and, attracted by the noise, a gray-haired old man appeared at the window. With feelings of disappointment, my friend and I turned our glances upon the street, and for some moments watched the horse artillery as it swept past. When our gaze was again directed to the house, the old man had a companion – the object of our instinctive expectation; yet fairer even than our imagination had portrayed.
The features indicated that she was a Mexican, but the complexion was darker than the half-breed, the Aztec blood predominated. The crimson, mantling under the bronze of her cheeks, gave to her countenance that picture-like expression of the mixed races of the Western World. The eye, black, with long fringing lash, and a brow upon which the jetty crescent seemed to have been painted. The nose slightly aquiline, curving at the nostril; while luxuriant hair, in broad plaits, fell far below her waist. As she stood on the sill of the low window, we had a full view of her person – from the satin slipper to the reboso that hung loosely over her forehead. She was plainly dressed in the style of her country. We saw that she was not of the aristocracy, for, even in this remote region, has Paris fashioned the costume of that order. On the other hand, she was above the class of the "poblanas," the demoiselles of the showy "naguas" and naked ankles. She was of the middle rank. For some moments my friend and myself gazed upon the fair apparition in silent wonder.
She stood awhile, looking out upon the street, scanning the strange uniforms that were grouped before her. At length her eye fell upon us; and as she perceived that my comrade was wounded, she turned toward the old man.
"Look, father, a wounded officer! ah, what a sad thing, poor officer."
"Yes, it is a captain, shot through the arm."
"Poor fellow! he is pale – he is weary. I shall give him sweet water, shall I, father?"
"Very well, go, bring it."
The girl disappeared from the window; and in a few moments returned with a glass, containing an amber-colored liquid – the essence of the pine-apple. Making a sign toward L – , the little hand that held the glass was thrust through the bars of the reja. Being nearer, I rose, and taking the glass, handed it to my friend. L – bowed to the window, and acknowledging his gratitude in the best Spanish he could muster, drank off the agua dulce. The glass was returned; and the young girl took her station as before.
We did not enter into conversation, neither L – nor myself; but I noticed that the incident had made an impression upon my friend. On the other hand, I observed the eyes of the girl, although at intervals wandering away, always return, and rest upon the features of my comrade. L – was handsome; besides, he bore upon his person the evidence of a higher quality – courage; the quality that, before all others, will win the heart of a woman.
All at once, the features of the girl changed their expression, and she uttered a scream. Turning toward my friend, I saw the blood dripping through the sash. His wound had re-opened.
I threw my arms around him, as several of the soldiers rushed forward; but before we could remove the bandage L – had swooned.
"May I beseech you to open the door?" said I, addressing the young girl and her father.
"Si – si, señor," cried they together, hurrying away from the window.
At that moment the rattle of musketry from Coyoacan, and the roar of field artillery, told us that Twiggs was engaged. The long roll echoed through the streets, and the soldiers were speedily under arms.
I could stay no longer, for I had now to lead the company; and leaving L – in charge of two of the men, I placed myself at its head. As the "Forward" was given, I heard the great door swing upon its hinges; and looking back as we marched down the street, I saw my friend conducted into the house. I had no fears for his safety, as a regiment was to remain in the village… In ten minutes after I was upon the field of battle, and a red field it was. Of my own small detachment every second soldier "bit the dust" on the plain of Portales. I escaped unhurt, though my regiment was well peppered by our own artillerists from the tête de pont of Churubusco. In two hours we drove the enemy through the garita of San Antonio de Abad. It was a total rout; and we could have entered the city without firing another shot. We halted, however, before the gates – a fatal halt, that afterward cost us nearly 2000 men, the flower of our little army. But, as I before observed, I am not writing a history of the campaign.
An armistice followed, and gathering our wounded from the fields around Churubusco, the army retired into the villages. The four divisions occupied respectively the pueblos of Tacubaya, San Angel, Mixcoac, and San Augustin de les Cuevas. San Angel was our destination; and the day after the battle my brigade marched back, and established itself in the village.
I was not long in repairing to the house where I had left my friend. I found him suffering from fever, burning fever. In another day he was delirious; and in a week he had lost his arm; but the fever left him, and he began to recover. During the fortnight that followed, I made frequent visits; but a far more tender solicitude watched over him. Rafaela was by his couch; and the old man – her father – appeared to take a deep interest in his recovery. These, with the servants, were the only inmates of the house.
The treacherous enemy having broken the armistice, the storming of the Palace-castle of Chapultepec followed soon after. Had we failed in the attempt not one of us would ever have gone out from the valley of Mexico. But we took the castle, and our crippled forces entered the captured city of the Montezumas, and planted their banners upon the National Palace. I was not among those who marched in. Three days afterward I was carried in upon a stretcher, with a bullet hole through my thigh, that kept me within doors for a period of three months.
During my invalid hours L – was my frequent visitor; he had completely recovered his health, but I noticed that a change had come over him, and his former gayety was gone.
Fresh troops arrived in Mexico, and to make room, our regiment, hitherto occupying a garrison in the city, was ordered out to its old quarters at San Angel. This was welcome news for my friend, who would now be near the object of his thoughts. For my own part, although once more on my limbs, I did not desire to return to duty in that quarter; and on various pretexts, I was enabled to lengthen out my "leave" until the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo.
Once only I visited San Angel. As I entered the house where L – lived, I found him seated in the open patio, under the shade of the orange trees. Rafaela was beside him, and his only hand was held in both of hers. There was no surprise on the part of either, though I was welcomed cordially by both – by her, as being the friend of the man she loved. Yes, she loved him.
"See," cried L – , rising, and referring to the situation in which I had found them. "All this, my dear H., in spite of my misfortunes!" and he glanced significantly at his armless sleeve. "Who would not love her?"
The treaty of Guadalupe was at length concluded, and we had orders to prepare for the route homeward. The next day I received a visit from L – .
"Henry," said he, "I am in a dilemma."
"Well, major," I replied, for L – as well as myself had gained a "step." "What is it?"
"You know I am in love, and with whom you know. What am I to do with her?"
"Why, marry her, of course. What else?"
"I dare not."
"Dare not!"
"That is – not now."
"Why not? Resign your commission, and remain here. You know our regiment is to be disbanded; you can not do better."
"Ah! my dear fellow, that is not the thing that hinders me."
"What then?"
"Should I marry her, and remain, our lives would not be safe one moment after the army had marched. Papers containing threats and ribald jests have from time to time been thrust under the door of her house – to the effect that, should she marry 'el official Americano' – so they are worded – both she and her father will be murdered. You know the feeling that is abroad in regard to those who have shown us hospitality."
"Why not take her with you, then?"
"Her father, he would suffer."
"Take