University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.
ESTELLE AND THE CONDE.

The Ethiopian hid the orders within his oreast, and,
lifting the hangings, disappeared as he had entered.
For a few moments the Count of Osma fixed his eyes
vacantly upon the waving tapestry, while in his heart
he was striving to justify the deed he had resolved on
against the arguments of his conscience.

“They have merited it if it do fall upon them,” he
soliloquized, turning and pacing the tent with the measured
step of one who habitually walked when in thought.
“Did they not, three years since, rend in pieces the national
flag of Spain? Did they not cut down my whole
body-guard, and leave me the only alternative of a disgraceful
flight? Have they not withstood our arms till
now, and the last night repeated anew the outrage upon
my guards; wounded to the death a noble Spanish gentleman,
and perhaps slain one, a drop of whose blood
alone hath more value in the eyes of Carlos and the
Cortes than even an Osma dare answer for? If he
be not heard from by sunrise, my orders shall be executed.
What if there be truth in this suspicion of Sulem!
By the cross, the Moor may have ground for it.
If it should be true—the youth is in my power, not I in
his! For my acts I am accountable to no one but
those from whom I derive my rank and authority. If
I do well or ill, what avails his espionage, unless, indeed,
he be secretly delegated with higher powers than mine?
This may be! If so, let him first produce them if he
would rule in my stead, and my last act of power shall
be exerted to destroy him, if he were the Infante himself.”

Thus ran the thoughts of the crafty governor, his
own active fears and consciousness of a criminal life

now condemning, now excusing alternately both himself
and the object of his thoughts, and magnifying suspicions
and malignant hints, that originated in a hateful
and wanton spirit, into certainties. Garcia Ramarez,
the Count of Osma, was no ordinary man. Though
only in the prime of life, he had risen to the highest
rank a subject can hold in the armies of Spain. This
elevation he owed to his extraordinary ambition, love
of war, undaunted bravery, and a masterly skill in military
science. He was descended from a noble Castilian
line; the founder of his family, Condé Velasquez
Osma, having greatly distinguished himself in the conquest
of Granada, both in numerous single combats,
and in capturing one of the strongest holds of Boabdil,
which Isabella afterward conferred upon him as a reward
for his bravery. His descendant, the present
Count Garcia, was the younger of two brothers, the
elder of whom, it was said, fell from the battlements of
one of the towers into the sea, near which, on a high
rock, the Castle of Osma was built; but suspicion gave
out other rumours to account for his sudden and mysterious
disappearance, for the credibility of which, the
ambitious and cruel character of the young Garcia afforded
sufficient foundation. But Spain was too much
torn at the period by civil contests for so slight a matter
to create any sensation, if the rumour ever reached
the government, which was doubtful; the younger
brother assumed the title and vast estate of his deceased
brother, Don Louis, without question or hinderance,
and the rumour was soon forgotten. Arms
soon became his passion, and, favoured by one or two
acts of personal valour and his family influence, at the
age of twenty-three he was made a lieutenant-colonel,
and sent into Africa to demand of the Moors reparation
for certain acts of piracy committed on Spanish
ships. A battle took place within a league of Morocco,
and Osma was defeated and taken prisoner.
After several months' bondage he made his escape,
and suddenly appeared at the court of Madrid, where
he once more offered his services to the king. He
was now remarkable for being attended by a hideous
Moor, who followed his footsteps like his shadow, slept
at his feet, rode by his side in battle, and without whom,
indeed, he never appeared abroad. It was reported
that he personally educated the unsightly Moor in the
language and customs of Spain, and that, as his knowledge
of both increased, he made him controller of his
affairs, and eventually his private secretary and confidant;
some dared to say, indeed, that he was also
made his instrument of vengeance when a man's life
stood between him and his fierce passions or sanguinary
ambition.

A few months after his return from captivity in Africa,
he married the only daughter of the Marquis de la
Torre, who died a few years afterward, leaving an infant
daughter of great beauty and promise. When
she was at the age of thirteen, the father of Estelle, or
Lil, as he fondly pet-named her, took her away from
the convent, where he had left her to be educated, and
made her his companion in the field, taught her the
art of fearless horsemanship, of fence and defence, to
wield the cimeter, dart the spear, and fire pistol or
hand-gun with accurate aim. She attended him in his
battles, riding by his side, with the gigantic Ethiopian
at her rein, protecting her from danger like the fabled
genii guarding a princess, who hath commanded his
services by the charm of magic. Yet her warlike education,
under the eye of so great a warrior, took from
her but little of the softness and gentle manner of maidens
of her age. She was bold, but not masculine;
boldness such as hers serving only to heighten the
charm of her singular beauty. Her eye was blue as
heaven, and full of light and intelligence; and though
it never quailed with fear, it was soft as the mountain
gazelle's in its expression; and though it might flash
like the eagle's as she galloped beside her father into
the battle, it could droop like the turtle-dove's when
thoughts of tenderness filled her soul, as if young love
had rested upon the lid. She was not spoiled by her
father's indulgence, for he tenderly loved her, though

the severity of his nature was mingled with his affection.
She returned his affection with her whole heart,
and, by her irresistible love, beauty, and devotion, held
an influence over him that rendered her, in some degree,
a spirit of good sent from heaven to control the
evil he would do. His stern spirit yielded to her gentleness,
and his affection could seldom deny her requests
when eloquently and tearfully urged for some
victim of his displeasure or vengeance. For, although
the Condé of Osma possessed the revolting traits of
character that have been asserted of him, yet there
was one current of gentleness flowing through his heart
that had not been darkened by the foul streams of vice
that ran beside it: towards his daughter it showed itself
in the shape of paternal love; but towards the
young and lovely of her sex it was less pure, and assumed
the turbid aspect of sensuality. In his bearing
towards women he was gay, gallant, and fascinating;
it was only to those of his own sex that he manifested
a certain haughtiness of port and sternness of speech
that usually characterized his intercourse with those
around him.

He now appears with his Ethiopian confidant on the
scene of action after the lapse of eighteen years from
his captivity by the Moorish emperor, Sidi Mohammed,
and, save in increase of years and in guilt—for this
period of the eventful life of the Condé de Osma had
not been passed without more than one instance of
dark and fearful crime—they were still the same inseparable,
mysterious pair, united by some unknown,
and, men thought, unholy compact. Some, indeed,
hinted at a familiar spirit, while all believed the two
were linked together soul with soul in secret guilt.
The officers loathed the presence of the Moor, and
avoided him, while the common soldiers looked upon
him with fear and superstitious dread.

The commission of the Condé de Osma, which appointed
him governor and captain-general of the province
of Louisiana, bore date “Aranjuez, April 16th,
1767,” and conveyed to him the special power to establish,

in this new part of the king's dominions, with
regard to the military force, police, administration of
justice, and finances, such a form of government as
might most effectually secure its dependance and subordination,
and promote the king's service and the happiness
of his subjects. To carry out these ends, he
was to be supported by a military force equal to three
times the number of persons capable of bearing arms
in the colony, one half of which he had now brought
with him. He was accompanied on board his ships
by several Spanish gentlemen, of whom he was to
form his council or cabildo, which was to be composed
of six perpetual regidors, two ordinary alcaldes, an attorney-general
syndic, and a secretario; over which
body he was to preside in person. Besides these, he
was attended by the alferez-real, or royal standard-bearer,
the provincial alcalde, his alguazil mayor, and
receiver of fines. Besides these, other necessary
steps had been taken for the absolute Spanish rule of
the city and province. His powers over all were of
an extraordinary nature, and from his decision, both in
criminal as well as in civil cases, there was no appeal
but to the king; and this could be made and transmitted
to him only through the cabildo, which was to be
composed of Osma's own creatures, beyond whom a
complaint was scarce likely to find its way. A remote
delegated power is the greatest evil a monarch
can inflict upon his subjects. Injustice, oppression,
and tyranny are ever its fruits. Such was the
character of the man who was now thoughtfully pacing
the pavilion! Such was the soldier who had long led
the armies of Spain! Such was the governor who
was now to rule over Louisiana!

The Moor had not been long absent from the apartment,
and the Condé still gloomily paced the gorgeous
carpets, his step giving back no sound from the thick,
soft texture. His mind was occupied now with suspicions
of the young Don Henrique; now with the contemplation
of his own unforgotten wrongs at the
hands of the bourgeois, and the prospect of the morrow's

revenge; and with ambitious visions of his future
power and grandeur. Suddenly the arras behind
his chair of state moved slightly, as if stirred with the
wind; and a female hand, like ivory for brightness and
beauty, was thrust through an opening in the folds,
grasped the tassel of the silk cord that passed across
them, and, with a timid, hesitating manner, drew aside
the hanging, showing another apartment within. He
was too much occupied with his thoughts to observe
this. There was a pause, as if the intruder were surveying
the cabinet before entering it; and then a beautiful
creature, with sun-bright hair, large, glorious blue
eyes, and a complexion like the lily from which the
dew has just fallen, stepped forth, and, with her hands
folded across her bosom, stood in his path.

“My daughter!” he exclaimed, sharply, as if displeased
at the intrusion; but his angry glance was arrested
as it met her lovely person, wrapped loosely in
a night-robe, that was folded about her limbs like the
richest drapery of sculpture, displaying the exquisite
grace of her figure, as if the effect of studied statuary,
and encountered the bright beauty of her face, about
which the unconfined hair fell like a cloud of light.
None would have recognised in her the bold, free
maiden that rode beside the Condé on his landing. It
seemed a radiant vision that met his eyes. The father
was entranced by the daughter's charms! He
could not speak the sudden anger that rose to his lips!
He could only gaze with all a parent's pride upon her,
while tenderness took the place of rising displeasure.

“What has disturbed thee, Lil?” he asked, smiling
affectionately and kissing her, and then holding her
back to gaze upon her enchanting face.

“I have not slept since the midnight bell, signor,”
she said, with a glance at himself and then at the escritoire,
which he easily interpreted.

“You are a silly girl, Lil,” he answered, tapping
her on the chin; “and, were it not that you look just
now so much more angelic and more like your mother

than usual, I could be well angry with you. So you
have been a listener to my cabinet secrets?”

“I have, father.”

“And, like a child, and a woman who knows her
power, have left your couch to sue for grace to these
graceless bourgeois, I'll warrant thee!”

“Thou wilt not do this thing, signor!”

“Lil, my fawn, I love you more than I have loved
any human being. But even love hath its bounds.
Ask me not what I cannot grant, that I may not have
the pain of refusing thee.”

“Father, I love you also too well to have thee do
wrong. How will it be told in Spain that the brave
Count of Osma hath declared war against women and
children?”

“How mean you, girl?” he asked, surveying her
glowing countenance as it warmed with the feelings
of her heart. “It is against men in arms—rebels—
and assassins, as the last night's work hath shown.”

“If you fire their dwellings, and let loose the soldiery
with the broad license of indiscriminate slaughter,”
she answered, with firmness, “will not every
threshold become an altar of blood for the sacrificing
of mother and child? If the men of the town have
done evil, father, let them be heard in fair defence, and,
if proved guilty, adjudged by the king. Let not their
blood be on thee and thine.”

“If they have done evil, daughter!” he repeated,
with warmth; “have they not resisted our arms, rebelled
against their lawful sovereign, and slain fifteen
Spanish men within the twelve hours?”

“Men have been slain, sir,” she said, steadily, but
with the filial respect in her voice and manner that
became a daughter; “but, in truth, are these councillors,
or the citizens whom you condemn, guilty of
crime against the state? They were not Spanish citizens
or voluntary Spanish subjects when they did this.
The flag of France was still waving over the province,
and the laws of that kingdom retained their empire in

it. I do not think, sir, it constituted an offence against
the state.”

“St. James save us, girl!” he cried, more in humour
than displeasure; “you are half a rebel yourself.
France has no more to do with them, nor they
with France, than with the Grand Seignor. They are
rebels all, and as such shall be treated. Go to bed.”

“They did not acknowledge the right of Spain;
they were still French subjects. You cannot, sir, contend
that they could bear the yokes of two sovereigns.
How can you expect to command the submission and
obedience of these colonists, until you make known to
them your character and powers? How can his majesty
count on their allegiance before he has extended
to them his protection?”

“By the rood, if thou art not infected with disloyalty
to the very core, girl,” he said, with harshness.
“I have taught thee arms, and made a gallant soldier
of thee; and the devil hath finished by making thee a
pleading attorney.”

“Nay, be not angry with me, signor,” she said,
laying her hand upon his arm, and looking deprecatingly
up into his face; “I would spare bloodshed and
avert misery. If they had been born subjects of Spain,
they were then rebels, and deserving of punishment.
Send and countermand thy cruel order.”

“There is a statute of Alfonzo the Eleventh, which
is the first law of the seventh title of the first partida,
which denounces the punishment of death and confiscation
of property against those who excite any insurrection
against the king or state, or take up arms
under pretence of extending their liberty or rights,
whether subjects born, or acquired by conquest or by
treaty.”

“True, sir; death and confiscation, indeed, but not
conflagration and massacre. Let the chiefs of the rebellion
be arraigned before thee, and stand or fall as
they shall be proven guilty or innocent. This law,
sir, giveth thee no such power as you would exercise.”

“My power is delegated, and independent of written

statute. Life and death are in my hands, until the
judiciary of the cabildo be established. But, my child,
I have not ordered the city to be treated like a town
carried by storm for this offence of rising in arms
alone.”

“But from personal revenge, sir,” she said, boldly.

“It is more noble to forgive, my father.”

“Nay, daughter, your quick and blunt honesty of
spirit hath made thee forget that I am thy father.”

“Forgive me, sir,” she cried, pressing his forehead
with her bright lips, which had pleaded so eloquently
and so well. “If I have in anything gone out of my
filial duty, it is from pity for these bourgeois, who, if
Don Henrique appears not, will, ere long, be houseless
and wandering in the fair land God has given them.”

“Thou hast it. It is for Don Henrique I have done
this.”

“I will answer, the city hath naught to do with his
absence.”

“Thou art not a good listener, or thou wouldst have
learned from Sulem that Garcilaso saw him struck
down. Should I not visit them with vengeance for
this? How else am I to account to the king and Cortes
if he be slain? Shall I let his death pass by as if
he were a plebeian? Thou knowest he likes me not,
and that I have small friendship for him in return; but
his absence, nevertheless, must be looked to. If he
return not in safety, I will do what I have commanded.
The city shall be fired and sacked. The king will demand
it.”

“And a million of the king's property, and many
lives of his subjects, will be sacrificed. Is this doing
the king service, my father?”

“Out upon thy inquisition, Estelle! I have borne it
full patiently. Now I look upon thee, much of thy
loveliness hath departed with-the admission of this
plebeian pity into thy blood. Thy complexion hath a
rebel tinge, got from thy thoughts. Go to thy couch,
and sleep! My orders have gone forth, and shall be
obeyed. Not even thy love,” he continued, with a

stern and vindictive look, that caused her to shrink involuntarily,
though her clear azure eye quailed not,
as, full of virtuous resolution, it encountered his; “not
thy love, as it hath done before, to my grievous hurt
and often shame, shall turn me. Heaven itself hath
not power to move me from my purpose. The town
shall lie in ashes, and its councillors swing between
earth and air, though the foul fiend in person should
cry hold!”

“Hold!” instantly echoed a voice near him, that
made his heart stand still with fear.