# Works of Jules Verne/The Pearl of Lima/Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX
THE FESTIVAL
And now the great annual fete of the Amanacäes had arrived. It was the 24th of June. On foot, on horseback, in carriages, the bulk of the population made its way to the well-known spot about half a league from the town. ​Indians and half-breeds were wont alike to share the mutual recreation; kinsmen and acquaintances marched gayly to the festive scene. Each group carried its own stock of provisions, and many of them were headed by a musician, who accompanied the popular melodies which he sung with the notes of his guitar. Starting through the fields of maize and indigo, they entered the banana-groves beyond, and traversed the charming avenues of willows which led them to the woods, where the aromatic odor of citrons and oranges mingled with the wild perfume of the hills. All along the route the itinerant vendors hawked a liberal supply of beer and brandy, which served to excite the merriment, and at times to stimulate the boisterousness of the pleasure-seeking multitude. Equestrians made their horses prance in the very middle of the crowd, vying with one another in displaying their speed and dexterity.
The festival derives its name from the little flowers that grow on the mountains. There is a universal license, yet it is exceedingly rare for the noise of a quarrel to be heard mingling with the thousand demonstrations of general joy. A few lancers here and there, wearing their flashing cuirasses, are more than sufficient to preserve order among the teeming crowds.
But whilst the festive crowd was enjoying the fair prospect, a bloody tragedy had been prepared below the snowy summits of the Cordilleras. Whilst the homes of Lima were being deserted by their occupants, a great number of Indians were wandering about the streets. They had been usually accustomed to join the general festivity, but on this occasion they went to and fro in the town, silent and preoccupied. Every now and then a busy chief would give them some secret order, and pass quickly on his way. Little by little they concentrated all their force upon the richest quarters of the town.
Thus the day of rejoicing passed on, and as the sun began to sink into the west, the time arrived in which the aristocrats in their turn went out to join the general throng. The costliest of dresses were seen in the handsomest of carriages which lined the avenues on either side of the road that led to the Amancaes, and pedestrians, horses, and vehicles were mingled in inextricable confusion.
The cathedral clock now tolled the hour of five.
​Up from the town there rose a mighty cry. At a concerted signal, masses of armed Indians from many a by-way and many a house, rushed out and filled the streets. The wealthiest districts were almost in a moment invaded by troops of the revolutionary tribe, not a few of whom were brandishing lighted torches high above their heads.
" Death to the Spaniards ! Death and destruction to the tyrants! " were the watch-words of the rebels. Forthwith from the surrounding heights came trooping in a multitude of other Indians, hurrying to aid their brethren in the general uproar.
Imagination can scarcely realize the alarming aspect of the town at this moment. The revolutionists had pene- trated in all directions. At the head of one party, Martin Paz was waving a black flag, and whilst some detachments were assaulting the houses that were doomed to pillage, he led his troops towards the Plaza-Mayor. Close beside him was the ferocious Manangani, bellowing out his infuriated orders.
But forewarned of the revolt, the soldiers of the Government had ranged themselves in a line along the front of the president's palace, and a general fusillade startled the insurgents as they approached. Taken thoroughly by surprise at this reception, and seeing many of their number fall, the Indians, frantic with excitement, made a tremendous rush upon the troops, and great was the melee that ensued. Both Martin Paz and Manangani performed prodigies of valor, and it was only marvelous how they escaped with their lives. It was of all things most essential that the palace should be taken, and that they should establish themselves within its walls.
"Forward!" cried Martin Paz, as again and again he urged his followers to the assault.
Although they had been routed in many quarters, the besiegers nevertheless succeeded in causing the battalion of soldiers that guarded the front of the palace to beat a retreat, and Manangani had already placed his foot upon the flight of steps when he was brought to a sudden stand. The reserve troops behind had unmasked two pieces of artillery, and were preparing to open fire.
There was not a moment to lose; the battery must be captured before it could be brought into action.
​"We two must do it," shouted Manangani vehemently.
But Martin did not hear him; he was attending to a negro, who was whispering in his ear that the house of the Marquis Don Vegal was being plundered, and that there was every chance that the marquis himself would be assassinated.
Martin Paz began to retreat. To no purpose did Manangani rally him to the attack, and all at once the roar of the cannon was heard, and the Indians were swept down on every side.
"Follow me!" shouted Martin, and gathering a handful of companions around him, he succeeded in effecting a passage back through the line of soldiers.
It was a retreat that had all the evil consequences of an act of treachery. The Indians believed themselves abandoned by their chief, and in vain did Manangani urge them to renew the fight. A heavy fusillade threw them into utter disorder, and their rout was soon complete. Flames at a little distance attracted some of the fugitives to the work of pillage, but the soldiers pursued them with their swords, and killed them in considerable numbers.
Meanwhile Martin Paz had reached the residence of Don Vegal, and found it the scene of a furious struggle. Sambo was there taking the lead in the work of destruction. He had a double motive to urge him on; not only was he eager to plunder the Spaniard, but he was anxious to get possession of Sarah as a pledge of his son's fidelity.
The gate and the walls of the great courtyard were thrown down, and revealed the marquis, sword in hand, supported by his servants, and making a vigorous defence against the mob that was assailing him. His determined attitude and indomitable courage gave a certain sublimity to his appearance; he stood foremost in the fray, and his own arm had laid low the corpses that were on the ground before him.
But altogether hopeless seemed the struggle he was making against the numbers of Indians, which were now recruited by the arrival of those who had been vanquished on the Plaza-Mayor. He was all but succumbing to the superior force of his opponents, when, like a thunderbolt, Martin Paz fell upon the insurgents in the rear, compelling them to face about, and then making his way through a shower of bullets to the marquis's side, he protected him with his own body from the blows which assailed him.
​"Well done! well done! my friend!" shouted Don Vegal, clasping his defender's hand.
"Well done! well done! Martin Paz," repeated another voice that went to his very soul.
He recognized Sarah; her words gave redoubled vigor to his arm, and a veritable circle of bleeding figures lay stretched around him.
Sambo's troops meanwhile were forced to yield. Twenty times did the modern Brutus make his unsuccessful assaults upon his son, and twenty times did Martin Paz withhold his hand, which was able, if he would, to strike down his father.
Covered with blood, Manangani suddenly took his stand at Sambo's side, and spurred him on to vengeance. "Your oath!" he cried. "Remember your oath! You have sworn to avenge the traitor's guilt upon his kinsman, upon his friends, upon himself! The time has come! See, here are the soldiers, and André Certa is with them!"
"Come on, then," said Sambo, with the laugh of a maniac; "come on now!"
Then leaving the courtyard, the two together made their way towards a body of troops who were hastening to the scene; they were aimed at by the advancing corps, but not in the least intimidated, Sambo made his way straight up to André Certa.
"You are André Certa," he said. "Your bride is in Don Vegal's house, and Martin Paz is going to carry her off to yonder mountains."
He said no more, and both the Indians disappeared. In this way Sambo had prevailed to bring the two mortal antagonists face to face. The soldiers were misled by the presence of Martin Paz, and rushed onwards to attack the house.
Maddened with fury was André Certa. As soon as he caught sight of Martin he made a dash upon him. The young Indian, as he recognized the half-breed, howled out a challenge of defiance, and quitted the flight of steps which he had so valiantly defended.
Here then stood the rivals: foot to foot, breast to breast, face to face. Keen was the survey that each took of the other. Neither friend nor enemy ventured to approach; all alike looked on in terror, and with bated breath. André first made a desperate lunge at Martin Paz, who had dropped ​his dagger; but, just in time to escape the blow, Martin had grasped Andre's uplifted arm. Andre tried in vain to disengage it, and Martin, wresting the poignard from his adversary's hand, plunged it into his very heart.
Martin threw himself into the arms of the marquis, who shouted impetuously, " Now quick, off, off to the mountains; wait no further bidding, but fly!"
At this instant old Samuel made his appearance, and flinging himself upon Certa's body, drew out a small pocketbook which the dead man had upon him. The action did not however escape the observation of Martin, who, turning upon the Jew, snatched the book from his hands, and turning over the leaves, extracted a paper, which, with an exclamation of joy, he handed to the marquis.
The marquis looked confounded as he slowly read the words, "Received of Señor André Certa the sum of 100,000 piastres: which I undertake to restore, if Sarah, whom I saved from the wreck of the San José, should not prove to be the daughter and sole heiress of the Marquis Don Vegal."
"Daughter! my daughter!" exclaimed the bewildered Spaniard, and hurried towards the apartment where Sarah was concealed.
The girl had gone. Father Joachim was there, covered in blood, and could only utter a few disjointed words, "Sambo . . . carried off . . . Rio Madeira!"
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