason +to believe that it was his last meeting with her, and nearly the last +hour of his life, he saw that if she would treat him thus at such a +moment, then, when he had not the excuse of remarkable exigency and the +prospect of certain death before him, she would be no kinder. It was +while exercised by such thoughts as these that he answered the +secretary: + +“Bear my thanks, with much respect, to the governor-general, and tell +him that I accept from him his noble clemency and justice, the boon of +my life, on his own terms.” + +The secretary bowed low and departed. + +We might tell the reader how Lorenzo Bezan threw himself upon his bed +of straw, and wept like a child-how he shed there the first tears he +had shed since his arrest, freely and without a check. His heart seemed +to bleed more at the idea of leaving the spot where Isabella lived, and +yet to live on himself, elsewhere, than his spirit had faltered at the +idea of certain death. Her last cruel words, and the proud spirit she +exhibited towards him, were constantly before his eyes. + +“O,” said he, half aloud, “how I have worshipped, how adored that +fairest of God’s creatures!” + +At moments he had thought that he saw through Isabella’s character-at +moments had truly believed that he might by assiduity, perhaps, if +favored by fortune, win her love, and, may be, her hand in marriage. At +any rate, with his light and buoyant heart, there was sunshine and hope +enough in the future to irradiate his soul with joy, until the last +scene in his drama of life, added to that of her last cold farewell! + +He was soon informed that the vessel which was to take him to Spain +would sail on the following morning, and that no further time would be +permitted to him on the island. He resolved to write one last letter of +farewell to Isabella Gonzales, and then to depart; and calling upon the +turnkey for writing materials, which were now supplied to him, he wrote +as follows:” + +“DEAR LADY: Strange circumstances, with which you are doubtless well +acquainted by this time, have changed my punishment from death to +banishment. Under ordinary circumstances it would hardly be called +banishment for any person to be sent from a foreign clime to the place +of his nativity; nor would it appear to be such to me, were it not that +I leave behind me the only being I have ever really loved-the idol +angel of my heart-she who has been to me life, soul, everything, until +now, when I am wretched beyond description; because without hope, all +things would be as darkness to the human heart. + +“I need not review our brief acquaintanceship, or reiterate to you the +feelings I have already expressed. If you can judge between true love +and gallantry, you know whether I am sincere or otherwise. I could not +offer you wealth, Isabella Gonzales. I could not offer you rank. I have +no fame to share with you; but O, if it be the will of Heaven that +another should call you wife, I pray that he may love you as I have +done. I am not so selfish but that I can utter this prayer with all my +heart, and in the utmost sincerity. + +“The object of this hasty scrawl is once more to say to you farewell; +for it is sweet to me even to address you. May God bless your dear +brother, who has done much to sustain me, bowed down as I have been +with misfortune, and broken in spirit; and may the especial blessing of +Heaven rest ever on and around you. + +“This will ever be the nightly prayer of LORENZO BEZAN.” + +When Isabella Gonzales received this note on the following day, its +author was nearly a dozen leagues at sea, bound for the port of Cadiz, +Spain! She hastily perused its contents again and again. looked off +upon the open sea, as though she might be able to recall him, threw +herself upon her couch, and wept bitter, scalding tears, until weary +nature caused her to sleep. + +At last Ruez stole into her room quietly, and finding her asleep, and a +tear-drop glistening still upon her cheek, he kissed away the pearly +dew and awoke her once more to consciousness. He, too, had learned of +Captain Bezan’s sudden departure; and by the open letter in his +sister’s hand, to which he saw appended his dearly loved friend’s name, +he judged that her weeping had been caused by the knowledge that he had +left them-probably forever. + +Lorenzo Bezan should have seen her then, in her almost transcendent +beauty, too proud, far too proud, to own even to herself that she loved +the poor soldier; yet her heart would thus unbidden and spontaneously +betray itself, in spite of all her proud calmness, and strong efforts +at self-control. The boy looked at her earnestly; twice he essayed to +speak, and then, as if some after thought had changed his purpose, he +kissed her again, and was silent. + +“Well, brother, it seems that Captain Bezan has been liberated and +pardoned, after all,” said Isabella, with a voice of assumed +indifference. + +“Yes, sister, but at a sad cost; for he has been banished to Spain.” + +“How strange he was not shot, when so many fired at him.” + +“Sister?” + +“Well.” + +“Can you keep a secret?” + +“I think so, Ruez,” said Isabella, half smiling at the question of her +brother. + +“Well, it’s not so very wonderful, since I drew the bullets from the +guns!” + +And Ruez explained to her that he had secreted himself in the house, +with the hope that something might turn up to save his friend even yet, +and there he had found a chance to draw the bullets from the twelve +muskets. After he had told her, she threw her arms about his neck, and +said: + +“You are a dear, good brother.” + +“And for what, sister?” + +“For saving Captain Bezan’s life; for otherwise he had been shot.” + +“But why do you care so much about it, sister?” asked the boy, +seriously. + +“O, nothing, only-that is, you know, Ruez, we owe Captain Bezan so much +ourselves for having hazarded his life for us all.” + +Ruez turned away from his sister with an expression in his face that +made her start; for he began to read his sister’s heart, young as he +was, better than she knew it herself. He loved Lorenzo Bezan so dearly +himself-had learned to think so constantly of him, and to regard him +with such friendly consideration, that no influence of pride could in +the least affect him; and though he had sufficient penetration to +pierce through the subject so far as to realize that his dearly loved +friend regarded his sister with a most ardent and absorbing love, he +could not exactly understand the proud heart of Isabella, which, save +for its pride, would so freely return the condemned soldier’s +affection. + +Well, time passed on in its ever-varying round. Lorenzo Bezan was on +his way to Spain, and Isabella and her brother filling nearly the same +round of occupation, either of amusement or self-imposed duty. +Occasionally General Harero called; but this was put a stop to, at +last, by Ruez’s pertinently asking him one evening how he came to order +the execution of Lorenzo Bezan to take place a full hour before the +period announced in the regular sentence signed by the +governor-general! + +Ruez was not the first person who had put this question to him, and he +felt sore about it, for even Tacon himself had reprimanded him for the +deed. Thus realizing that his true character was known to Don Gonzales +and his family, he gave up the hope of winning Isabella Gonzales, or +rather the hope of sharing her father’s rich coffers, and quietly +withdrew himself from a field of action where he had gained nothing, +but had lost much, both as it regarded this family, and, owing to his +persecution of Captain Bezan, that of the army. + +Isabella Gonzales became thoughtful and melancholy without exactly +knowing why. She avoided company, and often incurred her father’s +decided displeasure by absenting herself from the drawing-room when +there were visitors of importance. She seemed to be constantly in a +dreamy and moody state, and avoided all her former haunts and +companions. A skilful observer might have told her the cause of all +this, and yet, strange to say, so blind did her pride render her, that +she could not see, or at least never acknowledged even to herself, that +the absent soldier had aught to do with it. + +Had not Isabella Gonzales treated Lorenzo Bezan as she did at their +last meeting, he would never have accepted the governor-general’s +pardon on the terms offered, nor life itself, if it separated him from +her he loved. But as it was, he seemed to feel that life had lost its +charm, ambition its incentive for him, and he cast himself forth upon +the troubled waters without compass or rudder. And it was precisely in +this spirit that he found himself upon the deck of the vessel, whose +white wings were wafting him now across the ocean. + +He, too, was misanthropic and unhappy; he tried to reason with himself +that Isabella Gonzales was not worthy to render him thus miserable; +that she was a coquette-an unfeeling, though beautiful girl; that even +had he succeeded, and fortune favored him in his love, she would not +have loved him its his heart craved to be loved. But all this sophistry +was overthrown in a moment by the memory of one dear glance, when +Isabella, off her guard, and her usual hauteur of manner for the +instant, had looked through her eyes the whole truthfulness of her +soul; in short, when her heart, not her head, had spoken! + +Alas! how few of us feel as we do; how few do as we feel! + +Perhaps there is no better spot than on shipboard for a dreamer to be; +he has then plenty of time, plenty of space, plenty of theme, and every +surrounding, to turn his thoughts inward upon himself. Lorenzo Bezan +found this so. At times he looked down into the still depths of the +blue water, and longed for the repose that seemed to look up to him +from below the waves. He had thought, perhaps, too long upon this +subject one soft, calm evening, and had indeed forgotten himself, as it +were, and another moment would have seen the working of what seemed a +sort of irresistible charm to him, and he would have cast himself into +that deep, inviting oblivion! + +Then a voice seemed to whisper Isabella’s name in his ear! He started, +looked about him, and awoke from the fearful charm that held him. It +was his good angel that breathed that name to him then, and saved him +from the curse of the suicide! + +From that hour a strange feeling seemed to possess the young soldier. +Like him in Shakspeare’s “Seven Ages,” he passed from love to ambition. +A new charm seemed to awake to him in the future, not to the desertion +of his love, nor yet exactly to its promotion. An indefinite idea +seemed to move him that he must win fame, glory and renown; and yet he +hardly paused to think what the end of these would be; whether they +would ultimately bring him nearer to the proud girl of his hopes and +his love. Fame rang in his ears; the word seemed to fire his veins; he +was humble-he must be honored; he was poor-he must be rich; he was +unknown-he must be renowned! With such thoughts as these, his pulses +beat quicker, his eye flashed, and his check became flushed, and then +one tender thought of Isabella would change every current, and almost +moisten those bloodshot eyes with tears. Would to God that Lorenzo +Bezan could now but shed a tear-what gentle yet substantial relief it +would have afforded him. + +Thus was the exiled soldier influenced; while Isabella Gonzales was, as +we have seen, still living on under the veil of her pride; unable, +apparently, for one single moment to draw the curtain, and look with +naked eye upon the real picture of her feelings, actions, and honest +affections. She felt, plain enough, that she was miserable; indeed the +flood of tears she daily shed betrayed this to her. But her proud +Castilian blood was the phase through which alone she saw, or could +see. It was impossible for her to banish Lorenzo Bezan from her mind; +but yet she stoutly refused to admit, even to herself, that she +regarded him with affection-he, a lowly soldier, a child of the camp, a +myrmidon of fortune-he a fit object for the love of Isabella Gonzales, +the belle of Havana, to whom princes had bowed? Preposterous! + +Her brother, whose society she seemed to crave more than ever, said +nothing; he did not even mention the name of the absent one, but he +secretly moaned for him, until the pale color that had slightly tinged +his check began to fade, and Don Gonzales trembled for the boy’s life. +It was his second bereavement. His mother’s loss, scarcely yet +outgrown, had tried his gentle heart to its utmost tension; this new +bereavement to his sensitive mind, seemed really too much for him. A +strange sympathy existed between Isabella and the boy, who, though +Lorenzo Bezan’s name was never mentioned, yet seemed to know what each +other was thinking of. + +But in the meantime, while these feelings were actuating Isabella and +her brother at Havana, Lorenzo Bezan had reached Cadiz, and was on his +way to the capital of Spain, Madrid. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. +THE PROMOTION. + + +We have already given the reader a sufficient idea of Lorenzo Bezan, +for him to understand that he was a person possessed of more than +ordinary manliness and personal beauty. A distinguished and chivalric +bearing was one of his main characteristics, and you could hardly have +passed him in a crowd, without noting his fine manly physical +appearance, and strikingly intelligent features. Fired with the new +ambition which we have referred to in the closing of the last chapter, +Lorenzo Bezan arrived in the capital of his native land, ready and +eager to engage in any enterprise that called for bravery and daring, +and which in return promised honor and preferment. + +Tacon, governor-general of Cuba, had marked his qualities well, and +therefore wrote by the same conveyance that took the young soldier to +Spain, to the head of the war department, and told them of what stuff +he was composed, and hinted at the possibility of at once placing him +in the line of his rank, and of giving him, if possible, active service +to perform. Tacon’s opinion and wishes were highly respected at Madrid, +and Lorenzo Bezan found himself at once placed in the very position he +would have desired-the command of as fine a company, of the regular +service as the army could boast, and his rank and position thoroughly +restored. + +There was just at that period a revolt of the southern and western +provinces of Spain, which, owing to inactivity on the part of +government, had actually ripened into a regularly organized rebellion +against the throne. News at last reached the queen that regular bodies +of troops had been raised and enlisted, under well known leaders, and +that unless instant efforts were made to suppress the rising, the whole +country would be shortly involved in civil war. In this emergency the +troops, such its could be spared, were at once detached from the +capital and sent to various points in the disaffected region to quell +the outbreak. Among the rest was the company of Lorenzo Bezan and two +others of the same regiment, and being the senior officer, young as he +was, he was placed in command of the battalion, and the post to which +he was to march at once, into the very heart of the disaffected +district. + +Having arrived in the neighborhood of the spot to which his orders had +directed him, he threw his whole force, some less than three hundred +men, into one of the old Moorish fortifications, still extant, and with +the provisions and ammunition he had brought with him, entrenched +himself, and prepared to scour and examine the surrounding country. His +spies soon brought him intelligence of the defeat of two similar +commands to his own, sent out at the same time to meet the insurgents; +and, also, that their partial success had very naturally elated them in +the highest degree. That they were regularly organized into regiments, +with their stands of colors, and proper officers, and that one regiment +had been sent to take the fort where he was, and would shortly be in +the neighborhood. + +Lorenzo Bezan was a thorough soldier; he looked to the details of all +the plans and orders he issued, so that when the enemy appeared in +sight, they found him ready to receive them. They were fully thrice his +number, but they had a bad cause and poor leaders, and he feared not +for the result. On they came, in the fullness of confidence, after +having already participated in two victories over the regular troops; +but they had, though a younger, yet a far better and more courageous +officer to deal with in Captain Bezan. The fight was long and bloody, +but ere night came on the insurgents were compelled to retire, after +having lost nearly one third of their number in the contest. + +The camp of the insurgents was pitched some half mile from the old fort +occupied by Captain Bezan and his followers, just beneath the brow of a +sheltering undulation of ground. Night overshadowed the field, and it +was still as death over the battle field, when Captain Bezan, summoning +his followers, told them that the enemy lay yonder in sleep; they could +not anticipate a sally, and from a confidential spy he had ascertained +that they had not even set a sentinel. + +“I shall lead you out this night to attack them; take only your +weapons. If we are defeated, we shall want nothing more; if victorious, +we shall return to our post and our munitions.” + +He had lost scarcely two score of his men in the fight, protected as +they were by the walls of the fortress, while the besiegers were +entirely exposed to the fire of musketry, and the two small cannon they +had brought with them, and so they entered into the daring plan of +their commander with the utmost zeal. They were instructed as to the +plan more fully, and at midnight, as the last rays of the moon sank +below the horizon, they quietly filed forth from the fortress and +turned towards the insurgents’ camp. Slowly and silently they stole +across the plain, without note of drum or fife, and headed by their +young commander, until they reached the brow of the little elevation, +beyond which the enemy lay sleeping, some in tents, some on the open +field, and all unguarded. + +The signal was given, and the small band of disciplined men fell upon +the camp. Lorenzo Bezan with some fifty picked followers sought the +head quarters of the camp, and having fought their way thither, +possessed themselves of the standards, and made prisoner of the leader +of the body of insurgents, and ere the morning sun had risen, the camp +was deserted, the enemy, totally defeated, had fled, or been taken +prisoners and bound, and the victorious little band of the queen’s +troops were again housed within the walls of the fortress. + +But their fighting was not to end here; a second body of the enemy, +incensed as much by the loss of their comrades as elated by various +victories over other detachments of the army, fell upon them; but they +were met with such determined spirit and bravery, and so completely did +Lorenzo Bezan infuse his own manly and resolved spirit into the hearts +of his followers, that the second comers were routed, their banners +taken, and themselves dispersed. These two victories, however, had cost +him dear; half his little gallant band had lost their lives, and there +were treble their number of prisoners securely confined within the +fortress. + +Fresh troops were despatched, in reply to his courier, to escort these +to the capital, and an order for himself and the rest of his command to +return to Madrid, forthwith. This summons was of course complied with, +and marching the remnant of his command to the capital, Captain Bezan +reported himself again at head quarters. Here he found his services had +been, if possible, overrated, and himself quite lionized. A major’s +commission awaited him, and the thanks of the queen were expressed to +him by the head of the department. + +“A major,—one step is gained,” said the young soldier, to himself; “one +round in the ladder of fame has been surmounted; my eyes are now bent +upward!” + +And how he dreamed that night of Cuba, of rank and wealth, and the +power and position they conferred-and still his eyes were bent upward! + +With a brief period permitted for him to rest and recover from slight +wounds received in his late battles, Lorenzo, now Major Bezan, was +again ordered to the scene of trouble in the southern district, where +the insurgents, more successful with older officers sent against them, +had been again victorious, and were evidently gaining ground, both in +strength of purpose and numbers. This time he took with him a full +command of four companies, little less than four hundred men, and +departed under far better auspices than he had done before, resolved, +as at the outset, to lead his men where work was to be done, and to +lead them, too, on to victory or utter destruction! It was a fearful +resolve; but in his present state of feelings it accorded with the +spirit that seemed to actuate his soul. + +But success does not always crown the most daring bravery, and twice +were Lorenzo Bezan and his followers worsted, though in no way +discouraged. But at last, after many weeks of toil and hardship, he was +again victorious, again routed twice his own number, again captured a +stand of colors, and again despatched his trophies to the feet of his +queen. The civil war then became general, and for nearly a year Lorenzo +Bezan and his followers were in the battle field. Victory seemed to +have marked him for a favorite, and his sword seemed invincible; +wherever he led, he infused his own daring and impetuous spirit into +the hearts of his followers, and where his plume waved in the fight, +there the enemy faltered. + +A second and third victory crowned him within another promotion, and a +colonel’s commission was sent to the adventurous soldier after the hard +fought battles he had won for the queen. Once more he paused, and +whispered to himself: + +“Another round in the ladder is gained! have patience, Lorenzo Bezan; +fame may yet be thine; she is thy only bride now; alas, alas, that it +should be so! that there cannot be one-one dearer than all the world +beside-to share with thee this renown and honor, this fame won by the +sword on the field of battle; one whose gentleness and love should be +the pillow on which to rest thy head and heart after the turmoil and +whirlwind of war has subsided!” + +Scarcely a year had transpired since the condemned soldier had been +banished from Cuba, and now from a captaincy he had risen to wear the +star of a colonel. No wonder, then, that he thus soliloquized to +himself upon the theme of which he dreamed. + +The life he led, the fierce contests he engaged in, had no effect in +hardening the heart of the young soldier: one thought, one single word, +when he permitted himself to pause and look back upon the past, would +change his whole spirit, and almost render him effeminate. At times his +thoughts, spite of himself, wandered far away over the blue waters to +that sunny isle of the tropics, where Isabella Gonzales dwelt, and then +his manly heart would heave more quickly, and his pulses beat swifter; +and sometimes a tear had wet his check as he recalled the memory of +Ruez, whom he had really loved nearly as well as he had done his proud +and beautiful sister. The boy’s nature, so gentle, affectionate and +truthful, and yet in emergency so manly and venturesome, as evinced in +his drawing the bullets from the guns that would else have taken the +life of Lorenzo Bezan, was a theme of oft recalled admiration and +regard to the young soldier. + +Though he felt in his heart that Isabella Gonzales could never love +him, judging from the cold farewell that had at last separated them, +still fame seemed dear to him on her account, because it seemed to +bring him nearer to her, if not to raise a hope in his heart that she +might one day be his. At times, in the lonely hours of the night, alone +in his tent, he would apostrophize her angelic features, and sigh that +Heaven, which had sent so sweet a mould in human form, should have +imbued it with a spirit so haughty, a soul so proud as to mar the +exquisite creation. + +“I have thought,” he amused to himself, “I that I knew her-that the +bright loveliness of her soul would dazzle and outshine the pride that +chance had sown there-that if boldly and truly wooed, she would in turn +boldly and truly love. It seemed to me, that it was the first barrier +only that must he carried by assault, and after that I felt sure that +love like mine would soon possess the citadel of her heart. But I was +foolish, self-confident, and perhaps have deserved defeat. It may be +so, but Isabella Gonzales shall see that the humble captain of +infantry, who would hardly be tolerated, so lowly and humble was he, +will command, ere long, at least, some degree of respect by the +position that his sword shall win for him. Ay, and General Harero, too, +may find me composed of better metal than he supposed. There is one +truthful, gentle and loving spirit that will sympathize with me. I know +and feel that; Ruez, my boy, may Heaven bless thee!” + +“Count Basterio, what sort of a person is this Colonel Bezan, whose +sword has been invincible among the rebels, and who has sent us two +stand of colors, taken by himself?” asked the queen, of one of her +principal courtiers, one day. + +“Your majesty, I have, never seen him,” answered the count, “but I’m +told he’s a grim old war-horse, covered with scars gained in your +majesty’s service.” + +“Just as I had thought he must be,” continued the queen, “but some one +intimated to us yesterday that he was young, quite young, and of noble +family, Count Basterio.” + +“He has displayed too much knowledge of warfare to be very young, your +majesty,” said the count, “and has performed prodigies during this +revolt, with only a handful of men.” + +“That is partly what has so much interested me. I sent to the war +office yesterday to know about him, and it was only recorded that he +had been sent from Cuba. None of the heads of the department remembered +to have seen him at all.” + +“I saw by the Gazette that he would return to Madrid with his regiment +to-day,” said the count, “when, if your majesty desires it, I will seek +out this Colonel Bezan, and bring him to you.” + +“Do so; for we would know all our subjects who are gallant and +deserving, and I am sure this officer must be both, from what I have +already been able to learn.” + +“Your wish shall be obeyed, your majesty,” said the obsequious +courtier, bowing low, and turning to a lady of the court, hard by, +began to chat about how this old “son of a gun,” this specimen of the +battle-field would be astonished at the presence of his queen. + +“He’s all covered with scars, you say?” asked one of the ladies. + +“Ay, senorita, from his forehead to his very feet,” was the reply. + +“It will be immensely curious to see him; but he must look +terrifically.” + +“That’s true,” added the count; “he’s grizzly and rough, but very +honest.” + +“Can’t you have him muzzled,” suggested a gay little senorita, smiling. + +“Never fear for his teeth, I wear a rapier,” added the count, +pompously. + +“But seriously, where’s he from?” + +“Of some good family in the middle province, I understand.” + +“O, he’s a gentleman, then, and not a professional cut-throat?” asked +another. + +“I believe so,” said the courtier. + +“That’s some consolation,” was the rejoinder to the count’s reply. + +While the merits of Lorenzo Bezan were thus being discussed, he was +marching his regiment towards the capital, after a year’s campaign of +hard fighting; and the Gazette was right in its announcement, for he +entered the capital on the evening designated, and occupied the +regularly assigned barracks for his men. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. +THE QUEEN AND THE SOLDIER. + + +It was a noble and brilliant presence into which Lorenzo Bezan was +summoned on the day following his arrival from the seat of war. Dons +and senoras of proud titles and rich estates, the high officials of the +court, the prime ministers the maids of honor, the gayly dressed pages +and men-at-arms, all combined to render the scene one of most striking +effect. + +The young soldier was fresh from the field; hard service and exposure +had deepened the olive tint of his clear complexion to a deep nut +brown, and his beard was unshaven, and gave a fine classical effect to +his handsome but melancholy features. The bright clearness of his +intelligent eye seemed to those who looked upon him there, to reflect +the battles, sieges and victories that the gallant soldier had so +lately participated in. Though neat and clean in appearance, the +somewhat sudden summons he had received, led him to appear before the +court in his battle dress, and the same sword hung by his side that had +so often reeked with the enemy’s blood, and flashed in the van of +battle. + +There was no hauteur in his bearing; his form was erect and military; +there was no self-sufficiency or pride in his expression; but a calm, +steady purpose of soul alone was revealed by the countenance that a +hundred curious eyes now gazed upon. More than one heart beat quicker +among the lovely throng of ladies, as they gazed upon the young hero. +More than one kindly glance was bestowed upon him; but he was +impervious to the shafts of Cupid; he could never suffer again; he +could love but one, and she was far away from here. + +Lorenzo Bezan had never been at court. True that his father, and indeed +his elder brother, and other branches of the house had the entree at +court; but his early connection with the army, and a naturally retiring +disposition, had prevented his ever having been presented, and he now +stood there for the first time. The queen was not present when he first +entered, but she now appeared and took her seat of state. Untaught in +court etiquette, yet it came perfectly natural for Lorenzo Bezan to +kneel before her majesty, which he did immediately, and was graciously +bidden to rise. + +“Count Basterio,” said the queen, “where is this Colonel Bezan, whom +you were to bring to us to-day? have you forgotten your commission, +sir?” + +“Your majesty, he stands before you,” replied the complaisant courtier. + +“Where, count?” + +“Your majesty, here,” said the courtier, pointing more directly to our +hero. + +“This youth, this Colonel Bezan! I had thought to sec an older person,” +said the queen, gazing curiously upon the fine and noble features of +the young soldier. + +“I trust that my age may be of no detriment to me as it regards your +majesty’s good feelings towards me,” said Lorenzo Bezan, respectfully. + +“By no means, sir; you have served us gallantly in the field, and your +bravery and good judgment in battle have highly commended themselves to +our notice.” + +“I am little used, your majesty, to courtly presence, and find that +even now I have come hither accoutred as I would have ridden on to the +field of battle; but if a heart devoted to the service of your majesty, +and a willing hand to wield this trusty weapon, are any excuses in your +sight, I trust for lenient judgment at your royal hands.” + +“A brave soldier needs no excuse in our presence, Colonel Bezan,” +replied the queen, warmly. “When we have heard of your prowess in the +field, and have seen the stands of colors you have taken from the +enemy, far outnumbering your own force, we have thought you were some +older follower of the bugle and the drum-some hardy and gray old +soldier, whose life had been spent in his country’s service, and +therefore when we find an soldier like yourself, so young, and yet so +wise, we were surprised.” + +“Your majesty has made too much of my poor deserts. Already have I been +twice noticed by honorable and high promotion in rank, and wear this +emblem to-day by your majesty’s gracious favor.” As he spoke, he +touched his colonel’s star. + +“For your bravery and important services, Captain Bezan, wear this next +that star for the present,” said the queen, presenting the young +soldier with the medal and order of St. Sebastian, a dignity that few +attained to of less distinction than her privy councillors and the +immediate officers of the government. + +Surprised by this unexpected and marked honor, the young soldier could +only kneel and thank her majesty in feeble words, which he did, and +pressing the token to his lips, he placed it about his neck by the +golden chain that had supported it but a moment before upon the lovely +person of his queen. The presence was broken up, and Lorenzo Bezan +returned to his barracks, reflecting upon his singular good fortune. + +His modest demeanor, his brilliant military services, his handsome face +and figure, and in short his many noble points of manliness; and +perhaps even the slight tinge of melancholy that seemed ever struggling +with all the emotions that shone forth from his expressive face, had +more deeply interested the young queen in his behalf than the soldier +himself knew of. He knew nothing of the envy realized by many of the +courtiers when they saw the queen present him with the medal taken from +her own neck, and that, too, of an order so distinguished as St. +Sebastian. + +“What sort of spirit has befriended you, Colonel Bezan?” said one of +his early friends; “luck seems to lavish her efforts upon you.” + +“I have been lucky,” replied the soldier. + +“Lucky! the whole court rings with your praise, and the queen delights +to honor you.” + +“The queen has doubly repaid my poor services,” continued the young +officer. + +“Where will you stop, colonel?” + +“Stop?” + +“Yes; when will you have done with promotion?-at a general’s +commission?” + +“No fear of that honor being very quickly tendered to me,” was the +reply; while at the same moment he secretly felt how much he should +delight in every stop that raised him in rank, and thus entitled him to +positions and honor. + +Such conversations were not unfrequent; for those who did not +particularly envy him, were still much surprised at his rapid growth in +favor with the throne, his almost magic success in battle, and +delighted at the prompt reward which he met in payment for the exercise +of those qualities which they could not themselves but honor. + +Scarcely had he got off his fighting harness, so to speak, before he +found himself the object of marked attention by the nobility and +members of the court. Invitations from all sources were showered upon +him, and proud and influential houses, with rich heiresses to represent +them, were among those who sought to interest the attention if not the +heart of the young but rising soldier-he whom the queen had so markedly +befriended. Her majesty, too, seemed never tired of interesting herself +in his behalf, and already had several delicate commissions been +entrusted to his charge, and performed with the success that seemed +sure to crown his simplest efforts. + +So far as courtesy required, Colonel Bezan responded to every +invitations and every extension of hospitality; but though beset by +such beauty as the veiled prophet of Khorassan tempted young Azim with, +still he passed unscathed through the trial of star-lit eyes and female +loveliness, always bending, but never breaking; for his heart would +still wander over the sea to the vision of her, who, to him, was far +more beautiful than aught his fancy had pictured, or his eyes had seen. +All seemed to feel that some tender secret possessed him, and all were +most anxious as to what it was. Even the queen, herself, had observed +it; but it was a delicate subject, and not to be spoken of lightly to +him. + +Lorenzo Bezan had most mysteriously found the passage to the queen’s +good graces, and she delighted to honor him by important commissions; +so two years had not yet passed away, when the epaulets of a general +were presented to the young and ambitious soldier! Simply outranked now +by General Harero, who had so persecuted him, in point of the date of +his commission, he far outstretched that selfish officer in point of +the honors that had been conferred upon him by the throne; and being +now economical with the handsome professional income he enjoyed, he was +fast amassing a pecuniary fortune that of itself was a matter of no +small importance, not only to himself, but also in the eyes of the +world. + +Among the courtiers he had already many enemies, simply because of his +rise and preferment, and he was known as the favorite of the queen. +Some even hinted darkly that she entertained for him feelings of a more +tender nature than the court knew of, and that his promotion would not +stop at a general’s commission, and perhaps not short of +commander-in-chief of the armies of Spain. But such persons knew +nothing to warrant these surmises; they arose from the court gossip, +day by day, and only gained importance from being often repeated. + +“She delights to honor him,” said one lady to another, in the queen’s +ante-chamber. + +“Count Basterio says that he will be made prime minister within a +twelvemonth.” + +“The count is always extravagant,” replied the other, “and I think that +General Bezan richly merits the honors he receives. He is so modest, +yet brave and unassuming. + +“That is true, and I’m sure I don’t blame the queen for repaying his +important services. But he doesn’t seen to have any heart himself.” + +“Why not? He treats all with more than ordinary courtesy, and has a +voice and manner to win almost any heart he wills. But some dark hints +are thrown out about him.” + +“In what respect, as having already been in love?” asked the other +lady. + +“Yes, and the tender melancholy that every one notices, is owing to +disappointed affection.” + +“It is strange that he should meet with disappointment, for General +Bezan could marry the proudest lady of the court of Madrid.” + +“O, you forget when he came home to Spain he was only an humble captain +of infantry, who had seen little service. Now he is a general, and +already distinguished.” + +They were nearer right in their surmises than even themselves were +aware of. It was very true that Captain Bezan, the unknown soldier, and +General Bezan, the queen’s favorite, honored by orders, and entrusted +with important commissions, successful in desperate battles, and the +hero of the civil war, were two very different individuals. No one +realized this more acutely than did Lorenzo Bezan himself. No step +towards preferment and honor did he make without comparing his +situation with the humble lieutenant’s birth that he filled when he +first knew Isabella Gonzales, and when his hopes had run so high, as it +regarded winning her love. + +Of all the beauty and rank of the Castilian court, at the period of +which we write, the Countess Moranza was universality pronounced the +queen of beauty. A lineal descendant of the throne, her position near +the queen was of such a nature as to give her great influence, and to +cause her favor to be sought with an earnestness only second to the +service rendered to the queen herself. Her sway over the hearts of men +had been unlimited; courted and sought after by the nobles of the land, +her heart had never yet been touched, or her favors granted beyond the +proud civility that her birth, rank and position at court entitled her +to dispense. + +She differed from Isabella Gonzales but little in character, save in +the tenderness and womanliness, so to speak, of her heart-that she +could not control; otherwise she possessed all the pride and +self-conceit that her parentage and present position were calculated to +engender and foster. On Lorenzo’s Bezan’s first appearance at court she +had been attracted by his youth, his fame, the absence of pride in his +bearing, and the very subdued and tender, if not melancholy, cast of +his countenance. She was formally introduced to him by the queen, and +was as much delighted by the simple sincerity of his conversation as +she had been by his bearing and the fame that preceded his arrival at +the court. She had long been accustomed to the flirting and attention +of the court gallants, and had regarded them with little feeling; but +there was one who spoke from the heart, and she found that he spoke to +the heart, also, for she was warmly interested in him at once. + +On his part, naturally polite and gallant, he was assiduous in every +little attention, more so from the feeling of gratitude for the +friendship she showed to him who was so broken-hearted. Intercourse of +days and hours grew into the intimacy of weeks and months, and they +became friends, warm friends, who seemed to love to confide in each +other the whole wealth of the soul. Unaccustomed to female society, and +with only one model ever before his eyes, Lorenzo Bezan afforded, in +his truthfulness, a refreshing picture to the court-wooed and +fashionable belle of the capital, who had so long lived in the +artificial atmosphere of the queen’s palace, and the surroundings of +the Spanish capital. + +The absence of all intrigue, management and deceit, the frank, +open-hearted manliness of his conversation, the delicacy of his +feelings, and the constant consideration for her own ease and pleasure, +could not but challenge the admiration of the beautiful Countess +Moranza, and on her own part she spared no means to return his +politeness. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. +UNREQUITED LOVE. + + +Pleased, and perhaps flattered, by the constant and unvarying kindness +and friendliness evinced towards him by the Countess Moranza, the young +general seemed to be very happy in her company, and to pass a large +portion of his leisure hours by her side. The court gossips, ever ready +to improve any opportunity that may offer, invented all manner of +scandal and prejudicial stories concerning the peerless and chaste +Countess Moranza; but she was above the power of their shafts, and +entertained Lorenzo Bezan with prodigal hospitality. + +To the young soldier this was of immense advantage, as she who was thus +a firm friend to him, was a woman of brilliant mind and cultivation, +and Lorenzo Bezan improved vastly by the intellectual peers of the +countess. The idea of loving her beyond the feelings a warm friendship +might induce, had never crossed his mind, and had it done so, would not +have been entertained even for one moment. Of loving he had but one +idea, one thought, one standard, and that heart embodiment, that queen +of his affections, was Isabella Gonzales. + +They rode together, read to each other, and, in short, were quite +inseparable, save when the queen, by some invitation, which was law of +course to the young general, solicited his attendance upon herself. Her +friendship, too, was in want, and her interest great for Lorenzo Bezan, +and he delighted to shower upon him every honor, and publicly to +acknowledge his service in to the throne. + +“The queen seems very kind to you, general,” said the countess, to him. + +“She is more than kind-she lavish rewards upon me.” + +“She loves bravery.” + +“She repays good fortune in round sums,” replied the officer. + +“But why do you ever wear that sober, sombre, and sad look upon that +manly and intellectual face?” + +“Do I look thus?” asked the soldier, with a voice of surprise. + +“Often.” + +“I knew it not,” replied Lorenzo Bezan, somewhat earnestly. + +“It seems a mystery to me that General Bezan, honored by the queen, +with a purse well filled with gold, and promoted beyond all precedent +in his profession, should not rather smile than frown; but perhaps +there is some reason for grief in your heart, and possibly I am +careless, and probing to the quick a wound that may yet be fresh.” + +The soldier breathed an involuntary sigh, but said nothing. + +“Yes. I see now that I have annoyed you, and should apologize,” she +said. + +“Nay, not so; you have been more than a friend to me; you have been an +instructress in gentle refinement and all that is lovely in your sex, +and I should but poorly repay such consideration and kindness, were I +not to confide in you all my thoughts.” + +The countess could not imagine what was coming. She turned pale, and +then a blush stole over her beautiful features, betraying how deeply +interested she was. + +“I hope, general,” she said, “that if there is aught in which a person +like myself might offer consolation or advice to you, it may be spoken +without reserve.” + +“Ah, countess, how can I ever repay such a debt as you put me under by +this very touching kindness, this most sisterly consideration towards +me?” + +There was a moment’s pause in which the eyes of both rested upon the +floor. + +“You say that I am sad at times. I had thought your brilliant +conversation and gentleness of character had so far made me forget that +I no longer looked sad. But it is not so. You, so rich in wealth and +position, have never known a want, have never received a slight, have +never been insulted at heart for pride’s sake. Lady, I have loved a +being, so much like yourself, that I have often dreamed of you +together. A being all pure and beautiful, with but one sad alley in her +sweet character-pride. I saw her while yet most humble in rank. I +served herself and father and brother, even to saving their lives; I +was promoted, and held high honor with my command; but she was rich, +and her father high in lordly honors and associations. I was but a poor +soldier; what else might I expect but scorn if I dared to love her? +But, countess, you are ill,” said the soldier, observing her pallid +features and quick coming and going breath. + +“Only a temporary illness; it is already gone,” she said. “Pray go on.” + +“And yet I believe she loved me also though the pride of her heart +choked the growth of the tendrils of affection. Maddened by the insults +of a rival, who was far above me in rank, I challenged him, and for +this was banished from the island where she lives. Do you wonder that I +am sometimes sad at these recollections? that my full heart will +sometimes speak in my face?” + +“Nay, it is but natural,” answered the countess, with a deep sigh. + +General Bezan was thinking of his own anguish of heart, of the +peculiarities of his own situation, of her who was far away, yet now +present in his heart, else he would have noticed more particularly the +appearance of her whom he addressed. The reader would have seen at once +that she received his declaration of love for another like a death +blow, that she sat there and heard him go on as one would sit under +torture; yet by the strong force of her character subduing almost +entirely all outward emotions. There was no disguising it to a careful +observer, she, the Countess Moranza, loved him! + +From the first meeting she had been struck by his noble figure, his +melancholy yet handsome and intellectual face, and knowing the +gallantry of his services to the queen, was struck by the modest +bearing of a soldier so renowned in battle. After refusing half of the +gallants of the court, and deeming herself impregnable to the shafts of +Cupid, she had at last lost her heart to this man. But that was not the +point that made her suffer so now, it was that he loved another; that +he could never sustain the tender relation to her which her heart +suggested. All these thoughts now passed through her mind. + +We say had General Bezan not been so intent in his thoughts far away, +he might have discovered this secret, at least to some extent. + +He knew not the favor of woman’s love; he knew only of his too unhappy +disappointment, and, on this his mind was sadly and earnestly engaged. + +Days passed on, and the young general saw little of the countess, for +her unhappy condition of mind caused her to seclude herself almost +entirely from society, even denying herself to him whom she loved so +well. She struggled to forget her love, or rather to bring philosophy +to her aid in conquering it. She succeeded in a large degree; but at +the same time resolved to make it her business to reconcile Lorenzo +Bezan to her he loved, if such a thing were possible; and thus to enjoy +the consciousness of having performed at least one disinterested act +for him whom she too had loved, as we have seen, most sincerely and +most tenderly. + +Thus actuated, the countess resolved to make a confidant, or, at least, +partially to do so, of the queen, and to interest her to return Lorenzo +Bezan once more to the West Indian station, with honor and all the due +credit. It scarcely needed her eloquence in pleading to consummate this +object, for the queen already prepossessed in the young soldier’s +favor, only desired to know how she might serve him best, in order to +do so at once. In her shrewdness she could not but discover the state +of the countess’s heart; but too delicate to allude to this matter, she +made up her mind at once as to what should be done. + +She wondered not at the countess’s love for Lorenzo Bezan; she could +sympathize with her; for had he been born in the station to have shared +the throne with her, she would have looked herself upon him with a +different eye; as it was, she had delighted to honor him from the first +moment they had met. + +“Your wish shall be granted, countess,” said the queen; “he shall +return to Cuba, and with honor and distinction.” + +“Thanks, a thousand thanks,” was the reply of the fair friend. + +“You have never told me before the particulars of his returning home.” + +“It was but lately that I learned them, by his own lips,” she answered. + +“His life is full of romance,” mused the queen, thoughtfully. + +“True, and his bravery, has he opportunity, will make him a hero.” + +“The lady’s name-did he tell you that?” asked the queen. + +“He did.” + +“And whom was it?” + +“Isabella Gonzales.” + +“Isabella Gonzales?” + +“Yes, my liege lady.” + +“A noble house; we remember the name.” + +“He said they were noble,” sighed the countess, thoughtfully. + +“Well, well,” continued the queen, “go you and recruit your spirits +once more; as to Lorenzo Bezan, he is my protege, and I will at once +attend to his interests.” + +Scarcely had the Countess Moranza left her presence, before the queen, +summoning an attendant, despatched a message to General Bezan to come +at once to the palace. The queen was a noble and beautiful woman, who +had studied human nature in all its phases; she understood at once the +situation of her young favorite’s heart, and by degrees she drew him +out, as far as delicacy would permit, and then asked him if he still +loved Isabella Gonzales as he had done when he was a poor lieutenant of +infantry, in the tropical service. + +“Love her, my liege?” said the young general, in tones almost +reproachful, to think any one could doubt it, “I have never for one +moment, even amid the roar of battle and the groans of dying men, +forgotten Isabella Gonzales!” + +“Love like thine should be its own reward; she was proud, too proud to +return thy love; was it not so, general?” + +“My liege, you have spoken for me.” + +“But you were a poor lieutenant of infantry then.” + +“True.” + +“And that had its influence.” + +“I cannot but suppose so.” + +“Well,” said the queen, “we have a purpose for you.” + +“I am entirely at your majesty’s disposal,” replied the young soldier. + +“We will see what commission it best fits so faithful a servant of our +crown to bear, and an appointment may be found that will carry thee +back to this distant isle of the tropics, where you have left your +heart.” + +“To Cuba, my liege?” + +“Ay.” + +“But my banishment from the island reads forever,” said the soldier. + +“We have power to make it read as best suits us,” was the reply. + +“You are really too good to me,” replied the soldier. + +“Now to your duty, general, and to-morrow we shall have further +business with you.” + +Lorenzo Bezan bowed low, and turned his steps from the palace towards +his own lodgings, near the barracks. It was exceedingly puzzling to +him, first, that he could not understand what had led the queen to this +subject; second, how she could so well discern the truth; and lastly, +that such consideration was shown for him. He could not mistake the +import of the queen’s words; it was perfectly plain to him what she had +said, and what she had meant; and in a strange state of mind, bordering +upon extreme of suspicion and strong hope, and yet almost as powerful +fears, he mused over the singular condition in which he found himself +and his affairs. + +It seemed to him that fortune was playing at shuttlecock with him, and +that just for the present, at any rate, his star was in the ascendant. +“How long shall I go on in my good fortune?” he asked himself; “how +long will it be before I shall again meet with a fierce rebuff in some +quarter? Had I planned my own future for the period of time since I +landed at Cadiz, I could not have bettered it-indeed I could not have +dared to be as extravagant as I find the reality. No wonder that I meet +those envious glances at court. Who ever shared a larger portion of the +honorable favor of the queen than I do? It is strange, all very +strange. And this beautiful Countess Moranza-what a good angel she has +been to me; indeed, what have I not enjoyed that I could wish, since I +arrived in Spain? Yet how void of happiness and of peace of heart am I! +Alas, as the humble lieutenant in the Plaza des Armes in Havana, as the +lowly soldier whom Isabella Gonzales publicly noticed in the Paseo, as +the fortunate deliverer of herself and father, and as resting my +wounded body upon her own support, how infinitely happier was I. How +bright was hope then in my breast, and brilliant the charms of the +fairy future! Could I but recall those happy moments at a cost of all +the renown my sword may have won me, how gladly would I do so this +moment. This constant suspense is worse than downright defeat or +certain misfortune. Is there no power can give us an insight into the +hidden destiny of ourselves? is there no means by which we can see the +future? Not long could I sustain this ordeal of suspense. Ah, Isabella, +what have I not suffered for thy love? what is there I would not +endure!” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. +THE SURPRISE. + + +It had already been announced among the knowing ones at Havana that +there was to be a new lieutenant governor general arrive ere long for +the island, and those interested in these matters feel of course such +an interest as an event of this character would naturally inspire. +Those in authority surmised as to what sort of a person they were to be +associated with, and the better classes of society in the island wished +to know what degree of addition to their society the new comer would +be-whether he was married or single, etc. + +Isabella Gonzales realized no such interest in the matter; the +announcement that there was to be a new lieutenant-governor created no +interest in her breast; she remained as she had done these nearly four +years, secluded, with only Ruez as her companion, and only the Plato as +the spot for promenade. She had not faded during the interim of time +since the reader left her with Lorenzo Bezan’s letter in her hand; but +a soft, tender, yet settled melancholy had possessed the beautiful +lineaments and expressive lines of her features. She was not happy. She +had no confidant, and no one knew her secret save herself; but an +observant person would easily have detected the deep shadow that lay +upon her soul. + +We say she had not faded-nor had she; there was the same soft and +beautiful expression in her face, even more tender than before; for it +had lost the tinge of alloy that pride was wont to impart to it; where +pride had existed before, there now dwelt tender melancholy, speaking +from the heart, and rendering the lovely girl far, far more interesting +and beautiful. She had wept bitter, scalding tears over that last +farewell between herself and Lorenzo Bezan in the prison; she blamed +herself bitterly now that she had let him depart thus; but there was no +reprieve, no recalling the consequences; he was gone, and forever! + +Communication with the home government was seldom and slowly +consummated, and an arrival at that period from Old Spain was an event. +Partly for this reason, and partly because there was no one to write to +her, Isabella, nor indeed her father, had heard anything of Lorenzo +Bezan since his departure. General Harero had learned of his promotion +for gallant service; but having no object in communicating such +intelligence, it had remained wholly undivulged, either to the Gonzales +family or the city generally. + +It was twilight, and the soft light that tints the tropics in such a +delicate hue at this hour was playing with the beauty of Isabella +Gonzales’s face, now in profile, now in front, as she lounged on a +couch near the window, which overlooked the sea and harbor. She held in +her hand an open letter; she had been shedding tears; those, however, +were now dried up, and a puzzled and astonished feeling seemed to be +expressed in her beautiful countenance, as she gazed now and then at +the letter, and then once more off upon the sparkling waters of the +Gulf Stream. + +“Strange,” she murmured to herself, and again hastily read over the +letter, and examined the seal which had enclosed it in a ribbon +envelope and parchment. “How is it possible for the queen to know my +secret? and yet here she reveals all; it is her own seal, and I think +even her own hand, that has penned these lines. Let me read again: + +“SENORITA ISABELLA GONZALES: Deeply interested as we are for the +welfare of all our loyal subjects, we have taken occasion to send you +some words of information relative to yourself. Beyond a doubt you have +loved and been beloved devotedly; but pride, ill asserted arrogance of +soul, has rendered you miserable. We speak not knowingly, but from +supposition grounded upon what we do know. He who loved you was +humble-humble in station, but noble in personal qualities, such as a +woman may well worship in man, bravery, manliness and stern and noble +beauty of person. We say he loved you, and we doubt not you must have +loved him; for how could it be otherwise? Pride caused you to repulse +him. Now, senorita, know that he whom you thus repulsed was more than +worthy of you; that, although he might have espoused one infinitely +your superior in rank and wealth in Madrid, since his arrival here, he +had no heart to give, and still remained true to you! Know that by his +daring bravery, his manliness, his modest bearing, and above all, his +clear-sighted and brilliant mental capacity he has challenged our own +high admiration; but you, alas! must turn in scorn your proud lip upon +him! Think not we have these facts from him, or that he has reflected +in the least upon you; he is far too delicate for such conduct. No, it +is an instinctive sense of the position of circumstances that has led +to this letter and this plain language. (Signed) YOUR QUEEN. + +“The Senorita Isabella Gonzales.” + +One might have thought that this would have aroused the pride and anger +of Isabella Gonzales, but it did not; it surprised her; and after the +first sensation of this feeling was over, it struck her as so truthful, +what the queen had said, that she wept bitterly. + +“Alas! she has most justly censured me, but points out no way for me to +retrieve the bitter steps I have taken,” sobbed the unhappy girl, +aloud. “Might have espoused one my superior in rank and fortune, at +Madrid, but he had no heart to give! Fool that I am, I see it all; and +the queen is indeed but too correct. But what use is all this +information to me, save to render me the more miserable? Show a wretch +the life he might have lived, and then condemn him to death; that is my +position-that my hard, unhappy fate! + +“Alas! does he love me still? he whom I have so heartlessly treated-ay, +whom I have crushed, as it were, for well knew how dearly he loved me! +He has challenged even the admiration of the queen, and has been, +perhaps, promoted; but still has been true to me, who in soul have been +as true to him.” + +Thus murmured the proud girl to herself-thus frankly realized the +truth. + +“Ah, my child,” said Don Gonzales, meeting his daughter, “put on thy +best looks, for we are to have the new lieutenant-governor installed +to-morrow, and all of us must be present. He’s a soldier of much +renown, so report says.” + +“Doubtless, father; but I’m not very well to-day, and shall be hardly +able to go to-morrow—at least I fear I shall not.” + +“Fie, fie, my daughter; thou, the prettiest bird in all the island, to +absent thyself from the presence on such an occasion? It will never +do.” + +“Here, Ruez, leave that hound alone, and come hither,” he continued, to +the boy. “You, too, must be ready at an early hour to-morrow to go with +Isabella and myself to the palace, where we shall be introduced to the +new lieutenant-governor, just arrived from Madrid.” + +“I don’t want to go, father,” said the boy, still fondling the dog. + +“Why not, Ruez?” + +“Because Isabella does not,” was the childish reply. + +“Now if this be not rank mutiny, and I shall have to call in a +corporal’s guard to arrest the belligerents,” said Don Gonzales, half +playfully. “But go you must; and I have a secret, but I shall not tell +it to you-no, not for the world-a surprise for you both; but that’s no +matter now. Go you must, and go you will; so prepare you in good season +to-morrow to attend me.” + +Both sister and brother saw that he was in earnest, and made +arrangements accordingly. + +The occasion of instating the lieutenant-governor in his high and +responsible station, was one of no little note in Havana, and was +celebrated by all the pomp and military display that could possibly add +importance to the event, and impress the citizens with the sacred +character of the office. The day was therefore ushered in by the +booming of cannon and the music of military bands, and the universal +stir at the barracks told the observer that all grades were to be on +duty that day, and in full numbers. The palace of the governor-general +was decorated with flags and streamers, and even the fountain in the +Plaza des Armes seemed to bubble forth with additional life and spirit +on the occasion. + +It was an event in Havana; it was something to vary the monotony of +this beautiful island-city, and the inhabitants seized upon it as a +gala day. Business was suspended; the throng put on their holiday suit, +the various regiments appeared in full regalia and uniform, for the new +lieutenant-commander-in-chief was to review them in the after part of +the day. + +The ceremony of installation was performed in the state hall of the +palace, where all the military, wealth, beauty and fashion of the +island assembled, and among these the venerable and much respected Don +Gonzales, and his peerless daughter, Isabella, and his noble boy, Ruez. +The reception hall was in a blaze of beauty and fashion, till patiently +awaiting the introduction of the new and high official the queen had +sent from Spain to sit as second to the brave Tacon. + +An hour of silence had passed, when at a signal the band struck up a +national march, and then advanced into the reception room Tacon, and by +his side a young soldier, on whose noble brow sat dignity and youth, +interwoven in near embrace. His eyes rested on the floor, and he drew +near to the seat of honor with modest mien, his spurred heel and +martial bearing alone betokening that in time of need his sword was +ready, and his time and life at the call of duty. + +Few, if any, had seen him before, and now among the ladies there ran a +low murmur of admiration at the noble and manly beauty of the young +soldier. The priest read the usual services, the customary hymn and +chant were listened to, when the priest, delegated for this purpose, +advanced and said: + +“We, by the holy power vested in us, do anoint thee, Lorenzo Bezan—” + +At these words, Isabella Gonzales, who had, during all the while, been +an absent spectator, never once really turning her eyes toward the spot +where the new officer stood, dropped her fan, and sprang to her feet. +She gazed for one single moment, and then uttering one long and piteous +scream, fell lifeless into her father’s arms. This cry startled every +one, but perhaps less the cause of it than any one else. He he had +schooled so critical a moment ceremony went on quietly and was duly +installed. + +“Alas, alas, for me, what made thee ill?” said the, as he bent over her +couch, after. + +But Isabella answered him not; she was in a half-dreamy, half-conscious +state, and knew not what was said to her. + +Ruez stood on the other side of her couch, and kissed her white +forehead, but said nothing. Yet he seemed to know more than his father +as to what had made Isabella sick, and at last he proved this. + +“Why could you not tell Isabella and me, father, that our old friend +Captain Bezan was to be there, and that it was he who was to be +lieutenant-governor? Then sister would not have been so startled.” + +“Startled at what, Ruez?” + +“Why, at unexpectedly seeing Captain Bezan,” said the boy, honestly. + +“General Bezan, he is now. But why should she be startled so?” + +“O, she is not very well, you know, father,” said the boy, evasively. + +“True, she is not well, and I managed it as a surprise, and it was too +much of one, I see.” + +And father and brother tended by the sick girl’s bedside as they would +have done that of an infant. Poor Isabella, what a medley of +contradictions is thy heart! + +The ceremonies of the day passed off as usual; the review took place in +the after part of the day, and as General Bezan, now outranking General +Harero, rode by his division, he raised his hat to his old comrades in +arms, and bowed coldly to their commander. His rise and new position +filled the army with wonder; but none envied him; they loved their old +favorite too well to envy his good fortune to him; even his brother +officers echoed the cheers for the new lieutenant-general. + +But when the noise, the pomp, and bustle of the day was over, and when +alone in his apartment by himself, it was then that Lorenzo Bezan’s +heart and feelings found sway. He knew full well who it was that +uttered that scream, and better, too, the cause of it; he feared that +he could neither sleep nor eat until he should see her and speak to her +once more; but then again he feared to attempt this. True, his position +gave him the entree to all classes now, and her father’s house would +have been welcome to him; but he would far rather have seen her as the +humble Captain Bezan, of yore, than with a host of stars upon his +breast. + +Isabella revived at last, but she scarcely escaped a fever from the +shock her system, mental and physical, had received. And how busy, too, +wore her thoughts, how never tiring in picturing him with his new +honors, and in surprise how he could have won such distinction and +honor at the queen’s hands, She read again and again the queen’s +letter. He had no heart to give. That she looked upon-those few +words-until her eyes became blind at the effort. And still she read on, +and thought of him whom she knew had loved her so dearly, so tenderly, +and yet without hope. + +Isabella Gonzales’s pride had received a severe shock. Will she still +bow low to the impulsive and arbitrary promptings of her proud spirit, +or will she rise above them, and conquer and win a harvest of peace and +happiness? + +The story must disclose the answer; it is not for us to say here. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. +THE SERENAPE. + + +General Harero, as we have already intimated, had not, for a +considerable period, enjoyed any degree of intimacy with Isabella +Gonzales or her father, but actuated by a singular pertinacity of +character, he seemed not yet to have entirely given up his hopes in +relation to an alliance with her. The arrival of Lorenzo Bezan again +upon the island, he felt, would, in any instance, endanger, if not +totally defeat any lingering plans he might still conceive in his mind +to bring into operation for the furtherance of his hopes; but when his +arrival had actually occurred, and under such brilliant auspices for +the young soldier, General Harero was enraged beyond control. He sought +his quarters, after the review, in a desperate mood, and walked the +narrow precincts of his room with bitter thoughts rankling in his +bosom, and a burning desire for revenge goading him to action. + +A thousand ways, all of which were more or less mingled with violence, +suggested themselves to his mind as proper to adopt. Now he would +gladly have fought his rival, have gone into the field and risked his +own life for the sake of taking his; but this must be done too +publicly, and he felt that the public feeling was with the new +official; besides that, General Bezan could now arrest him, as he had +done the young officer when he challenged his superior, as the reader +will remember. Dark thoughts ran through his brain-some bearing +directly upon Isabella Gonzales, some upon Lorenzo Bezan; even +assassination suggested itself; and his hands clenched, and his cheeks +burned, as the revengeful spirit possessed him and worked in his veins. +While Lorenzo Bezan was absent he was content to bide his time, +reasoning that eventually Isabella Gonzales would marry him, after a +few more years of youthful pride and vanity had passed; but now he was +spurred on to fresh efforts by the new phase that matters had taken, +and but one course he felt was left for him to pursue, which one word +might express, and that was action! + +Having no definite idea as to what Lorenzo Bezan would do, under the +new aspect of affairs, General Harero could not devise in what way to +meet him. That Isabella had been prevented from absolutely loving him +only by her pride, when he was before upon the island, he knew full +well, and he realized as fully that all those obstacles that pride had +engendered were now removed by the rank and position of his rival. He +wondered in his own mind whether it was possible that Lorenzo Bezan +might not have forgotten her, or found some more attractive shrine +whereat to worship. As he realized Isabella’s unmatched loveliness, he +felt that, however, could hardly be; and thus unsettled as to the state +of affairs between the two, he was puzzled as to what course to pursue. + +In the meantime, while General Harero was thus engaged with himself, +Lorenzo Bezan was thinking upon the same subject. It was nearly +midnight; but still he walked back and forth in his room with +thoughtful brow. There was none of the nervous irritation in his manner +that was evinced by his rival; but there was deep and anxious +solicitude written in every line of his handsome features. He was +thinking of Isabella. Was thinking of her, did we say? He had never +forgotten her for one hour since the last farewell meeting in the +prison walls. He knew not how she felt towards him now-whether a new +pride might not take the place of that which had before actuated her, +and a fear lest she should, by acknowledging, as it were, the former +error, be led still to observe towards him the same austere manner and +distance. + +“Have I won renown, promotion, and extended fame to no purpose, at +last?” he asked himself; “what care I for these unless shared in by +her; unless her beautiful eyes approve, and her sweet lips acknowledge? +Alas, how poor a thing am I, whom my fellow-mortals count so fortunate +and happy!” + +Thus he mused to himself, until at last stepping to the open balcony +window, he looked out upon the soft and delicious light of it tropical +moon. All was still-all was beautiful; the steady pace of the sentinel +on duty at the entrance of the palace, alone, sounding upon the ear. +Suddenly a thought seemed to suggest itself to his mind. Seizing his +guitar, from a corner of his room, he threw a thin military cloak about +his form, and putting on a foraging cap, passed the sentinel, and +strolled towards the Plato! How well he remembered the associations of +the place, as he paused now for a moment in the shadow of the broad +walls of the barracks. He stood there but for a moment, then drawing +nearer to the house of Don Gonzales, he touched the strings of his +guitar with a master hand, and sung with a clear, musical voice one of +those exquisite little serenades with which the Spanish language +abounds. + +The song did not awake Isabella, though just beneath her window. She +heard it, nevertheless, and in the half-waking, half-dreaming state in +which she was, perhaps enjoyed it even with keener sense than she would +have done if quite aroused. She dreamed of love, and of Lorenzo Bezan; +she thought all was forgotten-all forgiven, and that he was her +accepted lover. But this was in her sleep-awake, she would not have +felt prepared to say yet, even to herself, whether she really loved +him, or would listen to his address; awake, there was still a lingering +pride in her bosom, too strong for easy removal. But sweet was the pure +and beautiful girl’s sleep-sweet was the smile that played about her +delicate mouth-and lovely beyond the painter’s power, the whole +expression of soft delight that dwelt in her incomparably handsome +features. + +The song ceased, but the sleeper dreamed on in delightful quietude. + +Not so without; there was a scene enacting there that would chill the +heart of woman, and call into action all the sterner powers of the +other sex. + +Some strange chance had drawn General Harero from his quarters, also, +at this hour, and the sound of the guitar had attracted him to the +Plato just as Lorenzo Bezan had completed his song. Hearing approaching +footsteps, and not caring to be discovered, the serenader slung his +guitar by its silken cord behind his back, and wrapping his cloak about +him, prepared to leave the spot; but hardly had he reached the top of +the broad stairs that lead towards the Calle de Mercaderes (street of +the merchants), when he stood face to face with his bitter enemy, +General Harero! + +“General Harero!” + +“Lorenzo Bezan!” + +Said each, calling the other’s name, in the first moment of surprise. + +“So you still propose to continue your persecutions towards this lady?” +said General Harero, sarcastically. + +“Persecutions?” + +“That was my word; what other term can express unwelcome visits?” + +“It were better, General Harero, that you should remember the change +which has taken place in our relative positions, of late, and not +provoke me too far.” + +“I spit upon and defy your authority.” + +“Then, sir, it shall be exercised on the morrow for your especial +benefit.” + +“Not by you, though,” said the enraged rival, drawing his sword +suddenly, and thrusting its point towards the heart of Lorenzo Bezan. + +But the young soldier had been too often engaged in hand to hand +conflicts to lose his presence of mind, and with his uplifted arm +shrouded in his cloak, he parried the blow, with only a slight flesh +wound upon his left wrist. But General Harero had drawn blood, and that +was enough; the next moment their swords were crossed, and a few passes +were only necessary to enable Lorenzo Bezan to revenge himself by a +severe wound in his rival’s left breast. Maddened by the pain of his +wound, and reckless by his anger, General Harero pressed hard upon the +young officer; but his coolness was more than a match for his +antagonist’s impetuosity; and after inflicting a severe blow upon his +cheek with the flat of his sword, Lorenzo Bezan easily disarmed him, +and breaking his sword in twain, threw it upon the steps of the Plato, +and quietly walked away leaving General Harero to settle matters +between his own rage, his wounds and the surgeon, as best he might, +while he sought his own quarters within the palace walls. + +General Harero was more seriously wounded than he had at first deemed +himself to be, and gathering up the fragments of his sword, he sought +the assistance of his surgeon, in a state of anger and excitement that +bid fair, in connection with his wounds, to lead him into a raging +fever. Inventing some plausible story of being attacked by some unknown +ruffian, and desiring the surgeon to observe his wishes as to secrecy, +for certain reasons, the wounded man submitted to have his wounds +dressed, and taking some cooling medicine by way of precaution, lay +himself down to sleep just as the gray of morning tinged the western +horizon. + +That morning Isabella Gonzales awoke with pleasant memories of her +dream, little knowing that the sweet music she had attributed to the +creations of her own fancy, was real, and that voice and instrument +actually sounded beneath her own chamber window. + +“Ah, sister,” said Ruez, “how well you are looking this morning.” + +“Am I, brother?” + +“Yes, better than I have seen you this many a long day.” + +“I rested well last night, and had pleasant dreams, Ruez.” + +“Last night,” said the boy, “that reminds me of some music I heard.” + +“Music?” + +“Yes, a serenade; a manly voice and guitar, I should judge.” + +“It is strange; I dreamed that I heard it, too, but on waking I thought +it was but a dream. It might have been real,” mused Isabella, +thoughtfully. + +“I am sure of it, and though I, too, was but half awake, I thought that +I recognized the voice, and cannot say why I did not rise to see if my +surmise was correct, but I dropped quickly to sleep again.” + +“And who did, you think it was, brother?” asked Isabella Gonzales. + +“General Bezan, our new lieutenant-governor,” said the boy, regarding +his sister closely. + +“It must have been so, then,” mused Isabella, to herself; “we could not +both have been thus mistaken. Lorenzo Bezan must have been on the Plato +last night; would that I could have seen him, if but for one moment.” + +“I should like to speak to General Bezan,” said Ruez; “but he’s so high +an officer now that I suppose he would not feel so much interest in me +as he did when I used to visit him in the government prison.” + +Isabella made no reply to this remark, but still mused to herself. + +Ruez gazed thoughtfully upon his sister; there seemed to be much going +on in his own mind relative to the subject of which they had spoken. At +one moment you might read a tinge of anxious solicitude in the boy’s +handsome face, as he gazed thus, and anon a look of pride, too, at the +surpassing beauty and dignity of his sister. + +She was very beautiful. Her morning costume was light and graceful, and +her whole toilet showed just enough of neglige to add interest to the +simplicity of her personal attire. Her dark, jetty hair contrasted +strongly with the pure white of her dress, and there was not an +ornament upon her person, save those that nature had lavished there in +prodigal abundance. She had never looked more lovely than at that hour; +the years that had passed since the reader met her in familiar +conversation with our hero, had only served still more to perfect and +ripen her personal charms. Though there had stolen over her features a +subdued air of thoughtfulness, a gentle tinge of melancholy, yet it +became her far better than the one of constant levity and jest that had +almost universally possessed her heretofore. + +Her eyes now rested upon the floor, and the long silken lashes seemed +almost artificial in their effect upon the soft olive complexion +beneath their shadow. No wonder Ruez loved his sister so dearly; no +wonder he felt proud of her while he gazed at her there; nor was it +strange that he strove to read her heart as he did, though he kept his +own counsel upon the subject. + +He was a most observant boy, as we have seen before in these pages, but +not one to manifest all of his observations or thoughts. He seemed to, +and doubtless did, actually understand Isabella’s heart better than she +did herself, and a close observer would have noted well the various +emotions that his expressive countenance exhibited, while he gazed thus +intently at his dearly loved sister. Ruez was a strange boy; he had few +friends; but those few he loved with all his heart. His father, sister, +and Lorenzo Bezan, shared his entire affection. His inclinations led +him to associate but little with those of his own age; he was +thoughtful, and even at that age, a day dreamer. He loved to be alone; +oftentimes for hours he was thus-at times gazing off upon the sea, and +at others, gazing upon vacancy, while his thoughts would seem to have +run away with him, mentally and physically. These peculiarities +probably arose from his uncommonly sensitive disposition, and formed a +sort of chrysalis state, from which he was yet to emerge into +manliness. + +Kissing her cheek, and rousing her from the waking dream that possessed +her now, Ruez turned away and left her to herself and the thoughts his +words had aroused. We, too, will leave Isabella Gonzales, for a brief +period, while we turn to another point of our story, whither the +patient reader will please to follow. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. +A DISCOVERY. + + +“She never loved me,” said Lorenzo Bezan, in the privacy of his own +room, on the morning subsequent to that of the serenade. “It was only +my own insufferable egotism and self-conceit that gave me such +confidence. Now I review the past, what single token or evidence has +she given to me of particular regard? what has she done that any lady +might not do for a gentleman friend? I can recall nothing. True, she +has smiled kindly-O how dearly I have cherished these smiles! But what +are they? Coquettes smile on every one! Alas, how miserable am I, after +all the glory and fame I have won!” + +Lorenzo Bezan was truly affected, as his words have shown him to be. He +doubted whether Isabella Gonzales had ever loved him; her scream and +fainting might have been caused by surprise, or even the heat. He had +been too ready to attribute it to that which his own heart had first +suggested. O, if he only dared to address her now-to see her, and once +more to tell how dearly and ardently he loved her still-how he had +cherished her by the camp fires, in the battle- field, and the +deprivations of war and the sufferings of a soldier’s wounds. If he +could, if he dared to tell her this, he would be happier. But, how did +he know that a proud repulse did not await him! Ah, that was the fear +that controlled him; he could not bear to part again from her as he had +last done. + +While he was thus engaged in reverie alone, a servant, whom he had +despatched on an errand, returned to say that General Harero was very +ill and confined to his bed; that some wounds he had accidentally +received in quelling some street affray had brought on a burning and +dangerous fever. On the receipt of this information Lorenzo Bezan wrote +a hasty note and despatched the servant once more for a surgeon to come +to his quarters; a demand that was answered by the person sent for in a +very few minutes. It was the same surgeon who a few years before had so +successfully attended Bezan. The recognition between them was cordial +and honest, while the new lieutenant-general told him of General +Harero’s severe illness, and expressed a wish for him to immediately +attend the sick man. + +“But, General Bezan,” said the surgeon, “you have little cause for love +to General Harero.” + +“That is true; but still I desire his recovery; and if you compass it +by good nursing and the power of your art, remember fifty doubloons is +your fee.” + +“My professional pride would lead me to do my best,” replied the +surgeon, “though neither I nor any other man in the service loves +General Harero any too much.” + +“I have reasons for my interest that it is not necessary to explain,” +said General Bezan, “and shall trust that you will do your best for +him, as you did for me.” + +“By the way, general, I have been half a mind, more than once, ever +since your return to the island, to tell you of a little affair +concerning your sickness at that time, but I feared you might deem it +in some measure impertinent.” + +“By no means. Speak truly and openly to me. I owe you too much to +attribute any improper motives to you in any instance. What do you +refer to?” + +“Well, general, I suppose on that occasion I discovered a secret which +I have never revealed to any one, and upon which subject my lips have +been ever sealed.” + +“What was it?” + +“Your love for Isabella Gonzales.” + +“And how, pray, came you to surmise that?” asked Lorenzo Bezan, in +surprise. + +“First by your half incoherent talk in moments of delirium, and +afterwards by finding her portrait, painted probably by yourself, among +your effects.” + +“True. I have it still,” said Lorenzo Bezan, musingly. + +“But more than that I discovered from the lady herself?” said the +surgeon. + +“From the lady? What do you mean?” asked General Bezan, most earnestly. + +“Why she visited you during your illness, and though she came in +disguise, I discovered her.” + +“In disguise?” + +“Yes.” + +“How did you discover her? I pray you tell me all, if you are my +friend.” + +“By a tear!” + +“A tear!” + +“Yes, because I knew no servant or lady’s maid sent to execute her +mistress’s bidding would have been so affected, and that led me to +watch for further discovery.” + +“Did she weep?” + +“One tear fell from her eyes upon your hands as she bent over you, and +it told me a story that I have since sometimes thought you should +know.” + +“A tear!” mused General Bezan, to himself, rising and walking up and +down his room in haste; “that must have come from the heart. Smiles are +evanescent; kind words, even, cost nothing; but tears, they are honest, +and come unbidden by aught save the heart itself. Tears, did you say?” +he continued, pausing before the surgeon. + +“As I have said, general.” + +“And she bathed my forehead, you say?” + +“She did, and further, left with me a purse to be devoted to supplying +your wants.” + +“This you never told me of before.” + +“I have had no opportunity, and to speak honestly, it was very well +timed and needed.” + +“Money!” mused Lorenzo Bezan. “Money, that is full of dross; but a +tear,—I would to Heaven I had earlier known of that.” + +“I hope I have caused you no uneasiness, general.” + +“Enough. Go on your mission to General Harero; save him, if you can; +you have already saved me! Nay, do not stare, but go, and see me again +at your leisure.” + +The surgeon bowed respectfully, and hastened away as he was directed. + +That tear had removed mountains from Lorenzo Bezan’s heart; he hardly +knew what further to do under the circumstances. The earliest impulse +of his heart was to seek Isabella, and throwing himself at her feet, +beg her to forgive him for having for one moment doubted the affection +and gentleness of her woman heart. This was the turning point with him +if she had a heart, tender and susceptible, and not coroded by +coquetry; he had no fear but that he could win it; his love was too +true, too devoted, too much a part of his soul and existence to admit +of doubt. Joy once more reigned in his heart. He was almost childish in +his impatience to see her; he could hardly wait even for an hour. + +At last, seating himself at a table, he seized upon pen and paper and +wrote as follows: + +“ISABELLA GONZALES: I know not how to address you, in what tone to +write, or even as to the propriety of writing to you at all; but the +suspense I now suffer is my excuse. I need not reiterate to you how +dearly I love you; you know this, dear one, as fully as any assertion +of my own could possibly express it. It is trite that my love for you +has partaken in no small degree of a character of presumption, daring, +as an humble lieutenant of infantry, to lift my eyes to one as peerless +and beautiful as yourself, and of a class of society so far above what +my own humble position would authorize me to mingle with. But the past +is past, and now my rank and fortune both entitle me to the entree, to +your father’s house. I mention not these because I would have them +weigh in my favor with you. Far from it. I had rather you would +remember me, and love me as I was when we first met. + +“Need I say how true I have been to the love I have cherished for you? +How by my side in battle, in my dreams by the camp fire, and filling my +waking thoughts, you have ever been with me in spirit? Say, Isabella +Gonzales, is this homage, so sincere, thus tried and true, unwelcome to +you? or do you, in return, love the devoted soldier, who has so long +cherished you in his heart as a fit shrine to worship at? I shall see +you, may I not, and you will not repulse me, nor speak to me with +coldness. O, say when I may come to you, when look once more into those +radiant eyes, when tell you with my lips how dearly, how ardently I +love you-have ever loved you, and must still love you to the last? I +know you will forgive the impetuosity, and, perhaps, incoherent +character of this note. LORENZO BEZAN.” + +We have only to look into the chamber of Isabella Gonzales, a few hours +subsequent to the writing of this letter, to learn its effect upon her. + +She was alone; the letter she had read over and over again, and now sat +with it pressed to her bosom by both hands, as though she might thus +succeed in suppressing the convulsive sobs that shook her whole frame. +Tears, the luxury of both joy and sorrow, where the heart is too full +of either, tears streamed down her fair cheeks; tears of joy and sorrow +both; joy that he was indeed still true to her, and sorrow that such +hours, days, nay, years of unhappiness, had been thus needlessly +passed, while they were separated from each other, though joined in +soul. O, how bitterly she recalled her pride, and remembered the +control it had held over her, how blamed herself at the recollection of +that last farewell in the prison with the noble but dejected spirit +that in spite of herself even then she loved! + +She kissed the letter again and again; she wept like a child! + +“The queen was right-he had no heart to give. A countess? She might +have brought him higher title, a prouder name, richer coffers; but he +is not one to weigh my love against gold, or lineage, or proud estates, +or even royal favor; such, such is the man to whom I owe my very life, +my father’s life, Ruez’s life, nay, what do I not owe to him? since all +happiness and peace hang upon these; and yet I repulsed, nay, scorned +him, when he knelt a suppliant at my feet. O, how could a lifetime of +devoted love and gentleness repay him all, and make me even able to +forgive myself for the untrue, unnatural part I have played?” + +She covered her face with her hands, as if to efface the memory of the +conduct which she had just recalled so earnestly, and then rising, +walked back and forth in her apartment with all the impetuosity of her +Creole blood evinced in the deepened color of her cheek, and the +brightness of her beauteous eyes. Then once more seating herself, she +sat and trotted her foot impatiently upon the floor. + +“O, why, why cannot I recall the past; alas, I see my error too late. +Pride, pride, how bitterly and surely dost thou bring thine own +reward!” + +She strove to answer the letter that now lay open before her upon the +table, but could scarcely hold the pen, so deep and long drawn were the +sighs that struggled in her bosom. Sheet after sheet was commenced and +destroyed. Tears drowned out the efforts of her pen, and she knew not +what to do. She bit her fair lips in vexation; what should she write? +Once more she read his note, and full of the feelings it induced, tried +to answer it. But in vain; her sheet was bathed in tears before she had +written one line. + +“It is but the truth,” she said, to herself, “and I do not care if he +knows it.” + +As she thus spoke, she once more seized the pen and wrote: + +“In vain have I essayed to write to you. Let these tears be your +answer! ISABELLA GONZALES.” + +If the beautiful girl had studied for months to have answered the +letter of him who loved her so well, it would have been impossible for +her to have penned a more touching, more truthful, or more eloquent +reply than this. Striking a tiny silver bell by her side, a slave +approached, and was despatched with this note at once to the palace of +the governor-general. + +“Why, sister!” said Ruez, entering the room and speaking at the same +time, “you look as if you had been weeping. Pray, are you ill?” + +“Nay, brother, I am not ill. It was but a slight affair; it is all over +now. Where’s Carlo, Ruez?” + +The attempt to turn the course of conversation to the dog, was not +unobserved by the intelligent boy. He saw at once that there was some +matter in his sister’s heart that was better to remain her own +property, and so, with a kiss, he said no more, but sat down at the +window and looked off upon the brilliant afternoon effect of the sun +and the light land breeze upon the water. Neither spoke for many +minutes, until at last Ruez, still looking off upon the waters of the +outer harbor, or Gulf Stream, said: + +“I wonder where General Bezan keeps himself when off duty?” + +“Why, brother?” + +“Because I have called there twice, and have not seen him yet.” + +“Twice!” + +“Yes.” + +“You know it is but a very few days since he arrived here, brother +Ruez, and he must be very busy.” + +“Probably,” answered Ruez, stealing a glance towards his sister. + +“His present duty must engage a large portion of his time, I suppose.” + +“O, yes,” said the boy, laughing, “just about one quarter as much of +his time as was demanded of him when he was a lieutenant in General +Harero’s division.” + +“By-the-by, Ruez, they say the general is very ill of some chance +wounds.” + +“The general deserves all he got, beyond a doubt, and there is little +fear but that he will recover fast enough. He’s not one of the sort +that die easily. Fortune spares such as he is to try people’s temper, +and annoy humanity.” + +“But is he decidedly better?” asked Isabella, with some interest. + +“Yes, the surgeon reports him out of danger. Yesterday he was in a +fever from his wounds. I can’t conceive how he got them, and no one +seems to know much about it.” + +“There’s Carlo and father, on the Plato; good-by, sister I’m going to +join them.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. +THE ASSASSIN. + + +The apartment where General Harero was confined to his bed by the +severe wounds he had received, presented much such an aspect as Lorenzo +Bezan’s had done, when in the early part of this story the reader +beheld him in the critical state that the wounds he received from the +Montaros on the road had placed him. It was dark and gloomy then. The +same surgeon who had been so faithful a nurse to our hero, was now with +the wounded officer. Notwithstanding the excitement of his patient’s +mind, he had succeeded in quieting him down by proper remedies, so as +to admit of treating him properly for his wounds, and to relieve his +brain, at least in part, from the excitement of feeling that a spirit +of revenge had created there. + +A knock was heard at the door just at the moment when we would have the +reader look with us into the apartment, and the surgeon admitted a +tall, dark person, partly enveloped in a cloak. It was evening; the +barracks were still, and the gloom of the sick room was, if possible, +rendered greater by the darkness that was seen from the uncurtained +window. At a sign from his patient the surgeon left him alone with the +new comer, who threw himself upon a camp-stool, and folding his arms, +awaited the general’s pleasure. In the meantime, if the reader will +look closely upon the hard lineaments of his face, the heavy eyebrow, +the profusion of beard, and the cold-blooded and heartless expression +of features, he will recognize the game man whom he has once before met +with General Harero, and who gave him the keys by which he succeeded in +making a secret entrance to Lorenzo Bezan’s cell in the prison before +the time appointed for his execution. It was the jailor of the military +prison. + +“Lieutenant,” said the general, “I have sent for you to perform a +somewhat delicate job for me.” + +“What is it, general?” + +“I will tell you presently; be not in such haste,” said the sick man. + +“I am at your service.” + +“Have I not always paid you well when employed by me, lieutenant?” + +“Nobly, general, only too liberally.” + +“Would you like to serve me again in a still more profitable job?” + +“Nothing could be more agreeable.” + +“But it is a matter that requires courage, skill, care and secrecy. It +is no boy’s play.” + +“All the better for that, general.” + +“Perhaps you will not say so when I have explained it to you more +fully.” + +“You have tried me before now!” answered the jailor, emphatically. + +“True, and I will therefore trust you at once. There is a life to be +taken!” + +“What! another?” said the man, with surprise depicted on his face. + +“Yes, and one who may cost you some trouble to manage-a quick man and a +swordsman.” + +“Who is it?” + +“Lorenzo Bezan!” + +“The new lieutenant-general?” + +“The same.” + +“Why, now I think of it, that is the very officer whom you visited long +ago by the secret passage in the prison.” + +“Very true.” + +“And now you would kill him?” + +“Yes.” + +“And for what?” + +“That matters not. You will be paid for your business, and must ask no +questions.” + +“O, very well; business is business.” + +“You see this purse?” + +“Yes.” + +“It contains fifty doubloons. Kill him before the set of to-morrow’s +sun, and it is yours.” + +“Fifty doubloons?” + +“Is it not enough?” + +“The risk is large; if he were but a private citizen, now-but the +lieutenant-governor!” + +“I will make it seventy-five.” + +“Say one hundred, and it is a bargain,” urged the jailor, coolly. + +“On your own terms, then,” was the general’s reply, as he groaned with +pain. + +“It is dangerous business, but it shall be done,” said the other, +drawing a dagger from his bosom and feeling its point carefully. “But I +must have another day, as to-night it may be too late before I can +arrange to meet him, and that will allow but one more night to pass. I +can do nothing in the daytime.” + +“Very well.” + +“Where shall I be most likely to meet him, think you?” + +“Possibly after twilight, on the Plato, near the house of Don +Gonzales.” + +“I will be on the watch for him, and my trusty steel shall not fail +me.” + +Thus saying, and after a few other words of little importance, the +jailor departed. + +Maddened by the short confinement and suffering he had experienced, +General Harero resolved to rid himself at once of the stumbling block +in his path that General Bezan proved himself to be. A reckless +character, almost born, and ever bred a soldier, he stopped at no +measures to bring about any desired end. Nor was Lorenzo Bezan’s life +the first one he had attempted, through the agency of others; the foul +stains of murder already rested upon his soul. It was some temporary +relief, apparently, to his feelings now, to think that he had taken the +primary steps to be revenged upon one whom he so bitterly hated. He +could think of nothing else, now, as he lay there, suffering from those +wounds, and at times the expression of his face became almost demoniac, +as he ground his teeth and bit his lips, in the intense excitement of +his passions, the struggle of his feelings being so bitter and +revengeful. + +But we must leave the sick man with himself for a while, and go +elsewhere. + +Lorenzo Bezan had been pressed with the business incident to his new +position, and this, too, so urgently, that he had not yet answered the +note he had received from her he had loved so dearly. He had placed it +next his heart, however, and would seize upon the first moment to +answer it, not by the pen, but in person. It was for this purpose, +that, on the same evening we have referred to, he had taken his guitar, +and was strolling at a late hour towards the Plato. It was the first +moment that he could leave the palace without serious trouble, and +thinking Isabella might have retired for the night, he resolved at +least to serenade her once more, as he had so lately done. + +It would be impossible to justly describe the feelings that actuated +the spirit of the lieutenant-governor. His soul was once more buoyant +with hope; he loved deeply, ay, more dearly than ever before, and he +believed that he was now indeed loved in return. How light was his +heart, how brilliant the expression of his face, as he turned his steps +towards the spot where his heart had so often returned when the expanse +of ocean rolled between him and the spot so dear to him from +association. He hurried forward to the steps that ascended from near +the end of the Calle de Mercaderes, on to the Plato, but before he had +reached it, there came bounding towards him a large dog, which he +instantly recognized to be the hound that had so materially aided him +in saving the life of Ruez Gonzales, long before. + +At the same moment a hand was laid roughly upon his shoulder, but was +instantly removed and on turning to see what was the meaning of this +rude salutation, the young general discovered a large, dark figure +struggling with the hound, who, upon his calling to him, seemed to +relinquish the hold he had of the man’s throat, and sprang to his side, +while the person whom the dog had thus attacked, disappeared suddenly +round an angle of the Cathedral, and left Lorenzo Bezan vastly puzzled +to understand the meaning of all this. The man must evidently have +raised his arm to strike him, else the dog would not have thus +interposed, and then, had the stranger been an honest man, he would +have paused to explain, instead of disappearing thus. + +“I must be on my guard; there are assassins hereabouts,” he said to +himself, and after a moment’s fondling of the hound, who had instantly +recognized him, he once more drew nearer to the Plato, when suddenly +the palace bell sounded the alarm of fire. His duty called him +instantly to return, which he was forced to do. + +It was past midnight before the fire was quenched, and Lorenzo Bezan +dismissed the guard and extra watch that had been ordered out at the +first alarm, and himself, greatly fatigued by his exertions and care in +subduing the fire, which in Havana is done under the direction and +assistance of the military, always, he threw himself on his couch, and +fell fast asleep. + +Early the subsequent morning, he despatched a line to Isabella +Gonzales, saying that on the evening of that day he would answer in +person her dear communication; and that though pressing duty had kept +him from her side, she was never for one moment absent from his heart. +He begged that Ruez might come to him in the meantime, and he did so at +once. The meeting between them was such as the reader might anticipate. +The officer told the boy many of his adventures, asked a thousand +questions of his home, about his kind old father, Isabella, the hound, +and all. While Ruez could find no words to express the delight he felt +that the same friend existed in General Bezan, that he had loved and +cherished as the captain of infantry. + +“How strange the fortune that has brought you back again, and so high, +too, in office. I’m sure we are all delighted. Father says you richly +deserve all the honor you enjoy, and he does not very often compliment +any one,” said the boy. + +The twilight had scarcely faded into the deeper shades of night, on the +following evening, when Lorenzo Bezan once more hastened towards the +Plato, to greet her whom he loved so tenderly and so truly-she who had +been the star of his destiny for years, who had been his sole incentive +to duty, his sole prompter in the desire for fame and fortune. + +In the meantime there was a scene enacting on the Plato that should be +known to the reader. Near the door of the house of Don Gonzales, stood +Isabella and Ruez, and before them a young person, whose dress and +appearance betokened the occupation of a page, though his garments were +soiled and somewhat torn in places. Isabella was addressing the youth +kindly, and urged him to come in and rest himself, for he showed +evident tokens of fatigue. + +“Will you not come in and refresh yourself? you look weary and ill.” + +“Nay, lady, not now. You say this is the house of Don Gonzales?” + +“Yes.” + +“And are you the daughter of that house?” continued the page. + +“I am.” + +“I might have known that without asking,” said the page, apparently to +himself. + +“Indeed, do you know us, then?” asked Isabella, with some curiosity. + +“By reputation, only,” was the reply. “The fine of beauty travels far, +lady.” + +“You would flatter me, sir page.” + +“By our lady, no!” + +“Where last thou heard of me, then?” + +“Far distant from here, lady.” + +“You speak and look like one who has travelled a long way,” said +Isabella. + +“I have.” + +“Do you live far from here, then?” asked Ruez, much interested in the +stranger. + +“Yes,” was the reply. “Lady, I may call on you again,” continued the +page, “but for the present, adieu.” + +Turning suddenly away, the stranger walked leisurely towards the head +of the broad stairs that led from the Plato to the street below, and +descended them. + +At the same moment, Lorenzo Bezan, on his way to Isabella Gonzales, had +just reached the foot of the stairs, when hearing quick steps behind +him, he turned his head just in time to see the form of the page thrown +quickly between the uplifted arm of the same dark figure which he had +before met here, and himself-and the point of a gleaming dagger, that +must else have entered his own body, found a sheath in that of the +young stranger, who had thus probably saved his life. More on the alert +than he had been before for danger, Lorenzo Bezan’s sword was in his +hand in an instant, and its keen blade pierced to the very heart of the +assassin, who fell to rise no more. + +Such, alas, seemed to be the fate of the page who had so gallantly +risked, and probably lost, his own life, to protect that of the +lieutenant-governor. + +“Alas, poor youth,” said Lorenzo Bezan, “why didst thou peril thy life +to save me from that wound? Canst thou speak, and tell me who thou art, +and what I shall do for thee?” + +“Yes, in a few moments; bear me to Don Gonzales’s house, quickly, for I +bleed very fast!” + +Lorenzo Bezan’s first thought, on observing the state of the case, was +to obtain surgical aid at once, and preferring to do this himself to +trusting to the strange rabble about him, he turned his steps towards +the main barracks, where he expected to find his friendly surgeon whom +he had despatched to serve General Harero. He found his trusty +professional man, and hastily despatched him to the house of Don +Gonzales, bidding him exercise his best skill for one who had just +received a wound intended for his own body. + +We, too, will follow the surgeon to the bedside of the wounded page, +where a surprise awaited all assembled there, and which will be +described in another chapter. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. +THE DISGUISE. + + +With the assistance of some passers-by, the wounded page was borne, as +he had desired, to Don Gonzales’s house, while, in accordance with an +order from Lorenzo Bezan, the now lifeless body of the jailor, for he +it was who had attempted the life of the lieutenant-governor, was borne +away to the barrack yard. At the door of Don Gonzales’s house the page +was met by Ruez and Isabella; and those who held the wounded boy, +hastily telling of his hurt, and the manner in which it was received, +carried him, as directed by Isabella, to her brother’s room, and a +surgeon was at once sent for. + +“Sister,” whispered Ruez, “did you hear what those people said?” + +“What, brother?” + +“Why, that the page saved the life of the lieutenant-governor, Lorenzo +Bezan?” + +“Yes.” + +“He must have been hard by, for the page had only just left us.” + +“True.” + +“Yet he was not with the rest who entered the house,” continued Ruez. + +“No,” answered Isabella, “some one said he hastened away for a +surgeon.” + +“Hark!” + +“Who called you, just now, sister?” asked the brother. + +“It was only the groan of that poor boy. I wish they would bring the +surgeon.” + +“But he calls your name; go to him, dear Isabella.” + +“O, they have found the surgeon, and here he comes,” said his sister. + +And thus indeed it was. Entering the apartment, the surgeon prepared to +examine the wound, but in a moment he called to Isabella, saying: + +“Lady, this individual is one of thine own sex! and, I am very sorry to +say, is mortally wounded.” + +“A woman!” + +“Yes, lady; see, she would speak to you; she beckons you near.” + +“Lady, I need not ask what that professional man says. I know too well +by my own feelings that I must die, indeed that I am dying!” + +“O, say not so; perhaps there may yet be hopes,” said Isabella, +tenderly. + +“Nay, there is none; indeed it is better, far better as it is.” + +“Why, do you wish to die?” asked Isabella, almost shrinking from her. + +“Yes. There is nought left for me to live for, and it is sweet to die, +too, for him, for him I have so dearly, so truly loved!” + +“Of whom do you speak?” + +“General Bezan!” + +“You love him?” + +“Ay, lady, I believe far better than you can ever do.” + +“Me!” + +“Yes, for I know your own heart, and his true love for you!” + +“Who are you?” + +“That matters not. But where is he? I thought he followed me here.” + +“He went for the surgeon, and I have not seen him,” was the reply. + +Isabella trembled, for at that moment General Bezan, hastening back +from the surgeon’s, and despatching some matter that occurred by the +way, now entered the house, and was greeted most cordially by Don +Gonzales and Ruez. And from them he learned the extent of the injury, +and, moreover, that the supposed page was a woman, disguised in a +page’s costume. + +“Ah, general!” said Don Gonzales, “I fear, this is some little affair +of gallantry on your part that will result rather seriously.” + +“Be assured, sir,” said the soldier, “that I cannot in any way explain +the matter, and that I think there is some decided mistake here.” + +“Let us go to her apartment and see what can be done for her injury,” +said General Bezan, after a moment’s pause, “be she whom she may.” + +Just as they entered the apartment, the surgeon had loosened the dress +of the sufferer at the throat, and there fell out into sight the +insignia of the golden fleece and cross of St. Sebastian, in a scroll +of diamonds that heralded the royal arms of Spain, and which none but +those in whose veins coursed royal blood could wear! The surgeon +started back in amazement, while Don Gonzales uncovered out of respect +to the emblem. Springing to the side of the couch, General Bezan turned +the half averted face towards him, while he seized the hand of the +sufferer, and then exclaimed: + +“Is this a miracle-is this a dream-or is this really the Countess +Moranza?” + +“It is the Countess Moranza,” replied the suffering creature, while her +eyes were bent on Lorenzo Bezan with an expression of most ineffable +tenderness. + +All this while Isabella stood aghast, quite in the rear of them all; +but that look was not lost upon her; she shuddered, and a cold +perspiration stood upon her brow. Had she lived to see such a +sight-lived to see another preferred to herself? Alas, what knew she of +the scene before her? was it not a shameless one? Had Lorenzo Bezan +deceived this high-born and noble lady, and leaving her to follow him, +came hither, once more to strive for her love? Her brain was in a +whirlwind of excitement, the room grew dark, she reeled, and would have +fallen but for the assistance of Ruez, who helped her to her room, and +left her there, himself as much amazed at what he had seen as his +sister could possibly be. + +“Has she gone?” asked the sufferer. + +“Who, lady?” said the soldier, tenderly. + +“Isabella Gonzales.” + +“Yes,” replied the father. “Do you desire to see her?” + +“O yes, I must see her, and quickly; tell her I must see her.” + +The father retired; while Lorenzo Bezan said, as he bent over the +person of the countess: + +“Alas, I cannot ask thee now what all this means; you are too ill to +talk; what may I, what can I do for thee?” + +“Nothing, Lorenzo Bezan. Draw nearer-I have loved thee dearly, +passionately loved thee, loved thee as a woman can love; it was not +designed that I should win thy heart-it was already another’s; but it +was designed, the virgin be thanked, that though I might not wed thee, +I might die for thee!” + +“O, countess, countess, your words are like daggers to my heart. I have +been a thoughtless, guilty wretch, but, Heaven bear me witness, I did +not sin knowingly!” + +“Nay, speak not one word. I am dying even now; leave me for a while. I +would be alone with this lady; see, she comes, trembling and bathed in +tears!” + +Lorenzo Bezan, almost crazed with the contending emotions that beset +him, knew not what to say-what to do; he obeyed her wish, and left the +room, as did also the rest, leaving Isabella and the Countess Moranza +alone together. General Bezan walked the adjoining room like one who +had lost all self-control-now pressing his forehead with both hands, as +if to keep back the press of thoughts, and now, almost groaning aloud +at the struggling of his feelings within his throbbing breast. The +light broke in upon him; while he had been so happy, so inconsiderate +at Madrid, in the society of the beautiful and intelligent woman; while +he had respected and loved her like a brother, he had unwittingly been +planting thorns in her bosom! He saw it all now. He even recalled the +hour when he told her of his love for Isabella Gonzales-and remembered, +too, the sudden illness that she evinced. “Alas! how blind I have been, +how thoughtless of all else but myself, and my own disappointments and +heart-secrets. Next to Isabella, I could have loved that pure and +gentle being. I did feel drawn to her side by unspeakable tenderness +and gratitude for the consolation she seemed ever so delicately to +impart; but for this right hand I would not have deceived her, the +virgin bear me witness.” + +The moments seemed hours to him, while he waited thus in such a state +of suspense as his frame of mind might be supposed to indicate. The +surgeon entered to take his leave. + +“How is she, sir?” asked Lorenzo Bezan, hastily. + +“I have not seen her since we left her with Don Gonzales’s daughter. +She desired to be left alone with her, you remember, and it is best to +do as she wishes. My skill can do her no good. She cannot live but a +very few hours, and I may as well retire.” + +“There is, then, no hope for her, no possibility of recovery?” + +“None!” + +Throwing himself into a chair, Lorenzo Bezan seemed perfectly overcome +with grief. He did not weep, no tears came to his relief; but it was +the fearful struggle of the soul, that sometimes racks the stout frame +and manly heart. The soldier who had passed so many hours on the +battle-field-who had breathed the breath of scores of dying men, of +wounded comrades, and bleeding foes, was a child now. He clasped his +hands and remained in silence, like one wrapped in prayer. + +He had not remained thus but a short time, when a slave summoned him to +the bedside of the dying countess. He found her once more alone. +Isabella had retired to her own apartment. + +“General,” said the sufferer, holding out her hand, which he pressed +tenderly to his lips! + +“Forgive me, Countess Moranza, pray forgive me?” + +“I have nothing to forgive, and for my sake charge yourself with no +blame for me. It is my dying request, for I can stay but a little +longer. I have one other to make. You will grant it?” + +“Anything that mortal can do I will do for thee.” + +“Take, then, this package. It contains papers and letters relative to +myself, my estates, and to you. Strictly obey the injunctions therein +contained.” + +“I will,” said the soldier, kneeling. + +“This promise is sacred, and will make me die the happier,” she said, +drawing a long sigh. “I have explained to her you love the cause of my +singular appearance here, and have exculpated you from all blame on my +account.” + +“Ah! but countess, it is terrible that you should have sacrificed your +life to save mine.” + +“Say not so; it is the only joy of this moment, for it has saved me +from the curse of the suicide!” she almost whispered, drawing him +closer to her side as she spoke. “I could not live, save in the light +of your eyes. I knew you were poor, comparatively so-that fortune would +place your alliance with her you have loved beyond question as to +policy. I resolved to follow you-do all in my power to make you +happy—ask of you sometimes to remember me—and then—” + +“O, what then?” said Lorenzo Bezan, almost trembling. + +“Die by my own hands, in a way that none should know! But how much +happier has Heaven ordered it. I could have wished, have prayed for +such a result; but not for one moment could I have hoped for it. As it +is I am happy.” + +“And I am wretched,” said the soldier; “had the choice been offered me +of thy death or mine, how quickly would I have fallen for thee, who +hast been more than a sister, a dear, kind sister to me.” + +The sufferer covered her face with her hands; his tender words, and his +gentle accents of voice, and the truthful expression of his face, for +one moment reached her hear; through its most sensitive channel! But +the struggle was only for a moment; the cold hand of death was upon +her; she felt even the chill upon her system. A slight shudder ran +through her frame. She crossed her hands upon her bosom, and closing +her eyes, breathed a silent prayer, and pressed the glittering cross +that hung about her neck fervently to her lips. Then turning to the +soldier she said: + +“You may well love her, general, for she is very beautiful, and worthy +of you,” referring to Isabella Gonzales, who had just returned to her +apartment. + +“She is as lovely in person as in mind. But, alas! must I stand here +powerless, and see you, but an hour ago so perfectly well, so full of +life and beauty, die without one effort to save you?” + +“It is useless,” said the sufferer. “I feel that the surgeon is +correct, and I must die very shortly.” + +“O, that I might save you, countess, even by mine own life!” + +“You would do so, I know you would; it is so like your nature,” she +said, turning her still beautiful eyes upon him. + +“I would, indeed I would,” answered General Bezan. + +A sweet smile of satisfaction stole over her pale features as she once +more languidly closed her eyes, and once more that ominous shudder +stole through her frame. + +“It is very cold, is it not?” she asked, realizing the chill that her +paralyzed circulation caused. + +“Alas, countess, I fear it is the chill of death you feel!” + +“So soon? well, I am prepared,” she said, once more kissing the cross. + +“Heaven bless and receive your pure and lovely spirit,” he said, +devoutly, as she once more replaced her hand within his own. + +“Farewell, Lorenzo Bezan. Sometimes think kindly of the Countess +M-o-r-a-n-z-a!” + +She breathed no more. That faithful and beautiful spirit had fled to +heaven! + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. +THE AVOWAL. + + +There had seemed to be a constantly recurring thread of circumstances, +which operated to separate Lorenzo Bezan and Isabella Gonzales. +Isabella had received a fearful shock in the remarkable occurrences of +the last few days. The devoted love of the countess, her +self-sacrificing spirit, her risk and loss of her life to save him she +loved, all had made a most indelible impression upon her. There was a +moment, as the reader has seen, when she doubted the truth and honor of +Lorenzo Bezan; but it was but for a moment, for had not his own +truthfulness vindicated itself to her mind and heart, the words of the +Countess Moranza had done so. That faithful and lovely woman told her +also of the noble spirit of devoted love that the soldier bore her, and +how honestly he had cherished that love he bore for her when surrounded +by the dazzling beauty and flattery of the whole court, and bearing the +name of the queen’s favorite. + +All this led her of course to regard him with redoubled affection, and +to increase the weight of indebtedness of her heart towards one whom +she had treated so coldly, and who for her sake had borne so much of +misery. “But ah!” she said to herself, “if he could but read this +heart, and knew how much it has suffered in its self-imposed misery, he +would indeed pity and not blame me. I see it all now; from the very +first I have loved him-from the hour of our second meeting in the +Paseo-poor, humble and unknown, I loved him then; but my spirit was too +proud to own it; and I have loved him ever since, though the cold words +of repulse have been upon my tongue, and I have tried to impress both +him and myself to the contrary. How bitter are the penalties of +pride-how heavy the tax that it demands from frail humanity! No more +shall it have sway over this bosom!” As she spoke, the beautiful girl +threw back the dark clustering hair from her temples, and raised her +eyes to heaven, as if to call for witness upon her declaration. + +The proper steps were taken for sending the body of the countess home +to Madrid, where it would receive the highest honors, and those marks +of distinction which its connection with the royal blood of Spain +demanded. Lorenzo Bezan mourned sincerely the loss of one who had been +so dear and kind a friend to him. An instinctive feeling seemed to +separate Isabella and the lieutenant-governor for a brief period. It +was not a period of anxiety, nor of doubt, concerning each other. +Strange to say, not one word had yet been exchanged between them since +that bitter farewell was uttered in the prison walls of the military +keep. No words could have made them understand each other better than +they now did; each respected the peculiar feelings of the other. But +weeks soon pass, and the time was very brief that transpired before +they met in the drawing-room of Don Gonzales’s house. Ruez welcomed +Lorenzo Bezan as he entered, led him to the apartment, and calling his +sister, declared that they must excuse him, for he was going with his +father for a drive in the Paseo. + +Lorenzo Bezan sat for some moments alone, when he heard a light +footstep upon the marble floor of the main hall, and his heart throbbed +with redoubled quickness. In a moment more Isabella Gonzales stood +before him; her eyes bent upon the floor, seemed immovably there; she +could not raise them; but she held forth her hand towards him! He +seized it, pressed it to his lips again and again, then drawing her +closely to his bosom, pressed his lips to her forehead, and asked: + +“Isabella, Isabella, do you, can you really love me?” + +“Love you, Lorenzo Bezan?” + +“Yes, dear one, love me as I have for years loved you.” + +She raised her eyes now; they were streaming with tears; but through +them all she said: + +“I have looked into my heart, and I find that I have ever loved you!” + +“Sweet words! O, happy assurance,” said the soldier, rapturously. + +“One word will explain all to thee. I was spoiled when in childhood. I +was told that I was beautiful, and as I grew older a spirit of +haughtiness and pride was implanted in my bosom by the universal homage +that was offered to me on all hands. I had no wish ungratified, was +unchecked, humored, in short spoiled thy affectionate indulgence, and +but for one good influence-that exercised by the lovely character of my +dear brother, Ruez-I fear me, I should have been undeniably lost to the +world and myself in some strange denouement of my life. A startling and +fearful event introduced you to me under circumstances calculated to +fix your form and features forever in my memory. It did so. I could not +but be sensible of your noble and manly qualities, though seen through +what was to my mind a dark haze of humble associations. + +“This was my first impression of you. You boldly wooed me, told me you +loved me above all else. Your very audacity attracted me; it was so +novel, so strange to be thus approached. I, who was the acknowledged +belle of Havana, before whom the best blood and highest titles of the +island knelt, and who was accustomed to be approached with such +deference and respect, was half won before I knew it, by the Lieutenant +Lorenzo Bezan, on the Plato. Singular circumstances again threw us +together, where again your personal bravery and firmness served us so +signally. I knew not my own heart even then, though some secret +whisperings partly aroused me, and when you were sent to prison, I +found my pride rising above all else. And yet by some uncontrollable +impulse I visited you, disguised, in prison; and there again I can see +how nearly I had acknowledged my true feelings; but once more the +secret whisper sounded in my ear, and I left you coldly, nay, almost +insultingly. But bitterly have I wept for that hour. + +“In vain have I struggled on, in vain strove to forget; it was +impossible; and yet, never until you sent me that note, have I frankly +acknowledged, even to my own heart, the feeling which I have so long +been conscious of. Ah, it has been a bitter experience that I have +endured, and now I can see it all in its true light, and own to thee +freely, that I have loved even from the first.” + +While she had spoken thus, Lorenzo Bezan had gently conducted her to a +couch, and seated by her side he had held her hand while he listened +and looked tenderly into the depths of her lustrous and beautiful eyes. +He felt how cheaply he had earned the bliss of that moment, how richly +he was repaid for the hardships and grief he had endured for Isabella’s +sake. + +“Ah, dearest, let us forget the past, and live only for each other and +the future.” + +“Can you so easily forget and forgive?” she asked him, in softest +accents. + +“I can do anything, everything,” he said, “if thou wilt but look ever +upon me thus,” and he placed his arms about that taper waist, and drew +her willing form still nearer to his side, until her head fell upon his +shoulder. “There will be no more a dark side to our picture of life, +dear Isabella.” + +“I trust not.” + +“And you will ever love me?” + +“Ever!” repeated the beautiful girl, drawing instinctively nearer to +his breast. + +At that moment, Ruez, returning from the Plato to procure some article +which he had left behind, burst hastily into the room, and, blushing +like a young girl at the scene that met his eye, he was about to retire +hastily, when Lorenzo Bezan spoke to him, not the least disconcerted; +he felt too secure in his position to realize any such feeling: + +“Come hither, Ruez, we have just been speaking of you.” + +“Of me?” said the boy, rather doubtfully, as though he suspected they +had been talking of matters quite foreign to him. + +“Yes, of you, Ruez,” continued his sister, striving to hide a tell-tale +blush, as her eyes met her brother’s. “I have been telling General +Bezan what a dear, good brother you have been to me—how you have ever +remembered all his kindnesses to me; while I have thought little of +them, and have been far from grateful.” + +“Not at heart, sister,” said the boy, quickly; “not always in your +sleep, since you will sometimes talk in your day dreams!” + +“Ah, Ruez, you turned traitor, and betray me? well, there can be little +harm, perhaps, to have all known now.” + +“Now?” repeated Ruez. “Why do you use that word so decidedly?” + +“Why, you must know, my dear Ruez,” said the general, “that a treaty +has been partially agreed upon between us, which will necessarily put +all hostilities at an end; and, therefore, any secret information can +be of no possible use whatever.” + +“Is it so, Isabella?” asked Ruez, inquiringly, of his sister. + +“Yes, brother, we are to ‘bury the hatchet,’ as the American orators +say.” + +“Are you in earnest? but no matter; I am going-let me see, where was I +going?” + +“You came into the room as though you had been shot out of one of the +port-holes of Moro Castle,” said the general, playfully. “No wonder you +forget!” + +The boy looked too full for utterance. He shook the general’s hand, +heartily kissed Isabella, and telling them he believed they had turned +conspirators, and were about to perpetrate some fearful business +against the government, and sagely hinting that unless he was also made +a confidant of, he should forthwith denounce them to Tacon, he shook +his hand with a most serious mock air and departed. + +It would be in bad taste for us, also, not to leave Isabella and +Lorenzo Bezan alone. They had so much to say, so much to explain, so +many pictures to paint on the glowing canvass of the future, with the +pencils of hope and love, that it would be unfair not to permit them to +do so undisturbed. So we will follow Ruez to the volante, and dash away +with him and Don Gonzales to the Paseo, for a circular drive. + +“I left General Bezan and Isabella together in the drawing-room,” began +Ruez to his father, just as they passed outside of the city walls. + +“Yes. I knew he was there,” said the father, indifferently. + +“That was a very singular affair that occurred between him and the +Countess Moranza.” + +“Queer enough.” + +“Yet sister says that the general was not to blame, in any respect.” + +“Yes, I took good care to be satisfied of that,” said the father, who +had indeed made it the subject of inquiry. “Had he been guilty of +deceiving that beautiful and high-born lady, he should never have +entered my doors again. I should have despised him.” + +“He seems very fond of Isabella,” continued the boy, after a brief +silence. + +“Fond of her!” + +“Yes, and she of him,” said Ruez. + +“Lorenzo Bezan fond of my daughter, and she of him?” + +“Why, yes, father; I don’t see anything so very strange, do you?” + +“Do I? Lorenzo Bezan is but a nameless adventurer—a—a—” + +“Stop, father—a lieutenant-governor, and the queen’s favorite.” + +“That is true,” said Don Gonzales, thoughtfully. “Yes, but he’s poor.” + +“How do you know, father?” + +“Why, it is but reasonable to think so; and my daughter shall not marry +any one with less position or fortune than herself.” + +“As to position, father,” continued the boy, “General Bezan wears +orders that you would give half your fortune to possess!” + +“I forgot that.” + +“And has already carved a name for himself in Spanish history,” said +Ruez. + +“True.” + +“Then I see not how you can complain of him on the score of position.” + +“No; but he’s poor, and I have sworn that no man, unless he brings as +large a fortune as Isabella will have in her own right, shall marry +her. How do I know but it may be the money, not Isabella, that he +wants?” + +“Father!” + +“Well, Ruez.” + +“You are unjust towards the noble nature of that man; there are few men +like him in the queen’s service, and it has not required long for her +to discern it.” As the boy spoke, he did so in a tone and a manner that +almost awed his father. At times he could assume this mode, and when he +did so, it was because he felt what he uttered, and then it never +failed of its influence upon the listener. + +“Still,” said Don Gonzales, somewhat subduedly, “he who would wed my +peerless child must bring something besides title and honor. A fortune +as large as her own-nothing else. This I know Lorenzo Bezan has not, +and there’s an end of his intimacy with your sister, and I must tell +her so this very evening.” + +“As you will, father. You are her parent, and can command her +obedience; but I do not believe you can control Isabella’s heart,” said +Ruez, earnestly. + +“Boy, I do not like thee to talk to me thus. Remember thy youth, and +thy years. Thou art ever putting me to my metal.” + +“Father, do I not love thee and sister Isabella above all else on +earth?” + +“Yes, yes, boy, I know it; thou dost love us well; say no more.” + +Ruez had broken the ice. He found that it was time, however, to be +silent now, and leaning back thoughtfully in the volante, he neither +spoke again, nor seemed to observe anything external about him until he +once more entered the Plato and his father’s noble mansion. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. +HAPPY FINALE. + + +When Don Gonzales returned from his drive with Ruez, and while he was +still thinking upon the subject which the boy had introduced, relative +to Lorenzo Bezan and Isabella, he found the general awaiting his return +and desiring an interview with him. This was of course granted, and the +two retired to the library of Isabella’s father, where the soldier +resolved to make at once, and in plain terms, an offer of his hand to +this daughter of the old house of Gonzales, and to beg her parents +permission for their union. Being in part prepared for this proposal, +as we have already seen, the father was not taken at all aback, but +very politely and considerately listened to his guest. At last, +however, when it came his turn to speak, he was decided. + +“I will tell you honestly, general, that, while I fully realize the +great service you have done me and mine; while I cannot but admire the +tact, talent, and noble characteristics that have so quickly elevated +you to a niche in the temple of fame, still I am a very practical man, +and look well to worldly matters and immediate interests. This has been +my policy through life, and I have ever found that it was a good and +sound one, and carried me on well.” + +“As a general rule, perhaps, it is a very good one,” added Lorenzo +Bezan, to fill up a pause where he seemed expected to say something. + +“Now as to the matter which you propose, aside from the matter as to +whether Isabella herself would consent, or—” + +“I beg pardon, sir, for interrupting you, but on that score I have her +assurance already.” + +“You are very prompt, sir. Perhaps it would have been it little more in +accordance with propriety to have first spoken to me.” + +“You have a right to question the point, and perhaps are correct, but +to this there is little consequence attached,” said General Bezan, very +decidedly. + +“Well, sir, it is proper to come at once to the point, and I will do +so. I have registered an oath; let me tell you, then, that my daughter +shall never espouse any man unless his fortune is fully equal to her +own, and this oath I shall most religiously keep!” + +“You have made a strange resolve, sir, and one which will affect your +daughter’s happiness, no less than it will do mine.” + +“The oath is registered, General Bezan, and if necessary I am prepared +to strengthen it by another; for it has been my resolve for years.” + +“You are so decided, sir, that of course no argument on my part would +in the least influence you. But I trust you will consider of this +matter seriously, at least, and I may again speak to you upon the +subject.” + +“I shall always be happy and proud to meet General Bezan as a +particular friend in my own house, or elsewhere,” continued Don +Gonzales, “but there, we must understand each other, our intimacy +ceases, or as to the proposal of becoming my son-in-law, you will see +that it is totally out of the question, when you remember my +religiously registered oath upon the subject.” + +“For the present, then, I must bid you good-day, sir,” said the +soldier, turning from the apartment, and seeking the governor’s palace. + +When he had left, Isabella’s father summoned her to his own room, and +telling her at once the conversation he had just passed with General +Bezan, reiterated to her that nothing would move him from the resolve, +and she must learn to forget the young soldier, and place her +affections upon some wealthy planter of the island, who coupled with +good looks and a pleasing address, the accompaniments of a full purse +and broad estates. Isabella made no reply to her father; she was +confounded at the cupidity of his spirit; he had never spoken thus to +her before. She loved him dearly, and grieved that he was susceptible +of being influenced by such a grovelling consideration, and with a new +cloud hovering over her brow, and its shadow shutting out the gleam of +hope that had so lately been radiating it, she left him. + +The reader may well imagine the state of mind in which Lorenzo Bezan +sought the privacy of his own apartment in the palace. To fall again +from such high hopes was almost more than he could bear, and he walked +his room with hurried and anxious steps. Once he sat down to address a +letter to Isabella, for he had not seen her since he left Don Gonzales, +and he did not know whether her father would inform her of their +conversation or not. But after one or two ineffectual efforts, he cast +the paper from him, in despair, and rising, walked his room again. To +an orderly who entered on business relating to his regular duty, he +spoke so brief and abruptly as to startle the man, who understood him +only in his better and calmer moods. Again was his cup of bliss, dashed +to the earth! + +“I had some undefined fear of it,” he said to himself. “I almost felt +there would be some fearful gulf intervene between Isabella and myself, +when I had again left her side. O, prophetic soul, though our eyes +cannot fathom the future, there is an instinctive power in thee that +foretells evil. My life is but a sickly existence. I am the jest and +jeer of fortune, who seems delighted to thwart me, by permitting the +nearest approach to the goal of happiness, and yet stepping in just in +time to prevent the consummation of my long cherished hopes.” + +As he spoke thus, he sat down by the side of his table, and casting his +eyes vacantly thereon, suddenly started at seeing the address of his +own name, and in the hand of the Countess Moranza. It was the package +she had handed to him at her dying moment. In the excitement of the +scene, and the circumstances that followed, he had not opened it, and +there it had since laid forgotten. He broke the seal, and reading +several directions of letters, notes, and small parcels, among the rest +one addressed to the queen, he came to one endorsed as important, and +bearing his own name, Lorenzo Bezan. + +He broke the seal and read, “The enclosed paper is my last will and +testament, whereby I do give and bequeath to my friend, General Lorenzo +Bezan, my entire estates in the Moranza district of Seville, as his +sole property, to have and to hold, and for his heirs after him, +forever. This gift is a memento of our friendship, and a keepsake from +one who cherished him for his true nobility of soul!” + +Could he be dreaming? was he in his senses? Her entire estates of +Moranza, in Seville-a princely fortune given to him thus? He could not +believe his senses, and moved about his room with the open letter in +his hand, not knowing what he did. It was long before he could calm his +excitement. What cared he for fortune, except so far as it brought him +near to her he loved. It was this that so sensibly affected him; the +bright sun of hope once more burst through the clouds. + +“Her father says that the suitor of Isabella Gonzales must bring as +large a fortune to her as she herself possesses. As large? here I am +endowed with the possession of an entire Spanish district-almost a +small principality. Fortune? it would outnumber him in doubloons a +thousand times over. I happen to know that district-rich in castles, +convents, churches, cattle, retainers. Ah, Countess Moranza, but it +sadly reminds me of thy fate. Thou didst love me, ay, truly-and I so +blind that I knew it not. But regrets are useless; thy memory shall +ever be most tenderly cherished by him whom thou hast so signally +befriended, so opportunely endowed.” + +The reader may well suppose that Lorenzo Bezan spared no time in +communicating the necessary facts to Don Gonzales, which he did in the +following brief notice: + +“Finding, after inquiry, as to your pecuniary affairs, and also after a +slight examination of my own that, in relation to the matter of +property, I am possessed of a fortune that would be valued many times +beyond your own, I am happy to inform you that the only objection you +mentioned to my proposal relative to your daughter, is now entirely +removed. Concerning the details of this business I shall do myself the +honor to make an early call upon you, when I will adduce the evidence +of the statement I have made herein. Sincerely yours, LORENZO BEZAN, +Lt. Gov. and Gen’l Commanding. Given at the palace, Havana.” + +Don Gonzales was no less surprised on the reception of this note, than +Lorenzo Bezan had been when he first discovered the princely gift that +the generous countess had endowed him with. To do him justice, it was +the only objection he had to Lorenzo Bezan, and he secretly rejoiced +that the circumstances stated would enable him to give a free consent +to the union of two souls which seemed so completely designed for each +other. He called to Ruez, who had already heard the state of affairs +from his father, and told him at once; and it was, of course, not long +after that Isabella dried her tears, and stilled her throbbing heart by +a knowledge that the last objection to the happy union was obviated. + +Don Gonzales, when he received the letter, and had carefully examined +it, even went personally to the palace to tender his congratulations to +the young lieutenant-governor, and to tell him that he had no longer +any objections to raise as to the proposal which he had so lately taken +occasion to make, relative to Isabella. + +“We, then, have your free consent as to our early union, Don Gonzales?” + +“With all my heart, General Bezan, and may the virgin add her +blessing.” + +“I see, sir, you look anxious as to how I came in possession of this +princely fortune.” + +“I am indeed filled with amazement; but the evidence you offer is +satisfactory.” + +“At another time I will explain all to you,” replied Lorenzo Bezan, +smiling. + +“It is well; and now, sir, this matter of so much importance to my +peace of mind is settled.” + +Thus saying, Don Gonzales shook the soldier’s hand warmly, and +departed, really delighted at the result of the matter, for had not +General Bezan brought the requisite fortune, the old Spaniard would +have religiously kept his oath; and, if not influenced by honor and +consciousness in the matter of fulfilling his sacred promise, he would +have been led to do so through fear, he being in such matters most +superstitious. + +Lorenzo Bezan resolved that little time should intervene before he +availed himself of the promise of Isabella’s father. “Once mine, I +shall fear no more casualties, and shall have the right not only to +love, but to protect her. We know each other now, better, perhaps, than +we could have done save through tho agency of misfortune, and ere +to-morrow’s sun shall set, I hope to call her mine.” + +As the moon swept up from out the sea that night, and tinged the +battlements of Moro Castle, and silvered the sparkling bay with its +soft light, two forms sat at one of the broad balcony windows of Don +Gonzales’s house. It was Lorenzo Bezan and Isabella. They were drinking +in of the loveliness of the hour, and talking to each other upon the +thousand suggestions that their minds busily produced as connected with +the new aspect of their own personal affairs. The arm of the gallant +soldier was about her, and the soft curls of her dark hair lay lovingly +about his neck as she rested her head upon his shoulder. + +We might depict here the splendors of the church of Santa Clara, where +Isabella and Lorenzo Bezan were united; we might elaborate upon their +perfect happiness; state in detail the satisfaction of Don Gonzales, +and show how happy was the gentle, thoughtful, kind-hearted and brave +Ruez; and we might even say that the hound seemed to realize that +General Bezan was now “one of the family,” wagging his tail with +increased unction, and fawning upon him with more evident affection. +But when we say that all were happy, and that the great aim of Lorenzo +Bezan’s heart was accomplished, the reader will find ample space and +time to fill up the open space in the picture. + +General Harero, fearing the disclosure in some way of his villany in +attempting, through his agent, the now dead jailor, the life of Lorenzo +Bezan, immediately resigned his post, and sought an early opportunity +to return to Spain. Here he fell in a duel with one whom he had +personally injured, and his memory was soon lost to friends and foes. + +“Sister,” said Ruez, to Isabella, a few days after her marriage with +the lieutenant-governor, “are you going to have Lorenzo Bezan +cashiered? Are you going to complain of him, as you promised me you +should do?” + +“You love to torment me, Ruez,” said the blooming bride, with affected +petulence. + +“That is not answering my question,” continued her brother. + +“If you don’t have a care, I’ll complain of you, Ruez, for that piece +of business in the guardhouse!” + +“I’ve no fear about that now, since it has resulted so well.” + +“That’s true; but it is really perplexing to have you always right. I +do declare, Ruez, I wish you would do something that will really vex me +so that I can have a good quarrel with you.” + +“No you don’t, sister.” + +“Yes, I do.” + +“Tut! tut!” said Lorenzo Bezan, entering at that moment; “I thought I +heard a pistol discharge.” + +“Only a kiss, general,” said Ruez, pleasantly. And this was a sample of +the joy and domestic peace of Don Gonzales’s family. + +In Isabella’s ignorance of the tender and truthful promptings of her +own bosom, we have shown you the HEART’S SECRET, and in the +vicissitudes that attended the career of Lorenzo Bezan, the FORTUNES OF +A SOLDIER. + +THE END. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 4957 ***
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