The Infidel Volume Ii Part 7

Then taking the infant from the girl who bore it, she laid Magdalena's hand upon its innocent brows, in the same manner; after which she stepped aside, and the young attendants went each separately through the same ceremony. This accomplished, she stole from the apartment, and in a few moments, the spindle rolled, the shuttle of the simple loom rattled, and the fingers of the embroiderers and feather-painters moved over their tasks.

The morning pa.s.sed away, and Magdalena still expected a summons to the presence of Juan. The evening darkened, the fragrant torches were lighted, the pipe and dance were again summoned to close the labours of the day, and Magdalena was, a second time, conducted to her chamber, to muse with fear and distrust over her singular situation.

The second day beheld the same ceremonies, succeeded by the same labours and diversions, and still not a movement indicated the approach of a messenger. She looked upon the maidens around,--their faces were grave and placid. They gazed upon her no more, except when her eyes were averted. She imagined a thousand reasons to account for her seclusion.

Was her brother, notwithstanding his a.s.surances to the contrary, in a state of as much restraint as herself? Or--was it possible?--did it not depend upon himself?--was it possible, he did not desire to see her? She thought of his slowness to admit her claim of consanguinity; she thought of the words of Camarga,--of their wildness--Had not Juan said he was insane?--of their insufficiency. Nay, she remembered that Juan spoke of _his_ father, whom he well remembered; and among the tears she shed of doubt and disappointment, she blushed at the boldness and warmth with which she had advocated her claims.

Another day came,--another, and still another; and her heart sickened and her cheek grew pale with suspense and humiliation. Then impatience waxed into anger, and she stalked among the maidens with looks of determination, as if she would have commanded them to lead her from what she justly conceived to be imprisonment. But _how_ command them? Her language was as the language of the G.o.ds to them, and their words were to her as unmeaning as the songs of the birds at the windows. Eyes can speak many things, but not all; and signs are of too arbitrary a nature to serve as the medium of communication betwixt two hemispheres. If she strove to depart from the chamber, she was followed by the two slaves, who seemed to be specially devoted to her service, and who, attending her from room to room, yet arrested her with humble and supplicating gestures, when she seemed to be overstepping the limits of the harem. If she persisted, she found herself in the power of certain antique beldames, who prowled around the sacred chambers, bearing wands to indicate their authority, and who opposed themselves, though without rudeness, to further egress. If she still made her way through these, she found herself stopped by pa.s.sages, in which were armed barbarians, who did not hesitate to block up the avenues with their shields and spears. In other words, she found that she was a prisoner, confined to a society as recluse, as peaceful, and perhaps as happy as that from which it had been her misfortune to be released. The pride and energy of her nature were here lost; for there was nothing with which to contend, except her feelings, and nothing to excite, save a sense of wrong, inflicted she knew not by whom, nor why.

This was precisely the state of things to tame her spirit into submission and inaction; and, almost insensibly to herself, she began to accommodate her deportment to her condition, subst.i.tuting anxiety for anger, and despondence for decision. She began to think that Juan was, like herself, a prisoner; and the apprehension of his distresses weighed on her heart more heavily than the sense of her own; and, as with all her strength of mind and pa.s.sion, there was a tinge of superst.i.tion running through all her thoughts, she beheld, in the singular train of calamities that had brought her so often to his side, a revelation and proof that she was ordained, finally, to rescue him from this, as well as the other ills, which oppressed him. Another thought brooded also in her bosom. Hitherto, whatsoever efforts she had made for his good, had ministered only to his griefs; and what had they brought to _her_? From the moment in which she had first attempted deceit, by concealing the sanct.i.ty of her profession, her life had been but a history of agony and shame. Had she avowed herself, immediately after the shipwreck, the bride of the cross, Hilario had not died under the knife of the a.s.sa.s.sin, Juan Lerma had not forfeited the favour of his general, and she herself had, perhaps, closed her life in the peace with which it had begun. She began to picture to herself the sinfulness of her evasions of vows, and to consider these the causes of her sufferings. Such thoughts as these, and a thousand others, divided and hara.s.sed her mind by turns, and confounded while they tormented. But one idea never left her--and that was, the uncertainty of the fate of Juan Lerma, and the hope that it might be reserved for her to free him from the bondage of infidels.

But how was this to be effected? She knew not.

Her first vague desire was to gain a friend among the grave and pa.s.sionless creatures, by whom she was surrounded. She examined all their countenances, and soon fixed upon several in which she thought she could trace kindly feelings and simplicity of character. She strove also to acquire a little of their language,--an effort which she soon gave up, not so much from the difficulty of acquisition, as from the remoteness of any benefit to be derived in that way.

She perceived that the Mexican lady who, each morning, for the first fortnight of her captivity, (after which time she was seen no more,) commenced the ceremonies of salutation, so humble, and indeed to her so irksome, must be of the highest rank,--perhaps the queen of Guatimozin himself; though it seemed improbable that one so exalted would condescend to homage so servile. She was conscious also, that the six maidens who attended upon this princess were of no mean rank; for though they frequently remained in the hall, engaged in labour, like the rest, it was clear that the others looked upon them with the greatest deference. Of these she had long singled out one who was superior to the others in beauty and mildness of countenance; and it seemed to her that this one, in going through the morning ceremony, endeavoured to make her sensible that she did so with sincerity and feeling. Thus, besides placing Magdalena's hand on her head, she carried it also to her lips, expressing as much desire as her countenance could convey, to be esteemed the Christian's friend.

These things almost escaped Magdalena's notice at first; but she afterwards remembered them, and strove to respond with manifestations of similar inclination. She observed, however, that the maiden gradually changed from tranquillity to melancholy, as if something preyed upon her spirits. She repeated, indeed, her salutation each morning, but it was no longer with smiles, and with a disposition to linger about Magdalena's person. On the contrary, she retired without delay to a little nook under a window, where she continued her task among feathers and flowers, seldom stirring from the spot. It was evident to the penetrating eye of Magdalena, that the Indian maiden was wasting away under some grief as poignant and enduring as her own; and though she attributed it only to some of the evils of war, the commencement of which had long since been indicated by the distant explosions of artillery, she was the more favourably impressed by the damsel's emotion, since none of the others seemed to share it, nor to betray either fear or anxiety.

She attempted then to come to some understanding with this maiden. She sat down by her in her little nook, and watched, with what, had she been in a better frame of mind, would have been admiration, the progress of her toils, as well as the effects of previous labours. She beheld, with surprise, garlands and bouquets of flowers, constructed of feathers, and imitated with such wonderful precision, that when they were mingled with a few natural ones, and impregnated with their odours, it seemed almost impossible that they could be artificial. The same art has existed in other parts of the continent, and is practised to this day, in some of the nunneries of Brazil. There were also pictures, worked with the same beautiful materials, upon a groundwork of prepared cloth, which were chiefly confined to the representation of flowers and birds. When Magdalena first visited the maiden, she found her engaged upon what seemed a wood-pigeon, surrounded by a little wilderness of flowers and leaves. The design, though simple, was pretty and spirited; yet the maiden seemed dissatisfied with her work, and altered it daily, as if each day still more displeased; until, at last, she seemed to have hit upon a plan more to her taste, when she pursued her task with what seemed a morbid ardour. When Magdalena looked at it last, she found the whole design and character of the work changed. The flowers had been displaced by stones and brambles; an arrow was represented sticking through the neck of the bird; and the story of a wounded heart was told in the metaphor of the poor flutterer, harmed by some wanton bolt, and left dying in a desert place.

When Magdalena beheld this painted sentiment, she took the hand of the artist, and pressing it as if with sympathy, pointed to her bosom. A faint tinge of blood pa.s.sed over her embrowned visage, but she looked confidingly into Magdalena's face, as if not ashamed to confess her grief. When Magdalena was persuaded she was understood, she directed the painter's eyes to the bird, and then pointed expressively to her own bosom, as if to signify that she also was unhappy. The maiden bowed her head upon her breast, and Magdalena saw that tears were stealing from her eyes. She thought they were the tears of sympathy; and when the damsel looked up, she cast off all reserve, and indicated as plainly as she could, by gestures, that she desired to make her way into the garden.

The maiden shook her head, and would have departed, but that Magdalena, rendered indiscreet by her impatience, arrested her, to make trial of a new appeal. She took the jewels from her hair, and without reflecting that the rank of the maiden, indicated by gems quite as valuable as her own, might render her inaccessible to such temptation, she made as if she would have thrown them upon her head and neck. She was sorry for the act; for as soon as the maiden understood what she designed, she drew back with a look of offended dignity, and with cheeks burning at once with mortification and anger. Then, gathering up her little picture, her bodkins, and basket of coloured feathers, she left the apartment, and returned to it no more that day.

Amid all her grief at the disappointment of her hopes, Magdalena had yet generosity enough to appreciate the spirit of the young pagan, and to lament having outraged her feelings.

That night, when the female slaves had departed from her chamber, and she was musing disconsolately in the light of a little night-lantern, consisting of a taper of resinous wood, surrounded by thin plates of gold, perforated with holes in many fantastic figures, which transmitted the light, she was roused by a sigh; and looking up, she beheld, to her great surprise, the young artist standing before her, in an att.i.tude of sad and patient humility. As soon as the visitor perceived that she was seen, she approached, and knelt at Magdalena's feet, who now saw, with a touch of shame, and, at first, even of resentment, that, as if in requital of the insult of the morning, she held in her hands all the jewels that had decorated her hair and person, and offered them for her acceptance. But Magdalena's displeasure soon pa.s.sed away; for the jewels were proffered with the deepest humility, and the damsel's eyes were suffused with tears. She murmured out some words, too, and the tone was expressive of grief.

All this was mysterious to Magdalena, who puzzled herself in vain to account for the act and the donation. She restored the jewels, and the maiden being wholly submissive, she replaced them about her person with her own hands; and then, taking advantage of the opportunity, made another effort to come to a better understanding with her. She remembered that her companion was a painter, and being herself a little skilled in the art, she drew with a bodkin from her hair, upon the soft wood of the table that supported her lamp, the figure of a man in Spanish costume, bound in a cell. The representation was awkward, yet it appeared that the damsel understood it; for she took the bodkin, and immediately, though with a trembling hand, completed the picture by the addition of another figure, representing a Mexican, with a crown like that Magdalena had seen on the head of Guatimozin, who, with one hand, extended to him the handle of a macana, while threatening him with another, brandished above his head.

This was expressive enough, and Magdalena's alarm for the safety of the young man was only removed when the maiden drew what was plainly designed for a buckler, interposed between the weapon and his head.

Magdalena then, without further hesitation, leaped to the grand object of her desires, by drawing the figure of a man paddling in a canoe. This also her companion understood, and replied to it significantly enough, by surrounding the little vessel with many others, filled with Indians, or other human beings, who attacked it with showers of arrows and darts.

"Alas! is there no hope for us then? no hope for my poor brother?"

exclaimed Magdalena, wringing her hands. "Maiden! maiden! carry me but to him!--Alas, I speak as to a stone statue!"

She then resumed the bodkin, and returning to the first sketch, she drew the figure of two women, entering the cell. The response to this ended her hopes immediately. The Indian girl sketched the outlines of men, armed with spears, circling around the whole cell.

Magdalena sank upon the couch in despair, and almost in a frenzy. The maiden, frighted by the vehemence of her grief, endeavoured to soothe her, by pressing her hand to her bosom and forehead, and covering it with kisses and tears; after which she stole quietly from the chamber.

It was many weeks before Magdalena beheld her again. She vanished from the hall, she came no more to kneel on her footstool in the morning, and display her melancholy visage to the stranger. Magdalena's heart died within her. She was in a solitude among living creatures,--the most oppressive of all solitudes. Her suspense was intolerable, and preyed upon her health, until she was wasted to a shadow, and the pagan damsels eyed her, when she appeared among them, with looks of pity. She succ.u.mbed at last to her fate; the fever of her mind extended to her body; and she was missed from the hall, as well as the young artist. She became ill, and she threw herself upon her couch, to waste away with pa.s.sion and delirium. But there was still a gleam of happiness to break upon her.

One night, when the dancing,--now no longer pursued with spirit, for the cannon of the Spaniards sounded each day louder and nearer,--had ceased, and the flutes were breathed upon no more, she felt her hand pressed with a gentle grasp. She looked up, and beheld the Indian girl at her side, eyeing her with compa.s.sion. She sprang to her feet, in an ecstacy of delight, and embraced her; for she hailed her appearance as the herald of joy.

"Oh, maiden! maiden!" she cried, "what news of my brother?"

The damsel replied with the only words in her power, but the best she could have used, had she been acquainted with the whole speech of Castile. She looked sadly but firmly into Magdalena's face, and murmured softly,

"Juan Lelma"--

The accent was imperfect and false, but the sounds were music to Magdalena. She clasped the young barbarian again in her arms, but her caresses were only responded to by tears and sobs, which seemed to increase in proportion to her own raptures. But Magdalena was too wild with hope to think of the sorrows of her friend. She saw that the Indian held in her hand, two long and capacious mantles of a plain stuff, which, she knew, were to veil them from evil eyes, while they crept to the cell of her brother. But the maiden checked her impetuosity. She removed the trinkets from her head and person, and again offered them to the Christian; and persisted to do so, though still most gently and humbly, until Magdalena, thinking this might be some important ceremony, a proof perhaps of friendship offered and received, and perceiving, what was more influential still, that it was necessary to hasten the proceedings of her visitor, consented to receive them. She yielded to her importunities, and the Indian girl clasped around her ankles, arms, and neck, and twisted in her hair, all the jewels that had decorated her own person, besides hanging round her neck the silver cross and rosary,--Magdalena's own gift to Juan,--which she received with rapture, not doubting that he had sent it to her as a token and a full warrant to submit herself to the guidance of the young infidel. This accomplished, she a.s.sisted Magdalena to secure the larger mantle about her figure, and wrapped herself in the other. Then beckoning the Christian to follow, and signing to her to preserve silence, she led the way from the chamber.

CHAPTER X.

A short pa.s.sage through which they stole, darkly, for it was not lighted, conducted them to a chamber, where the guide paused a moment, as if in doubt and fear. A strong light beamed through the curtained door. They listened for a time, until hearing no one stir within, the Indian maiden pulled the curtain timidly aside, and then beckoned Magdalena to follow her. It was a s.p.a.cious apartment, richly tapestried, and lighted by many such masked torches as Magdalena had seen in her own chamber. The hangings were even continued over the ceiling, so that it resembled a pavilion rather than the sleeping apartment of a king,--for such it was. In the centre was suspended a magnificent canopy, wrought with feathers, overhanging a couch blazing with gold, and bedecked with the richest spoils of the parrot and flamingo, with little pedestals both at the head and foot, on which incense was burning before golden idols. Upon this lay sleeping the Indian lady, whom Magdalena had so often seen during the two first weeks of her durance; and the infant slept clasping her neck. Magdalena doubted no longer that she beheld the queen of the young monarch. But she crept softly after her guide, and was soon buried again in darkness. After many turnings and windings, which made her fancy the palace was a great labyrinth, she suddenly found herself conducted into the open air, by a door exceedingly narrow, and concealed by a ma.s.s of trailing vines. But secret as this entrance appeared, it was not unguarded. A tall savage with a spear, started up from the bushes, as if to dispute their right of egress. But a word from his companion, low as the whisper of a breeze, removed his opposition.

He flung himself upon the earth, as if to his divinity, and thus remained, until the maidens had pa.s.sed.

It was by this time midsummer--for so long a period had elapsed since the departure from Tezcuco; but it was the season of the rains, and the chill winds from the lake penetrated Magdalena to the heart. The sky was overcast, the gra.s.s loaded with moisture, and every gust shook down a shower from the trees.

It was very dark, and she knew not well to what quarter she was bending her steps. But she could see a line of fires running as it seemed across the lake, from a point in the city to the right hand, and lost in the distance or obscurity of the left. This was, in fact, the northern causeway, or dike of Tepejacac, the nearest point of which was scarce a mile distant from the garden. It was occupied by the troops of Sandoval, who had extended his approach already within the limits of the water suburb. Two or three of his brigantines were also perceived anch.o.r.ed near to the calzada,--at least, their lanterns were seen shining from their prows.

While Magdalena was yet stealing along after her guide, her eyes fixed upon this line of fires, she heard suddenly a great tumult begin among them, in which the yells of men were faintly distinguished amid the crash of fire-arms and artillery. Shocked and frighted as she was, at being thus made a witness, though afar, of the terrors of human wrath, she soon began to look upon the conflict as of good omen for herself. It would certainly be a more attractive spectacle to any wandering infidels in the garden than might be furnished by the obscure figures of herself and companion.

Apparently the Indian maiden thought so too; for she increased her pace, and instead of skulking as before, among green-arched and shadowy alleys, she walked boldly along in a broad exposed path, that led directly to a corner of the palace. But from this very corner they saw rushing a tumultuous throng of barbarians, some of whom ran directly towards them, though the course of others was in another direction.

The young guide drew Magdalena into a sheltered walk, and crept timorously along until she reached the palace wall, when she sank down, from fatigue or fear, signing to Magdalena to do the same thing, and thus remained, until the last of the barbarians had vanished. The path now seemed clear, but still the Indian maiden remained cowering on the earth; and Magdalena, whose impatience distracted her mind and almost hardened her heart, perceived that she was sobbing bitterly. She touched her arm. The guide shrank away, but seemed to collect her spirits and courage at the sign. She rose up, and led the way to a broad door, where an armed Indian stood, holding a flambeau. He seemed alarmed, though not surprised at the sight of the pair, and spoke earnestly to the guide, as if to dissuade her from entering. She pa.s.sed him, however, with a word, and the next moment stopped, in great agitation, before the curtain of a door. Magdalena looked eagerly to her to confirm her hopes; but before the maiden could lift her finger, signing to her to enter, she heard, from within the apartment, the well known growl of Befo.

"Juan! dear Juan!" she exclaimed, and darted through the curtain.

The young man was pacing to and fro, not bound hand and foot, as her fears had antic.i.p.ated, but evidently excited in the most painful degree by the distant firing. He turned at the sound of her voice, and threw himself into her arms.

"Sister! for I believe thou _art_ my sister," he cried,--"else how could I love thee with a love so unlike that of man for woman? G.o.d be praised that I have seen thee once again: for it is time thou wert wrested out of this place. But what is this? Thou art wasted and thin! very thin: thy hands burn, thy cheek is hot--Sister, dear sister, thou art ill!"

"Think of it not," said Magdalena, with the delight of a maiden, listening for the first time to the voice of affection, and caressing him without reserve: "Oh, Juan, I could die twice over, to hear you speak so; and I care not if I do die, so you are but saved; for you have made me very happy.--You are a prisoner, Juan,--we are both prisoners.

An Indian girl brought me here--she will help you to escape, for you can speak her language. You can go to Cortes, and tell him you are the brother of Magdalena. He will not wrong you then,--no, he will not dare--Or perhaps we can fly together--we can fly in a canoe. The maiden will help us, the good maiden: She is at the door--I will call her in."

At this moment, the Indian girl, driven in, immediately after Magdalena, by some sudden alarm, stood at a distance, near the door, m.u.f.fled in her cloak, and shrinking almost within herself. A single dim and half expiring torch twinkled in the apartment; and its light scarcely reaching her, she remained un.o.bserved, a spectator of every thing, but of course unable to understand a word of the conversation.

"Go not, dear Magdalena," said Juan, folding her in his arms; "for it may be that we have but a moment more to share together. Tarry, and hear what I have to say. I am, as I may say, a prisoner; yet it seems, if I can believe the young king, more because I have incurred the wrath of the Mexicans than his own. Thus it is: the king rescued me from prison in Tezcuco, first, because I had not long before given him liberty, to my own great misfortune, and secondly, because he doubted not, that the wrongs I have suffered would incense me to take part with him, and fight against my countrymen; whereby, as he thinks, he would gain an invaluable auxiliary. On the day of his coronation, he presented me to his people, and called me his brother; nevertheless, they gave me but sour looks, for bitterly do they hate the sight of a Spaniard. If I will fight with them and for them, I win their love,--so he a.s.sures me, and so I can well believe; but this is clearly impossible. I have not fought, and I will not; and they say, therefore, that the king should give me up to be sacrificed; and twice already, after having suffered some severe losses, they have come turbulently to the palace, to demand me. For this reason, I dare not appear among them, unless to be torn to pieces.--Tremble not, fear not," he continued, as Magdalena clasped him, as if to shield him from approaching weapons: "I have seen thee bold and resolute among roaring breakers,--else how could I have saved thee, dear sister?--Heaven pardon Hilario! and heaven pardon me, my sister, that I imputed his death to thy warrant!--I have seen thee bold and intrepid.

Now summon back what courage thou hast; and, if heaven will, I will save thee yet again from destruction. I can myself escape, but not with thee--"

"Think not of me, Juan, think not of me," said Magdalena, earnestly and fondly. "Thou canst do nothing to make me so happy, as to tell me how I can die for thee. Fly, then; pause not a moment, but fly; and know, that, if I meet thee not again but in heaven, yet thou wilt leave me in heaven, even upon earth, knowing that thou art saved, and that I have ministered somewhat to thy liberation."

"Be of this heart, Magdalena," said Juan, "and rest a.s.sured that I will soon return, if I have life, with such a force as will rescue thee likewise from thraldom. My plan of escape involves duplicity, nay, even perfidy; yet are mine ends all pure, honourable, and humane. I perceive that Guatimozin is incapable of resisting much longer. His people are slain by thousands each day, and thousands must soon perish from want.

Cortes has already his foot upon the island; and house by house, the city is tumbled into ruins. The poor king is distracted, and resolved to die, burying himself and his whole people under the ruins of his capital. This may be excused in a soldier, and in men; but the town is thronged with poor women and children; there are thousands of them--tens of thousands; and they must perish, if the siege be longer continued. To save them--to save the king himself (for thus only can he be saved,) I will break faith with him; and thus also will I save thee. My only fear is, that his anger may fall upon thee, when he finds I have deceived him; yet this he may not discover. There is one here, with whom, could I but find speech, I could secure thee a protector. Magdalena, I have one friend here, who will be thine. An unfortunate attempt to escape has perhaps robbed me of her a.s.sistance. Yet I spoke of thee to her, and--But, dear Magdalena, thou art sick and feeble!--I talk to thee too much. If thou art alarmed, I will not leave thee: we will await our fate together."

"I _am_ sick, Juan, and I know not what is the matter with me," said Magdalena, faintly, suffering the young man to place her upon a seat.

"But who is this of whom you speak? Your friend, Juan--surely I shall love _your_ friends."

At this moment, Juan, as he bent over her, caught sight of the jewels which the Indian maiden had placed upon her head and neck, and among others, beheld the star of pearls which had gained for the daughter of Montezuma the name of Zelahualla, or the Lady of the Star, and the silver crucifix.

"Good heaven!" he cried, "do you wear her jewels, and yet ask me who she is?"

Magdalena started to her feet, and both turning together, they beheld the Indian princess, shrinking in the shadow of the room, behind Befo, who seemed to consider her an old friend, her arms crossed upon her breast, her head drooping, and her whole att.i.tude and appearance indicative of a spirit entirely crushed and broken.