Confessions Of Con Cregan Part 58

It was a strange and curious sight; for while pleasure seemed to hold unbounded sway on every side, the procession of priests in rich vestments, the smoke of censers, the red robes of acolytes, mingled with the throng, and the deep chanting of the liturgies was blended with the laughter of children and the merry sounds of light-hearted joy. "I have come in the very nick of time," thought I, "to complete this scene of festivity;" and finding that my carriage could only advance slowly along the crowded avenue, I descended, and proceeded on foot, merely attended by two lacqueys to make way for me in front.

A lively controversy ran among the spectators at each side of me, of which I was evidently the subject, some averring that I was there as a portion of the pageant, an integral feature in the procession; others, with equal discrimination, insisting that my presence was a polite attention on the part of Our Lady de "Los Dolores," who had sent an ill.u.s.trious personage to grace the festival as her representative. On one point all were agreed,--that my appearance amongst them was a favor which a whole life of devotion to me could not repay; and so rapidly was this impression propagated that it sped up the long approach through various groups and knots of people, and actually reached the villa itself long before my august person arrived at the outer court.

Never was dignity--at least such dignity as mine--intrusted to better hands than those of my "Cacadores." They swaggered along, pushing back the crowds on each side as though it were a profanation to press too closely upon me. They flourished their great gold-headed canes as if they would smash the skulls of those whose eager curiosity outstepped the reverence due to me; and when at length we reached the gates of the court-yard, they announced my name with a grandeur and pomp of utterance that, I own it frankly, actually appalled myself! I had not, however, much time given me for such weaknesses, as, directly in front of the villa, at a table spread beneath an awning of blue silk, at a goodly company, whose splendor of dress and profusion of jewellery bespoke them the great guests of the occasion. The host--it was easy to detect him by the elevated seat he occupied--rose as I came forward, and, with a humility I never can praise too highly, a.s.sured me that if any choice were permitted him in the matter, he would prefer dying on the spot, now that his worldly honors could never exceed the triumph of that day; that all the happiness of the festivity was as gloom and darkness to his soul, compared to the brilliancy my presence diffused; and not only was everything he owned mine from that moment forth, but, he ardently hoped he might have a long line of grandchildren and great-grandchildren to be my slaves in succeeding generations.

While the worthy man poured forth these "truths" in all the flourish of his purest Castilian, and while I listened to them with the condescending urbanity with which a sovereign may be presumed to hear the strains of some national melody in their praise, as pleasant, though somewhat stale, another individual was added to the group, whose cunning features evinced nothing either of the host's reverence or of my grandeur. This was Fra Miguel, the Friar, who, in a costume of extraordinary simplicity, stood staring fixedly at me.

"Il Conde de Cregauo!" repeated Don Estaban. "I have surely heard the name before. Your highness is doubtless a grandee of Spain?"

"Of the first cla.s.s!" said I, with a slight cough; for the confounded Friar never took his eyes off me.

"And we have met before, Senhor Conde," said he, with a most equivocal stress upon the last words. "How pleasant for me to thank the Conde for what I believed I owed to the mere wayfarer." These words he uttered in a whisper close to my own ear.

"Better that, than ungratefully desert a benefactor!" said I, in the same low tone; then, turning to Don Estaban, who stood amazed at our dramatic asides, I told him pretty much what I had already related to the banker at Guajuaqualla; only adding that during an excursion which it was my caprice to make alone and unaccompanied, I had been able to render a slight service to his fair daughter, Donna Maria de Los Dolores, and that I could not pa.s.s the neighborhood without inquiring after her health, and craving permission to kiss her hand.

"Is this the Senhor Cregan of the 'Rio del Crocodielo '?" cried Don Estaban, in rapture.

"The same whom we left in safe keeping with our Brothers of Mercy, at Bexar!" exclaimed the Friar, in affected amazement.

"The very same, Fra Miguel, whom you humanely consigned to the Lazaretto of Bexar,--an establishment which has as little relation to 'mercy' as need be; the same who, having resumed the rank and station that belong to him, can afford to forget your cold-hearted desertion."

"San Joachim of Ulloa knows if I did not pay for ma.s.ses for your soul's repose!" exclaimed he.

"A very little care of me in this world," said I, "had been to the full as agreeable as all your solicitations for me in the next; and as for San Joachim," added I, "no witness can be received as evidence who will not appear in court."

"It is a pleasure to see your Excellency in the perfect enjoyment of your faculties," said the Fra, with a deceitful smile; but I paid little attention to his sneer, and turned willingly to Don Estaban, whose grateful acknowledgments were beyond all bounds. He vowed that he owed his daughter's life to my heroism, and that he and she, and all that were theirs, were mine.

"Very gratifying tidings these," thought I, "for a man who only asks for an 'instalment of his debt,' and will be satisfied with the lady."

"Maria shall tell you so herself," added Don Estaban, in a perfect paroxysm of grateful emotion. "Don Lopez y Cuesta y Goloso can never forget your n.o.ble conduct." Not caring much how retentive the memory of the aforesaid hidalgo might prove,--whom I at once set down as an uncle or a G.o.dfather,--I hastened after the host to where his daughter sat at the table. I had but time to see that she was dressed in black, with a profusion of diamonds scattered, not only through her hair, but over her dress, when she arose, and, ere I could prevent it, fell at my feet and covered my hands with kisses, calling me her "Salvador," in a voice of the wildest enthusiasm,--an emotion which seemed most electrically to seize upon the whole company; for I was now laid hold of by every limb, and hugged, kissed, and embraced by a score of people, the large majority of whom, I grieve to say, were the very hardest specimens of what is called the softer s.e.x.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 484-135]

One member of the company maintained a look of cold distrust towards me, the very opposite of all this cordiality. This was Don Lopez, who did not need this air of dislike to appear to my eyes the ugliest mortal I had ever beheld. He was exceedingly short of stature, but of an immense breadth; and yet, even with this, his head was far too big for his body.

A huge spherical ma.s.s, party-colored with habits of debauch, looked like a terrestrial globe, of which the mouth represented the equator. His attempts at embellishment had even made him more horrible; for he wore a great wig, with long curls flowing upon his shoulders, and his immense moustachios were curled into a series of circles, like a ram's horn. His nose had been divided across the middle by what seemed the slash of a cutla.s.s, the cicatrix remaining of an angry red color, amid the florid hue of the countenance.

The expression of these benign features did not disgrace their symmetry.

It was a cross between a scowl and a sneer; the eyes and brow performed the former, the mouth a.s.suming the latter function.

Blushing with shame and trembling with emotion, Maria led me towards him, and, in accents I can never forget, told how I had rescued her in the pa.s.sage of the Crocodile River. The wretch scowled more darkly than before, as he listened, and when she ended, he muttered something between his bloated lips that sounded marvellously like "Picaro!"

"Your G.o.dfather scarcely seems so grateful as one might expect, Senhora," said I.

"Muerte de Dios!" he burst out, "I am her husband."

Whether it was the simple fact so palpably brought forward, the manner of its announcement, or the terrible curse that involuntarily fell from my lips, I know not, but Donna Maria fell down in a swoon. Fainting, among foreigners, I have often found, is regarded next door to actually dying; and so it was here. A scene of terror and dismay burst forth that soon converted the festivity into an uproar of wild confusion. Every one screamed for aid, and dashed water in his neighbor's face. The few who retained any presence of mind filled out large b.u.mpers of wine, and drank them off. Meanwhile, Donna Maria was sufficiently recovered to be conducted into the house, whither she was followed by her "marido," Don Lopez, whose last look as he pa.s.sed me was one of insulting defiance.

The cause of order having triumphed, as the newspapers say, I was led to one side by Don Estaban, who in a few words told me that Don Lopez was a special envoy from the Court of Madrid, come out to arrange some disputed question of a debt between the two countries; that he was a Grandee d'Espana, a Golden Fleece, and I don't know what besides; his t.i.tle of Donna Maria's husband being more than enough to swallow up every other consideration with me. The ceremony had been performed that very morning. It was the wedding breakfast I had thrown into such confusion and dismay.

Don Estaban, in his triumphal narrative of his daughter's great elevation in rank, of the proud place she would occupy in the proud court of the Escurial, her wealth, her splendor, and her dignity, could not repress the fatherly sorrow he felt at such a disproportioned union; nor could he say anything of his son-in-law but what concerned his immense fortune. "Had it been you, Senhor Conde," cried he, throwing himself into my arms,--"you, young, handsome, and well-born as you are, I had been happy."

"Is it too late, Don Estaban?" said I, pa.s.sionately. "I have wealth that does not yield to Don Lopez, and Maria is not--at least, she was not--indifferent regarding me."

"Oh, it is too late, far too late!" cried the father, wringing his hands.

"Let me speak with Maria herself. Let me also speak with this Don Lopez. I may be able to make him understand reason, however dull his comprehension."

"This cannot be, Senhor Caballero," said another voice. It was Fra Miguel, who, having heard all that pa.s.sed, now joined the colloquy.

"Nothing short of a dispensation from the Holy See could annul the marriage, and Don Lopez is not likely to ask for one."

"I will not suffer it," cried I, in desperation. "I would rather carry her away by force than permit such a desecration."

"Hush! for the love of the Virgin, Senhor," cried Don Estaban. "Don Lopez is captain of the Alguazils of the Guard, and a Grand Inquisitor."

"What signifies that in Mexico?" said I, boldly.

"More than you think for, Senhor," whispered Fra Miguel. "We have not ceased to be good Catholics, although we are no longer subjects of Old Spain." There was an air of cool menace in the way these words were spoken that made me feel very ill at ease. I soon rallied, however, and, drawing the Friar to one side, said, "How many crowns will buy a candelabrum worthy of your chapel?"

He looked at me fixedly for a few seconds, and his shrewd features a.s.sumed a character of almost comic cunning. "The Virgin de los Dolores is too simple for such luxuries, Senhor Conde," said he, with a sly drollery.

"Would she not condescend to wear a few gems in her petticoat?" asked I, with the easy a.s.surance of one not to be balked.

"She has no pleasure in such vanities," said the Fra, with an hypocritical casting down of his eyes.

"Would she not accept of an embroidered handkerchief," said I, "to dry her tears? I have known one of this pattern to possess the most extraordinary powers of consolation;" and as I spoke I drew forth a bank-note of some amount, and gently drew it across his knuckles.

A slight tremor shook his frame, and a short, convulsive motion was perceptible in the hand I had "galvanized;" but in an instant, with his habitual calm smile and mellow Toice, he said, "Your piety will bring a blessing upon you, Senhor, but our poor shrine is unused to such princely donations."

"Confound the old hypocrite," muttered I to myself; "what is he at?--Fra Miguel," said I, a.s.suming the business-like manner of a man who could not afford to lose time, "the Virgin may be, and doubtless is, all that you say of her; but there must needs be many excellent and devout men here, yourself doubtless among the number, who see numberless objects of charity, for whom their hearts bleed in vain. Take this, and remember that he who gave it, only asks as a return your prayers and good wishes."

The Friar deposited the present in some inscrutable fold of his loose garment, and then, drawing himself proudly up, said, "Well, now what is it?"

"Am I too late?" asked I, with the same purpose-like tone.

"Of course you are; the ceremony is finished, the contracts are signed and witnessed. In an hour they will be away on their road to the Havannah."

"You have no consolation to offer me,--no hope?"

"None of an earthly character," said he, with a half-closed eye.

"Confound your hypocrisy!" cried I, in a rage.

"Don't be profane," said he, calmly. "What I have said is true. Heaven will some day take Don Lopez,--he is too good for this wicked world; and then, who knows what may happen?"

This was but sorry comfort, waiting for the bride to become a widow; but, alas, I had no better! Besides it had cost me a heavy sum to obtain, and accordingly I prized it the more highly.

If _my_ anxieties were acute, apparently Don Lopez's mind was not in a state of perfect serenity. He stormed and raved at everybody and everything. He saw, or, what was pretty much the same thing, he fancied he saw, a plot in the whole business, and swore he would bring the vengeance of the Holy Office upon everybody concerned in it. In this blessed frame of mind the departure of the newly wedded pair took place in spite of all my entreaties; Don Lopez drove away with his young bride,--the last I beheld of her was a white hand waving a handkerchief from the window of the carriage. I looked, and--she was gone!