The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan War — John Shaqi
The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan WarAimard, Gustave
History
The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan War
Aimard, Gustave
Texas -- History -- Revolution, 1835-1836 -- Fiction; Western stories
"All that is not clear, Niña," he replied; "I do not at all understand
your arguments. Hang it! I am only a poor woodranger, possessing no more
learning than I have drawn from the great scenes of nature I constantly
have before my eyes, and a woman's heart is to me a closed book, in
which I could not decipher a line. Still, girl, believe me, take care,
and do not play imprudently with weapons whose strength and mechanism
you are ignorant of; though the antelope be so light and active when it
is leaping from rock to rock on the verge of precipices, the moment
arrives when it grows giddy, its head turns, and it rolls into the
abyss--I have often seen similar catastrophes in the forests. Take care,
my girl, take care, and believe in the old hunter's experience."
Carmela pensively leant her blushing brow on the Canadian's shoulder,
and lifted to him her large blue eyes full of tears.
"I am suffering, father," she murmured sadly.
"Good Heavens! My child, you are suffering, and did not tell me--are you
ill?" he exclaimed anxiously; "How imprudent it was of you to be out in
the desert by night."
"You are mistaken, father," she replied with a faint smile; "I am not
ill, it is not that."
"What is it then?"
"I do not know, but my heart is contracted, my bosom is oppressed. Oh, I
am very unhappy!"
And hiding her head in her hands, she burst into tears. Tranquil looked
at her for a moment with an astonishment mingled with terror.
"You, unhappy!" he at length exclaimed as he smote his head
passionately. "Oh, whatever has been done to her, that she should weep
thus!"
There was a silence of some minutes' duration, when the conversation
seemed to take a confidential turn. Loyal Heart and Lanzi rose quietly,
and soon disappeared in the chaparral. Tranquil and the maiden were
hence alone. The hunter was suffering from one of those cold fits of
passion which are so terrible because so concentrated; adoring the girl,
he fancied in his simple ignorance that it was he who, without
suspecting it, through the coarseness and frivolity of his manner,
rendered her unhappy, and he accused himself in his heart for not having
secured her that calm and pleasant life he had dreamed for her.
"Forgive me, my child," he said to her with emotion; "forgive me for
being the involuntary cause of your suffering. You must not be angry
with me, for really it is no fault of mine, I have always lived alone in
the desert, and never learned how to treat natures so frail as those of
women; but henceforth I will watch myself. You will have no reason to
reproach me again. I promise you I will do all you wish, my darling
child--well, does that satisfy you?"
By a sudden reaction, the maiden wiped away her tears, and bursting into
a joyous laugh, threw her arms round the hunter's neck, and kissed him
repeatedly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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