A rival had been removed from my path. Francisco Moreno was no longer in my way!

But it could not matter now. The relief had come too late!

"Hilloa, what's this?" exclaimed one of the men, poking his rifle under the _banquette_, and pressing it against what appeared a large bundle done up in Kentucky jeans. "By the Almighty, it's a monk!"

"You're right, caballero," answered a voice, from under the envelope of grey-blue serge, which, on closer inspection, proved to be the gown of a Franciscan friar.

"A monk I am--at your service, caballeros. _Sangre de Crista_! It's the merest, accident that I'm a living one. O, senores; I perceive that you are _hombres buenos_; and that the _ladrones_ have retreated at your approach. Say that they are gone; and that I need have no further fear?"

"Two on 'em haint gone fur," replied the stage-driver; "thar they lie-- right afore yur eyes, Padre Cornaga."

"Ah! you know me, good sir? _Santissima_, it's the driver of the _diligencia_--the worthy Don Samuel Bruno! What! _these_ robbers? _Por Dios_, no! They are gentlemen!"

"A queery kind o' gentlemen, I reckin'."

"'Tis true as I say it, Senor Don Samuel. _Caballeros--hombres honestos_--both these unfortunate young men. _Ay de mi_!" added the monk, stooping down over one of the prostrate forms. "This is the son of our _Juez de Letras_ (judge of the Criminal court). Many a robber have I shrived after sentence pa.s.sed by his honoured father. And this,"

he continued, turning to Francisco, "Ah! senores, this is the bridegroom himself--_asesinado_--in the presence of his bride, and under the sacred shadow of the altar, that should have protected him from anything!

_Pobre Dolores! Pobre Dolores_!"

"It is the name of a lady. How came _she_ to be here? You say these men are not robbers--what are they?"

"Oh, senor capitan!--for I perceive you are the chief--it is a strange story. Shall I tell it to you?"

"As you please about that. I came here to capture a gang of _ladrones_; or kill them, if need be. I only want to know which are the thieves, and which the honest men. There does not appear to be any great difference between them?"

"O caballero! why should you say that? Surely you do not mistake the honourable capitan Moreno for a _salteador_? A worthy young gentleman who but ten minutes ago was standing up to be wedded to one of the fairest and most Christian ladies in our good city of Puebla--the daughter of Don Eusebio--"

"Villa-Senor. I know all that. But how came it to pa.s.s? Why was the ceremony here? Why not in her father's house?"

"You astonish me, senor! What can you know?"

"Never mind what. Tell me, I entreat--I command you--how it is that this marriage--interrupted as I perceive it has been--was taking place here--among the mountains?"

"Senor capitan; you are welcome to know all. Alas! there is now no reason for keeping the scheme concealed."

"A scheme! There was a scheme?"

"Si, senor! It was contrived between the young people themselves. Don Eusebio was against their being united--so much, that to prevent it he was taking his daughter to a convent--that of La Concepcion, in the capital; which I may be permitted to say to you, a stranger, is the most fashionable of our nunneries. Pobre Dolores! Can you blame her for using means to escape from such a fate? Even I, a _religio_, do not scruple to say it was wrong. To think of immuring such a fair creature within the dull walls of a cloister!"

"I acknowledge to having been in the confidence of the _amantes_; and even a.s.sisted them to contrive their little scheme; which, alas! has proved so unsuccessful. Ah, worse than that: since it has brought ruin to all engaged in it!"

"What was it?" I asked, impatiently, having but slight sympathy with the regrets of the priest.

"Well, senor, it was this. The gallant youth whom you see there--alas, I fear the victim of his gallantry--with half a dozen of his friends, disguised as _salteadores_, were to capture the _diligencia_, and gain possession of the Senorita Dolores,--as also of her sister who accompanied her; another lady as fair--some say fairer--than she; and, with all respect to the gentle Dolores, I am myself of this opinion.

"Need I say that the plan so far was eminently successful?

"_Pues, senor_! It had been arranged that I was to be one of the travelling party; which, from my office of _sacristan_ to the family of the Senor Don Eusebio, was easily brought about. I too was to be taken prisoner by the sham bandits!

"_Pues senor_! There was to be a marriage--without Don Eusebio's consent. It was in the act of being solemnised. _Jesu Cristo_! what a termination! There lies the bridegroom. Where is the bride? Where her sister Mercedes? Ah, senor! you should see Mercedes--_una cosa muy linda_--the fairest thing in all the city of Puebla!"

"Excepting Dolores."

The words went forth with a purely mechanical effort. I was in no mood for playing champion to charms never to be enjoyed by me.

"The robbery of the _diligencia_ was a ruse, then?"

"_Si, senor. Una engana_. A little stratagem of Don Francisco and his friends."

"I thort thar was somethin' queery beout it," remarked the stage-driver.

"But what meant the ransom--the ten thousand dollars?" I asked.

"Ay Dios, senor capitan, that was part of the plot. Don Eusebio is _muy rico_--very rich indeed. For all that he is perhaps a little parsimonious. The young people knew that they would need money to commence housekeeping; and as it might be a long time, before the worthy parent would relent and grant them forgiveness, they thought it might be as well to _borrow_ it from him in that way. _Santissima_! it has been a mistake--all, all! Oh, senores! _you_ will not betray me? If it becomes known that I was a willing actor in this sad affair, I would not only lose the lucrative situation I hold in Don Eusebio's family, but perhaps also my gown. _Dios de mi alma_!"

"My good padre," I answered somewhat unmannerly, "we have no time to trouble ourselves about your future. We wish you to give some further explanation of the present. The marriage ceremony you speak of was interrupted. We know that. But why, and by whom?"

"Robbers, senor--real robbers! _Salteadores del camino grande_!"

This was an answer to both my questions. The monk on perceiving it, offered no further explanation.

"Their sole motive was plunder, I suppose?"

"Ah, senor, I wish I could think so!"

"You believe they had some other object?"

"Alas! yes. Look there, caballero!"

The priest pointed to the dead body of the young man, whom he had represented as the son of the _Juez de Letras_. He was lying with face upwards. I could see upon his breast the sparkle of gold--the guard-chain of a watch--and inside the vest a shape showing that the watch was itself there!

"This is strange," I said. "Are you sure they were regular robbers who did this?"

"Sure--sure!" replied the padre, with a melancholy shake of the head.

"Too sure, caballero. 'Tis true they wore masks, and I could not see their faces. But I heard a name that told me all. I heard it as they pa.s.sed out, carrying the _muchachas_ along with them."

"What name?" I asked, with a painful presentiment.

"Ah, senor capitan; one too well known upon these roads."

"_Carrasco_?" I half shouted, without waiting for the padre to p.r.o.nounce it.

"Ay Dios, senor! You know everything! That is the name. I heard it from one of his followers, who spoke to him as they hurried off in the darkness. The robber-chief who has done this foul deed is the noted captain _Carrasco! Pobres ninas_!"

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

SAD BUT SWEET.