CHAPTER XIII.

IGNEZ DE MORENO.

From the mole the carriage was driven to one of the most splendid hotels in Valparaiso. Don Salvador held his daughter in his arms, and hung over her with great solicitude and affection. She soon began to open her eyes, and the swinging motion of the carriage tended to promote the circulation of the blood. She was at once committed to the care of a medical man and her own attendants, and ere Pedro had dried his garments, and imbibed a stiff glass of brandy-and-water, most favourable tidings of her recovery were brought by her father, old Don Salvador, who insisted that Pedro should stay and sup with him, promising, that if Donna Ignez were sufficiently recovered ere he left them--which there was no reason to doubt--her preserver should be introduced to her.

"Bravo!" thought Pedro, as he approvingly glanced at himself askance in a great mirror, that ascended from the marble mantelpiece under which the gilt brassero smouldered, to the lofty frescoed ceiling; "bravo, Pedro!--so far so well!"

A supper, consisting chiefly of light dishes, fruit, and rare wines, served up in costly plate and splendid crystal, made Pedro's eyes twinkle, and ere the last flush of sunset had faded away on the Pacific, of which they had a fine view from the open windows of the hotel, they were joined by the Padres Eizagiuerro and Ugarte (whose presence Pedro could very well have spared); for the former was the confessor of Donna Ignez, and the latter was an old friend of her family.

Don Perez, the young man who had cut such a sorry figure on the keel of the inverted boat, also joined the party, but he was silent, reserved, and dissatisfied.

"Pardon me, senor," began Salvador de Moreno--a benevolent-looking old gentleman, whose silky hair was white as snow, though his face, which was noble in feature, wore a deep ruddy brown hue--"pardon me," he continued, after having expressed his gratitude in the most extravagant terms; "but may I inquire the name of a gentleman to whom my daughter owes her life, and I so much?"

Now, Pedro had not thought of a name to assume; but, with all the ready wit of a rogue, he at once foresaw that to adopt any _other_ Christian cognomen than his own might prove awkward, if he forgot it, or failed to keep his cue, so he replied:

"Don Pedro Florez de Serrano."

The old merchant bowed very low indeed, for the name sounded well, and somehow not unfamiliar.

"You have served----"

"In the navy--yes," said Pedro, hastily.

"Ah--I thought so."

"Curse his clever eyes!" thought Pedro; "there is no concealing a sailor's hands."

Ere this, he had discovered a necessity for concealing this circumstance, which had always excited suspicions of his assumed character, for his hands were, of course, browned by tar and exposure, and hardened by tallying on to ropes, cables, and capstan-bars. He resolved to invest in a box of kid gloves forthwith, and to account for his nautical bearing, said:

"I am a lieutenant in the navy of the Southern States, on parole not to serve during the war against the North. I belonged to that famous ship, the _Florida_."

Don Salvador and the two padres bowed again, while Don Perez, a pale, but rather handsome young man, on whom Pedro's sharp eye turned from time to time, stared before him straight at his wine-glass, and looked, if possible, more discontented than ever.

"Jealous already, my old friend of the Matriz Church!--ho! ho!" thought Pedro.

"As your name is Florez," said the Padre Ugarte, "may I inquire whether you are any relation of Don Florez de----?"

Here the priest named a famous Spanish grandee. On which the adventurous Pedro promptly replied, while holding his glass to the liveried and aiguiletted servant, to be filled with hock, iced and sparkling, for the sixth time:

"I am no relation whatever, I believe--only a namesake."

"Indeed!"

"Since the death of my uncle, the Corregidor of Ciudad Rodrigo, in the old country, I have only one relation in the world."

"Ah, indeed!" remarked Padre Eizagiuerro, who seemed to be studying Pedro closely with his small, keen eyes.

"My father's cousin," he resumed, with a steady stare, which somewhat abashed the worthy ecclesiastic.

"May I inquire?" asked Perez, who had not yet spoken.

"Certainly--old Serrano, the Captain-General of Cuba."

"El Mariscal Duque de Serrano!" exclaimed Ugarte.

"Certainly--do you know him, Senor Padre?" continued Pedro, with affected carelessness, while rolling up a paper cigarito, knowing well that the truth of this bold statement would never be tested in the Republic of Chili; and though a citizen thereof, Don Salvador now bowed very low indeed, for he had enough of the old Spaniard in his disposition to have a respect, bordering on awe, for long names and long pedigrees. The priests glanced at each other doubtfully, but remained silent, for they were more acute men of the world than their worthy host.

"And how came you among us here in Chili?" asked Perez.

"Simply by a stroke of fortune, senor. My parole cuts me off indefinitely from naval employment; my cousin will do nothing for me, either in Castile or in Cuba, so I have come here to kill time by travelling, attended by a young fellow named Zuares, a faithful servant, whom I have lost; so I find myself," added Pedro, who, thanks to the tutelage of the old Bishop of Orizaba, could express himself well when he chose, "by the great shores of the Pacific without a single friend."

"Do not say so, I entreat you, Senor Don Pedro," exclaimed old Moreno, impulsively, as he shook the speaker's hands; "oh," he added, while his eyes filled, "how much do I owe you, _Madre de Dios!_--how much?"

("Two thousand dollars, my golden pigeon!" thought Pedro.)

"I shall be your friend, senor, and so must our kinsman Perez."

Don Perez mumbled some reply half in his wine-glass, for he evidently viewed our adventurer with no favourable eyes. Indeed, though loving his young cousin Ignez with all his soul, he had scarcely grace to thank Pedro for fishing her up from the bottom of the bay. Perez de Moreno was rather a handsome young man; his black hair was shorn short, and he had smart moustaches, that stuck straight out right and left, terminating in sharp points, and his costume, though provincial, became him well.

He wore a short, round jacket of dark figured silk (surtouts and swallow-tails are unknown in these regions); a rich vest of scarlet satin; a shirt open at the neck, fastened by gold studs, in the centre of each of which a diamond flashed; long, straight pantaloons of chocolate-coloured velvet, girt by a sash of yellow silk; a broad-brimmed brown beaver, encircled by a gold band; straw-coloured kid gloves, and a knife concealed somewhere, no doubt, completed his attire.

As yet not a word had been said about the dollars, and notwithstanding his chivalrous character and high connections, our friend Pedro was getting impatient on the subject, and was very well pleased when it was referred to, with a covert sneer, by Don Perez.

"Ah, true, true, Dios mio! I had forgotten," exclaimed Don Salvador, producing a gilt morocco pocket-book, and opening it hastily; but Pedro, knowing well the character of the merchant, and having a deep and ultimate game in view, declined to receive a single dollar for the service rendered. Don Salvador expostulated, remonstrated, and was almost indignant, while Pedro rose fifty per cent. in the estimation of the two priests. At last, he could with difficulty, apparently, be prevailed upon "to accept, as his remittances from Charleston had been delayed," a cheque from his host, on the bank of Santiago, for 1,000 dollars.

"We leave this to-morrow for Santiago, where we reside. I should like my daughter to see you ere we go; but I find that, if she is well enough, we must start by sunrise. If you should ever visit our city, don't forget us, senor--don't forget us, I beseech you," and the old gentleman presented his card, on which was engraved the name and address:

"_Don Salvador de Moreno, Alameda de la Canada._"

"I shall not forget, be assured, senor," said Pedro, pocketing the cheque and the card; and now, thinking, as the lights were beginning to multiply, that the time had come when it would be prudent to take his departure, he solemnly, and with much profuse politeness, bade his intended father-in-law adieu, for in this relationship he actually viewed Don Salvador already. "I have some business to transact, about--about--but it does not matter what, so I shall not be long behind you here."

He remembered the brigantine at anchor in the bay, and resolved to quit Valparaiso without loss of time.

"_Adios_, Padre Ugarte--Padre Eizagiuerro, _adios_!" said he, waving his hat, and yawing some what in his course towards the door; "_adios_, Don Perez; don't forget to learn to swi--swi--swim. A thousand farewells to you, Don Salvador."

Fortunately the door was promptly opened by a servant, or Pedro would have lurched against its panels of plate-glass, and ere long he found himself in the street, with his back against a lamp-post, and very dim ideas of how he had quitted the hotel. Then he thought Don Perez had insulted him, and a vague notion of returning and punching that individual's head floated through his own.

The cool breeze from the Pacific partly sobered him; he wrapped his poncho round him; felt if the cheque was safe; and, then, remembering that he was in a strange place, he searched next for his knife and revolver.

"All right--_bueno!_"--he hiccuped, "now for the Posada de San Augustin. The church is just opposite the posada--no, it is the posada that is opposite the church, _amigo mio_."

Though tipsy, he reflected that he had a heavy bill due there; but as he had not the slightest intention of liquidating it, the expenses of a night more would matter little, as he meant to depart for Santiago on the morrow and follow up his fortune there without delay.

Pedro lay long a-bed next day for divers weighty reasons. He had a crushing headache--the result of iced champagne, moselle, sherry, and brandy-punch; he had to remember all the little romances he had invented for the behoof of Don Salvador and the jealous Don Perez; he also deemed it safer to keep out of the way till nightfall--even though skilfully disguised--than to wander about Valparaiso while that devilish brigantine (he could see her from the posada windows) was anchored off the battery.

Among other things, Pedro reflected that he must get rid of Don Perez, whom he already hated as a rival.

He knew well that attentions to the fair sex must be gone warily about under the shadow of the Andes; for though the women of South America are handsome and gay, their ideas of morality are somewhat cloudy and vague, hence the jealousy of the men is extreme, their vengeance deadly and sudden. Spanish and Indian blood make a fiery mixture in that land of earthquakes and volcanoes.

Gallantry to women, married or single, is often repaid by the bullet or stiletto of a parent or lover; and yet what a certain writer says of California suits Chili, or any other of these regions, equally well, for there the very men who would lay down their lives to avenge the honour of their own family, would risk the same lives to complete the dishonour of another.

But the intentions of Senor Don Pedro Florez de Serrano, of the Southern navy, were strictly honourable. He contemplated nothing but matrimony.

Some woman he meant to marry; whether she was a princess or a _paisano_, whether, like Ignez, the heiress of uncounted pistoles, or the pretty keeper of a _taberna_, mattered nothing to him provided she could supply all his little exigences till he grew tired of her, slipped his cable and ran off to sea again.

So now an opportunity of the most golden and unexpected kind--one favoured by fortune and those good old romantic accessories of all lovers and novelists--to wit, gratitude and adventure, had suddenly opened up to him.

It seemed that he had but to go in and win. He was the rescuer from death of an heiress, young, beautiful, tender, and simple "as a sucking turkey," to use one of his own peculiar forecastle phrases; so he leaped from bed about mid-day, called for a long glass of brandy and potash iced, to assist in clearing his faculties, after which he began to consider in what fashion he would "levant" from the Posada de San Augustin and set out for Santiago, without seeking for his bill, to attempt which, when he had but ten dollars in hand, would only have been an insult to his worthy host, Felipe Fernandez, whom, he had no desire to offend.