 | CHAPTER V. Centeola |  |
5. CHAPTER V.
It was night. But night now, though so generally
coming as the grateful harbinger of rest and quiet, was
yet, for many long and trying hours, to bring no repose
to the weary and anxious Centeola. After the company
had partaken of the refreshments which, through the
care and kindness of the young chief, had been liberally
provided for them all, the Sage, having become more fatigued
than the rest, on account of the infirmities of his
age, retired almost immediately to his bed, which was on
the ground floor of the house, and adjoining the capacious
room thus far occupied by them in common. The attendant
maidens of the train soon manifesting a disposition to
follow the example, also quietly withdrew to the rooms
above, which had been designated for their sleeping apartments,
leaving Centeola, whose mingled disquietudes, occasioned
by the various events of the day, forbade all
thought of sleep, sitting alone in the apartment deeply
immersed in her own peculiar reflections. What a day
had the past one been for her! What a mingling of hopes,
doubts and fears had been hers since she had met Tulozin
forest scene, who had caused her the first great sensation
of her life — the sensation which she had mistakenly
supposed she had effectually extinguished, but which the
meeting of that day had made her deeply conscious had
only slumbered in her bosom. But should he still adhere
to the blind and to her abhorent idolatry, in which he had
been educated, what a war with her antagonistic principles,
and high purposes — what a painful war must she
wage with her own heart. Should he change his false
creed, however, and embrace her own, how bright might
yet be that heart's future; which was destined to occur?
In vain she summoned her reputed powers of prophecy
to enable her to foresee the event. All was dark before
her. All her attempts at such forecasts only left her
where they found her, the prey of the same conflicting
emotions, sometimes filling her with visions of happiness,
and sometimes almost overwhelming her in gloom and despondency.
For awhile, she was permitted to indulge in these moody
reveries without the occurrence of any disturbing sounds
reaching her ears from without. But at length, from the
increasing sounds of footfalls, and the low mingling of
human voices that began to reach her, she became aware
that many people were slowly passing the house, or, for
some unknown reason, lingering in the vicinity. And it
was not long before she distinguished the voice of some
with her guards, stationed near the door, as if he were
demanding admittance into the house. Others also seemed
to be frequently arriving and making similar demands.
But gathering from what she could overhear, that all
such applicants had been repulsed by the guards, and
deeming herself entirely secure from intrusion, she did
not withdraw from the room, or extinguish the resinous
flame that, as darkness approached, had been kindled on
the hearth-stone for lighting the apartment, but, with listless
curiosity, sat listening to the different sounds coming
from without, some little time longer; when she was suddenly
aroused by the sounds of footsteps within the room,
and turning, she beheld, with deep surprise, standing near
the entrance from the street, the muffled figure of a man,
who had found some means of eluding her guards, or
forcing his way through them and entering the house.
“Who is this, that forces his way into my room unbidden,
at this hour of the night?” demanded the startled
maiden, hastily rising and confronting the strange figure.
“It is one,” replied the latter evasively, but with an
assumed tone of respect, “who comes from those in authority
to ascertain what distinguished strangers have arrived
in the city, that they may be suitably provided for,
and honored.”
“That knowledge, methinks,” responded the maiden rebukingly,
“might have been easily obtained from the attendants
at the door.”
“They refused me the information I sought” said the
stranger.
“Then why should I furnish it, especially till I know
by what authority, and by whom I am questioned?” said
the former with increasing doubt and suspicion.
The intruder then thrust aside his muffling head-gear,
fully disclosed his face, and, looking steadfastly at the
the maiden a moment, significantly asked,
“Dost thou know me now, perverse one?”
Centeola looked up, and as her eyes fell on the face of
the unblushing questioner, she involuntarily recoiled. It
was the sinister-eyed Emissary who had, some months before,
in company with a colleague or an accomplice, visited
her father's lodge and there given her so much reason to
remember him with abhorrence.
“Yes, I know thee now, — in character at least, and can
easily conjecture the true motives which prompted this
questionable visit. Leave me, intruder, or I summon my
guards from the street.”
“Do so, and see if they heed thy bidding. Thy
guards are all in safe custody, and guards whom I control
have taken their place.”
“Despicable plotter! But thinkest thou thus to triumph?
I will call my father and my maidens from their
beds to confront thee, and learn thy baseness both here
and heretofore.”
“Do so, if thou thinkest it wisdom for thee — do so,
rushing in here at my signal, will have thee on the way
to my house. But I would not be driven to such measures
— I would have thee listen to the voice of reason
and to what it is thy true wisdom to concede without resorting
to anything so unpleasant. Fair Centeola, I
would gladly be thy friend and protector. Forego thy
wild and vain notions of opposing the policy of our rulers,
and fly with me to my house. I will make thee rich, and
defend thee from the punishment which thy now well
known conduct and purposes will otherwise bring down
on thy head. Wilt thou accept my offer?”
“Never — no, never, wretch! Leave me! Begone!”
“I will not leave thee. Defy me no longer. I have
sufficient evidence of thine, and thy father's doings and designs
to thwart the government, to ensure thine and his
condemnation before the Council. Persist in thy refusal
and I use it — consent, and I save thee, and thy father.
Wilt thou listen to me now?”
“Thy proffered bribes and thy cowardly threats I alike
scorn and despise: — I fear thee not. The good and Great
Spirit, in whom I trust would never have permitted thee
to find thy way hither, without providing some means for
my protection against thy base designs.”
“Then thou wilt persist in setting me at defiance?
We will see who will help thee in thy foolish obduracy,”
said the enraged speaker, turning towards the door to summon
forcible abduction. But his movement was arrested by
an appearance which he was then little expecting. At
that instant an interior door flew open, and the aged Alcoan
hastily came forth from it, and fearlessly advanced
on the shameless intruder.
“Man, I know thee well,” said the Sage sternly.
“Was it not enough for thee to abuse the hospitalities of
my lodge at our village, on a former occasion, by insulting
my daughter, that thou should steal in here to-night to repeat
the indignity? Thy name and station in this city, if
the conjectures I have formed, but never yet expressed,
are correct, might awe some into silence; but they have
no terrors for me; and whoever and whatever thou art, I
bid thee depart, or, to-morrow I will proclaim thy double
villany from every house-top in the Imperial City.”
While Centeola was escaping to her chamber, on the
appearance of her father, her infamous persecutor struck
dumb by this sudden and bold interposition of the Sage,
and alarmed at some of his intimations, shrunk abashed
out of the house, and departed to devise other means to
effect his still unrelinquished purposes.
Centeola was now safe in the solitary room which, in
consideration of her position had been reserved for her
sole occupation for the night. This apartment was an upper
room of the house, fronting the street, and having
one window, which could be opened and closed by neatly
inclination to sleep being now farther removed than ever.
she took her seat, and, partially opening it, peered out
into the street, to catch sight of what might there be passing,
and listen to the nearer mingled sounds or the more
distant hum that still rose from various parts of the city.
Though her persecutor and his minions had all disappeared,
yet others were seen lurking in the streets, and
soon she perceived that this class of persons were greatly
increasing, and what added more to her surprise and uneasiness,
she noted by the light of a stationary, or public
torch, that most of those passing or pretending to pass,
paused against the house, and seemed to be marking its
appearance, or rather acting like spies in attempting to
discover whether any movements were going on among its
inmates. All immediate uneasiness of this kind however
was the next moment removed; for hearing the sounds of
footsteps approaching the house, she glanced down into
the street; and, to her great gratification, she beheld her
own guard, before whom the crowd gave away, returning
and taking their places before her door. In the hope of
learning, from what they might utter to one another, how
they had been driven away, and then permitted to return,
all which would doubtless serve to some extent to explain
the strange movements of the night, she bent down her
ear and listened intently. Soon she noticed some one issuing
from a dark alley on the opposite side of the street,
Panther attendant, who had figured in rescuing the victim
virgin from her impending doom. As he now came forward,
he was hailed by one of his fellow guardsmen and
asked how it happened that he had not been taken prisoner
as well as the rest of them?”
“Because I did not show myself at all to the assaulting
band,” replied Wampa. “Before they appeared, I
had placed myself in the opening of yon narrow alley, that
I might better watch the suspicious movements I had noticed
going on in the street. And when they came and
drove you away, leaving a strong guard in your place, I
plainly saw, though unseen myself, all that took place.”
“And what did take place after we left?” anxiously
enquired the former. “Is Centeola and her company
safe?”
“All safe,” returned Wampa. “But Centeola was
the only one endangered. The plot, which was to entrap
and carry her off, was intended only for her. I saw that
audacious interloper, whom you had repulsed, place his
minions at the door, and then stealthily enter the room,
where Centeola, who had lingered behind, after her father
and her maidens had all retired, sat alone wholly unsuspecting
any intrusion. Soon after that, I gathered from
her indignant words which occasionally reached me from
her clear voice, what he was proposing and threatening;
when I hastily incased myself in my panther skin, and
guards into the house and hurled the villain into the
street. But I was saved the task by the sudden appearance
of the old Sage, who, being fully aroused to anger,
effected with words nearly all I should have done with
deeds, which may be well for me; for I strongly suspect
that the fellow, as base as he has shown himself, is one
of the great men of the city. But now, in turn, let me
inquire what befel the rest of you after being driven off,
and how did you escape from your captors so as to get
back so soon?”
“As you saw,” answered the other, “we were all suddenly
beset by an overpowering number of armed men
and forced along to a distant part of the city; when having
been disarmed, part of our captors retired, leaving us
under the guard of the rest, from whom, after regaining
our arms, which had been incautiously left within our
reach, we soon forcibly broke away, and returned unmolested
to this place. This is all I have to impart except
that, on our way back, we encountered our good friend,
the young chief, returning he said from a short visit to the
Royal Council Chamber; when we told him, as far as we
then knew, all that had occurred.”
“And what did he say?” asked the former.
“He was greatly disturbed and excited,” replied the
other, “and, after questioning us closely about the appearance
of the man, whom we had foiled in his attempts
he hurried away, saying he would go and raise men of his
own to strengthen or relieve our guard, and with them
soon meet us here; when he would enquire into the meaning
and mystery of the outrage.”
Although the speakers had imparted by their conversation,
with the exception of the gratifying account they
gave of the meeting with Tulozin, but little more than
what the fair listener already knew, or had inferred from
the words of her persecutor himself, she had listened to
the details they gave of their adventures with lively interest.
Better than they, however, could she judge of
the motives which had led to the insult she had received.
She believed, therefore, the aggression both within doors
and without, was the work of one individual, But from
all the attendant circumstances, she could not but infer,
that this individual must be a person of no little rank
and power in the city. And she consequently now, for
the first time began to entertain serious apprehensions of
the consequences, which the balked villain in his revenge
might cause to be visited on herself and her father. But
who could he be? was this indeed a true specimen of the
rulers of the Imperial City? If so, well might their
wickedness and corruption call down the vengeance of a
just Heaven. But this train of thought was speedily
broken by the voice of Tulozin in the street below, who
had arrived with three well armed attendants to add to
attention, and it was with a secret pleasure, which
she would have hardly acknowledged, even to herself, that
she heard him first making anxious enquiries for her and
her safety. He then closely questioned her guard about
the character of the intrusion they had reported to him,
the personal appearance of the intruder and all the circumstances
connected with the strange and, even at the
best, most suspicious transaction.
He however seemed to be restrained from giving any
opinion of his own on the subject, and after stationing his
own men, supplying the others with additional arms, and
enjoining on all the closest vigilance in watching the
house, and determination of defending it, if assaulted, he
slowly, and with an air of hesitation and perplexity, retired
to his own quarters. Centeola, however, still remaining
wakeful under the agitating effects of the
strangely contrasted scenes of which she had that day and
evening become cognizant, continued at her post of observation
sometime longer. The nearly full moon was now
struggling up through the lurid haze that hung ominously
along the Eastern horizon, shedding her pale and sickly
light over temple, tower and house-top, and throwing a
singularly dismal aspect over every-thing below, while
glaring meteors were shooting widely athwart the heavens
above. The same mephitic and stifling atmosphere which
the maiden and her party had that afternoon perceived on
then noticed by them, again became, at intervals, plainly
perceptible and everything around, above and below, combined
to presage some awful catastrophe near at hand.
Deeply pondering over these mysteries, which she could
not but regard as of evil omen to the city, and therefore
to be taken by her, who would save it, as monitions to
press resolutely forward to the discharge of the duties she
came there to perform, the maiden now retired to her couch,
and, after invoking the blessings of the Most High on
herself and friends, was soon lost in peaceful slumbers.
| CHAPTER V. Centeola | |