# Vagabond life in Mexico/The Elopement

CHAPTER III.
The Elopement.
After my new companion had been installed in my chamber, I went out under pretense of seeing that the horses were taken care of, and ordered Cecilio to fetch from the kitchen a supper sufficient for two persons. The Biscayan, after some ceremony, seemed quite willing to accompany me in my repast. I had already made a good supper, but, for politeness' sake, I took a small portion to bear him company, my guest mean while doing justice to the viands, and quite lost in wonder at my abstemiousness.
"How can I help it?" said I, in explanation; "this is my first run through the country, and I have not yet got accustomed to their infernal cookery."
And while Cecilio, standing behind my chair, opened his eyes wide on hearing me say that I had but newly come into the country, I could not help admiring the prodigious appetite that had been developed by a fast of twenty-four hours.
"Now," said I, when the dishes were all cleared, "if the neighborhood of a young and charming lady, whose chamber is next to mine, does not hinder you from sleeping, I fancy you will do well to imitate me." And I muffled myself in my cloak, and lay down on the floor.
"Not a bad idea," said the Spaniard. "But, ​before going to sleep, perhaps you would like to hear an air on my mandolin."
"Use your freedom, but pray pardon me if the melody set me asleep."
In spite of the hard and cold couch on which I was reclining, in a short time I heard nothing but a confused murmur of broken notes, and then consciousness forsook me. I awoke with a start, under the impression that a strong chilling draught was setting full upon me. The long, thin candle which had been stuck to the wall of the chamber was throwing its last dull, smoky glare around. The Spaniard had disappeared. I was alone; and the chamber door, which had been left open, had allowed the cold night air to enter and awake me. A dead silence reigned through the hacienda, broken only by the distant crowing of the cock. I listened, surprised at the abrupt disappearance of my companion, and rose and shut the door, and, while doing so, threw a hasty glance into the court-yard. From amid the darkness I thought I discerned two black profiles half hidden by a column. One of them was that of the Biscayan, whose voice I could distinguish, although he spoke low; the other was unknown to me; but in the sweet tone, and in the accents, though prudently concealed, I could not doubt for a moment but that it was a woman. I had seen enough. I repaired to the door and pushed it open. At the grating of the rusty hinges, a slender form disappeared like a shadow behind a distant pillar. The Biscayan came up quickly to me.
"No apologies," said he; "you have, without knowing it, made yourself master of a secret which would have been yours sooner or later. It is better, ​then, that you know it now. Besides, I was just speaking of you. Is it not to you I owe one of the happiest moments of my life? Have I not still need of a new proof of that friendship which henceforth will be so valuable to me?"
Don Jaime then, in a few words, gave me the particulars of a romantic attachment which had arisen six months before in the shady walks of the Alameda; that, owing to the want of fortune on his part, a union could not be effected; that all attempts at flight had been defeated by watchful vigilance, which had never been relaxed till the time when the father of her he loved for her beauty alone, before knowing of her wealth, set out to visit one of his haciendas in the interior of the country. To assist in the attempt at elopement, Don Jaime had brought two horses with him; but at the third stage, at Arroyo Zarco, the poor young man, who had followed the carriage at a distance, was deprived of this last resource, as the huesped would not admit him within the walls of the building. Thanks to our lucky meeting, he had obtained admittance, and was now quite ready for a start to Guanajuato. Once there, Don Jaime intended to intrust the daughter of the haciendero to the care of a distant relative of his, who would conceal her in a convent till, the pursuit being slackened and the marriage concluded, he could set sail for Spain. Unluckily, a new obstacle presented itself. How could we quit the inn without awakening the suspicions of the huesped, and how hide the direction of our flight and keep up appearances? Don Jaime had thought that I might be able to accompany them, leaving my valet at the venta, while we accommodated ourselves with his horse. Donna Luzecita (the lady's name) ​could pass easily for Cecilio, and the landlord, seeing as many pass out as had entered in, could conceive no suspicion.
The Biscayan regarded me with a look of such melting eloquence, that I was on the point of throwing myself, heart and soul, into this new adventure; but, on reflection, I deemed it proper to refuse. Don Jaime sighed, and left me. He returned in a few minutes, accompanied by the young lady. A rebozo, worn in the Mexican manner, was passed round her head. Through the folds of her silk veil you could discern a bandeau of jet black hair encircling a brow empurpled with a modest blush, and under the arch of her black eyebrows two eyes modestly veiled by their long lashes.
"What should I not owe you, Señor Cavalier," said she, in that harmonious voice whose silvery tone had so charmed me some minutes before, "if you would consent to help us in our extremity! At any rate, a refusal will never change my unalterable resolution."
I must confess that her look and simple words had almost brought me over to her side. I only stammered out some commonplace about duty and prudence.
"Your presence," added the Spaniard, "can prevent one misfortune; for I love her so much that, rather than see her torn from me, I would stab her to the heart."
Proud and grateful for this burst of passion in her lover, the lady raised her eyes, which had been hither to cast to the ground, and gazed steadily at the Spaniard with one of those sharp, piercing looks of love which her Creole impetuosity could not retain. It was thus she desired to be loved. Then, holding out ​to me one of those hands which God seems to have modeled expressly for Mexican women—"You consent, don't you?" said she.
Every moment was precious. Twelve o'clock had struck, and I could not pain her by another refusal. To carry our saddles and valises to the stables, and prepare the horses for the road, was the work of an instant. The darkness in the stables was very great, and it was only by the light from our cigars that we could distinguish our steeds. In the court-yard the two coachmen were sleeping near their mules.
"Halloo! friend," cried one of them, yawning, "are you for the road so early?"
"I have a long way to go," I replied; "but you needn't stir; the cock has not yet crown."
The snoring of the coachmen, who had dropped asleep an instant afterward, was soon mixed with the chorus of noises that proceeded from the stable, and by groping about we managed to finish our business without any new interruptions. We arranged that the better of the two horses which Don Jaime had brought with him should be reserved for the use of the daughter of the haciendero. One thing only remained to be done—to instruct Cecilio in the part he was to play in our absence. I went to his bed-chamber. His organ of wonder had been largely exercised during the night, but the surprise which now awaited him was still more astonishing than any of the others. The poor fellow was sleeping with his hands clenched, when I, with some difficulty, awoke him.
"Wilt thou listen?" said I to him, when he was fully awakened. "Thou must sleep soundly till ten o'clock in the morning. If thou art unable to do so, ​at least remain in thy chamber. Reasons of the most important nature demand that thy presence in the venta be not even suspected till that hour. Thou must then slip unperceived out of the hacienda; and, in order that thou may'st do that the more easily, I am going to take away thy horse. Take the road to Celaya, and rejoin me at the venta of the Soledad, where I shall wait for thee."
"I shall execute your lordship's orders," said Cecilio, bowing sadly, and seemingly quite disconcerted at this new inconvenience.
My two companions were in the saddle on my return. Don Jaime appeared to shudder in the cold night air; and his beautiful companion, her head concealed by her thick silk veil, and her shoulders covered with a manga with the lining outside, seemed completely disguised except to a very experienced eye. The convulsive agitation of her bosom, however, and her stifled sobs, betrayed her violent emotion. I well understood the sentiments which agitated her, and I could not help casting a melancholy glance in the direction of the chamber in which the father of Donna Luz slept. In that trying moment, the Castilian generosity, so inherent in Don Jaime's character, showed itself in a remarkable manner.
"Luzecita," he said, in a choking voice, "you have not yet advanced too far to recede—it is your father you are leaving."
Recalled by the voice of Don Jaime to the thought that was uppermost in her mind, the lady trembled, and the two for a time seemed alone in the world. Taking the hand of the one she loved, and carrying it to her lips with the passionate submission of an Eastern slave, ​"I have no father now," she said, in a voice at once firm and sweet; "lead on."
On hearing this my last scruples vanished, and we set out. We traversed the court in silence. The huesped was sleeping on the ground close to the gate. I touched him with the point of my lance without speaking; he started up with the mechanical promptness of a man accustomed to be roused at all hours of the night.
"For the road already?" on receiving the reckoning. "And this cavalier also, with his two horses?"
"Yes," I replied; "this cavalier, my valet, and myself, must be at the hacienda of San Francisco before daylight."
"A pleasant journey," he cried, on opening the gate, which soon closed behind us. We at first followed the road to Mexico, so as to tally with the false direction I had given to the huesped; we then turned bridle all at once in the direction of Celaya, making a wide detour to avoid passing near the hacienda. A damp, icy fog covered the plain as far as the eye could reach; the night-wind tore aside the curtain of mist from time to time, and showed us the surrounding country covered with hoar-frost. A few paces distant appeared the watch-fire of the Biscayan: it looked like a star just about to expire. Our horses made their way rapidly through the mist, the breath that is sued from their nostrils playing about their heads in immense volumes. Although not sharing in the feverish impatience of my two companions, I could not help feeling a kind of emotion when I compared the uncertain issue of the event into which they had blindly rushed with the thick vapors which enwrapped in darkness the road and the objects around. We were ​not long in placing a considerable distance between us and the venta. We then slackened our pace; a grayish glimmer began to light up the objects around us: in the east, and behind the hills, which were still enveloped in mist, a few pale rays heralded the approach of the sun.
"Let us stop here a minute," I said to the Biscayan, "to breathe our horses. In the mean time, I shall alight to listen if there are any pursuers behind us."
​"Don't be afraid," I said; "joy never kills."
I laid him gently upon the grass; Donna Luz knelt by him, and bedewed him with tears. Don Jaime soon revived and came to himself, while the young Creole, turning about, hid her face in her hands with that strange mixture of modesty and passion which lent an additional charm to her beauty.
"You must come with us no farther," said the Biscayan to me. "You have risked enough in our service, and I will abuse your kindness no longer; but, before parting, I have another favor to ask of you: it is that you take my cloak in exchange for yours; it will aid my disguise more effectually."
I consented to his request.
"You will gain little by the bargain," said Don Jaime, with a smile; "but you have done me a great service. Since you are not bound in any particular direction, you may perhaps come to Guanajuato. I shall remain a fortnight there, and you can easily find me out, and I shall be but too happy to express to you once more the gratitude which I shall feel for you all my life."
The parting moment came. We assisted the lady to her saddle. Don Jaime then mounted. Untying the mandolin which hung at his saddle-bow,
"Take this," he cried, "and keep it as a remembrance of me. For a long time this instrument and hope were all my possessions; now, instead of hope, God has given me the reality."
The tears stood in his eyes. He shook me by the hand a second time. Donna Luz paid me with a smile more than she owed me, and the pair galloped away. I followed them with my eye for a long time involuntarily, thinking that there was much between ​the cup and the lip. The morning mist soon hid them from my sight.