University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.

We have heard the cold and cruel determination of Don Balthazer
de Alvaro. We may be assured that it has not been
spoken idly, or with a mere braggart spirit, and that his resolution
and his will correspond too well, to make him pause, whenever
it shall seem necessary to carry out his purposes in action.
For the present, his conclusions led him at once to seek an interview
with the adelantado. As he expected, he found De Soto
already in possession of the rumor touching the withdrawal of
Philip de Vasconselos from the expedition.

“Is this report true, Don Balthazar?” demanded the adelantado,
who, proud as he was, and self-confident, could not help
showing in his tone and manner that the affair seriously disquieted
him.

“It is not improbable, your excellency: the report comes
through several persons who have his ear. Nuno de Tobar himself
assured me that his present mood inclined him to forego
the expedition, but he thought that, with proper efforts made,
Don Philip might be persuaded to review his decision.”

“And am I to stoop to solicit this Portuguese knight to be my
companion in my arms?” was the imperious demand of De Soto.

“Nay!” interposed, gently but earnestly, the more sedate
spirit of his wife, the Lady Isabella—“nay, my Lord, this is
an unreasonable spirit which possesses thee. Don Balthazar is
surely too much thy friend to counsel thee to any dishonor, or
descent from thy high dignity. He means not that thou shouldst
sink the spirit of the noble and the knight, to conciliate an exacting

spirit, or win the countenance of the unworthy. He but
counsels, as I have striven to do, that in the case of these brave
knights of Portugal, whom none hold to be less than honorable
in very high degree, thou shouldst assume a different bearing
from that which is but too common for our Spaniards to show
to these gentlemen. Verily, I say myself, they have been quite
too much slighted in this adventure, the more especially when
we remember the claims of Don Philip, not merely as a brave
warrior, and polished gentleman, but on account of the special
qualities which he possesses from a former sojourn with the
Floridian of Apalachia. And where is the shame and the discredit
to thee of seeking and soliciting this noble and his brother?
Dost thou not solicit many,—many who are far less worthy?
What is all thy toil here, the parade which we daily make, the
court which we hold, the feasts we give, the pageants and tourneys
we exhibit, but the fruit of a solicitude which seeks men,
and money and horses,—and all that is deemed needful to the
success and glory of thy enterprise? Of a truth, my Lord, I
see, as I have long seen, that there is no true wisdom in looking
coldly on these brave spirits, who, I doubt not, will be most happy
of thy favor, and most hearty in thy cause.”

The Adelantado trode the floor with hasty strides while his
wife was speaking. When she had done, he spoke.

“I see not what ye would have. I gave these knights all the
countenance that was possible. They were entreated to our presence;
they were dealt honorably with when they came. I could
not strip command from other of my followers, born Castilians,
who brought with them their own retainers. I could not for my
own dignity, abridge my own command, that they should find
the followers whom they did not bring. I dared not give them
high places in the expedition, knowing well the jealousy of our
people towards the foreigners. But, I trow, all this complaint
of neglect had never been, Don Balthazar, had it not been for
thy niece. It is the passion of this knight for the Lady Olivia,
and, perchance, thy hostility to his object, which hath marred his
purpose, and not any lack of my favor. He had gone, as so

many do, as an individual adventurer, a single lance and sword,
but for his passion for thy niece; and thou, I wot, hath put thy
ban upon his affection.”

“I have put no ban upon his affections, your excellency, nor
upon hers. He is free to come and go, and he sees my niece
when he will. I have not forbidden him; I do not purpose to
forbid. If he seeks her in marriage, and she affects him, I withhold
no consent.”

“Thou hast changed in thy resolve since we last spoke of
these parties!” said Donna Isabella.

“True, your Ladyship. I hearkened to your counsels, and resolved
in compliance with them. But it is, perchance, for this
very reason that he hath declined the expedition. Had I barred
his passage to the Lady Olivia, he had been less hopeful. I am
free to say that I believe she hath large power over him.”

“And he over her,” quoth the Lady Isabella, “or the woman's
eyes have in this greatly mistaken the usual signs of the woman's
heart.”

“Well!” exclaimed Hernan de Soto, breaking in with impatience,
“well, and what is to come of it? Will he sink into
the drudge upon a vineyard? Will he become fruit-pruner on
the hacienda of the Lady Olivia de Alvaro, and prepare his
monthly accounts, as steward and agent, for the examination of
the severe Señor Don Balthazar? Think'st thou to bring him
to this? Can it be that one of the bravest and best lances in
Portugal—ay, and Spain—will be content with this petty employ
in life while great deeds are done in Florida—he who, but a
month ago, had an ambition for conquest, and a passion for enterprise,
equal to that of the most eager adventurer in Cuba?
Then is knighthood greatly altered in spirit in the last decade;
and one as he reads may well wonder if the deeds of Hernan de
Cordova are not in faith a pure fable,—a silly invention of the
poet. Go to, Don Balthazar, you shall not persuade me to
this.”

“I would persuade you to nothing, your excellency, which you

deem hurtful to your honor or your interests, or which you find
displeasing to your moods. You hear what is reported as coming
from Don Philip himself. I believe the rumor, and think
that he hath so expressed himself. It is for you to say whether
the loss of this knight,—perchance his younger brother also,—be
such loss as you can suffer without grievance.”

“Of a truth, not! we want every man whom we can get, and
every brave knight in especial,—particularly one who brings with
him such manifold resources as Philip de Vasconselos.”

“This being the case, your excellency, it may be well to ask,
in what way, without derogation from your high dignity, to persuade
him to the adventure. I have shown you wherefore I
think he hath resolved to quit your banner;—the neglect of
favor;—the jealousy of our Spaniards, and the passion which he
hath for my niece.”

“When thou sawest these things, and that the hope of thy
niece was that which made him hostile to the expedition, why
then didst thou give encouragement to this puling passion for the
damsel?”

“Nay, my lord, thou art again unreasonable,” interposed
Donna Isabella. “If there be offence in that, the guilt of it lies
at thy door and mine. Don Balthazar, as thou wilt recall, declared
himself in opposition to the suit of the knight of Portugal,
giving, as reason for it, the very peril which we now fear, that he
would abandon the expedition if successful with the lady. Was
it not so, Don Balthazar?”

Don Balthazar bowed assent, and then proceeded in reply to
De Soto.

“I gave no encouragement, your excellency, to this passion.
In truth, for many reasons I was greatly hostile to it. The calm,
and, as seemed to me, as I trow it did to you, the insolent pride
of this knight's bearing was rarely inconsistent with his poverty
of position and resource, and I felt a pride of nation which revolted
to think that the large possessions of my niece should fall
into the clutch of a beggarly and grasping stranger. I had

chosen another suitor for her—one Don Augustin de Sinolar, a
worthy gentleman, and a handsome, whose estates lie adjoining
those of my niece at the hacienda Matelos.”

“And didst thou really seek to match thy niece with that thing
of silk and straw, De Sinolar? Fie upon thee, Don Balthazar—
fie upon thee, for designing a most unworthy sacrifice.”

The face of Don Balthazar flushed to the temples, as he listened
to the rebuke of the Lady Isabella, and felt the sharp indignant
glance of her eye upon him. But he had his reply.

“He is rich, lady, and hath a good exterior. He hath the
vanities of youth, perchance; I deny it not; but he hath few of
the vices of youth. He hath meekness, and gentleness, and simplicity,
and —”

“Oh! hush thee, Don Balthazar; as if the qualities of a chicken
or a hare were sufficient to satisfy the heart of a woman. Fie
upon thee.”

“Briefly,” interposed De Soto, “she rejects your favorite
De Sinolar, and must have your knight of Portugal.”

“My choice was not hers, and, though the Lady Isabella rebukes
me, I must say I am sorry for it. Olivia had been much
happier, I trow, with De Sinolar, than she ever could hope to be
with Philip de Vasconselos.”

“And why not, I pray you?” again spoke the Lady Isabella,
showing a feminine tenacity on a subject which so naturally interested
the pride and temper of the sex.

“Nay, it does not matter to our present quest,” said De Soto.
“The question is, does she resolve to wed the Portuguese?”

“She prefers him, beyond all question, but that she will wed
with him is still—as who can answer for the caprices of the
sex?”—and this was said with a sly glance at the Lady Isabella—
“is still a very questionable matter.”

“Nay, if she prefers him, and he seeks her, there is an end of
the doubt. You do not bar the progress, and none denies. She
will wed with him, I see, and he is lost to the expedition—a loss
greater than fifty matchlocks!”

De Soto strode the apartment with a vexation which he did
not labor to conceal. Now, that the loss of the knight seemed
to be certain, he was at no pains to conceal his conviction of his
value. The truth is that, as Don Balthazar had indicated already,
the pride in the bearing of Don Philip de Vasconselos, and the
stately reserve which he maintained to the Castilian leaders, De
Soto among them, had touched the self-esteem of the latter.
Yet this conduct of the Portuguese was not properly a cause of
wonder or complaint, when it was remembered with what open
jealousy he was regarded by the Spaniards. Don Balthazar
watched his superior with keen eyes, but a calm, unspeaking
countenance. After a brief pause, he spoke as follows:

“Nay, your Excellency, it does not seem so necessary that the
Knight should be lost to the expedition, even should he wed with
my niece. He may be persuaded to follow it after he hath wedded
—”

“Better before!” said the Lady Isabella with a smile.

“Yes, I grant you, better before; and, whatever attempts we
make upon him should be seasonably tried; but, failing to prevent
his bridal—which, I repeat, is by no means an assured thing
—then we may negotiate that he follow thee when the honey-moon
is over. Thou wilt suffer one or more small caravels to remain
from thy fleet, wherewith to bring stores after thee, and the sick
soldiers, and in one of these he may easily depart with others.
Thou wilt hardly feel his loss ere he is with thee. Thou wilt
consume several weeks in thy progress along, and thy descent
upon the coast—in the unloading of thy caravels, the landing of
the horses, hogs and cattle, and in other needful preparations.
When thou art ready to penetrate the country of the Apalachian,
he will, if we use the proper means of persuasion, be with
thee in season.”

“And these means of persuasion. Sant' Iago! Shall I go to
this Knight of Portugal, and bend myself before him, and say,
`Sir Knight, wilt thou honor thy servant by taking thy part in
this expedition?'”

“Nay, nay, my lord —” began the lady, but the Adelantado
waved his hand impatiently, looking to Balthazar. The latter
did not delay his answer:—

“Will your Excellency leave this matter wholly to me? I
will use what proper arguments I may. I will in no respect commit
thy pride or honor. I will promise office, and the command
of a troop, yet in no way conflict with thy engagements.”

“How wilt thou do this?”

“Nay, will it not suffice that it shall be done?”

“In God's name, do it; I shall say no more. Thou wilt relieve
me of an embarrassment; and if thou succeed'st with this
churlish cavalier, will do help to the enterprise, as none better
knows than thou! Away, Don Balthazar, and let the grass not
grow beneath thy feet. To-morrow thou knowest the tournament
begins, and there is much work for thee here as elsewhere. To
thy papers, my secretary—my soul, rather!”

And with this superb compliment, the stately Don turned to
his wife, and proceeded to dictate as she wrote. Don Balthazar,
having carte blanche, made his bow and took his departure.
He lost no time in visiting Philip de Vasconselos. The office
was one which the uncle of Olivia would have cheerfully deputed
to another; but this was impossible; and he proceeded accordingly
to the work before him, with the promptitude of one to
whom the duty is apparent. His hope lay in the temptation
which he would hold forth to the ambition of the adventurer.
Having himself little faith in the affections as sufficiently compensative
to man, he persuaded himself that the aim of Philip de
Vasconselos was the fortune of his ward. If he could hold forth
a sufficient lure of the same character through another medium,
he flattered himself that he should be successful. None doubted
that Florida and the mountains of Apalachia concealed treasures
in gold and silver, gems and precious stones, equal to any in the
keeping of Peru. He knew that this faith was especially taught
by the Portuguese who had been one of the explorers of that
country with the Cavalier Cabeza de Vaça. All that seemed
essential, therefore, to beguiling him to the enterprise, was to

mollify his pride, and secure him the means of going thither in a
style which should maintain his dignity and afford him an adequate
command. For this money was necessary, and De Soto
had none to spare. The resolution which Don Balthazar had
formed, was to use the means afforded him by the large income
from the estate of his niece, of which he had complete control.
To employ the wealth of Olivia in ridding her of two dangerous
lovers, seemed to him a perfectly legitimate measure; though,
in respect to the propriety of the proceeding, he never allowed
himself to doubt for a moment. Thus prepared with his general
plan of action, he entered the humble dwelling of the Knight
of Portugal.

Philip de Vasconselos beheld the approach of the unusual visitor
without surprise. He had, in fact, anticipated the unwonted
courtesy, and we may add, had partly designed it should be so,
when he instructed his friends to declare aloud his determination.
He knew quite as well as any other person, how necessary he
was to the purposes of De Soto. The appearance of Don Balthazar
seemed to assure him also of the conviction felt by the
latter that his niece would favor the suit of the Portuguese. The
instincts of Philip de Vasconselos on this subject had been
strengthened by the positive reports of Nuno de Tobar. They
were confirmed by the visit of the uncle. His hands were accordingly
strengthened. He was prepared for the interview.
Though yet a young man, hardly more than thirty, he had been
a soldier; had travelled much; mingled much with men; endured
those vicissitudes which strengthen patience, teach coolness,
and give insight; and with a mind naturally acute, and a judgment
well balanced and secure, he was more than a match for
men of greater age and as much experience. He was a politician
over whom the habitual cunning of Don Balthazar could obtain
no advantage. It was a curious study to watch the interview
between the parties—to behold the Castilian Don doubling like a
fox through all the avenues of his art; to see him circling around
his object, without approaching it; to note how warily he kept,
in regard to his secret fears, while holding forth his most beguiling

lures;—in particular to note how sweetly he could insinuate
his flatteries of the man he hated in his soul, and had already resolved,
simpler remedies having failed him, to treat with sharp
medicine at the point of his dagger. He tried the pulse of Philip's
vanity and ambition with most laborious art, and a skill of
practice which had succeeded with ninety-nine in the hundred of
the young men of the time. But he tried in vain.

Yet Philip de Vasconselos gave him no direct denial. The
young man opposed art to art. He showed himself highly gratified
with the praises of the other. He made no effort to disguise
the ambition which he really felt, and suffered the old
politician to believe that all his flatteries had made their way to
his heart. He was never more frank and cordial in his life. He
spoke to Don Balthazar as to the uncle of Olivia, and in the strain
of one who regarded him as in no degree adverse to the free
course of her affections. He did not say to him, “I love your
niece,”—he did not even speak of her; yet he so shaped his
speech, as to a confidential friend, and so governed tone and countenance
equally as to indicate to the other the utter absence from
his thoughts of any doubt that he, Don Balthazar, could be other
than friendly to himself and objects. The confidence and ease
with which he gave himself out-apparently—just forebore the look
of self-complaisance, and expressed the sense and spirit of a man
who felt that his chances with fortune were quite even, or at least
looked so fair, as would render any reluctance to press them, a
something too dastardly for the toleration of any brave man.
In the end, all that Don Balthazar could obtain from the young
knight was a promise to consider his proffers—to deliberate
honestly upon them,—and resolve seasonably, giving his final
answer before the departure of the fleet.

“Demonios!” muttered the Castilian to himself, when he had
taken his departure: “This dog of a Moor thinks he already hath
the rabbit in a sack. But he shall lose his own skin ere he hath.
It is clear that he hopes for Olivia's consent. Now will it depend
on her whether he tastes my dagger or not. If her virtue—Ha!
ha! virtue!—if her virtue holds out to refusal of his hand, why

let the dog drift where the seas may carry him! but if, as I fear,
her passion for him proves too strong for her magnanimity, he
must die! So be it! He shall never live to be her master—or
mine!”

He returned with all diligence to the presence of the Adelantado,
whom he found in the most joyous mood. The change of
a couple of hours had effected wonders. When he left his presence
De Soto was angry and sullen. Now his mirth was absolutely
boisterous. In this merriment, though more temperately,
Donna Isabella shared. Don Balthazar looked on with wonder,
and several times vainly essayed to speak. He was always
overborne by the laughter of his superior.

“Tell me nothing yet,” cried De Soto, at an interval in his
bursts of mirth,—“Nothing that shall qualify my pleasure. Ha!
ha! ha! wait, good Don Balthazar, till I can recover breath, when
you shall hear, and then, if it be not wholly against your principle,
you shall laugh too.”

“Ay, ay, your excellency, as Sancho counsels, `Let not thy
secret rot in thy keeping!'”

“Ere long it will be no secret. The story is too good to be
kept from air. It must be sent abroad, and no doubt will gain
addition as it goes. Thus, then, there were some barques that
put into port, as thou knowest, from stress of weather yesterday.
One of them had sprung aleak, and needed repair. On board of
this vessel came Hernan Ponce, an old comrade of mine in Peru.
We were dear friends in Peru, and we made a brotherhood between
us, which is, as thou knowest, a copartnership for common
interests and profits, to last through life. We were thus to share
our gains and losses equally, our honors as our profits.”

“Ah! and he now comes to claim of thee the half of thy state
here, and thy command in the expedition?”

“Nothing half so good, Don Balthazar. He claims nothing at
my hands, but his aim is to escape from claims of mine. Thou
must know, then, that Hernan Ponce hath made great profits in
Peru, and with immense wealth of gold and silver, jewels and
precious stones, he hath embarked at Nombre de Dios for Spain.

It is greatly against his will that he hath put into Havana. So
great was his fear of my demands that he made great offers to the
Captain of the barque, Diego de Miruelos, who was an old follower
of mine, if he would steer wide of Havana, though he should
peril the ship's safety in doing so. But Diego, who has a keen
scent for a rogue's secret, and who knew the danger of his vessel,
was not to be overborne. So here he is; and yesterday he advised
me, by secret message, of him he hath on board. Whereupon
I sent a most courteous dispatch to Hernan Ponce, to compliment
and congratulate him on his arrival, and to entreat him to
come on shore, and in regard to our brotherhood, to share my
dwelling, my command, and the honors and profits of my expedition.”

“Ah! well—he hath complied?”

“No! no! There is something of the fox in Hernan Ponce,
it appears, who showed himself a true comrade only when he
was a poor adventurer. Now, that he hath grown rich, the nature
changes. He excused himself from coming ashore yesterday,
pleading fatigue; but he is to visit me to-day. Meanwhile,
Diego gave me to understand that Hernan held secret communication
with the shore, and counselled me to set eyes abroad,
such as might see clearly amid the darkness. Whereupon, I did
so, until every inlet and landing-place was covered with my
watchers. It was a wise precaution. Look at the fruits of it.”

Drawing a curtain, De Soto showed to his guest a couple of
goodly coffers, in which, the lids being removed, could be seen
stores of gold, and pearls, and precious stones, heaped to fullness.

“These,” continued De Soto, “were sent ashore last night, to
be hidden somewhere. But, even as they were landed, my spies
set upon the mariners, dispersed them, seized upon the treasure,
and it is here. I learn from Diego that Hernan kept nothing
on board but his coffers of silver. These, if pressed, he was to
share with me in compliance with our articles of brotherhood.
Have I not reason for merriment, think you? Ha! ha! ha! how
will he stare when he beholds them!”

“Wilt thou show them?”

“Eh! why not? He shall see—the sordid runagate, that I
know him! I will shame him with my discovery.”

“Which is clearly forfeit.”

“Nay, the dog. I will not keep his treasure from him. I will
spit upon it, and force his shame upon him.”

“It is a gift of fortune. Thou wilt need it all, Don Hernan.”

“Nay, teach not that,” interposed Donna Isabella; “rather
let it go, lest we be haunted by the prayers of hate and avarice.
My lord will, I trust, need none of the treasure which is yielded
grudgingly. I would not have his honor reproached by scandal.”

“But it is his right, Señora.”

“Yes! but one may well forego a right when there would be
feeling of shame, and not pride, in its assertion. Better let my
lord do as he nobly resolves,—spit upon the treasure, and so
upon the baseness of the owner.”

It was probably the advice of the lady that led De Soto to his
determination. He was rather inclined to grasp at treasure from
whatever source, and his reputation is not above the reproach of
an unbecoming avarice. While they were yet speaking, the
attendants announced the approach of Hernan Ponce, upon
which Don Balthazar said,—

“My need requires me elsewhere. I will not stay to see thy
treatment of this partner of thine, particularly, as it seems to me,
thou dost unwisely in restoring him his treasure. Better wert
thou to help thyself, and punish him thus. It were the most
effectual manner for teaching him his baseness. He would then
surely feel it. Such a wretch will go off exulting, even though
thy spittle should somewhat stain his pearls.”

“What of the knight of Portugal? Dost thou make any thing
of him?”

“He speaks fairly, but does not yet decide. He will deliberate
upon my counsel and proposals.”

“Ah! he will deliberate. A curse upon the insolence of the

Moor—for all these Portuguese are of mixed blood, I think!—
he will deliberate whether he will serve in ranks of honor—in
the service of a Castilian knight. I would he knew nothing of
the Apalachia, or that I had those about me who knew half so
much, then should he never set foot in this enterprise, which is
too great a glory for such as he.”

“Ah! my lord, thou dost this young knight a great wrong, I
fear,” said the lady.

“Break off,” said Don Balthazar—“here comes your wealthy
brother in arms and fortune. A Dios, your excellency. Se
ñora, I kiss your hands.”

“Let down the curtain upon the coffers,” said De Soto hastily,
as the footsteps sounded at the door without. In the next moment,
the unhappy Hernan Ponce was ushered into the apartment.
He had been apprised of the miscarriage of his treasure,
he suspected into whose hands it had fallen—and, in his loss, he
was taught to see his own baseness. His looks showed what he
feared and felt. But in those of the Adelantado and his noble
lady he saw nothing but cheering smiles, and a frank welcome.
De Soto received him as an old friend, and betrayed no suspicion,
and expressed no unkindness. He resolved to say nothing about
the captured treasure until Ponce should speak. For a long
time the latter forbore, talking about wholly indifferent subjects.
But where the treasure is, there will the heart be also,—and out
of the fullness of the heart will the mouth be forced to speak.
The luckless adventurer, at length, delivered himself of his secret,
and told the story of his misfortunes. The Adelantado had been
waiting for this opportunity.”

“What! Hernan Ponce, hadst thou then such a treasure as
thou describest, and wouldst thou have hidden it from me? Was
I not to share with thee in thy prosperity, even as I had shared
with thee in thy adversity? Lo! now the difference between
us. Behold these articles, properly devised, signed, and under
seal, in which, as thou seest, all that I have expended in my present
expedition, all the ships and munitions, the arms, the horses,
the men and money; all the titles, commands, and privileges

which I have obtained from the crown, I have set down and
devised for our equal benefit, and made thy half secure to thee,
according to the articles of fraternity and copartnership between
us. Read the writings for thyself. See the names of the witnesses.
Hast thou cause of complaint? Wilt thou say that I
have not, in all things, fulfilled my part of the contract of brotherhood?”

Hernan Ponce read, and humbled himself. He admitted the
justice with which De Soto had proceeded, and confessed that
he had been unworthy of such a brother.

“It is not too late to atone, Hernan Ponce. The way is open
to thee still. If thou art pleased to share the expedition with
me, my titles and commands, my stores and possessions, I will
yield thee such as thou may'st prefer. The one half of all shall
be thine; the one half of the conquest and the treasures we may
win.”

The humiliation of Hernan Ponce increased, under the noble
treatment of his old companion in arms, but he said mournfully—

“It is vain now, since, except the silver which is on board the
vessel, I have no treasure of value left. It would be a shame and
a wrong to accept the half of thine, when I held back thy proper
share of what was mine.”

“Nay, Hernan Ponce, it is not so evil with thee yet. Thy
treasures hath fallen into friendly hands. Look, Señor, not a
pearl is missing from thy coffers.”

As he spoke, Donna Isabella raised the curtain, and the greedy
miser gasped with joyous wonder, as he eagerly lifted the cover
from the coffers, and saw that his gold and jewels remained untouched.”

But this episode need not detain us longer. The history is
briefly told by the chronicler. Hernan Ponce had no ambition
for conquest. He was content with the treasures in possession.
Now that his grasp was once more upon his coffers, he was for
incurring no further risks. The Spanish equivalent for our
English—“bird in the hand”—was tripping busily in his brain.

The honors proposed to him seemed to be rather too expensive.
He had just left the land of savages and strife, and he had no
reason to suppose that the Apalachians were like to prove more
genial companions than those of Panama. He expressed himself
very grateful to his brother in arms, the noble Adelantado, but
really he could not think of depriving him of any share of his
well-won honors—any of the results likely to accrue from his
well-grounded hopes of conquest. For his own part, he needed
change of air from the new world to the old. His health required
it, and his treasures. He longed to air his pearls in the atmosphere
of Seville; he thought his ingots would be improved by
the coinage of his majesty. He was curious to look at the operations
of the mint. And there were many other reasons equally
strong and good. We do not mean to say that he urged all
these aloud. They were the unspoken arguments of his secret
soul. De Soto listened with contempt. Glad to get back his
treasures, and perhaps feeling some compunctions of conscience,
Hernan Ponce presented to the Lady Isabella ten thousand dollars
in gold, which he entreated her graciously to accept. Had
the story ceased here, we might have suffered Hernan Ponce to
depart, with the reputation of being less base and unworthy than
he originally appeared. But there is another scene in the drama
which, though occurring afterwards, may very well be given in
this place. His miser soul repented of this liberality, and waiting
until De Soto had sailed for Florida, he brought suit to recover
the ten thousand dollars from the Lady Isabella. But
this brave woman, to whom he really owed the restoration of
all his treasure, was not to be outwitted or alarmed. She replied
quietly that there was a long account between her husband
and the plaintiff, as might be seen in the articles of copartnership;
that the latter owed De Soto more than fifty thousand ducats,
being half of the outfit for the expedition; and concluded by demanding
the arrest of the debtor, and his detention until the judgment
should be given on the facts. Hernan Ponce got wind of
this replication in due season, and without waiting the return
of his ten thousand dollars, put out to sea, satisfied with his birds
in hand, and leaving those in the bush to fly whither they thought
proper. They had already taken wing with a hundred thousand
more for the forests of the Apalachian. But we must not anticipate.