When General Miramón arrived in Mexico, the news of his defeat was already public. Then a singular fact occurred. The clergy and the aristocracy, whom President Miramón had always supported and defended, and yet whose indifference and egotism had caused his ruin and entailed his destruction, now deplored the way in which they had behaved to the man who was alone able of saving them. If Miramón had wished in this supreme hour to make an appeal to the people, they would immediately have gathered round him, and it would have been easy for him to organize a vigorous defense. The idea did not even occur to him. He was disgusted with power, and only longed to give it up, and retire into private life. His first care, immediately he arrived in Mexico, was to assemble the diplomatic body, and beg its members to interpose for the sake of saving the city, by putting an end to a state of war which was no longer necessary from the moment when Mexico was prepared to open its gates to the Federal troops without a blow.

A deputation, composed of the ministers of France and Spain, General Berriozábal, the prisoner of Toluca, and General Ayestarán, a particular friend of Miramón, at once proceeded to General Ortega, in order to obtain an honorable capitulation.

Don Antonio de Cacerbar had tried to join the deputation. He had heard of the deplorable end of his friend, don Melchior, and a gloomy presentiment warned him that a similar fate impended over him. But the gates of the city were carefully guarded; no one could leave without a pass signed by the Town Commandant: and so, don Antonio was forced to remain in Mexico. A letter he received restored him a little hope, by allowing him a glimpse of a speedier conclusion than he believed of plans, whose execution he had so long been pursuing.

Still, as don Antonio Cacerbar was a very prudent man, and as the gloomy machinations to which he had devoted his dark existence had accustomed him to be constantly on his guard, while remaining at home, as he was requested to do in the letter he had received, he summoned a dozen distinguished cutthroats, and concealed them behind the tapestry, in order to be ready for any event.

It was the day of Miramón's return to Mexico, and about nine o'clock at night. Don Antonio had retired to his bedroom, and was reading, or rather, trying to read; for his troubled conscience did not allow him the necessary calmness of mind to take this innocent amusement, when he heard someone talking rather loudly in his anteroom. He at once rose and prepared to open his door, in order to enquire the cause of the noise he had heard, when this door opened, and his confidential servant appeared, acting as introducer of several persons. They were nine in number; six masked men wrapped in sarapes and three ladies.

On seeing them, don Antonio gave a nervous start, but immediately recovering himself, he remained standing at the table, probably waiting till one of the strangers resolved on speaking.

This really happened.

"Se?or don Antonio," one of them said, advancing a step, "I bring you do?a María, Duchess de Tobar, your sister-in-law, do?a Carmen de Tobar, your niece, and do?a Dolores de la Cruz."

At these words, uttered with an accent of cutting irony, don Antonio fell back a step, and his face, was covered with an earthy paleness.

"I do not understand you," he said in a voice which he strove in vain to render firm, but which trembled.

"Do you not recognize me, don Horacio?" do?a María then said in a soft voice; "Has grief so completely altered my features that it is possible for you to deny that I am the unhappy wife of the brother whom you assassinated?"

"What means this farce?" don Antonio exclaimed violently. "This woman is mad! And you, scoundrel, who dare to play with me, take care!"

The man to whom these words were addressed only replied by a laugh of contempt, raising his voice.

"You wish for witnesses to what is going to take place here, caballero? I presume you consider there are not enough of us to hear what is going to be said. Well, I consent; come out of your hiding places, se?ores; and you, caballeros, come."

At the same instant the tapestry was raised, the door opened, and some twenty persons entered the room.

"Ah! You are calling witnesses!" don Antonio said in a mocking voice. "Well, then, your blood be on your own head!" And turning to his men standing behind him, he shouted, "Upon these scoundrels; kill them like dogs!" and he leaped on a brace of revolvers which were laid on a table within reach.

But no one stirred.

"Down with their masks," the person who had alone spoken hitherto said, "they are unnecessary now. We must speak to this gentleman with uncovered faces."

With a gesture he removed the mask that covered his face: his companions imitated him. The reader will have recognized them already. They were don Jaime, Domingo, count Ludovic, Leo Carral, don Diego, and Lo?ck, the ranchero.

"Now, se?or," don Jaime continued, "put off your borrowed name, as we have thrown away our masks. Do you recognize me? I am don Jaime de Bivar, your sister-in-law's brother. For twenty-two years I have been following you step by step, se?or don Horacio de Tobar, watching all your movements, and seeking the vengeance which Heaven at length grants me, great and complete as I dreamed of it."

Don Horacio haughtily raised his head, and surveying don Jaime with a glance of sovereign contempt, he said to him—"Well, what next, my noble brother-in-law, for, as you desire, I give up all feigning, and consent to recognize you. What so grand and complete vengeance have you gained at the end of twenty-two years, noble descendant of the cid Campeador?—That of compelling me to kill myself—a fine profit. Is not a man of my stamp always ready to die? What more can you do? Nothing. Suppose that I writhe bleeding at your feet, I shall bear with me to the tomb the secret of this vengeance which you do not suspect, and all whose profit remains with me, for I shall leave you on my death a more profound despair than that which turned your sister's hair white in a single night."

"Undeceive yourself, don Horacio," don Jaime answered; "I know all your secrets: and, as for your killing yourself, that consideration only takes the second place in my plan of vengeance. I, too, will kill you, but by the hangman's hand. You shall die dishonoured, the death of the infamous—by the garote, in a word."

"You lie, villain!" don Horacio exclaimed, with a roar like a wild beast; "I—I—the Duke de Tobar, noble as the king! I, who belong to one of the oldest and most powerful families in Spain, die by the garote! Hatred has turned your brain—you are mad. I tell you, there is a Spanish ambassador in Mexico."

"Yes," don Jaime answered, "but that ambassador leaves you to all the rigour of the Mexican laws."

"He, my friend, my protector, who introduced me to President Miramón? It is not so, it cannot be. Besides, what have I, a foreigner, to fear from the laws of this country?"

"Yes, a foreigner who took service with the Mexican government, in order to betray it to the profit of another. That letter, which you demanded so earnestly from Colonel don Felipe, and which he refused to sell you, he gave me for nothing; and the compromising letters which were taken from you at Puebla, thanks to don Estevan, whom you do not know, but who is your cousin, are at this moment in Juárez' hands. Hence you are hopelessly lost in that quarter; for, as you are aware, clemency is not one of se?or don Benito Juárez' striking virtues. Lastly, I also possess your most precious secret—that which you believed so well guarded. I know of the existence of do?a Carmen's twin brother; I know also where he is, and can, if I like, suddenly bring him before you. See, here is the man to whom you sold your nephew," he added, pointing to Lo?ck, who was standing motionless by his side.

"Oh!" he muttered, falling back into a chair, and folding his arms in despair. "I am lost!"

"Yes, and most utterly lost, don Horacio," he said, contemptuously, "for not even death will be able to save you from dishonour."

"Speak, in Heaven's name!" do?a María exclaimed, approaching her brother-in-law, "tell me that I am not mistaken, that don Jaime really spoke the truth; that I have a son, in short, and that this son is the twin brother of my beloved Carmen?"

"Yes," he muttered, in a low voice.

"Oh, thanks be to God!" she cried, with an expression of ineffable joy, "And you know where my son is? You will restore him to me, will you not? I implore you, reflect that I have never seen him, that I long for his caresses! Where is he? Tell me."

"Where he is?"

"Yes."

"I do not know," he answered, coldly.

The unhappy mother sank into a chair, and buried her face in her hands. Don Jaime approached her.

"Courage, poor woman!" he said to her, gently. There was a moment of mournful silence. In the room where so many persons were collected, nothing was to be heard but the sound of oppressed breathing and the stifled sobs of do?a María and the two young ladies. Don Horacio advanced a step.

"My noble brother-in-law," he said in a firm voice, impressed with a certain grandeur, "request these caballeros to retire into the adjoining room; I wish to be alone with you and my sister-in-law for a few minutes."............