It was now many weeks since his arrest, and Juan yet lay in imprisonment, ignorant not so much of his fate, as of the causes which delayed it. On the fourth day of his captivity, he was apprized, by the sound of trumpets and artillery, the cries of men, and the neighing of horses, and, in general, by the prodigious bustle which accompanies the setting-out of an army from a populous city, that some enterprise was meditated and begun; but of its character he was kept wholly ignorant.

The custody of his person seemed to be committed to Villafana and the hunchback Najara, conjointly; but it was observable, that, although Najara frequently entered his den alone, Villafana never made his appearance without being accompanied by the Corcobado.

From Najara he gained not a word of intelligence, the hunchback ever replying to his questions with scowls, or with pithy sarcasms in allusion to the crimes of treason and mutiny. From Villafana, attended, and, as it seemed to Juan, watched, by the jealous Najara, he obtained nothing but unmeaning nods of the head, and sometimes looks, too significant to be doubted, and yet too oraculous to be understood.

After the first fortnight, Villafana failed to visit him altogether, and he saw not the face of a human being, except once each morning, when Najara was accustomed to make his appearance, followed by an Indian slave, bearing food and a jar of water. With this latter being, a decrepit old man, on whose naked shoulder was imprinted the horrible letter G, (for _guerra_, indicating that he was a prisoner of war,--in other words, a branded bondman,) he endeavoured to speak, using all the native dialects with which he was acquainted; but, though Najara made no offer to prevent such conversation, the barbarian replied only by touching his ear and then his breast, signifying thereby that, though he heard the words, he did not understand them. Though Najara permitted these little attempts at speech, with contemptuous indifference, Juan perceived that he ever kept his eyes fastened upon the Indian, as if to prevent any effort at communication of another sort. Thus, if any benevolent friend had endeavoured to convey a message by letter or otherwise, it was apparent that Najara took the best steps to insure its miscarriage.

Foiled thus in every attempt to exchange thoughts with a fellow-being, and reduced to commune only with his own, the unhappy prisoner ceased, at last, to make any effort; and, yielding gradually to a despair that was not the less consuming for being entirely without complaint, he began, in the end, to be indifferent even to the coming and presence of his jailer, neither rising to meet him, nor even lifting his eyes from the floor, on which they were fixed with a lethargic dejection.

He became also indifferent to his food; and once, when Najara entered, he perceived that the water-jar, the dish of _tortillas_, or maize-cakes, the savoury wild-fowl, and the fragrant _chocolatl_, (for in regard to food, he was liberally supplied,) stood upon the little table, where they had been placed the day before, untasted and even untouched. He cast his eyes upon the youth, and, for the first time, began to feel a sentiment of pity for his condition. Indeed, the n.o.ble figure of the young man was beginning to waste away; his cheeks were hollow, his neglected beard was springing uncouthly over his lips, and his sunken eyes drooped upon the earth, as if never more to gleam with the light of hope and pleasure. The hunchback hesitated for a moment, and then growled out a few words,--the first he had uttered for a week.

But these, though commiseration prompted them, he succeeded in making expressive only of scorn or anger.

"Hark you, senor Juan Lerma," he said, "do you mean to starve?"

At the sound of his voice, so unusual and so unexpected, the young man raised his eyes, but with a vague, wo-begone look, and answered nothing.

"I say, senor," continued Najara, somewhat more blandly, "is it your will to die by starvation rather than in any other way?"

"Ah, Najara! is it thou?" said Juan, rising feebly, or indolently, to his feet. "Heaven give you a good-morrow."

"Pshaw!" returned the jailer, gruffly; "pray me no such prayers: keep them for yourself. I ask you, if it be your purpose to starve yourself to death, out of a mere unsoldierly fear of hanging?"

"Thou hast not said so much to me, I know not when," replied the youth, not with any intention of shuffling off the question, but speaking of what was uppermost in his mind. His voice was very mild, and Najara, by no means without his weaker points, felt it as a reproach.

"I care not," he replied, "if I answer you any two or three questions, that may be nearest to your heart. But first give me to know, wherefore you have eaten nothing? Are you sick?"

"Surely I am, at heart; but, bodily, I am well."

"And you are not resolute to die of hunger, before the judgment-day?--Pho, if you have that spirit, perhaps it were better. But it is a death of great torment.--Yet, why should one be afraid of the shame? 'Tis nothing, when we are dead."

"Is this thy fear then?" said Juan, patiently. "It is not permitted us to commit suicide in any form. I will eat, to satisfy thee; but food is bitter in prison."

"What a pity," muttered Najara, as Juan ate a morsel of food, "that heaven should give thee such a goodly and G.o.dlike body, and such a brave soul, (for, o' my life, I believe thou art entirely without fear,) and yet make thee a madman and traitor!"

"A traitor!" said Juan, without taking any offence, for, indeed, he seemed to have been robbed of all the fire of his spirit. "It is not possible anybody can believe me a traitor."

"Pho! did I not, with mine own eyes, see thee lunge at Cortes? It is base of thee to deny it."

"I do not deny it," said Juan; adding, vehemently, "but I call heaven to witness, I saw not his face, and knew him not. He may persecute me to death, as I believe he is doing. Yet could I do him no wrong; no, I _think_, I could not.--But it is bitter, to feel we are trampled on!"

"Well, senor, it is better you should be in a pa.s.sion than a trance. But be not utterly without hope. If you can truly make it appear you knew not the general, it is thought by one or two, you may be pardoned. I have talked with Guzman; and I think he may be brought to forgive and even intercede for you."

"I will neither receive _his_ forgiveness nor his intercession," said Juan, frowning. "And I wonder you mention to me his detested name."

"Oh, senor!" said Najara, sharply, "you may choose your own friends, and hunt them again among heathen Indians.--That you should sell your life for this dog of a n.o.ble!--Fare you well, senor, fare you well."

"Stay, Najara," said Juan, following him towards the door: "you said you would answer me such questions as were nearest my heart. Give not over the kindly thought. There are many things, which if I knew, my lot would not be so hard, my dungeon not so killing to my spirit. The army is gone--is Mexico invested?"

"Not so," replied the hunchback; "it has a month or two's grace yet.--The troops have marched against the sh.o.r.e-towns.--But for this mad fit, thou mightst have been with them, or making thyself famous at Tochtepec!"

Juan sighed heavily.

"And the Indian, of whom you spoke,--the young n.o.ble,--Olin the orator,"

he demanded, at first, not without hesitation.

"Oh, the cur," replied Najara; "I think Cortes was even as mad as thyself, touching the knave. But wit is like a river, sometimes too full, washing away its own banks--it may be said to drown itself.--He made the dog his amba.s.sador, swore him to return faithfully from Guatimozin, and waited three days for him in vain. Such rogues are like arrows,--good weapons, when you have the cast of them, but not to be expected in hand again, unless shot back by a foeman."

It was fortunate, perhaps, that Najara had relaxed so far from his austerity as to resume the vein of metaphor common to his softer moments. Had he been as observant as usual, he must have been struck with suspicion at the sudden gleam of satisfaction, with which Juan heard the good fortune of the Mexican. But he marked it not.

"Tell me now," said Juan, "how thou comest to be my jailer; and why it is that Villafana seems to have given up his trust to thee?"

At this question, Najara's good-humour immediately vanished, and he replied, sourly,

"Oh, content you, you shall be in good keeping."

"I doubt it not," said Juan, calmly. "But Villafana is, or methinks he is, more friendly to me than you. I did but desire to know what changes had taken place in the government of the city, from the watchman up to the commandant, since my imprisonment."

"Ay, indeed!" replied Najara, grimly: "such changes, that hadst thou fifty friends waiting to aid thee, thou shouldst be caught, before getting twenty steps from the door. Know then, that I am made Alguazil, as well as Villafana; and what is more, I am captain of the prison. The Alcalde is Antonio de Quinones, master of the armory; and the Corregidor of the city is thy good friend Guzman,--an honour thou gavest him, by hacking his face so freely, and so leaving him in the hospital."

"You speak to me in sarcasm," said Juan, mildly: "I have not deserved it. And methinks you should be more generous of temper, than to oppress with words of insult, a fallen and helpless man.--Well, heed it not--I forgive you. I have but one more question to ask you.--The lady,--this lady, La Monjonaza--"

"Ay!" cried Najara, with singular bitterness, "I have heard of that too.

You were seen talking with her in the garden. You will play chamberer with Cortes! ay, and rival too! Pho, canst thou not be at peace? Meddle with the general's fancy. Why that were enough to hang thee. I had some soft thoughts of thee; but everything shows thou art unworthy. Farewell; think of these things no more; but repent and make your peace with heaven."

So saying, the hunchback flung out of the room, and securing the thick door of plank, Juan was again left to his meditations.

CHAPTER XV.

Then followed another period of silence and dejection, in which the prisoner wasted away as much in body as in spirit, becoming so listlessly indifferent to everything, that he no longer betrayed any desire to draw Najara into conversation, nor even to meet the advances which his jailer now often made. The thought of escaping from confinement, perhaps, never entered his mind; for, had he been even less resigned to his fate, the strict watch kept over him, and the condition of his prison, added to his apparent friendlessness, must have been enough to banish all such thoughts. His chamber was neither dark nor damp, but made strong by its bulky door, barred on the outside, and by windows, high above the floor, so very narrow that no human being could hope to pa.s.s through them.

Narrow as they were, however, it was the jailer's custom to examine them very closely each morning; a degree of vigilance that Juan had, in the earlier days of captivity, remarked with some surprise. He became acquainted with Najara's object at last. One morning, he was roused out of his stupefaction by a harsh exclamation from his jailer, and looking up, he beheld him take from the floor, immediately under one of the loopholes, what seemed a slip of paper, tied to a little stick, which appeared, some time during the night, to have been thus thrust into the prison. What were its contents he never could divine; for Najara had no sooner cast his eyes over it, than mingling a laugh of satisfaction at its miscarriage with some natural compa.s.sion for the profound wretchedness which had sealed the ears and eyes of the prisoner, he immediately departed with the prize.

From this time, Juan became more vigilant and wary; but the following night, he was admonished, by the clank of armour and the occasional sound of voices without, that sentinels were now stationed under the windows, thus precluding all hope of friendly communication from that quarter.

Before he had again entirely relapsed into his listless gloom, he began to have a vague consciousness that the Indian slave, who accompanied Najara, was becoming more officious than of old, in setting his meals before him, and particularly in placing the jar of water at his side, instead of depositing it on his table, as he had done before. His suspicion was confirmed, when, one morning, as Najara was making his wonted survey of the windows, the slave gave him a quick, impatient look, and shaking the jar as he set it down, made him sensible, by a rattling sound within it, that there was something besides the innocent element concealed at the bottom. As soon as Najara had departed, he made an examination of the mystery, and drew forth, with some astonishment, a plate of transparent obsidian, on which had been scratched by some hard instrument or precious stone, a few words which he was soon able to decypher. "If thou wilt leave Mexico, and live, take the stone from the pitcher."

He strode about the apartment for a moment in disorder; then, crushing the gla.s.sy temptation under his heel, and returning the fragments to the jar, he sat down again to brood over his despair.--The next morning the pitcher contained nothing but water.

Thus, then, the time pa.s.sed away, in the ordinary listlessness of confinement,--the dull and sleepy torture of solitude; until Najara, waxing more compa.s.sionate as his prisoner grew more obviously indifferent to light, to food, and to speech, bethought him of a mode of indulgence from which no danger could be apprehended, and accordingly introduced the dog Befo into the apartment.

The loud yells of joy with which Befo beheld his young master, recalled Juan from his lethargy; and Najara was touched still further with compunction at the sight of the animal's transports.

"He has been whining every day at the prison gate," he muttered; "and doubtless he would have whined full as much, though he were to be let in only to be beaten. Such a fond fool is this young Juan himself: he returns to his master, though he knows the scourge is ready. It were better he had taken my advice, and pa.s.sed to the sea by Otumba: He should have known Cortes would never forgive him."

The presence of this faithful animal, if it did not recall Juan's spirits, at least preserved him from sinking further into stupefaction; and nothing gave him more evident delight, than when, each morning, having prevailed upon Najara to lead his dumb companion into the air for exercise, he could hear Befo, in the joy of a liberty which he did not share, dashing frantically through the garden, now coursing by the water-side, now prancing by the palace, and, all the time, yelping and barking with the most clamorous delight. From these daily sorties the dog was used to return, with fresh spirits and increased attachment, to share, for the remainder of the day, the confinement of his master, upon whom, at his entrance, he jumped and fawned almost as boisterously as when enjoying his sports in the garden.