CHAPTER XXXV.

A FURY.

After a march of five or six leagues at most, Antinahuel ordered his troop to bivouac. The warriors who accompanied him were almost all of his own tribe. As soon as the fires were lighted the Linda approached him.

"I have kept my promise," she said.

"Then, the young girl----?" he asked.

"Is asleep!" she replied, with a hideous smile.

"Good," he murmured, joyfully, and bent his steps towards the toldo, erected in haste, beneath which his victim had been transported. "No," he said, "presently!" and then turning to his accomplice added, "For how long a time has my sister sent the young girl to sleep?"

"She will not awake before daybreak."

A smile of satisfaction lit up the chief's features.

"That is well--my sister is skilful, and I should like to show my sister," he continued, "that I am not ungrateful, and that I also keep my word faithfully."

The Linda fixed a searching look upon him.

"Of what word is my brother speaking?"

"My sister has an enemy whom she has pursued for a long time, without being able to destroy him," Antinahuel said, with a smile.

"Don Tadeo?"

"Yes, and that enemy is also mine."

"Well?"

"He is in my power."

"Don Tadeo is my brother's prisoner?"

"He is here."

"At last," she cried, triumphantly. "Then I will repay him all the tortures he has inflicted upon me."

"Yes; she is at liberty to make him undergo all the insults her inventive spirit can furnish her with."

"Oh!" she cried, in a voice that almost made the hardened chief shudder, "I will only inflict one punishment upon him, but it shall be terrible."

"But be careful, woman." Antinahuel replied; "be careful not to let your hatred carry you too far; this man's life is mine, and I will deprive him of it with my own hands."

"Oh!" she said, with a hideous, mocking laugh, "do not be afraid; I will return your victim to you safe and sound. I am not a man--my weapon is my tongue."

"Yes; but that weapon is double-edged,"

"I will restore him to you, I tell you."

"There," the chief replied, pointing to a hut made of branches; "but beware forget not what I said."

"I will not forget," she retorted, with a savage leer.

And she sprang towards the hut.

"It is only women that know how to hate," Antinahuel murmured, looking after her.

A score of warriors waited for their chief at the entrance of the camp. He sprang into his saddle and departed with them.

Although through pride he had allowed nothing to appear, the threats of Don Gregorio had produced a strong impression upon Antinahuel. He had reason to fear that the Chilian officer would massacre his prisoners and hostages. The consequences of this action would be terrible to him, and would make him lose beyond recovery the prestige he still enjoyed among his compatriots; therefore, forced for the first time in his life to bend, he had resolved to retrace his steps, and confer with this man.

Endowed with great finesse, Antinahuel flattered himself he could obtain from Don Gregorio a delay which would enable him to sacrifice his prisoner without being called to an account for it. But time pressed.

It was scarcely eight o'clock in the evening, and Antinahuel had but six leagues to ride; he flattered himself, therefore, that if nothing thwarted his plans, he should arrive long before the time, and even return to his camp ere sunrise.

We have said that the Linda entered the hut which sheltered Don Tadeo. She found him seated upon a heap of dry leaves in a corner of the hut, his back leaning against a tree, his arms crossed upon his breast, and his head drooping on his chest. Absorbed by the bitter thoughts which weighed upon his heart, he did not perceive the entrance of the Linda, who, standing motionless within two paces of him, contemplated him with an expression of rage and satisfied hatred.

"Well?" said a shrill, incisive voice, "What are you thinking of, Don Tadeo?"

He started at the too well-known sound, and raised his head.

"Ah!" he replied, bitterly, "is that you? I wondered I had not seen you before."

"It is strange, is it not?" she replied. "Well, we are once more face to face."

"Like a hyena, the odour of blood attracts you."

"Who--I, Don Tadeo? You mistake my character strangely. No, no; am I not your wife--the woman whom you loved so much?"

Don Tadeo shrugged his shoulders with an expression of disgust.

"You ought to be grateful for what I do," she replied.

"Listen to me," said Don Tadeo, "your insults can never rise to the height of my contempt. Do, act, speak, insult me, invent the most atrocious calumnies your infernal genius can inspire, I will not answer you! Concentrated in myself, your insults, like a vain sound, will strike my ear without my mind making the least effort to understand them."

"Oh!" she cried, "I know well how to compel you to listen to me, my beloved husband. You men are all alike! You arrogate to yourselves all the rights, as you have done all the virtues! We are contemptible beings, creatures without heart; condemned to be your very humble servants, and to endure, with a smile upon our lips, all the insults you please to heap upon us! It was I who was always wrong; you are right; it was I who stole your child from you, was it not?"

At the end of a minute she resumed--

"Come, let there be no feigning between us; let us speak for the last time openly. You are the prisoner of your most implacable enemy; the most frightful tortures await you. In a few instants, perhaps, the punishment which threatens you will fall like a thunderbolt upon your proud head. Well, I can enable you to escape this punishment; that life, which you now reckon only by seconds, I can restore to you, happy, long, and glorious! In a word, I can with one sentence, one gesture, one sign, restore you to liberty immediately! I only ask one thing of you--I mistake, not a thing, a word--utter that word, Don Tadeo, where is my daughter?"

Don Tadeo shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, with a gesture of fury, "this man is a bar of iron; nothing can touch him--no words are sufficiently strong to move him! Demon! demon! oh, with what joy I could tear you to pieces! But no," she added, after a moment's pause, "I am wrong, Don Tadeo; pardon me, I know not what I say; grief makes me mad! Have pity on me! I am a woman--I am a mother. I adore my child, my poor little girl whom I have not seen so long, who has lived deprived of my kisses and my love! Restore her to me, Don Tadeo. See, I am on my knees at your feet! I supplicate you, I weep! Don Tadeo, restore me my child!"

She cast herself at the feet of Don Tadeo, and seized his poncho.

"Begone, señora, begone!"

"And is that all?" she cried, in a choked, husky voice; "Is that all? I implore you, I drag myself panting with grief through the dust at your feet, and you laugh at me. Prayers and threats are equally powerless with you. Beware, Don Tadeo, beware!"

Don Tadeo smiled disdainfully.

"What punishment can you impose upon me more terrible than your presence?" he said.

"Senseless man!" she resumed; "Fool! Do you imagine, then, that you alone are in my power?"

"What do you mean by that?" Don Tadeo cried, starting up.

"Ah, ah!" she exclaimed, with an expression of ferocious joy, "I have hit the mark this time, have I?"

"Speak, speak!" he exclaimed, in great agitation.

"And suppose I should not please to do so?" she replied ironically. And she laughed like a demon.

"But no," she continued, in a bitterly sarcastic tone, "I cannot bear malice: come along with me, Don Tadeo; I will lead you to her whom you have so long sought for in vain, and whom but for me you would never see again. And see how generous I am," she added, jeeringly. "Come along with me, Don Tadeo."

She hastily left the hut, and Don Tadeo followed her, struck by a horrible presentiment.