“But Valcour would not need to murder Madam Izabel,” said I. “They were doubtless in the plot together, and she would have no hesitation1 in giving him the ring had he demanded it. On the contrary, our general was already incensed2 against the daughter of the chief, and suspected her of plotting mischief3. I am satisfied he has the ring.”
“The general will be with us presently,” answered Mazanovitch, quietly. “But, gentlemen, you all stand in need of refreshment4, and Senhor Harcliffe should have his burns properly dressed. Kindly5 follow me.”
He led the way up a narrow flight of stairs that made two abrupt6 turns—for no 128apparent reason—before they reached the upper landing. Following our guide we came to a back room where a table was set for six. A tall, studious-looking Brazilian greeted us with a bow and immediately turned his spectacled eyes upon me. On a small side table were bandages, ointments7, and a case of instruments lying open.
Within ten minutes the surgeon had dressed all my wounds—none of which, however, was serious, merely uncomfortable—and I felt greatly benefited by the application of the soothing8 ointments.
Scarcely was the operation completed when the door opened to admit Fonseca. He gave me a nod, glanced questioningly at the others, and then approached the table and poured out a glass of wine, which he drank eagerly. I noticed he was in full uniform.
“General,” said I, unable to repress my anxiety, “have you the ring?”
He shook his head and sat down with a gloomy expression upon his face.
“I slept during the journey from Cuyaba,” he said presently, “and only on my 129arrival at Rio did I discover that Senhora de Mar9 had traveled by the same train. She was dead when they carried her into the station.”
“And Valcour?” It was Mazanovitch who asked the question.
“Valcour was beside the body, wild with excitement, and swearing vengeance10 against the murderer.”
“Be seated, gentlemen,” requested our host, approaching the table. “We have time for a slight repast before our friends arrive.”
“May I join you?” asked a high, querulous voice. A slender figure, draped in black and slightly stooping, stood in the doorway11.
“Come in,” said Fonseca, and the new arrival threw aside his cloak and sat with us at the table.
“The last supper, eh?” he said, in a voice that quavered somewhat. “For to-morrow we die. Eh, brothers?—to-morrow we die!”
“Croaker!” cried Fonseca, with scorn. “Die to-morrow, if you like; die to-night, 130for all I care. The rest of us intend to live long enough to shout huzzas for the United States of Brazil!”
“In truth, Senhor Piexoto,” said Marco, who was busily eating, “we are in no unusual danger to-night.”
Startled by the mention of the man’s name, I regarded him with sudden interest.
The reputation of Floriano Piexoto, the astute12 statesman who had plotted so well for the revolutionary party, was not unknown to me, by any means. Next to Fonseca no patriot13 was more revered14 by the people of Brazil; yet not even the general was regarded with the same unquestioning affection. For Piexoto was undoubtedly15 a friend of the people, and despite his personal peculiarities16 had the full confidence of that rank and file of the revolutionary party upon which, more than upon the grandees17 who led it, depended the fate of the rising republic.
His smooth-shaven face, sunken cheeks, and somewhat deprecating gaze gave him the expression of a student rather than a statesman, and his entire personality was in 131sharp contrast to the bravado18 of Fonseca. To see the two leaders together one would never suspect that history would prove the statesman greater than the general.
“Danger!” piped Piexoto, shrilly19, in answer to Sergeant20 Marco’s remark, “you say there is no danger? Is not de Pintra dead? Is not the ring gone? Is not the secret vault21 at the Emperor’s mercy?”
“Who knows?” answered Fonseca, with a shrug22.
“And who is this?” continued Piexoto, turning upon me a penetrating23 gaze. “Ah, the American secretary, I suppose. Well, sir, what excuse have you to make for allowing all this to happen under your very nose? Are you also a traitor24?”
“I have not the honor of your acquaintance, senhor,” said I, stiffly; “nor, in view of your childish conduct, do I greatly desire it.”
Fonseca laughed, and the Pole turned his impassive face, with its half-closed eyelids25, in my direction. But Piexoto seemed rather pleased with my retort, and said:
“Never mind; your head sits as insecurely 132upon its neck as any present. ‘Tis really a time for action rather than recrimination. What do you propose, Mazanovitch?”
“I am waiting to hear if you have discovered the present possessor of the ring,” answered the captain.
“No; our people were ignorant of its very existence, save in a few cases, and none of them has seen it. Therefore the Emperor has it, without doubt.”
“Why without doubt?” asked Mazanovitch.
“Who else could desire it? Who else could know its value? Who else would have murdered Madam Izabel to secure it?”
“Why the devil should the Emperor cause his own spy to be murdered?” inquired Fonseca, in his harsh voice. “You are a fool, Piexoto.”
“What of Leon de Mar?” asked the other, calmly. “He hated his wife. Why should he not have killed her himself, in order to be rid of her and at the same time secure the honor of presenting his Emperor with the key to the secret vault?”
133“Leon de Mar,” said Mazanovitch, “is in Rio Grande do Sul. He has been stationed there for three weeks.”
For a time there was silence.
“Where is Paola?” suddenly asked Piexoto. “I want to know what Paola is doing in this crisis.”
“He was last seen near de Pintra’s residence,” said Figgot. “But we know nothing of his present whereabouts.”
“You may be sure of one thing,” declared Marco stoutly26; “that Francisco Paola is serving the Cause, wherever he may be.”
The general snorted derisively27, and Piexoto looked at him with the nearest approach to a smile his anxious face had shown.
“How we admire one another!” he murmured.
“Personally I detest28 both you and Paola,” responded the general, frankly29. “But the Cause is above personalities30, and as for your loyalty31, I dare not doubt it. But we wander from the subject in hand. Has the Emperor the ring or is he seeking it as eagerly as we are?”
134“The Emperor has not the ring,” said Mazanovitch, slowly; “you may be assured of that. Otherwise—”
Piexoto gave a start.
“To be sure,” said he, “otherwise we would not be sitting here.”
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1
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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2
incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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4
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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5
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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ointments
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| n.软膏( ointment的名词复数 )；扫兴的人；煞风景的事物；药膏 | |
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8
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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10
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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11
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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12
astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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14
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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17
grandees
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| n.贵族，大公，显贵者( grandee的名词复数 ) | |
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18
bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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19
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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23
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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24
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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25
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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26
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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27
derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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28
detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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29
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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30
personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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31
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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