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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29545-8.txt b/29545-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d08468 --- /dev/null +++ b/29545-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4938 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spanish Jade, by Maurice Hewlett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Spanish Jade + +Author: Maurice Hewlett + +Illustrator: William Hyde + +Release Date: July 29, 2009 [EBook #29545] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPANISH JADE *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Transcriber's note: superscripted characters in this file are +indicated by surrounding them with the vertical bar character, e.g. +"|d|".] + + + + + +[Illustration: Inside front cover art (left side)] + + + + +[Illustration: Inside front cover art (right side)] + + + + +[Frontispiece: Castilian table lands.] + + + + + +THE SPANISH JADE + + +BY + +MAURICE HEWLETT + + + + +WITH FULL PAGE COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS + +BY WILLIAM HYDE + + + + +CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED + +LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK, TORONTO AND MELBOURNE + +MCMVIII + + + + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + INTRODUCTION + I. THE PLEASANT ERRAND + II. THE TRAVELLER AT LARGE + III. DIVERSIONS OF TRAVEL + IV. TWO ON HORSEBACK + V. THE AMBIGUOUS THIRD + VI. A SPANISH CHAPTER + VII. THE SLEEPER AWAKENED + VIII. REFLECTIONS OF AN ENGLISHMAN + IX. A VISIT TO THE JEWELLER'S + X. FURTHER EPISODES IN THE LIFE OF DON LUIS RAMONEZ + XI. GIL PEREZ DE SEGOVIA + XII. A GLIMPSE OF MANUELA + XIII. CHIVALRY OF GIL PEREZ + XIV. TRIAL BY QUESTION + XV. NEMESIS--DON LUIS + XVI. THE HERALD + XVII. LA RACOGIDA + XVIII. THE NOVIO + XIX. THE WAR OPENS + XX. MEETING BY MOONLIGHT + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +CASTILIAN TABLE LANDS . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +UPON A BLUE FIELD LAY VALLADOLID + +THE TOWERS OF SEGOVIA + +MADRID BY NIGHT + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +Cada puta hile (Let every jade go spin).--SANCHO PANZA. + + +Almost alone in Europe stands Spain, the country of things as they are. +The Spaniard weaves no glamour about facts, apologises for nothing, +extenuates nothing. _Lo que ha de ser no puede faltar_! If you must +have an explanation, here it is. Chew it, Englishman, and be content; +you will get no other. One result of this is that Circumstance, left +naked, is to be seen more often a strong than a pretty thing; and +another that the Englishman, inveterately a draper, is often horrified +and occasionally heart-broken. The Spaniard may regret, but cannot +mend the organ. His own will never suffer the same fate. _Chercher le +midi ŕ quatorze heures_ is no foible of his. + +The state of things cannot last; for the sentimental pour into the +country now, and insist that the natives shall become as self-conscious +as themselves. The _Sud-Express_ brings them from England and Germany, +vast ships convey them from New York. Then there are the newspapers, +eager as ever to make bricks without straw. Against Teutonic +travellers, and journalists, no idiosyncrasy can stand out. The +country will run to pulp, as a pear, bitten without by wasps and within +by a maggot, will get sleepy and drop. But that end is not yet, the +Lord be praised, and will not be in your time or mine. The tale I have +to tell--an old one, as we reckon news now--might have happened +yesterday; for that was when I was last in Spain, and satisfied myself +that all the concomitants were still in being. I can assure you that +many a Don Luis yet, bitterly poor and bitterly proud, starves and +shivers, and hugs up his bones in his _capa_ between the Bidassoa and +the Manzanares; many a wild-hearted, unlettered Manuela applies the +inexorable law of the land to her own detriment, and, with a sob in the +breath, sits down to her spinning again, her mouldy crust and cup of +cold water, or worse fare than that. Joy is not for the poor, she +says--and then, with a shrug, _Lo que ha de ser_...! + +But, as a matter of fact, it belongs to George Borrow's day, this tale, +when gentlemen rode a-horseback between town and town, and followed the +river-bed rather than the road. A stranger then, in the plains of +Castile, was either a fool who knew not when he was well off, or an +unfortunate, whose misery at home forced him afield. There was no +_genus_ Tourist; the traveller was conspicuous and could be traced from +Spain to Spain. When you get on you'll see; that is how Tormillo +weaselled out Mr. Manvers, by the smell of his blood. A great, roomy, +haggard country, half desert waste and half bare rock, was the Spain of +1860, immemorially old, immutably the same, splendidly frank, +acquainted with grief and sin, shameless and free; like some brown +gipsy wench of the wayside, with throat and half her bosom bare, who +would laugh and show her teeth, and be free with her jest; but if you +touched her honour, ignorant that she had one, would stab you without +ruth, and go her free way, leaving you carrion in the ditch. Such was +the Spain which Mr. Manvers visited some fifty years ago. + + + + +THE SPANISH JADE + + +CHAPTER I + +THE PLEASANT ERRAND + +Into the plain beyond Burgos, through the sunless glare of before-dawn; +upon a soft-padding ass that cast no shadow and made no sound; well +upon the stern of that ass, and with two bare heels to kick him; alone +in the immensity of Castile, and as happy as a king may be, rode a +young man on a May morning, singing to himself a wailing, winding chant +in the minor which, as it had no end, may well have had no beginning. +He only paused in it to look before him between his donkey's ears; and +then--"_Arré, burra, hijo de perra!_"--he would drive his heels into +the animal's rump. In a few minutes the song went spearing aloft again +.... "_En batalla-a-a temero-o-sa-a_....!" + +I say that he was young; he was very young, and looked very delicate, +with his transparent, alabaster skin, lustrous grey eyes and pale, thin +lips. He had a sagging straw hat upon his round and shapely head, a +shirt--and a dirty shirt--open to the waist. His _faja_ was a broad +band of scarlet cloth wound half a dozen times about his middle, and +supported a murderous long knife. For the rest, cotton drawers, bare +legs, and feet as brown as walnuts. All of him that was not +whitey-brown cotton or red cloth was the colour of the country; but his +cropped head was black, and his eyes were very light grey, keen, +restless and bold. He was sharp-featured, careless and impudent; but +when he smiled you might think him bewitching. His name he would give +you as Estéban Vincaz--which it was not; his affair was pressing, +pleasant and pious. Of that he had no doubt at all. He was intending +the murder of a young woman. + +His eyes, as he sang, roamed the sun-struck land, and saw everything as +it should be. Life was a grim business for man and beast and herb of +the field, no better for one than for the others. The winter corn in +patches struggled sparsely through the clods; darnels, tares, +deadnettle and couch, the vetches of last year and the thistles of +next, contended with it, not in vain. The olives were not yet in +flower, but the plums and sloes were powdered with white; all was in +order. + +When a clump of smoky-blue iris caught his downward looks, he slipped +off his ass and snatched a handful for his hat. "The Sword-flower," he +called it, and accepting the omen with a chuckle, jumped into his seat +again and kicked the beast with his naked heels into the shamble that +does duty for a pace. As he decorated his hat-string he resumed his +song:-- + + "En batalla temerosa + Andaba el Cid castellano + Con Búcar, ese rey moro, + Que contra el Cid ha llegado + A le ganar a Valencia..." + + +He hung upon the pounding assonances, and his heart thumped in accord, +as if his present adventure had been that crowning one of the hero's. + +Accept him for what he was, the graceless son of his +parents--horse-thief, sheep-thief, contrabandist, bully, trader of +women--he had the look of a seraph when he sang, the complacency of an +angel of the Weighing of Souls. And why not? He had no doubts; he +could justify every hour of his life. If money failed him, wits did +not; he had the manners of a gentleman--and a gentleman he actually +was, hidalgo by birth--and the morals of a hyaena, that is to say, none +at all. I doubt if he had anything worth having except the grand air; +the rest had been discarded as of no account. + +Schooling had been his, he had let it slip; if his gentlehood had been +negotiable he had carded it away. Nowadays he knew only elementary +things--hunger, thirst, fatigue, desire, hatred, fear. What he craved, +that he took, if he could. He feared the dark, and God in the +Sacrament. He pitied nothing, regretted nothing; for to pity a thing +you must respect it, and to respect you must fear; and as for regret, +when it came to feeling the loss of a thing it came naturally also to +hating the cause of its loss; and so the greater lust swallowed up the +less. + +He had felt regret when Manuela ran away; it had hurt him, and he hated +her for it. That was why he intended at all cost to find her again, +and to kill her; because she had been his _amiga_, and had left him. +Three weeks ago, it had been, at the fair of Pobledo. The fair had +been spoiled for him, he had earned nothing, and lost much; esteem, to +wit, his own esteem, mortally wounded by the loss of Manuela, whose +beauty had been a mark, and its possession an asset; and time--valuable +time--lost in finding out where she had gone. + +Friends of his had helped him; he had hailed every _arriero_ on the +road, from Pamplona to La Coruńa; and when he had what he wanted he had +only delayed for one day, to get his knife ground. He knew exactly +where she was, at what hour he should find her, and with whom. His +tongue itched and brought water into his mouth when he pictured the +meeting. He pictured it now, as he jogged and sang and looked +contentedly at the endless plain. + +Presently he came within sight, and, since he made no effort to avoid +it, presently again into the street of a mud-built village. Few people +were astir. A man slept in an angle of a wall, flies about his head; a +dog in an entry scratched himself with ecstasy; a woman at a doorway +was combing her child's hair, and looked up to watch him coming. + +Entering in his easy way, he looked to the east to judge of the light. +Sunrise was nearly an hour away; he could afford to obey the summons of +the cracked bell, filling the place with its wrangling, with the +creaking of its wheel. He hobbled his beast in the little _plaza_, and +followed some straying women into church. + +Immediately confronting him at the door was a hideous idol. A huge and +brown, wooden Christ, with black horse-hair tresses, staring white +eyeballs, staring red wounds, towered before him, hanging from a cross. +Estéban knelt to it on one knee, and, remembering his hat, doffed it +sideways over his ear. He said his two _Paternosters_, and then +performed one odd ceremony more. Several people saw him do it, but no +one was surprised. He took the long knife from his _faja_, running his +finger lightly along the edge, laid it flat before the Cross, and +looking up at the tormented God, said him another _Pater_. That done, +he went into the church, and knelt upon the floor in company with +kerchiefed women, children, a dog or two, and some beggars of +incredible age and infirmities beyond description, and rose to one +knee, fell to both, covered his eyes, watched the celebrant, or the +youngest of the women, just as the server's little bell bade him. +Simple ceremonies, done by rote and common to Latin Europe; certainly +not learned of the Moors. + +Mass over, our young avenger prepared to resume his journey by breaking +his fast. A hunch of bread and a few raisins sufficed him, and he ate +these sitting on the steps of the church, watching the women as they +loitered on their way home. Estéban had a keen eye for women; pence +only, I mean the lack of them, prevented him from being a collector. +But the eye is free; he viewed them all from the standpoint of the +cabinet. One he approved. She carried herself well, had fine ankles, +and wore a flower in her hair like an Andalusian. Now, it was one of +his many grudges against fate that he had never been in Andalusia and +seen the women there. For certain, they were handsome; a _Sevillana_, +for instance! Would they wear flowers in their hair--over the +ear--unless they dared be looked at? Manuela was of Valencia, more +than half _gitana_: a wonderfully supple girl. When she danced the +_jota_ it was like nothing so much as a snake in an agony. Her hair +was tawny yellow, and very long. She wore no flower in it, but bound a +red handkerchief in and out of the plaits. She was vain of her +hair--heart of God, how he hated her! + +Then the priest came out of church, fat, dewlapped, greasy, very short +of breath, but benevolent. "Good-day, good-day to you," he said. "You +are a stranger. From the North?" + +"My reverence, from Burgos." + +"Ha, from Burgos this morning! A fine city, a great city." + +"Yes, sir, it's true. It is where they buried our lord the Campeador." + +"So they say. You are lettered! And early afoot." + +"Yes, sir. I am called to be early. I still go South." + +"Seeking work, no doubt. You are honest, I hope?" + +"Yes, sir, a very honest Christian. But I seek no work. I find it." + +"You are lucky," said the priest, and took snuff. "And where is your +work? In Valladolid, perhaps?" + +Estéban blinked hard at that last question. "No, sir," he said. "Not +there." Do what he might he could not repress the bitter gleam in his +eyes. + +The old priest paused, his fingers once more in the snuff-box. "There +again you have a great city. Ah, and there was a time when Valladolid +was one of the greatest in Castile. The capital of a kingdom! Chosen +seat of a king! Pattern of the true Faith!" His eyelids narrowed +quickly. "You do not know it?" + +"No, sir," said Estéban gently. "I have never been there." + +The priest shrugged. "_Vaya_! it is no affair of mine," he said. Then +he waved his hand, wagging it about like a fan. "Go your ways," he +added, "with God." + +"Always at the feet of your reverence," said Estéban, and watched him +depart. He stared after him, and looked sick. + +Altogether he delayed for an hour and a quarter in this village: a +material time. The sun was up as he left it--a burning globe, just +above the limits of the plain. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE TRAVELLER AT LARGE + +Ahead of Estéban some five or six hours, or, rather converging upon a +common centre so far removed from him, was one Osmund Manvers, a young +English gentleman of easy fortune, independent habits and analytical +disposition; also riding, also singing to himself, equally early +afoot, but in very different circumstances. He bestrode a horse +tolerably sound, had a haversack before him reasonably stored. He had +a clean shirt on him, and another embaled, a brace of pistols, a New +Testament and a "Don Quixote"; he wore brown knee-boots, a tweed +jacket, white duck breeches, and a straw hat as little picturesque as +it was comfortable or convenient. Neither revenge nor enemy lay ahead, +of him; he travelled for his pleasure, and so pleasantly that even Time +was his friend. Health was the salt of his daily fare, and curiosity +gave him appetite for every minute of the day. + +He would have looked incongruous in the elfin landscape--in that empty +plain, under that ringing sky--if he had not appeared to be as +extremely at home in it as young Estéban himself; but there was this +farther difference to be noted, that whereas Estéban seemed to belong +to the land, the land seemed to belong to Mr. Manvers--the land of the +Spains and all those vast distances of it, the enormous space of +ground, the dim blue mountains at the edge, the great arch of sky over +all. He might have been a young squire at home, overlooking his farms, +one eye for the tillage or the upkeep of fence and hedge, another for a +covey, or a hare in a farrow. He was as serene as Estéban and as +contented; but his comfort lay in easy possession, not in being easily +possessed. Occasionally he whistled as he rode, but, like Estéban, +broke now and again into a singing voice, more cheerful, I think, than +melodious. + + "If she be not fair for me, + What care I how fair she be?" + + +An old song. But Henry Chorley made a tone for it the summer before +Mr. Manvers left England, and it had caught his fancy, both the air and +the sentiment. They had come aptly to suit his scoffing mood, and to +help him salve the wound which a Miss Eleanor Vernon had dealt his +heart--a Miss Eleanor Vernon with her clear disdainful eyes. She had +given him his first acquaintance with the hot-and-cold disease. + +"If she be not fair for me!" Well, she was not to be that. Let her go +spin then, and--"What care I how fair she be?" He had discarded her +with the Dover cliffs, and resumed possession of himself and his seeing +eye. By this time a course of desultory journeying through Brittany +and the West of France, a winter in Paris, a packet from Bordeaux to +Santander had cured him of his hurt. The song came unsought to his +lips, but had no wounded heart to salve. + +Mr. Manvers was a pleasant-looking young man, sanguine in hue, grey in +the eye, with a twisted sort of smile by no means unattractive. His +features were irregular, but he looked wholesome; his humour was +fitful, sometimes easy, sometimes unaccountably stiff. They called him +a Character at home, meaning that he was liable to freakish asides from +the common rotted road, and could not be counted on. It was true. He, +for his part, called himself an observer of Manvers, which implied that +he had rather watch than take a side; but he was both hot-tempered and +quick-tempered, and might well find himself in the middle of things +before he knew it. His crooked smile, however, seldom deserted him, +seldom was exchanged for a crooked scowl; and the light beard which he +had allowed himself in the solitudes of Paris led one to imagine his +jaw less square than it really was. + +I suppose him to have been five foot ten in his boots, and strong to +match. He had a comfortable income, derived from land in +Somersetshire, upon which his mother, a widow lady, and his two +unmarried sisters lived, and attended archery meetings in company of +the curate. The disdain of Miss Eleanor Vernon had cured him of a +taste for such simple joys, and now that, by travel, he had cured +himself of Miss Eleanor, he was travelling on for his pleasure, or, as +he told himself, to avoid the curate. Thus neatly he referred to his +obligations to Church and State in Somersetshire. + +By six o'clock on this fine May morning he had already ridden far--from +Sahagun, indeed, where he had spent some idle days, lounging, and +exchanging observations on the weather with the inhabitants. He had +been popular, for he was perfectly simple, and without airs; never +asked what he did not want to know, and never refused to answer what it +was obviously desired he should. But man cannot live upon small talk; +and as he had taken up his rest in Sahagun in a moment of impulse--when +he saw that it possessed a church-dome covered with glazed green +tiles--so now he left it. + +"High Heaven!" he had cried, sitting up in bed, "what the deuce am I +doing here? Nothing. Nothing on earth. Let's get out of it." So out +he had got, and could not ask for breakfast at four in the morning. + +He rode fast, desiring to make way before the heat began, and by six +o'clock, with the sun above the horizon, was not sorry to see towers +and pinnacles, or to hear across the emptiness the clangorous notes of +a deep-toned bell. "The muezzin calls the faithful, but for me another +summons must be sounded. That town will be Palencia. There I +breakfast, by the grace of God. Coffee and eggs." + +Palencia it was, a town of pretence, if such a word can be applied to +anything Spanish, where things either are or are not, and there's an +end. It was as drab as the landscape, as weatherworn and austere; but +it had a squat officer sitting at the receipt of custom, which Sahagun +had not, and a file of anxious peasants before him, bargaining for +their chickens and hay. + +Upon the horseman's approach the functionary raised himself, looking +over the heads of the crowd as at a greater thing, saluted, and +inquired for gate-dues with his patient eyes. "I have here," said +Manvers, who loved to be didactic in a foreign language, "a shirt and a +comb, the New Testament, the History of the Ingenious Gentleman, Don +Quixote de la Mancha, and a toothbrush." + +Much of this was Greek to the _doganero_, who, however, understood that +the stranger was referring in tolerable Castilian to a provincial +gentleman of degree. The name and Manvers' twisted smile together won +him the entry. The officer just eased his peaked cap. "Go with God, +sir," he directed. + +"Assuredly," said Manvers, "but pray assist me to the inn." + +The Providencia was named, indicated, and found. There was an elderly +man in the yard of it, placidly plucking a live fowl, a barbarity with +which our traveller had now ceased to quarrel. + +"Leave your horrid task, my friend," he said. "Take my horse, and feed +him." + +The bird was released, and after shaking, by force of habit, what no +longer, or only partially existed, rejoined its companions. They +received it coldly, but it soon showed that it could pick as well as be +picked. + +"Now," said Manvers to the ostler, "give this horse half a feed of +corn, then some water, then the other half feed; but give him nothing +until you have cooled him down. Do these things, and I present you +with one _peseta_. Omit any of them, and I give you nothing at all. +Is that a bargain?" + +The old man haled off the horse, muttering that it would be a bad +bargain for his Grace, to which Manvers replied that we should see. +Then he went into the Providencia for his coffee and eggs. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DIVERSIONS OF TRAVEL + +If Sahagun puts you out of conceit with Castile, you are not likely to +be put in again by Palencia; for a second-rate town in this kingdom is +like a piece of the plain enclosed by a wall, and only emphasises the +desolation at the expense of the freedom; and as in a windy square all +the city garbage is blown into corners, so the walled town seems to +collect and set to festering all the disreputable creatures of the +waste. + +Mr. Manvers, his meal over, hankered after broad spaces again. He +walked the arcaded streets and cursed the flies, he entered the +Cathedral and was driven out by the beggars. He leaned over the bridge +and watched the green river, and that set him longing for a swim. If +his maps told him the truth, some few leagues on the road to Valladolid +should discover him a fine wood, the wood of La Huerca, beyond which, +skirting it, in fact, should be the Pisuerga. Here he could bathe, +loiter away the noon, and take his _merienda_, which should be the best +Palencia could supply. + + "Muera Marta, + Y muera harta," + +"Let Martha die, but not on an empty stomach," he said to himself. He +knew his Don Quixote better than most Spaniards. + +He furnished his haversack, then, with bread, ham, sausages, wine and +oranges, ordered out his horse, satisfied himself that the ostler had +earned his fee, and departed at an ambling pace to seek his amusements. +But, though he knew it not, the finger of Fate was upon him, and he was +enjoying the last of that perfect leisure without which travel, +love-making, the arts and sciences, gardening, or the rearing of a +family, are but weariness and disgust. Just outside the gate of +Palencia he had an adventure which occupied him until the end of this +tale, and, indeed, some way beyond it. + +The Puerta de Valladolid is really no gate at all, but a gateway. What +walls it may once have pierced have fallen away from it in their fight +with time, and now buttresses and rubbish-heaps, a moat of blurred +outline and much filth, alone testify to former pretensions. Beyond +was to be found a sandy waste, miscalled an _alameda_, a littered place +of brown grass, dust and loose stones, fringed with parched acacias, +and diversified by hillocks, upon which, in former days of strife, +standards may have been placed, mangonels planted, perhaps Napoleonic +cannon. + +It was upon one of these mounds, which was shaded by a tree, that +Manvers observed, and paused in the gateway to observe, the doings of a +group of persons, some seven boys and lads, and a girl. A kind of +uncouth courtship seemed to be in progress, or (as he put it) the +holding of a rude Court. He thought to see a Circe of picaresque Spain +with her swinish rout about her. To drop metaphor, the young woman sat +upon the hillock, with the half dozen tatterdemalions round her in +various stages of amorous enchantment. + +He set the girl down for a gipsy, for he knew enough of the country to +be sure that no marriageable maiden of worth could be courted in this +fashion. Or if not a gipsy then a thing of nought, to be pitied if the +truth were known, at any rate to be skirted. Her hair, which seemed to +be of a dusty gold tinge, was knotted up in a red handkerchief; her +gown was of blue faded to green, her feet were bare. If a gipsy, she +was to be trusted to take care of herself; if but a sunburnt vagrant +she could be let to shift; and yet he watched her curiously, while she +sat as impassive as a young Sphinx, and wondered to himself why he did +it. + +Suppose her of that sort you may see any day at a fair, jigging outside +a booth in red bodice and spangles, a waif, a little who-knows-who, +suppose her pretty to death--what is she even then but an iridescent +bubble, as one might say, thrown up by some standing pool of vice, as +filmy, very nearly as fleeting, and quite as poisonous? It struck him +as he watched--not the girl in particular, but a whole genus centred in +her--as really extraordinary, as an obliquity of Providence, that such +ephemerids must abound, predestined to misery; must come and sin, and +wail and go, with souls inside them to be saved, which nobody could +save, and bodies fair enough to be loved, which nobody could stoop to +love. Had the scheme of our Redemption scope enough for this--for this +trifle, along with Santa Teresa, and the Queen of Sheba, and Isabella +the Catholic? He perceived himself slipping into the sententious on +slight pretence--but presently found himself engaged. + +Hatless, shoeless, and coatless were the oafs who surrounded the object +of his speculations, some lying flat, with elbows forward and chins to +fist; some creeping and scrambling about her to get her notice, or fire +her into a rage; some squatting at an easy distance with ribaldries to +exchange. But there was one, sitting a little above her on the mound, +who seemed to consider himself, in a sort, her proprietor. He was +master of the pack, warily on the watch, able by position and strength +to prevent what he might at any moment choose to think on infringement +of his rights. A sullen, grudging, silent, and jealous dog, Manvers +saw him, and asked himself how long she would stand it. At present she +seemed unaware of her surroundings. + +He saw that she sat broodingly, as if ruminating on more serious +things, such as famine or thirst, her elbows on her knees and her face +in her two hands. That was the true gipsy attitude, he knew, all the +world over. But so intent she was, that she was careless of her +person, careless that her bodice was open at the neck and that more +people than Manvers were aware of it. A flower was in her mouth, or he +thought so, judging from the blot of scarlet thereabouts; her face was +set fixedly towards the town--too fixedly that he might care, since she +cared so little, whether she saw him there or not. And after all, not +she, but the manners of the game centred about her, was what mattered. + +Manners, indeed! The fastidious in our young man was all on edge; he +became a critic of Spain. Where in England, France, or Italy could you +have witnessed such a scene as this? Or what people but the Spaniards +among the children of Noah know themselves so certainly lords of the +earth that they can treat women, mules, prisoners, Jews, and bulls +according to the caprices of appetite? That an Italian should make +public display of his property in a woman, or his scorn of her, was a +thing unthinkable; yet, if you came to consider it, so it was that a +Spaniard should not. Set aside, said he to himself, the grand air, and +what has the Spaniard which the brutes have not? + +Hotly questioning the attendant heavens, Manvers saw just such an act +of mastery, when the lumpish fellow above the girl put his hand upon +her, and kept it there, and the others thereupon drew back and ceased +their tricks, as if admitting possession had and seisin taken, as the +lawyers call it. To Manvers a hateful thing. He felt his blood surge +in his neck. "Damn him! I've a mind----! And they pray to a woman!" + +But the girl did nothing--neither moved, nor seemed to be aware. Then +the drama suddenly quickened, the actors serried, and the acts, down to +the climax, followed fast. + +Emboldened by her passivity, the oaf advanced by inches, visibly. He +looked knowingly about him, collecting approval from his followers, he +whispered in her ear, hummed gallant airs, regaled the company with +snatches of salt song. Fixed as the Sphinx and unfathomable, she sat +on broodingly until, piqued by her indifference, maybe, or swayed by +some wave of desire, he caught her round the waist and buried his face +in her neck; and then, all at once, she awoke, shivered and collected +herself, without warning shook herself free, and hit her bully a blow +on the nose with all her force. + +He reeled back, with his hands to his face; the blood gushed over his +fingers. Then all were on their feet, and a scuffle began, the most +unequal you can conceive, and the most impossible. It was all against +one, with stones flying and imprecations after them, and in the midst +the tawny-haired girl fighting like one possessed. + +A minute of this--hardly so much--was more than enough for Manvers, +who, when he could believe his eyes, pricked headlong into the fray, +and began to lay about him with his crop. "Dogs, sons of dogs, down +with your hands!" he cried, in Spanish which was fluent, if +imaginative. But his science with the whip was beyond dispute, and the +diversion, coming suddenly from behind, scattered the enemy into +headlong flight. + +The field cleared, the girl was to be seen. She lay moaning on the +ground, her arms extended, her right leg twitching. She was bleeding +at the ear. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TWO ON HORSEBACK + +Now, Manvers was under fire; for the enemy, reinforced by stragglers +from the town, had unmasked a battery of stones, and was making fine +practice from the ruins of the wall. He was hit more than once, his +horse more than he; both were exasperated, and he in particular was +furious at the presence of spectators who, comfortably in the shade, +watched, and had been watching, the whole affair with enviable +detachment of mind and body. With so much to chafe him, he may be +pardoned for some irritability. + +He dismounted as coolly as he could, and led his horse about to cover +her from the stones. "Come," he said, as he stooped to touch her, "I +must move you out of this. Saint Stephen--blessed young man--has +forestalled this particular means of going to Heaven. Oh, damn the +stones!" + +He used no ceremony, but picked her up as if she had been a +dressmaker's dummy, and set her on her feet, where, after swaying +about, and some balancing with her hands, she presently steadied +herself, and stood, dazed and empty-eyed. Her cheek was cut, her ear +was bleeding; her hair was down, the red handkerchief uncoiled; her +dusky skin was stained with dirt and scratches, and her bosom heaved +riotously as she caught for her breath. + +"Take your time, my dear," said Manvers kindly. And she did, by +tumbling into his arms. Here, then, was a situation for the student of +Manners; a brisk discharge of stones from an advancing line of +skirmishers, a strictly impartial crowd of sightseers, a fidgety horse, +and himself embarrassed by a girl in a faint. + +He called for help and, getting none, shook his fist at the callous +devils who ignored him; he inspected his charge, who looked as pure as +a child in her swoon, all her troubles forgotten and sins blotted out; +he inquired of the skies, as if hopeful that the ravens, as of old, +might bring him help; at last, seeing nothing else for it, he picked up +the girl in both arms and pitched her on to the saddle. There, with +some adjusting, he managed to prop her while he led the horse slowly +away. He had to get the reins in his teeth before he had gone ten +yards. The retreat began. + +It was within two hours of noon, or nothing had saved him from a +retirement as harassing as Sir John Moore's. It was the sun, not +ravens, that came to his help. Meantime the girl had recovered herself +somewhat, and, when they were out of sight of the town and its +inhabitants, showed him that she had by sliding from the saddle and +standing firmly on her feet. + +"Hulloa!" said Manvers. "What's the matter now? Do you think you can +walk back? You can't, you know." He addressed her in his best +Castilian. "I am afraid you are hurt. Let me help----" but she held +him off with a stiffening arm, while she wiped her face with her +petticoat, and put herself into some sort of order. + +She did it deftly and methodically, with the practised hands of a woman +used to the public eye. She might have been an actress at the wings, +about to go on. Nor would she look at him or let him see that she was +aware of his presence until all was in order--her hair twisted into the +red handkerchief, the neck of her dress pinned together, her torn skirt +nicely hung. Her coquetry, her skill in adjusting what seemed past +praying for, her pains with herself, were charming to see and very +touching. Manvers watched her closely and could not deny her beauty. + +She was a vivid beauty, fiercely coloured, with her tawny gold hair, +sunburnt skin, and jade-green, far-seeing eyes, her coiled crimson +handkerchief and blue-green gown. She was finely made, slim, and in +contour hardly more than a child; and yet she seemed to him very +mature, a practised hand, with very various knowledge deep in her eyes, +and a wide acquaintance behind her quiet lips. With her re-ordered +toilette she had taken on self-possession and dignity, a reserve which +baffled him. Without any more reason than this he felt for her a kind +of respect which nothing, certainly, in what he had seen of her +circumstances could justify. Yet he gave her her title--which marks +his feeling. + +"Seńorita," he said, "I wish to be of service to you. Command me. +Shall I take you back to Palencia?" + +She answered him seriously. "I beg that you will not, sir." + +"If you have friends----" he began, and she said at once, "I have none." + +"Or parents----" + +"None." + +"Relatives----" + +"None, none." + +"Then your----" + +"I know what you would say. I have no house." + +"Then," said Manvers, looking vaguely over the plain, "what do you wish +me to do for you?" + +She was now sitting by the roadside, very collectedly looking down at +her hands in her lap. "You will leave me here, if you must," she said; +"but I would ask your charity to take me a little farther from +Palencia. Nobody has ever been kind to me before." + +She said this quite simply, as if stating a fact. He was moved. + +"You were unhappy in Palencia?" + +"Yes," she said, "I would rather be left here." The enormous plain of +Castile, treeless, sun-struck, empty of living thing, made her words +eloquent. + +"Absurd," said Manvers. "If I leave you here you will die." + +"In Palencia," said the girl, "I cannot die." And then her grave eyes +pierced him, and he knew what she meant. + +"Great God!" said Manvers. "Then I shall take you to a convent." + +She nodded her head. "Where you will, sir," she replied. Her gravity, +far beyond her seeming station, gave value to her confidence. + +"That seems to me the best thing I can do with you," Manvers said; "and +if you don't shirk it, there is no reason why I should. Now, can you +stick on the saddle if I put you up?" + +She nodded again. "Up you go then." He would have swung her up +sideways, lady-fashion; but she laughed and cried, "No, no," put a hand +on his shoulder, her left foot in the stirrup, and swung herself into +the saddle as neatly as a groom. There she sat astride, like a +circus-rider, and stuck her arm akimbo as she looked down for his +approval. + +"Bravo," said Manvers. "You have been a-horseback before this, my +girl. Now you must make room for me." He got up behind her and took +the reins from under her arm. With the other arm it was necessary to +embrace her; she allowed it sedately. Then they ambled off together, +making a Darby and Joan affair of it. + +But the sun was now close upon noon, burning upon them out of a sky of +brass. There was no wind, and the flies were maddening. After a while +he noticed that the girl simply stooped her head to the heat, as if she +were wilting like a picked flower. When he felt her heavy on his arm +he saw that he must stop. So he did, and plied her with wine from his +pocket-flask, feeding her drop by drop as she lay back against him. He +got bread out of his haversack and made her eat; she soon revived, and +then he learned the fact that she had eaten nothing since yesterday's +noon. "How should I eat," she asked, "when I have earned nothing?" + +"Nohow, but by charity," he agreed. "Had Palencia no compassion?" She +grew dark and would not answer him at first; presently asked, had he +not seen Palencia? + +"I agree," he said. "But let me ask you, if I may without +indiscretion, how did you propose to earn your bread in Palencia?" + +"I would have worked in the fields for a day, sir," she told him; "but +not longer, for I have to get on." + +"Where do you wish to go?" + +"Away from here." + +"To Valladolid?" + +She looked up into his face--her head was still near his shoulder. "To +Valladolid? Never there." + +This made him laugh. "To Palencia? Never there. To Valladolid? +Never there. Where then, lady of the sea-green eyes?" + +She veiled her eyes quickly. "To Madrid, I suppose. I wish to work." + +"Can you find work there?" + +"Surely. It is a great city." + +"Do you know it?" + +"Yes, I was there long ago." + +"What did you do there?" + +"I worked. I was very well there." She sat up and looked back over +his shoulder. She had done that once or twice before, and now he asked +her what she was looking for. She desisted at once: "Nothing" was her +answer. + +He made her drink from the flask again and gave her his pocket +handkerchief to cover her head. When she understood she laughed at him +without disguise. Did he think she feared the sun? She bade him look +at her neck--which was walnut brown, and sleek as satin; but when he +would have taken back his handkerchief she refused to give it, and put +it over her head like a hood, and tied it under her chin. She then +turned herself round to face him. "Is it so you would have it, sir?" +she asked, and looked bewitching. + +"My dear," said Manvers, "you are a beauty." Shall he be blamed if he +kissed her? Not by me, since she never blamed him. + +Her clear-seeing eyes searched his face; her kissed mouth looked very +serious, and also very pure. Then, as he observed her ardently, she +coloured and looked down, and afterwards turned herself the way they +were to go, and with a little sigh settled into his arm. + +Manvers spurred his horse, and for some time nothing was said between +them. But he was of a talkative habit, with a trick of conversing with +himself for lack of a better man. He asked her if he was forgiven, and +felt her answer on his arm, though she gave him none in words. This +was not to content him. "I see that you will not," he said, to tease +her. "Well, I call that hard after my stoning. I had believed the +ladies of Spain kinder to their cavaliers than to grudge a kiss for a +cartload of stones at the head. Well, well, I'm properly paid. Laws +go as kings will, I know. God help poor men!" He would have gone on +with his baiting had she not surprised him. + +She turned him a burning face. "Caballero, caballero, have done!" she +begged him. "You rescued me from worse than death--and what could I +deny you? See, sir, I have lived fifteen, seventeen years in the +world, and nobody--nobody, I say--has ever done me a kindness before. +And you think that I grudge you!" She was really unhappy, and had to +be comforted. + +They became close friends after that. She told him her name was +Manuela, and that she was Valencian by birth. A Gitana? No, indeed. +She was a Christian. "You are a very bewitching Christian, Manuela," +he told her, and drew her face back, and kissed her again. I am told +that there's nothing in kissing, once: it's the second time that +counts. In the very act--for eyes met as well as lips--he noticed that +hers wavered on the way to his, beyond him, over the road they had +travelled; and the ceremony over, he again asked her why. She passed +it off as before, saying that she had looked at nothing, and begged him +to go forward. + +Ahead of them now, through the crystalline flicker of the heat, he saw +the dark rim of the wood, the cork forest of La Huerca for which he was +looking, and which hid the river from his aching eyes. No foot-burnt +wanderer in Sahara ever hailed his oasis with heartier thanksgiving; +but it was still a league and a half away. He addressed himself to the +task of reaching it, and we may suppose Manuela respected his efforts. +At any rate, there was silence between the pair for the better part of +an hour--what time the unwinking sun, vertically overhead, deprived +them of so much as the sight of their own shadows, and drove the very +crows with wings adust to skulk in the furrows. The shrilling of +crickets, the stumbling hoofs of an overtaxed horse, and the creaking +of saddle and girth made a din in the deadly stillness of this fervent +noon, and, since there was no other sound to be heard, it is hard to +tell how Manvers was aware of a traveller behind him, unless he was +served by the sixth sense we all have, to warn as that we are not alone. + +Sure enough, when he looked over his shoulder, he was aware of a donkey +and his rider drawing smoothly and silently near. The pair of them +were so nearly of the colour of the ground, he had to look long to be +sure; and as he looked, Manuela suddenly leaned sideways and saw what +he saw. It was just as if she had received a stroke of the sun. She +stiffened; he felt the thrill go through her; and when she resumed her +first position she was another person. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE AMBIGUOUS THIRD + +"God save your grace," said Estéban; for it was he who, sitting well +back upon his donkey's rump, with exceedingly bright eyes and a +cheerful grin, now forged level with Manvers and his burdened steed. + +Manvers gave him a curt "Good-day," and thought him an impudent +fellow--which was not justified by anything Estéban had done. He had +been discretion itself; and, indeed, to his eyes there had been nothing +of necessity remarkable in the pair on the horse. If a lady--Duchess +or baggage--happened to be sharing the gentleman's saddle, an +arrangement must be presumed, which could not possibly concern himself. +That is the reasonable standpoint of a people who mind their own +business and credit their neighbours with the same preoccupation. + +But Manvers was an Englishman, and could not for the life of him +consider Estéban as anything but a puppy for seeing him in a +compromising situation. So much was he annoyed that he did not remark +any longer that Manuela was another person, sitting stiffly, strained +against his arm, every muscle on the stretch, as taut as a ship's cable +in the tideway, her face in rigid profile to the newcomer. + +Estéban was in no way put out. "Many good days light upon your grace!" +he cheerfully repeated--so cheerfully that Manvers was appeased. + +"Good-day, good-day to you," he said. "You ride light and I ride +heavy, otherwise you had not overtaken us." + +Estéban showed his fine teeth, and waved his hand towards the hazy +distance; from the tail of his eye he watched Manuela in profile. "Who +knows that, sir? _Lo que ha de ser_--as we say. Ah, who knows that?" +Manuela strained her face forward. + +"Well," said Manvers, "I do, for example. I have proved my horse. +He's a Galician, and a good goer. It would want a brave _borico_ to +outpace him." + +Estéban slipped into the axiomatic, as all Spaniards will. "There's a +providence of the road, sir, and a saint in charge of travellers. And +we know, sir, _a cada puerco viene su San Martin_." Manuela stooped +her body forward, and peered ahead, as one strains to see in the dark. + +"Your proverb is oddly chosen, it seems to me," said Manvers. + +Estéban gave a little chuckle from his throat. + +"A proverb is a stone flung into a pack of starlings. It may scare the +most, but may hit one. By mine I referred to the ways of providence, +under a figure. Destiny is always at work." + +"No doubt," said Manvers, slightly bored. + +"It might have been your destiny to have outpaced me: the odds were +with you. On the other hand, as you have not, it must have been mine +to have overtaken you." + +"You are a philosopher?" asked Manvers, fatigue deliberately in his +voice. Estéban's eyes shone intensely; he had marked the changed +inflection. + +"I studied the Humanities at Salamanca," he said carelessly. "That was +when I was an innocent. Since then I have learned in a harder school. +I am learning still--every day I learn something new. I am a gentleman +born, as your grace has perceived: why not a philosopher?" + +Manvers was rather ashamed of himself. "Of course, of course! Why not +indeed? I am very glad to see you, while our ways coincide." + +Estéban raised his battered straw. "I kiss the feet of your grace, and +hope your grace's lady"--Manuela quivered--"is not disturbed by my +company; for to tell you the truth, sir, I propose to enjoy your own as +long as you and she are agreeable. I am used to companionship." He +shot a keen glance at Manuela, who never moved. + +"She will speak for herself, no doubt," said Manvers; but she did not. +The gleam in Estéban's light eyes gave point to his next speech. + +"I have a notion that the seńora is not of your mind, sir," he said, +"and am sorry. I can hardly remain as an unwelcome third in a journey. +It would be a satisfaction to me if the seńora would assure me that I +am wrong." Manuela now turned her head with an effort and looked down +upon the grinning youth. + +"Why should I care whether you stay or go?" she said. Her eyelids +flickered over her eyes as though he were dust in their light. +He showed his teeth. + +"Why indeed, seńora? God knows I have no reputation to bring you, +though the company of a gentleman, the son of a gentleman, never comes +amiss, they say. But two is company, and three is a fair. I have +found it so, and so doubtless has your ladyship." + +She made him no answer, and had turned away her face long before he had +finished. After that the conversation was mainly of his making; for +Manuela would say nothing, and Manvers had nothing to say. The cork +wood was plain in front of him now; he thanked God for the prospect of +food and rest. In fifteen minutes, thought he, he should be swimming +in the Pisuerga. + +The forest began tentatively, with heath, sparse trees and mounds of +cistus and bramble. Manvers followed the road, which ran through a +portion of it, until he saw the welcome thickets on either hand, deep +tunnels of dark and shadowy places where the sun could not stab; then +he turned aside over the broken ground, and Estéban's donkey picked a +dainty way behind him. When he had reached what seemed to him +perfection, he pulled up. + +"Now, young lady," he said; "I will give you food and drink, and then +you shall go to sleep, and so will I. Afterwards we will consider what +had best be done with you." + +"Yes, sir," she replied in a whisper. Manvers dismounted and held out +his hand to her. There was no more coquetting with the saddle. She +scarcely touched his hand, and did not once lift her eyes to him--but +he was busy with his haversack and had no thoughts for her. + +Estéban meantime sat the donkey, looking gravely at his company, +blinking his eyes, smiling quietly, recurring now and then to the +winding minor air which had been in his head all day. He was perfectly +unhampered by any doubts of his welcome, and watched with serious +attention the preparations for a meal in the open which Manvers was +making with the ease and despatch of one versed in camps. + +Ham and sausage, rolls of bread, a lettuce, oranges, cheese, dates, a +bottle of wine, another of water, salt, olives, a knife and fork, a +plate, a corkscrew; every article was in its own paper, some were +marked in pencil what they were. All were spread out upon a +horse-blanket; in good enough order for a field-inspection. Nothing +was wanting, and Estéban was as keen as a wolf. Even Manvers rubbed +his hands. He looked shrewdly at his neighbour. + +"Good _alforjas_, eh?" + +"Excellent indeed, sir," said Estéban hoarsely. It was hard to see +this food, and know that he could not eat of it. Manuela was sitting +under a tree, her face in her hands. + +"How far away," said Manvers, "is the water, do you suppose?" + +The water? Estéban collected himself with a start. The water? He +jerked his head towards the display on the blanket. "It is under your +hand, caballero. That bottle, I take it, holds water." + +Manvers laughed. "Yes, yes. I mean the river. I am going to swim in +the river. Don't wait for me." He turned to the girl. "Take some +food, my friend. I'll be back before long." + +Her swift transitions bewildered him. She showed him now a face of +extreme terror. She was on her feet in a moment, rigid, and her eyes +were so pale that her face looked empty of eyes, like a mask. What on +earth was the matter with her? He understood her to be saying, "I must +go where you go. I must never leave you----" words like that; but they +came from her mouthed rather than voiced, as the babbling of a mad +woman. All that was clear was that she was beside herself with fright. +Looking to Estéban for an explanation, he surprised a triumphant gleam +in that youth's light eyes, and saw him grinning--as a dog grins, with +the lip curled back. + +But Estéban spoke. "I think the lady is right, sir. Affection is a +beautiful thing." He added politely, "The loss will be mine." + +Manvers looked from one to the other of these curious persons, so +clearly conscious of each other, yet so strict to avoid recognition. +His eyes rested on Manuela. "What's the matter, my child?" She met +his glance furtively, as if afraid that he was angry; plainly she was +ashamed of her panic. Her eyes were now collected, her brow cleared, +and the tension of her arms relaxed. + +"Nothing is the matter," she said in a low voice. "I will stay here." +She was shaking still; she held herself with both her hands, and shook +the more. + +"I think that you are knocked over by the heat and all the rest of your +troubles," said Manvers, "and I don't wonder. Repose yourself +here--eat--drink. Don't spare the victuals, I beg. And as for you, my +brother, I invite you too to eat what you please. And I place this +young lady in your charge. Don't forget that. She's had a fright, and +good reason for it; she's been hurt. I leave her in your care with +every confidence that you will protect her." + +Every word spoken was absorbed by Estéban with immense relish. The +words pleased him, to begin with, by their Spanish ring. Manvers had +been pleased himself. It was the longest speech he had yet made in +Castilian; but he had no notion, of course, how exquisitely apposite to +the situation they were. + +Estéban became superb. He rose to the height of the argument, and to +that of his inches, took off his old hat and held it out the length of +his arm. "Let the lady fear nothing, seńor caballero of my soul. I +engage the honour of a gentleman that she shall have every +consideration at my hands which her virtues merit. No more"--he looked +at the sullen beauty between him and the Englishman--"No more, for that +would be idolatrous; and no less, for that would be injustice. _Vaya, +seńor caballero, vaya V|d| con Dios_." Manvers nodded and strolled +away. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A SPANISH CHAPTER + +His removal snapped a chain. These two persons became themselves. + +Manuela with eyes ablaze strode over to Estéban. "Well," she said. +"You have found me. What is your pleasure?" + +He sat very still on his donkey, watching her. He rolled himself a +cigarette, still watching, and as he lighted it, looked at her over the +flame. + +"Speak, Estéban," she said, quivering; but he took two luxurious +inhalations first, discharged in dense columns through his nose. Then +he said, breathing smoke, "I have come to kill you, Manuelita--from +Pobledo in a day and a half." + +She had folded her arms, and now nodded. "I know it. I have expected +you." + +"Of course," said Estéban, inhaling enormously. He shot the smoke +upwards towards the light, where it floated and spread out in radiant +bars of blue. Manuela was tapping her foot. + +"Well, I am here," she said. "I might have left you, but I have not. +Why don't you do what you intend?" + +"There is plenty of time," said Estéban, and continued to smoke. He +began to make another cigarette. + +"Do you know why I chose to stay with you?" she asked him softly. "Do +you know, Estéban?" + +He raised his eyebrows. "Not at all." + +"It was because I had a bargain to make with you." + +He looked at her inquiringly; but he shrugged. "It will be a hard +bargain for you, my girl," he told her. + +"I believe you will agree to it," she said quickly, "seeing that of my +own will I have remained here. I will let you kill me as you +please--on a condition." + +"Name your condition," said Estéban. "I will only say now that it is +my wish to strangle you with my hands." + +She put both hers to her throat. "Good," she said. "That shall be +your affair. But let the caballero go free. He has done you no harm." + +"On the contrary," said Estéban, "I shall certainly kill him when he +returns. Have no doubt of that. Then I shall have his horse." + +Immediately, without fear, she went up to him where he sat his donkey. +She saw the knife in his _faja_, but had no fear at all. She came +quite close to him, with an ardent face, with eyes alight. She +stretched out her arms like a man on a cross. + +"Kill, kill, Estéban! But listen first. You shall spare that +gentleman's life, for he has done you no wrong." + +He laughed her down. "Wrong! And you come to me to swear that on the +Cross of Christ? Daughter of swine, you lie." + +Tears were in her eyes, which made her blink and shake her head--but +she came closer yet in a passion of entreaty. She was so close that +her bosom touched him. "Kill, Estéban, kill--but love me first!" Her +arms were about him now, as if she must have love of him or die. +"Estéban, Estéban!" she was whispering as if she hungered and thirsted +for him. He shivered at a memory. "Love me once, love me once, +Estéban!" Closer and closer she clung to him; her eyes implored a kiss. + +"Loose me, you jade," he said, less sharply, but she clove the closer +to him, and one hand crept downwards from his shoulder, as if she would +embrace him by the middle. "Too late, Manuelita, too late," he said +again, but he was plainly softening. She drew his face towards hers as +if to kiss him, then whipped the long knife out of his girdle and drove +it with all her sobbing force into his neck. Estéban uttered a thick +groan, threw his head up and rocked twice. Then his head dropped, and +he fell sideways off his donkey. + +She stood staring at what she had done. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE SLEEPER AWAKENED + +Manvers returned whistling from his bath, at peace with all the world +of Spain, in a large mood of benevolence and charitable judgment. His +mind dwelt pleasantly on Manuela, but pity mixed with his thought; and +he added some prudence on his own account. "That child--she's no +more--I must do something for her. Not a bad 'un, I'll swear, not +fundamentally bad. I don't doubt her as I doubt the male: he's too +glib by half... She's distractingly pretty--what nectarine colour! +The mouth of a child--that droop at the corners--and as soft as a +child's too." He shook his head. "No more kissing or I shall be in a +mess." + +When he reached his tree and his luncheon, to find his companions gone, +he was a little taken aback. His genial proposals were suddenly +chilled. "Queer couple--I had a notion that they knew something of +each other. So they've made a match of it." + +Then he saw a brass crucifix lying in the middle of his plate. +"Hulloa!" He stooped to pick it up. It was still warm. He smiled and +felt a glow come back. "Now that's charming of her. That's a pretty +touch--from a pretty girl. She's no baggage, depend upon it." The +string had plainly hung the thing round her neck, the warmth was that +of her bosom. He held it tenderly while he turned it about. "I'll +warrant now, that was all she had upon her. Not a maravedi beside. I +know it's the last thing to leave 'em. I'm repaid, more than repaid. +I'll wear you for a bit, my friend, if you won't scorch a heretic." +Here he slipped the string over his head, and dropped the cross within +his collar. "I'll treat you to a chain in Valladolid," was his final +thought before he consigned Manuela to his cabinet of memories. + +He poured and drank, hacked at his ham-bone and ate. "By the Lord," he +went on commenting, "they've not had bite or sup. Too busy with their +match-making? Too delicate to feast without invitation? Which?" He +pondered the puzzle. He had invited Manuela, he was sure: had he +included her swain? If not, the thing was clear. She wouldn't eat +without him, and he couldn't eat without his host. It was the best +thing he knew of Estéban. + +He finished his meal, filled and lit a pipe, smoked half of it +drowsily, then lay and slept. Nothing disturbed his three hours' rest, +not even the gathering cloud of flies, whose droning over a +neighbouring thicket must have kept awake a lighter sleeper. But +Manvers was so fast that he did not hear footsteps in the wood, nor the +sound of picking in the peaty ground. + +It was four o'clock and more when he awoke, sat up and looked at his +watch. Yawning and stretching at ease, he then became aware of a +friar, with a brown shaven head and fine black beard, who was digging +near by. This man, whose eyes had been upon him, waiting for +recognition, immediately stopped his toil, struck his spade into the +ground, and came towards him, bowing as he came. + +"Good evening, seńor caballero," he said. "I am Fray Juan de la Cruz, +at your service; from the convent of N. S. de la Peńa near by. I have +to be my own grave-digger; but will you be so obliging as to commit the +body while I read the office?" + +To this abrupt invitation Manvers could only reply by staring. Fray +Juan apologised. + +"I imagined that you had perceived my business," he said, "which truly +is none of yours. It will be an act of charity on your part--therefore +its own reward." + +"May I ask you," said Manvers, now on his feet, "what, or whom, you are +burying?" + +"Come," the friar replied. "I will show you the body." Manvers +followed him into the thicket. + +"Good God, what's this?" The staring light eyes of Estéban Vincaz had +no reply for him. He had to turn away, sick at the sight. + +Fray Juan de la Cruz told him what he knew. A young girl, riding an +ass, had come to the church of the convent, where he happened to be, +cleaning the sanctuary. The Reverend Prior was absent, the brothers +were afield. She was in haste, she said, and the matter would not +allow of delay. She reported that she had killed a man in the wood of +La Huerca, to save the life of a gentleman who had been kind to her, +who had, indeed, but recently imperilled his own for hers. "If you +doubt me," she had said, "go to the forest, to such and such a part. +There you will find the gentleman asleep. He has a crucifix of mine. +The dead man lies not far away, with his own knife near him, with which +I killed him. Now," she had said, "I trust you to report all I have +said to that gentleman, for I must be off." + +"Good God!" said Manvers again. + +"God indeed is the only good," said Fray Juan, "and His ways past +finding out. But I have no reason to doubt this girl's story. She +told me, moreover, the name of the man--or his names, as you may say." + +"Had he more than one then?" Manvers asked him, but without interest. +The dead was nothing to him, but the deed was much. This wild girl, +who had been sleek and kissing but a few hours before, now stood robed +in tragic weeds, fell purpose in her green eyes! And her child's +mouth--stretched to murder! And her youth--hardy enough to stab! + +"The unfortunate young man," said Fray Juan, "was the son of a more +unfortunate father; but the name that he used was not that of his +house. His father, it seems----" but Manvers stopped him. + +"Excuse me--I don't care about his father or his names. Tell me +anything more that the girl had to say." + +"I have told you everything, seńor caballero," said Fray Juan; "and I +will only add that you are not to suppose that I am violating the +confidences of God. Far from that. She made no confession in the true +sense, though she promised me that she would not fail to do so at the +earliest moment. I had it urgently from herself that I should seek you +out with her tale, and rehearse it to you. In justice to her, I am now +to ask you if it is true, so far as you are concerned in it?" + +Manvers replied, "It's perfectly true. I found her in bad company at +Palencia; a pack of ruffians was about her, and she might have been +killed. I got her out of their hands, knocked about and wounded, and +brought her so far on the road to the first convent I could come at. +That poor devil there overtook us about a league from the wood. She +had nothing to say to him, nor he to her, but I remember noticing that +she didn't seem happy after he had joined us. He had been her lover, I +suppose?" + +"She gave me to understand that," said Fray Juan gravely. Manvers here +started at a memory. + +"By the Lord," he cried, "I'll tell you something. When we got to the +wood I wanted to bathe in the river, and was going to leave those two +together. Well, she was in a taking about that. She wanted to come +with me--there was something of a scene." He recalled her terror, and +Estéban's snarling lip. "I might have saved all this--but how was I to +know? I blame myself. But what puzzles me still is why the man should +have wanted my life. Can you explain that?" + +Fray Juan was discreet. "Robbery," he suggested, but Manvers laughed. + +"I travel light," he said. "He must have seen that I was not his game. +No, no," he shook his head. "It couldn't have been robbery." + +Fray Juan, I say, was discreet; and it was no business of his.... But +it was certainly in his mind to say that Estéban need not have been the +robber, nor Manvers' portmanteau the booty. However, he was silent, +until the Englishman muttered, "God in Heaven, what a country!" and +then he took up his parable. + +"All countries are very much the same, as I take it, since God made +them all together, and put man up to be the master of them, and took +the woman out of his side to be his blessing and curse at once. The +place whence she was taken, they say, can never fully be healed until +she is restored to it; and when that is done, it is not a certain cure. +Such being the plan of this world, it does not become us to quarrel +with its manifestations here or there. Seńor caballero, if you are +ready I will proceed. Assistance at the feet, a handful of earth at +the proper moment are all I shall ask of you." He slipped a surplice +over his head. The office was said. + +"Fray Juan," said Manvers at the end, "will you take this trifle from +me? A mass, I suppose, for that poor devil's soul would not come +amiss." + +Fray Juan took that as a sign of grace, and was glad that he had held +his tongue. "Far from it," he said, "it would be extremely proper. It +shall be offered, I promise you." + +"Now," said Manvers after a pause, "I wonder if you can tell me this. +Which way did she go off?" + +Fray Juan shook his head. "No lo sé. She came to me in the church, +and spoke, and passed like the angel of death. May she go with God!" + +"I hope so," said Manvers. Then he looked into the placid face of the +brown friar. "But I must find her somehow." Upon that addition he +shut his mouth with a snap. The survey which he had to endure from +Fray Juan's patient eyes was the best answer to it. + +"Oh, but I must, you know," he said. + +"Better not, my son," said Fray Juan. "It seems to me that you have +seen enough. Your motives will be misunderstood." + +Manvers laughed. "They are rather obscure to me--but I can't let her +pay for my fault." + +"You may make her pay double," said Fray Juan. + +"No," said Manvers decisively, "I won't. It's my turn to pay now." + +The Friar shrugged. "It is usually the woman who pays. But _lo que ha +de ser_...!" + +The everlasting phrase! "That proverb serves you well in Spain, Fray +Juan," said Manvers, who was in a staring fit. + +"It is all we have that matters. Other nations have to learn it; here +we know it." + +Manvers mounted his horse and stooping from the saddle, offered his +hand. "Adios, Fray Juan." + +"Vaya V|d| con Dios!" said the friar, and watched him away. +"Pobrecita!" he said to himself--"unhappy Manuela!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +REFLECTIONS OF AN ENGLISHMAN + +But Manvers was well upon his way, riding with squared jaw, with rein +and spur towards Valladolid. He neither whistled nor chanted to the +air; he was _vacuus viator_ no longer, travelled not for pleasure but +to get over the leagues. For him this country of distances and great +air was not Castile, but Broceliande; a land of enchantments and pain. +He was no longer fancy-free, but bound to a quest. + +Consider the issues of this day of his. From bathing in pastoral he +had been suddenly soused into tragedy's seething-pot. His idyll of the +tanned gipsy, with her glancing eyes and warm lips, had been spattered +out with a brushful of blood; the scene was changed from sunny life to +wan death. Here were the staring eyes of a dead man, and his mouth +twisted awry in its last agony. He could not away with the shock, nor +divest himself of a share in it. If he, by mischance, had taken up +with Manuela, he had taken up with Estéban too. + +The vanished players in the drama loomed in his mind larger for that +fateful last act. The tragic sock and the mask enhanced them. What +mystery lay behind Manuela's sidelong eyes? What sin or suffering? +What knowledge, how gained, justified Estéban's wizened saws? These +two were wise before their time; when they ought to have been flirting +on the brink of life, here they were, breasting the great flood, +familiar with death, hating and stabbing! + +A pretty child with a knife in her hand; and a boy murdered--what a +country! And where stood he, Manvers, the squire of Somerset, with his +thirty years, his University education and his seat on the bench? +Exactly level with the curate, to be counted on for an archery meeting! +Well enough for diversion; but when serious affairs were on hand, sent +out of the way. Was it not so, that he, as the child of the party, was +dismissed to bathe while his elders fought out their deadly quarrel? I +put it in the interrogative; but he himself smarted under the answer to +it, and although he never formulated the thought, and made no plans, +and could make none, I have no doubt but that his wounded self-esteem, +seeking a salve, found it in the assurance that he would protect +Manuela from the consequences of her desperate act; that his protection +was his duty and her need. The English mind works that way; we cannot +endure a breath upon our fair surface. We must direct the operations +of this world, or the devil's in it. + +Manvers was not, of course, in love with Manuela. He was sentimentally +engaged in her affairs, and very sure that they were, and must be, his +own. Yet I don't know whether the waking dream which he had upon the +summit of that plateau of brown rock which bounds Valladolid upon the +north was the cause or consequence of his implication. + +He had climbed this sharp ridge because a track wavered up it which cut +off some miles of the road. It was not easy going by any means, but +the view rewarded him. The land stretched away to the four quarters of +the compass and disappeared into a copper-brown haze. He stood well +above the plain, which seemed infinite. Corn-land and waste, river-bed +and moor, were laid out below him as in a geographer's model. He +thought that he stood up there apart, contemplating time and existence. +He was indeed upon the convex of the world, projecting from it into +illimitable space, consciously sharing its mighty surge. + +This did not belittle him. On the contrary, he felt something of the +helmsman's pride, something of the captain's on the bridge. He was +driving the world. He soared, perched up there, apart from men and +their concerns. All Spain lay at his feet; he marked the way it must +go. It was possible for him now to watch a man crawl, like a maggot, +from his cradle, and urge a painful way to his grave. And, to his +exalted eye, from cradle to grave was but a span's length. + +From such sublime investigation it was but a step to sublimity itself. +His soul seemed separate from his body; he was dispassionate, +superhuman, all-seeing and all-comprehending. Now he could see men as +winged ants, crossing each other, nearing, drifting apart, +interweaving, floating in a cloud, blown high, blown low by wafts of +air; and here, presently, came one Manvers, and there, driven by a +gust, went another, Manuela. + +At these two insects, as one follows idly one gull out of a flock, he +could look with interest, and without emotion. He saw them drift, +touch and part, and each be blown its way, helpless mote in the dust of +the great plain. From one to the other he turned his eyes. The +Manvers gnat flew the straighter course, holding to an upper current; +the Manuela wavered, but tended ever to a lower plane. The wind from +the mountains of Asturias freshened and blew over him. In a singular +moment of divination he saw the two insects of his vision caught in the +draught and whirled together again. A spiral flight upwards was begun; +in ever-narrowing circles they climbed, bid fair to soar. They reached +a steadier stream, they sped along together; but then, as a gust took +them, they dipped below it and steadily declined, wavering, whirling +about each other. Down and down they went, until they were lost to his +eye in the dust of heat. He saw them no more. + +Manvers came to himself, and shook his senses back into his head. The +sun was sinking over Portugal, the evening wind was chill. Had he been +dreaming? What sense of fate was upon him? "Come up, Rosinante, take +me out of the cave of Montesinos." He guided his horse in and out of +the boulder-strewn track to the edge of the plateau; and there before +him, many leagues away, like a patch of whitewash splodged down upon a +blue field, lay Valladolid, the city of burning and pride. + +[Illustration: Upon a blue field lay Valladolid.] + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A VISIT TO THE JEWELLER'S + +If God in His majesty made the Spains and the nations which people +them, perhaps it was His mercy that convoked the Spanish cities--as His +servant Philip piled rock upon rock and called it Madrid--and made +cess-pits for the cleansing of the country. + +Behold the Castilian, the Valencian, the Murcian on his glebe, you find +an exact relation established; the one exhales the other. The man is +what his country is, tragic, hag-ridden, yet impassive, patient under +the sun. He stands for the natural verities. You cannot change him, +move, nor hurt him. He can earn neither your praises nor reproach. As +well might you blame the staring noon of summer or throw a kind word to +the everlasting hills. The bleak pride of the Castillano, the flint +and steel of Aragon, the languor which veils Andalusian +fire--travelling the lands which gave them birth, you find them scored +in large over mountain and plain and riverbed, and bitten deep into the +hearts of the indwellers. They are as seasonable there as the flowers +of waste places, and will charm you as much. So Spanish travel is one +of the restful relaxations, because nothing jars upon you. You feel +that you are assisting a destiny, not breaking it. Not discovery is +before you so much as realisation. + +But in the city Spanish blood festers, and all that seemed plausible in +the open air is now monstrous, full of vice and despair. Whereas, +outside, the man stood like a rock, and let Fate seam or bleach him +bare; here, within walls, he rages, shows his teeth, blasphemes, or +sinks into sloth. You will find him heaped against the walls like +ordure, hear him howl for blood in the bull-ring, appraise women, as if +they were dainties, in the _alamedas_, loaf, scratch, pry where none +should pry, go begging with his sores, trade his own soul for his +mother's. His pride becomes insolence, his tragedy hideous revolt, his +impassivity swinish, his rock of sufficiency a rook of offence. God in +His mercy, or the Devil in his despite, made the cities of Spain. + +And yet the man, so superbly at his ease in his enormous spaces, is his +own conclusion when he goes to town; the permutation is logical. He is +too strong a thing to break his nature; it will be aggravated but not +deflected. Leave him to swarm in the _plaza_ and seek his nobler +brother. Go out by the gate, descend the winding suburb, which gives +you the burnt plains and far blue hills, now on one hand, now on the +other, as you circle down and down, with the walls mounting as you +fall; touch once more the dusty earth, traverse the deep shade of the +ilex-avenue; greet the ox-teams, the filing mules, as they creep up the +hill to the town: you are bound for their true, great Spain. And +though it may be ten days since you saw it, or fifty years, you will +find nothing altered. The Spaniard is still the flower of his rocks. +_O dura tellus Iberiae_! + + +From the window of his garret Don Luis Ramonez de Alavia could overlook +the town wall, and by craning his neck out sideways could have seen, if +he had a mind, the cornice-angle of the palace of his race. It was a +barrack in these days, and had been so since ruin had settled down on +the Ramonez with the rest of Valladolid. That had been in the +sixteenth century, but no Ramonez had made any effort to repair it. +Every one of them did as Don Luis was doing now, and accepted misery in +true Spanish fashion. Not only did he never speak of it, he never +thought of it either. It was; therefore it had to be. + +He rose at dawn, every day of his life, and took his sop in coffee in +his bedgown, sitting on the edge of his bed. He heard mass in the +Church of Las Angustias, in the same chapel at the same hour. Once a +month he communicated, and then the sop was omitted. He was shaved in +the barber's shop--Gomez the Sevillian kept it--at the corner of the +_plaza_. Gomez, the little dapper, black-eyed man, was a friend of +his, his newspaper and his doctor. + +He took a high line with Gomez, as you may when you owe a man twopence +a week. + +That over, he took the sun in the _plaza_, up and down the centre line +of flags in fine weather, up and down the arcade if it rained. He saw +the _diligence_ from Madrid come in, he saw the _diligence_ for Madrid +go out. He knew, and accepted the salutes of every _arriero_ who +worked in and out of the city, and passed the time of day with Micael +the lame water-seller, who never failed to salute him. + +At noon he ate an onion and a piece of cheese, and then he dozed till +three. As the clock of the University struck that hour he put on his +_capa_--summer and winter he wore it, with melancholy and good reason; +by ten minutes past he was entering the shop of Sebastian the +goldsmith, in the Plaza San Benito, in the which he sat till dusk, +motionless and absorbed in thought, talking little, seeming to observe +little, and yet judging everything in the light of strong common sense. + +Summer or winter, at dusk he arose, flecked a mote or two of dust from +his _capa_, seated his beaver upon his grey head, grasped his malacca, +and departed with a "Be with God, my friend." To this Sebastian the +goldsmith invariably replied, "At the feet of your grace, Don Luis." + +He supped sparingly, and the last act of his day was his one act of +luxury; his cup of chocolate or glass of _agraz_, according to season, +at the Café de la Luna in the Plaza Mayor. This was his title to table +and chair, and the respect of all Valladolid from dusk until nine--on +the last stroke of which, saluting the company, who rose almost to a +man, he retired to his garret and thin bed. + +Pepe, the head waiter at the Luna, who had been there for thirty years, +Gomez the barber, who was sixty-three and looked forty, Sebastian the +goldsmith, well over middle age, and the old priest of Las Angustias, +who had confessed him every Friday and said mass at the same altar +every morning since his ordination (God knows how long ago), would have +testified to the fact that Don Luis had never once varied his daily +habits within time of memory. + +They would have been wrong, of course, like all clean sweepers; for in +addition to his inheritance of ruin, misfortunes had graved him deeply. +Valladolid knew it well. His wife had left him, his son had gone to +the devil. He bore the first blow like a stoic, not moving a muscle +nor varying a habit: the second sent him on a journey. The barber, the +water-seller, Pepe the waiter, Sebastian the deft were troubled about +him for a week or more. He came back, and hid his wound, speaking to +no one of it; and no one dared to pity him. And although he resumed +his routine and was outwardly the same man, we may trace to that last +stroke of Fortune the wasted splendour of his eyes, the look of a dying +stag, which, once seen, haunted the observer. He was extraordinarily +handsome, except for his narrow shoulders and hollow eyes, flawlessly +clean in person and dress; a tall, straight, hawk-nosed, sallow +gentleman. The Archbishop of Toledo was his first cousin, a cadet of +his house. He was entitled to wear his hat in the presence of the +Queen, and he lived upon fivepence a day. + + +Manvers, reaching Valladolid in the evening, reposed himself for a day +or two, and recovered from his shock. He saw the sights, conversed +with affability with all and sundry, drank _agraz_ in the Café de la +Luna. He must have beamed without knowing it upon Don Luis, for his +brisk appearance, twisted smile and abrupt manner were familiar to that +watchful gentleman by the time that, sweeping aside the curtain like a +buffet of wind, he entered the goldsmith's shop in the Plaza San +Benito. He came in a little before twilight one afternoon, holding by +a string in one hand some swinging object, taking off his hat with the +other as soon as he was past the curtain of the door. + +"Can you," he said to Sebastian, in very fair Spanish, "take up a job +for me a little out of the common?" As he spoke he swung the object +into the air, caught it and enclosed it with his hand. Don Luis, in a +dark corner of the shop, sat back in his accustomed chair, and watched +him. He sat very still, a picture of mournful interest, shrouding his +mouth in his hand. + +Sebastian, first master of his craft in a city of goldsmiths, was far +too much the gentleman to imply that any command of his customer need +not be extraordinary. Bowing with gravity, and adjusting the glasses +upon his fine nose, he replied that when he understood the nature of +the business he should be better instructed for his answer. Thereupon +Manvers opened his hand and passed over the counter a brass crucifix. + +It is difficult to disturb the self-possession of a gentleman of Spain; +Sebastian did not betray by a twitch what his feelings or thoughts may +have been. He gravely scrutinised the battered cross, back and front, +was polite enough to ignore the greasy string, and handed it back +without a single word. It may have been worth half a _real_; to watch +his treatment of it was cheap at a dollar. + +Manvers, however, flushed with annoyance, and spoke somewhat loftily. +"Am I to understand that you will, or will not oblige me?" + +Sebastian temperately replied, "You are to understand, seńor caballero, +that I am at your disposition, but also that I do not yet know what you +wish me to do." Manvers laughed, and the air was clearer. + +"A thousand pardons," he said, "a thousand pardons for my stupidity. I +can tell you in two minutes what I want done with this thing." He held +it in the flat of his hand, and looked from it to the jeweller, as he +succinctly explained his wishes. + +"I want you," he said, "to encase this cross completely, in thin gold +plates." Conscious of Sebastian's portentous gravity, perhaps of Don +Luis in his dark corner, he showed himself a little self-conscious also +and added, "It's a curious desire of mine, I know, but there's a reason +for it, which is neither here nor there. Make for me then," he went +on, "of thin gold plates, a matrix to hold this cross. It must have a +lid, also, which shall open upon hinges, here--" he indicated the +precise points--"and close with a clasp, here. Let the string also be +encased in gold. I don't know how you will do it--that is a matter for +your skill; but I wish the string to remain where it is, intact, within +a gold covering. This casing should be pliable, so that the cross +could hang, if necessary, round the neck of a person--as it used to +hang. Do I make myself understood?" + +The Castilians are not a curious people, but this commission did +undoubtedly interest Sebastian the jeweller. Professionally speaking, +it was a delicate piece of work; humanly, could have but one +explanation. So, at least, he judged. + +What Don Luis may have thought of it, there's no telling. If you had +watched him closely you would have seen the pupils of his eyes dilate, +and then contract--just like those of a caged owl, when he becomes +aware of a mouse circling round him. + +But while Don Luis could be absorbed in the human problem, it was not +so with his friend. Points of detail engaged him in a series of +suggestions which threatened to be prolonged, and which maddened the +Englishman. Was the outline of the cross to be maintained in the +casing? Undoubtedly it was, otherwise you might as well hang a +card-case round your neck! The hinges, now--might they not better be +here, and here, than there, and there? Manvers was indifferent as to +the hinges. The fastening? Let the fastening be one which could be +snapped-to, and open upon a spring. The chain--ah, there was some +nicety required for that. From his point of view, Sebastian said, with +the light of enthusiasm irradiating his face, that that was the cream +of the job. + +Manvers, wishing to get out of the shop, begged him to do the best he +could, and turned to go. At the door he stopped short and came back. +There was one thing more. Inside the lid of the case, in the centre of +the cross, he wished to have engraved the capital letter M, and below +that a date--12 May, 1861. That was really all, except that he was +staying at the Parador de las Diligencias, and would call in a week's +time. He left his card--Mr. Osmund Manvers, Filcote Hall, Taunton; +Oxford and Cambridge Club--elegantly engraved. And then he departed, +with a jerky salute to Don Luis, grave in his corner. + +That card, after many turns back and face, was handed to Don Luis for +inspection, while Sebastian looked to him for light over the rim of his +spectacles. + +"M for Manvers," he said presently, since Don Luis returned the card +without comment. "That is probable, I imagine." + +"It is possible," said Don Luis with his grand air of indifference. +"With an Englishman anything is possible." + +Sebastian did not pretend to be indifferent. He hummed an air, and +played it out with his fingers on the counter as he thought. Then he +flashed into life. "The twelfth of May! That is just a week ago. I +have it, Seńor Don Luis! Hear my explanation. This thing of nought +was presented to the gentleman upon his birthday--the twelfth of May. +The giver was poor, or he would have made a more considerable present; +and he was very dear to the gentleman, or he would not have dared to +present such a thing. Nor would the gentleman, I think, have treated +it so handsomely. Handsomely!" He made a rapid calculation. "_Ah, +que_! He is paying its weight in gold." Now--this was in his air of +triumph--_now_ what had Don Luis to say? + +That weary but unbowed antagonist of hunger and despair, after +shrugging his shoulders, considered the matter, while Sebastian waited. +"Why do you suppose," he asked at length, "that the giver of this thing +was a man?" + +"I do not suppose it," cried Sebastian. "I never did suppose it. The +cross has been worn"--he passed his finger over its smooth back--"and +recently worn. Men do not carry such things about them, unless they +are----" + +"What this gentleman is," said Don Luis. "A woman gave him this. A +wench." + +Sebastian bowed, and with sparkling eyes re-adjusted his inferences. + +"That being admitted, we are brought a little further. M does not +stand for Manvers--for what gentleman would give himself the trouble to +engrave his own name upon a cross? It is the initial of the giver's +name--and observe. Seńor Don Luis, he is very familiar with her, since +he knows her but by one." He looked through his shop window to the +light, as he began a catalogue. +"Maria--Mariquita--Maritornes--Margarita-- +Mariana--Mercedes--Miguela----" He stopped short, and his eyes +encountered those of his friend, fast upon him, ominous and absorbing. +He showed a certain confusion. "Any one of these names, it might be, +Seńor Don Luis." + +"Or Manuela," said the other, still regarding him steadily. + +"Or Manuela--true," said Sebastian with a bow, and a perceptible +deepening of colour. + +"In any case--" Don Luis rose, removed a speck of dust from his _capa_, +and adjusted his beaver--"In any case, my friend, we may assume the +12th of May to be our gentleman's birthday. _Adios, hermano_." + +Sebastian was about to utter his usual ceremonial assurance, when a +thought drove it out of his head. + +"Stay, stay a moment, Don Luis of my soul!" He snapped his fingers +together in his excitement. + +"_Ah, que_!" muttered Don Luis, who had his hand upon the latch. + +"A birthday--what is it? A thing of every year. Is he likely to +receive a brass crucifix worth two maravedis every year, and every year +to sheathe it in gold? Never! This marks a solemnity--a great +solemnity. Listen, I will tell you. It marks the end of a liaison. +She has left him--but tenderly; or he has left her--but regretfully. +It becomes a touching affair. Do you not agree with me?" + +Don Luis raised his eyebrows. "I have no means of agreeing with you, +Sebastian. It may mark the end of a story--or the beginning. Who +knows?" He threw out his arms and let them drop. "Seńor God, who +cares?" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +FURTHER EPISODES IN THE LIFE OF DON LUIS RAMONEZ + +Goldsmithing is the art of Valladolid, and Sebastian was its master. +That was the opinion of the mystery, and his own opinion. He never +concealed it; but he had now to confess that Manvers had given him a +task worthy of his powers. To cut out and rivet the links of the +chain, which was to sheathe a piece of string and leave it all its +pliancy--"I tell you, Don Luis of my soul," he said, peering up from +his board, "there is no man in our mystery who could cope with it--and +very few frail ladies who could be worthy of it." Don Luis added that +there could be few young men who could be capable of commanding it; but +Sebastian had now conceived an admiration for his client. + +"Fantasia, vaya! The English have the hearts of poets in the bodies of +beeves. Did your grace ever hear of Dońa Juanita--who in the French +war ran half over Andalusia in pursuit of an Englishman? I heard my +father tell the tale. Not his person claimed her, but his heart of a +poet. Well, he married her, and from camp to camp she trailed after +him, while he helped our nation beat Bonaparte. But one day they +received the hospitality of a certain hidalgo, and had removed many +leagues from him by the next night, when they camped beside a river. +Dinner was eaten in the tents, and dessert served up in a fine bowl. +'Sola!' says the Englishman, 'that bowl--it is not ours, my heart?' +'No,' says Juanita, 'it is the hidalgo's, and was packed with our +furniture in the hurry of departing.' 'Por dios!' says the Englishman, +'it must be returned to him.' But how? He could not go himself, for +at that moment there entered an alguazil with news of the enemy. What +then? 'Juanita will go,' says the Englishman, and went out, buckling +his sword. Seńor Don Luis, she went, on horseback, all those leagues, +beset with foes, in the night, and rendered back the bowl. I tell you, +the hearts of poets!" + +Don Luis, who had been nodding his high approval, now stared. "_Ah, +que_! But the poet was Dońa Juanita, it seems to me," he said. + +"Pardon me, dear sir, not at all. Our Spanish ladies are not fond of +travel. It was the Englishman who inspired her. He was a poet with a +vision. In his vision he saw her going. Safely then, he could say, +she will go, because he, to whom time was nothing, saw her in the act. +He did not give directions--he went out to engage the enemy. Then she +went--vaya!" + +"You may be sure," Sebastian went on, "that my client is a poet and a +fine fellow. You may be sure that the gift of this trifle has touched +his heart. It was not given lightly. The measure of his care is the +measure of its worth in his eyes." + +Don Luis allowed the possibility, by raising his eyebrows and tilting +his head sideways; a shrug with an accent, as it were. Then he allowed +Sebastian to clinch his argument by saying that the Englishman seemed +to be getting the better of his emotion; for here was a week, said he, +and he had not once been into the shop to inquire for his relic. +Sebastian was down upon the admission. "What did I tell you, my +friend? Is not that the precise action of our Englishman who said, +'Juanita will ride,' and went out and left her at the table? Precisely +the same! And Juanita rode--and I, by God, have wrought at the work he +gave me to do, and finished it. Vaya, Don Luis, it is not amiss." + +It had to be confessed that it was not; and Manvers calling one morning +later was as warm in his praises as his Spanish and his temperament +would admit. He paid the bill without demur. + +Sebastian, though he was curious, was discreet. Don Luis, however, +thought proper to remark upon the crucifix, when he chanced to meet its +owner in the Church of Las Angustias. + +That church contains a famous statue of Juan de Juni's, a _Mater +dolorosa_ most tragic and memorable. Manvers, in his week's prowling +of the city, had come upon it by accident, and visited it more than +once. She sits, Our Lady of Sorrows, upon a rock, in her widow's +weeds, exhibiting a grief so intense that she may well have been made +larger than life, in order to support a misery which would crush a +mortal woman. It is so fine, this emblem of divine suffering, that it +obscures its tawdry surroundings, its pinchbeck tabernacle, gilding and +red paint. When she is carried in a _paso_, as whiles she is, no +spangled robe is put over her, no priest's vestment, no crown or veil. +Seven swords are driven into her bosom: she is unconscious of them. +Her wounds are within; but they call her in Valladolid Seńora de los +Chuchillos. + +It was in the presence of this august mourner that Manvers was found by +Don Luis Ramonez after mass. He had been present at the ceremony, but +not assisting, and had his crucifix open in the palm of his hand when +the other rose from his knees and saw him. + +After a moment's hesitation the old gentleman stayed till the +worshippers had departed, and then drew near to Manvers, and bowed +ceremoniously. + +"You will forgive me for remarking upon what you have in your hand, +seńor caballero," he said, "when I tell you that I was present, not +only at the commissioning of the work, but at its daily progress to the +perfection it now bears. My friend, Don Sebastian, had every reason to +be contented with his masterpiece. I am glad to learn from him that +you were no less satisfied." + +Manvers, who had immediately shut down his hand, now opened it. "Yes," +he said, "it's a beautiful piece of work. I am more than pleased." + +"It is a setting," said Don Luis, "which, in this country, we should +give to a relic of the True Cross." + +Manvers looked quickly up. "I know, I know. It must seem to you a +piece of extravagance on my part----; but there were reasons, good +reasons. I could hardly have done less." + +Don Luis bowed gravely, but said nothing. Manvers felt impelled to +further discussion. Had he been a Spaniard he would have left the +matter where it was; but he was not, so he went awkwardly on. + +"It's a queer story. For some reason or another I don't care to speak +of it. The person who gave me this trinket did me--or intended me--an +immense service, at a great cost." + +"She too," said Don Luis, looking at the Dolorosa, "may have had her +reasons." + +"It was a woman," said Manvers, with quickening colour, "I see no harm +in saying so. I was going to tell you that she believed herself +indebted to me for some trifling attention I had been able to show her +previously. That is how I explain her giving me the crucifix. It was +her way of thanking me--a pretty way. I was touched." + +Don Luis waved his hand. "It is very evident, seńor caballero. Your +way of recording it is exemplary: her way, perhaps, was no less so." + +"You will think me of a sentimental race," Manvers laughed, "and I +won't deny it--but it's a fact that I was touched." + +Don Luis, who, throughout the conversation, had been turning the +crucifix about, now examined the inscription. He held it up to the +light that he might see it better. Manvers observed him, but did not +take the hint which was thus, rather bluntly, conveyed him. The case +once more in his breast-pocket, he saluted Don Luis and went his way. + +Shortly afterwards he left Valladolid on horseback. + +Perhaps a week went by, perhaps ten days; and then Don Luis had a +visitor one night in the Café de la Luna, a mean-looking, pale and +harassed visitor with a close-cropped head, whose eyebrows flickered +like summer fires in the sky, who would not sit down, who kept his felt +hat rolled in his hands, whose deference was extreme, and accepted as a +matter of course. He was known in Valladolid, it seemed. Pepe knew +him, called him Tormillo. + +"A sus piés," was the burthen of his news so far, "a los piés de V|d|, +Seńor Don Luis." + +Don Luis took no sort of notice of him, but continued to smoke his +cigarette. He allowed the man to stand shuffling about for some three +minutes before he asked him what he wanted. + +That was exactly what Tormillo found it so difficult to explain. His +eyebrows ran up to hide in his hair, his hands crushed his hat into his +chest. "Quien sabe?" he gasped to the company, and Don Luis drained +his glass. + +Then he looked at the man. "Well, Tormillo?" + +Tormillo shifted his feet. "Ha!" he gasped, "who knows what the +seńores may be pleased to say? How am I to know? They ask for an +interview, a short interview in the light of the moon. Two caballeros +in the Campo Grande--ready to oblige your Excellency." + +"And who, pray, are these caballeros? And why do they stand in the +Campo?" Don Luis asked in his grandest manner. Tormillo wheedled in +his explanations. + +"That which they have to report, Seńor Don Luis," he began, craning +forward, whispering, grinning his extreme goodwill--"Oho! it is not +matter for the Café. It is matter for the moon, and the shade of +trees. And these caballeros----" + +Don Luis paid the hovering Pepe his shot, rose and threw his cloak over +his shoulder. "Follow me," he said, and, saluting the company, walked +into the _plaza_. He crossed it, and entered a narrow street, where +the overhanging houses make a perpetual shade. There he stopped. "Who +are these gentlemen?" he said abruptly. Tormillo seemed to be swimming. + +"Worthy men, Seńor Don Luis, worthy of confidence. To me they said +little; it is for your grace's ear. They have titles. They are +written across their foreheads. It is not for me to speak. Who am I, +Tormillo, but the slave of your nobility?" + +The more he prevaricated, the less Don Luis pursued him. Stiffening +his neck, shrouded in, his cloak, he now stalked stately from street to +street until he came to the Puerta del Carmen, through the battlements +of which the moon could be seen looking coldly upon Valladolid. He was +known to the gatekeeper, who bowed, and opened for him the wicket. + +The great space of the Campo Grande lay like a silver pool, traversed +only by the thin shadows of the trees. At the farther end of the +avenue, which leads directly from the gate, two men were standing close +together. Beyond them a little were two horses, one snuffing at the +bare earth, the other with his head thrown up, and ears pricked +forward. Don Luis turned sharply on his follower. + +"Guardia Civil?" + +"Si, seńor, si," whispered Tormillo, and his teeth clattered like +castanets. Don Luis went on without faltering, and did not stay until +he was within easy talking distance of the two men. Then it was that +he threw up his head, with a fine gesture of race, and acknowledged the +saluting pair. Tormillo, at this point, turned aside and stood +miserably under a tree, wringing his hands. + +"Good evening to you, friends. I am Don Luis Ramonez, at your service." + +The pair looked at each other: presently one of them spoke. + +"At the feet of Seńor Don Luis." + +"Your business is pressing, and secret?" + +"Si, Seńor Don Luis, pressing, and secret, and serious. We have to ask +your grace to be prepared." + +"I thank you. My preparations are made already. Present your report." + +He took a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it with a steady hand. +The flame of the match showed his brows and deep-set eyes. If ever a +man had acquaintance with grief printed upon him, it was he. But +throughout the interview the glowing weed could be seen, a waxing and +waning rim of fire, lighting up his grey moustache and then hovering in +mid-air, motionless. + +The officer appointed to speak presented his report in these terms. + +"We were upon our round about the wood of La Huerca six days ago, and +had occasion to visit the Convent of La Peńa. Upon information +received from the Prior we questioned a certain religious, who admitted +that he had recently buried a man in the wood. After some hesitation, +which we had the means of overcoming, he conducted us to the grave. We +disinterred the deceased, who had been murdered. Seńor Don Luis----" + +"Proceed," said Don Luis coldly. "I am listening." + +"Sir," said the officer. "It was the body of a young man who had come +from Pobledo. He called himself Estéban Vincaz." Tormillo, under his +tree across the avenue, howled and rent himself. Don Luis heard him. + +"Precisely," he said to the officer. "Have the goodness to wait while +I silence that dog over there." He went rapidly over the roadway to +Tormillo, grasped him by the shoulder and spoke to him in a vehement +whisper. That was the single action by which he betrayed himself. He +returned to his interview. + +"I am now at leisure again. Let us resume our conversation. You +questioned the religious, you say? When did the assassination take +place?" + +"Don Luis, it was upon the twelfth of May." + +"Ah," said Don Luis, "the twelfth of May? And did he know who +committed it?" + +"Seńor Don Luis, it was a woman." + +The wasted eyes were upon the speaker, and made him nervous. He turned +away his head. But Don Luis continued his cross-examination. + +"She was a fair woman, I believe? A Valencian?" + +"Seńor, si," said the man. "Fair and false, a Valencian." + +Of Valencia they say, "_La carne es herba, la herba agua, el hombre +muger, la muger nada_." + +"Her name," said Don Luis, "began with M." + +"Seńor, si. It was Manuela, the dancing girl--called La Valenciana, La +Fierita, and a dozen other things. But, pardon me the liberty, your +worship had been informed?" + +"I knew something," said Don Luis, "and suspected something. I am much +obliged to you, my friends. Justice will be done. Good night to you." +He turned, touching the brim of his hat; but the man went after him. + +"A thousand pardons, seńor Don Luis, but we have our duty to the State." + +"Eh!" said Don Luis sharply. "Well, then, you had best set to work +upon it." + +"If your worship has any knowledge of the whereabouts of this woman----" + +"I have none," said Don Luis. "If I had I would impart it, and when I +have it shall be yours. Go now with God." + +He crossed the pathway of light, laid his hand on the shoulder of the +weeping Tormillo. "Come, I need you," he said. Tormillo crept after +him to his lodging, and the Guardias Civiles made themselves cigarettes. + +The following day a miracle was reported in Valladolid. Don Luis +Ramonez was not in his place in the Café de la Luna. Sebastian the +goldsmith, Gomez the pert barber, Pepe the waiter, Micael the +water-seller of the Plaza Mayor knew nothing of his whereabouts. The +old priest of Las Angustias might have told if his lips had not been +sealed. But in the course of the next morning it was noised about that +his Worship had left the city for Madrid, accompanied by a servant. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +GIL PEREZ DE SEGOVIA + +Before he left Valladolid Manvers had sold his horse for what he could +get, and had taken the _diligencia_ as far as Segovia. Not a restful +conveyance, the _diligencia_ of Spain: therefore, in that wonderful +city of towers, silence, and guarded windows, he stayed a full week, in +order, as he put it, that his bones might have time to set. + +[Illustration: The towers of Segovia.] + +There it was that he became the property of Gil Perez, who met him one +day on the doorstep of his hotel, saluted him with a flourish and said +in dashing English, "Good morning, Mister. I am the man for you. I +espeak English very good, Dutch, what you like. I show you my city; +you pleased--eh?" He had a merry brown face, half of a quiz and half +of a rogue, was well-dressed in black, wore his hat, which was now in +his hand, rather over one ear. Manvers met his saucy eyes for a +minute, saw anxiety behind their impudence, could not be angry, burst +into a laugh, and was heartily joined by Gil Perez. + +"That very good," said Gil. "You laugh, I very glad. That tell me is +all right." He immediately became serious. "I serve you well, sir, +there's no mistake. I am Gil Perez, too well known to the landlord of +this hotel. You see?" He showed his teeth, which were excellent, and +he had also, Manvers reflected, shown his hand, for what it was +worth--which argued a certain security. + +"Gil Perez," he said, on an impulse, "I shall take you at your word. +Do you wait where you are." He turned back into the inn and sought his +landlord, who was smoking a cigar in the kitchen while the maids +bustled about. From him he learned what there was to be known of Gil +Perez; that he was a native of Cadiz who had been valet to an English +officer at Gibraltar, followed him out to the Crimea, nursed him +through dysentery (of which he had died), and had then begged his way +home again to Spain. He had been in Segovia a year or two, acting as +guide or interpreter when he could, living on nothing a day mostly and +doing pretty well on it. + +"He has been in prison, I shall not conceal from your honour," said the +landlord. "He stabbed a man under the ribs because he had insulted the +English. Gil Perez loves your nation. He considers you to be the +natural protectors of the poor. He will serve you well, you may be +sure." + +"That's what he told me himself," said Manvers. + +The landlord rested his eyes--large, brown and solemn as those of an +ox--upon his guest. "He told you the truth, seńor. He will serve you +better than he would serve me. You will be his god." + +"I hope not," said Manvers, and went out to the door again. Gil Perez, +who had been smoking out in the sun, threw his _papelito_ away, stood +at attention and saluted smartly. + +"What was the name of your English master?" Manvers asked him. Gil +replied at once. + +"'E call Capitan Rodney. Royalorse Artillery. 'E say 'Gunner.' 'E +was a gentleman, sir." + +"I'm sure he was," said Manvers. + +"My master espeak very good Espanish. 'E say 'damn your eyes' all the +time; and call me 'Little devil' just the same. Ah," said Gil Perez, +shaking his head. "'E very good gentleman to me, sir--good master. I +loved 'im. 'E dead." For a minute he gazed wistfully at the sky; +then, as if to clinch the sad matter, he turned to Manvers. "I bury +'im all right," he said briskly, and nodded inward the fact. + +Manvers considered for a moment. "I'll give you," he said, and looked +at Gil keenly as he said it, "I'll give you one _peseta_ a day." He +saw his eyes fade and grow blank, though the genial smile hovered still +on his lips. Then the light broke out upon him again. + +"All right, sir," he said. "I take, and thank you very much." + +Manvers said immediately, "I'll give you two," and Gil Perez accepted +the correction silently, with a bow. By the end of the day they were +on the footing of friends, but not without one short crossing of +swords. After dinner, when Manvers strolled to the door of the inn, he +found his guide waiting for him. Gil was in a confidential humour, it +seemed. + +"You care see something, sir?" + +"What sort of a thing, for instance?" he was asked. + +Gil Perez shrugged. "What you like, sir." He peered into his patron's +face, and there was infinite suggestion in his next question. "You see +fine women?" + +Manvers had expected something of the sort and had a steely stare ready +for him. "No, thanks," he said drily, and Gil saluted and withdrew. +He was at the door next morning, affable yet respectful, confident in +his powers of pleasing, of interesting, of arranging everything; but he +never presumed again. He knew his affair. + +Three days' sightseeing taught master and man their bearings. Manvers +got into the way of forgetting that Gil Perez was there, except when it +was convenient to remember him; Gil, on his part, learned to +distinguish between his patron's soliloquies and his conversation. He +never made a mistake after the third day. If Manvers, in the course of +a ramble, stopped abruptly, buried a hand in his beard and said aloud +that he would be shot if he knew which way to turn, Gil Perez watched +him closely, but made no remark. + +Even, "Look here, you know, this won't do," failed to move him beyond a +state of tension, like that of a cat in the act to pounce. He had +found out that Manvers talked to himself, and was put about by +interruptions; and if you realise how sure and certain he was that he +knew much better than his master what was the very thing, or the last +thing, he ought to do, you will see that he must have put considerable +restraint upon himself. + +But loyalty was his supreme virtue. From the moment Manvers had taken +him on at two pesetas a day he became the perfect servant of a perfect +master. He could have no doubt, naturally, of his ability to +serve--his belief in himself never wavered; but he had none either in +his gentleman's right to command. I believe if Manvers had desired him +to cut off his right hand he would have complied with a smile. "Very +good, master. You wanta my 'and? I do." + +If he had a failing it was this: nothing on earth would induce him to +talk his own language to his master. He was unmoved by encouragement, +unconvinced by the fluency of Manvers' Castilian periods; he would have +risked his place upon this one point of honour. + +"Espanish no good, sir, for you an' me," he said once with an +irresistible smile. "Too damsilly for you. Capitan Rodney, 'e teach, +me Englisha speech. Now I know it too much. No, sir. You know what +they say--them _filosofistas_?" he asked him on another encounter. +"They say, God Almighty 'e maka this world in Latin--ver' fine for +thata big job. Whata come next? Adamo 'e love his lady in +Espanish--esplendid for maka women love. That old Snaka 'e speak to +'er in French--that persuade 'er too much. Then Eva she esplain in +Italian--ver' soft espeech. Adamo 'e say, That all righta. Then God +Almighty ver' savage. 'E turn roun' on them two. 'E say, That be +blowed, 'e say in English. They understan' 'im too much. Believe +me--is the best for you an' me, sir. All people understan' that +espeech." + +Taken as a guide, he installed himself as body servant, silently, +tactfully, but infallibly. Manvers caught him one morning putting +boots by his door. "Hulloa, Gil Perez," he called out, "what are you +doing with my boots?" + +Gil's confidential manner was a thing to drink. "That _mozo_, +master--'e fool. 'E no maka shine. I show him how Capitan Rodney lika +'is boots. See 'is a face in 'em." He smirked at his own as he spoke, +and was so pleased that Manvers said no more. + +The same night he stood behind his master's chair. Manvers contented +himself by staring at him. Gil Perez smiled with his bright eyes and +became exceedingly busy. Manvers continued to stare, and presently Gil +Perez was observed to be sweating. The poor fellow was self-conscious +for once in his life. Obliged to justify himself, he leaned to his +master's ear. + +"That _mozo_, sir, too much of a dam fool. Imposs' you estand 'im. I +tell 'im, This gentleman no like garlic down his neck. I say, You +breathe too 'ard, my fellow--too much garlic. This gentleman say, +Crikey, what a stink! That no good." + +There was no comparison between the new service and the old; and so it +was throughout. Gil Perez drove out the chambermaid and made Manvers' +bed; he brushed his clothes as well as his boots, changed his linen for +him, saw to the wash--in fine, he made himself indispensable. But when +Manvers announced his coming departure, there was a short tussle, +preceded by a pause for breath. + +Gil Perez inquired of the sky, searched up the street, searched down. +A group of brown urchins hovered, as always, about the stranger, ready +to risk any deadly sin for the chance of a maravedi or the stump of a +cigar. + +Gil snatched at one by the bare shoulder and spoke him burning words. +"_Canalla_," he cried him, "horrible flea! Thou makest the air to +reek--impossible to breathe. Fly, thou gnat of the midden, or I crack +thee on my thumb." + +The boys retired swearing, and Gil, with desperate calling-up of +reserves, faced his ordeal. "Ver' good, master, we go when you like. +We see Escorial--fine place--see La Granja, come by Madrid thata way. +I get 'orses 'ow you please." Then he had an inspiration, and beamed +all over his face. "Or mules! We 'ave mules. Mules cheap, 'orses +dear too much in Segovia." + +Manvers could see very well what he was driving at. "I think I'll take +the _diligencia_, Gil Perez." + +Gil shrugged. "'Ow you like, master. Fine air, thata way. Ver' cheap +way to go. You take my advice, you go _coupé_. I go _redonda_ more +cheap. Give me your passport, master--I take our place." + +"Yes, I know," said Manvers. "But I'm not sure that I need take you on +with me. I travel without a servant mostly." + +Gil grappled with his task. He dropped his air of assumption; his eyes +glittered. + +"I save you money, master. You find me good servant--make a +difference, yes?" + +"Oh, a great deal of difference," Manvers admitted. "I like you; you +suit me excellently well, but----" He considered what he had to do in +Madrid, and frowned over it. Manuela was there, and he wished to see +Manuela. He had not calculated upon having a servant when he had +promised himself another interview with her, and was not at all sure +that he wanted one. On the other hand, Gil might be useful in a number +of ways--and his discretion and tact were proved. While he hesitated, +Gil Perez saw his opportunity and darted in. + +"I know Madrid too much," he said. "All the ways, all the peoples I +know. Imposs' you live 'appy in Madrid withouta me." He smiled all +over his face--and when he did that he was irresistible. "You try," he +concluded, just like a child. + +Manvers, on an impulse, drew from his pocket the gold-set crucifix. +"Look at that, Gil Perez," he said, and put it in his hands. + +Gil looked gravely at it, hack and front. He nodded his approval. +"Pretty thing----" and he decided off-hand. "In Valladolid they make." + +"Open it," said Manvers; but it was opened, before he had spoken. +Gil's eyes widened, while the pupils of them contracted intensely. He +read the inscription, pondered it; to the crucifix itself he gave but a +momentary glance. Then he shut the case and handed it back to his +master. + +"I find 'er for you," he said soberly; and that settled it. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A GLIMPSE OF MANUELA + +Gil Perez had listened gravely to the tale which his master told him. +He nodded once or twice, and asked a few questions in the course of the +narrative--questions of which Manvers could not immediately see the +bearing. One was concerned with her appearance. Did she wear rings in +her ears? He had to confess that he had not observed. Another was +interjected when he described how she had grown stiff under his arm +when Estéban drew alongside. + +Gil had nodded rapidly, and became impatient as Manvers insisted on the +fact. "Of course, of course!" he had said, and then he asked, Did she +stiffen her arm and point the first and last fingers of it, keeping the +middle pair clenched? + +Manvers understood him, and replied that he had not noticed any such +thing, but that he did not believe she feared the Evil Eye. He went on +with his story uninterrupted until the climax. He had found the +crucifix, he said, on his return from bathing, and had been pleased +with her for leaving it. Then he related the discovery of the body and +his talk with Fray Juan de la Cruz. Here came in Gil's third question. +"Did she return your handkerchief?" he asked--and sharply. + +Manvers started. "By George, she never did!" he exclaimed. "And I +don't wonder at it," he said on reflection. "If she had to knife that +fellow, and confess to Fray Juan, and escape for her life, she had +enough to do. Of course, she may have left it in the wood." + +Gil Perez pressed his lips together. "She got it still," he said. "We +find 'er--I know where to look for it." + +If he did he kept his knowledge to himself, though he spoke freely +enough of Manuela on the way to Madrid. + +"This Manuela," he explained, "is a Valenciana--where you find fair +women with black men. Valencianos like Moors--love too much white +women. I think Manuela is not Gitanilla; she is what you call a +Alfanalf. Then she is like the Gitanas, as proud as a fire, but all +the same a Christian--make free with herself. A Gitana never dare love +Christian man--imposs' she do that. Sometimes all the same she do it. +I think Manuela made like that." + +Committed to the statement, he presently saw a cheerful solution of it. +"Soon see!" he added, and considered other problems. "That dead man +follow Manuela to kill 'er," he decided. "When 'e find 'er with you, +master, 'e say, 'Now I know why you run, _hija de perra_. Now I kill +two and get a 'orse.' You see?" + +"Yes," said Manvers, "I see that. And you think that he told her what +he meant to do?" + +"Of course 'e tell," said Gil Perez with scorn. "Make it too bad for +'er. Make 'er feel sick." + +"Brute!" cried Manvers; but Gil went blandly on. + +"'E 'ate 'er so much that 'e feel 'ungry and thirsty. 'E eat before 'e +kill. Must do it--too 'ungry. Then she go near 'im, twisting 'erself +about--showing 'erself to please him. 'You kiss me, my 'eart,' she +say; 'I love you all the same. Kiss me--then you kill.' 'E look at +'er--she very fine girl--give pleasure to see. 'E think, 'I love 'er +first--strangle after'--and go on looking. She 'old 'im fast and drag +down 'is 'ead--all the time she know where 'e keep _navaja_. She cling +and kiss--then nip out _navaja_, and _click_! 'E dead man." +Enthusiasm burned in his black eyes, he stood cheering in his stirrups. +"Seńor Don Dios! that very fine! I give twenty dollars to see 'er make +'im love." + +Manvers for his part, grew the colder as his man waxed warm. He was +clear, however, that he must find the girl and protect her from any +trouble that might ensue. She had put herself within the law to save +him from the knife; she must certainly be defended from the perils of +the law. + +From what he could learn of Spanish justice that meant money and +influence. These she should have; but there should be no more +pastorals. Her kisses had been sweet, the aftertaste was sour in the +mouth. Gil Perez with his eloquence and dramatic fire had cured him of +hankering after more of them. The girl was a rip, and there was an end +of it. + +He did not blame himself in the least for having kissed a rip--once. +There was nothing in that. But he had kissed her twice--and that +second kiss had given significance to the first. To think of it made +him sore all over; it implied a tender relation, it made him seem the +girl's lover. Why, it almost justified that sick-faced, grinning +rascal, whose staring eyes had shocked him out of his senses. And what +a damned fool he had made of himself with the crucifix! He ground his +teeth together as he cursed himself for a sentimental idiot. + +For the rest of the way it was Gil Perez who cried up the quest--until +he was curtly told by his master to talk about something else; and then +Gil could have bitten his tongue off for saying a word too much. + +A couple of days at the Escorial, with nothing of Manuela to interfere, +served Manvers to recover his tone. Before he was in the capital he +was again that good and happy traveller, to whom all things come well +in their seasons, to whom the seasons of all things are the seasons at +which they come. He liked the bustle and flaunt of Madrid, he liked +its brazen front, its crowded _carreras_, and appetite for shows. +There was hardly a day when the windows of the Puerta del Sol had not +carpets on their balconies. Files of halberdiers went daily to and +from the Palace and the Atocha, escorting some gilded, swinging coach; +and every time the Madrileńos serried and craned their heads. "_Viva +Isabella!_" "_Abajo Don Carlos!_" or sometimes the other way about, the +cries went up. Politics buzzed all about the square in the mornings; +evening brimmed the cafés. + +Manvers resumed his soul, became again the amused observer. Gil Perez +bided his time, and contented himself with being the perfect +body-servant, which he undoubtedly was. + +On the first Sunday after arrival, without any order, he laid before +his master a ticket for the _corrida_, such a one as comported with his +dignity; but not until he was sure of his ground did he presume to +discuss the gory spectacle. Then, at dinner, he discovered that +Manvers had been more interested in the spectators than the fray, and +allowed himself free discourse. The Queen and the Court, the _alcaldé_ +and the Prime Minister, the _manolos_ and _manolas_--he had plenty to +say, and to leave unsaid. He just glanced at the +performers--impossible to omit the _espada_--Corchuelo, the first in +Spain. But the fastidious in Manvers was awake and edgy. He had not +liked the bull-fight; so Gil Perez kept out of the arena. "I see one +very grand old gentleman there, master," was one of his chance casts. +"You see 'im? 'E grandee of Espain, too much poor, proud all the same. +Put 'is 'at on so soon the Queen come in--Don Luis Ramonez de Alavia." + +"Who's he?" asked Manvers. + +"Great gentleman of Valladolid," said Gil Perez. "Grandee of +Espain--no money--only pride." He did not add, as he might, that he +had seen Manuela, or was pretty sure that he had. That was delicate +ground. + +But Manvers, who had forgotten all about her, went cheerfully his ways, +and amused himself in his desultory fashion. After the close-pent +streets of Segovia, where the wayfarer seems throttled by the houses, +and one looks up for light and pants towards the stars and the air, he +was pleased by the breadth of Madrid. The Puerto del Sol was +magnificent--like a lake; the Alcalá and San Geronimo were noble +rivers, feeding it. He liked them at dawn when the hose-pipe had been +newly at work and these great spaces of emptiness lay gleaming in the +mild sunlight, exhaling freshness like that of dewy lawns. When, under +the glare of noon, they lay slumbrous, they were impressive by their +prodigality of width and scope; in the bustle and hum of dusk, with the +cafés filling, and spilling over on to the pavements, he could not tire +of them; but at night, the mystery of their magic enthralled him. How +could one sleep in such a city? The Puerto del Sol was then a sea of +dark fringed with shores of bright light. The two huge feeders of +it--with what argosies they teemed! Shrouded craft! + +[Illustration: Madrid by night.] + +That touch of the East, which you can never miss in Spain, wherever you +may be, was unmistakable in Madrid, in spite of Court and commerce, in +spite of newspaper, Stock Exchange, or Cortes. The cloaked figures +moved silently, swiftly, seldom in pairs, without speech, with footfall +scarcely audible. Now and again Manvers heard the throb of a guitar, +now and again, with sudden clamour, the clack of castanets. But such +noises stopped on the instant, and the traffic was resumed--whatever it +was--secret, swift, impenetrable business. + +For the most part this traffic of the night was conducted by men--young +or old, as may be. The _capa_ hid them all, kept their semblance as +secret as their affairs. Here and there, but rarely, walked a woman, +superbly, as Spanish women will, with a self-sufficiency almost +arrogantly strong, robed in white, hooded with a white veil. The +mantilla came streaming from the comb, swathed her pale cheeks and +enhanced her lustrous eyes; but from top to toe she was (whatever else; +she may have been, and it was not difficult to guess) in white. + +Manvers watched them pass and repass; at a distance they looked like +moths, but close at hand showed the carriage and intolerance of queens. +They looked at him fairly as they passed, unashamed and unconcerned. +Their eyes asked nothing from him, their lips wooed him not. There was +none of the invitation such women extend elsewhere; far otherwise, it +was the men who craved, the women who dispensed. When they listened it +was as to a petitioner on his knees, when they gave it was like an +alms. Imperious, free-moving, high-headed creatures, they interested +him deeply. + +It was true, as Gil Perez was quick to see, that at his first +bull-fight Manvers had been unmoved by the actors, but stirred to the +deeps by the spectators; if he had cared to see another it would have +been to explore the secrets of this wonderful people, who could become +animals without ceasing to be men and women. But why jostle on a +bench, why endure the dust and glare of a _corrida_ when you can see +what Madrid can show you: the women by the Manzanares, or the nightly +dramas of the streets? + +Love in Spain, he began to learn, is a terrible thing; a grim tussle of +wills, a matter of life and death, of meat and drink. He saw lovers, +still as death, with upturned faces, tense and white, eating the iron +of guarded balconies. Hour by hour they would stand there, waiting, +watching, hoping on. No one interfered, no one remarked them. He +heard a woman wail for her lover--wail and rock herself about, careless +of who saw or heard her, and indeed neither seen nor heard. Once he +saw a couple close together, vehement speech between them. A lovers' +quarrel, terrible affair! The words seemed to scald. The man had had +his say, and now it was her turn. He listened to her, touched but not +persuaded--had his reasons, no doubt. But she! Manvers had not +believed the heart of a girl could hold such a gamut of emotions. She +was young, slim, very pale; her face was as white as her robe. But her +eyes were like burning lakes; and her voice, hoarse though she had made +herself, had a cry in it as sharp as a violin's, to out the very soul +of you. She spoke with her hands too, with her shoulders and bosom, +with her head and stamping foot. She never faltered though she ran +from scorn of him to deep scorn of herself, and appealed in turn to his +pride, his pity, his honour and his lust. She had no reticence, set no +bounds: she was everything, or nothing; he was a god, or dirt of the +kennel. In the end--and what a climax!--she stopped in the middle of a +sentence, covered her eyes, sobbed, gave a broken cry, turned and fled +away. + +The man, left alone, spread his arms out, and lifted his face to the +sky, as if appealing for the compassion of Heaven. Manvers could see +by the light of a lamp which fell upon him that there were tears in his +eyes. He was pitying himself deeply. "Seńor Jesu, have pity!" Manvers +heard him saying. "What could I do? Woe upon me, what could I do?" + +To him there, as he stood wavering, returned suddenly the girl. As +swiftly as she had gone she came back, like a white squall. "Ah, son +of a thief? Ah, son of a dog!" and she struck him down with a knife +over the shoulder-blade. He gasped, groaned, and dropped; and she was +upon his breast in a minute, moaning her pity and love. She stroked +his face, crooned over him, lavished the loveliest vocables of her +tongue upon his worthless carcase, and won him by the very excess of +her passion. The fallen man turned in her arms, and met her lips with +his. + +Manvers, shaking with excitement, left them. Here again was a Manuela! +Manuela, her burnt face on fire, her eyes blown fierce by rage, her +tawny hair streaming in the wind; Manuela with a knife, hacking the +life out of Estéban, came vividly before him. Ah, those soft lips of +hers could bare the teeth; within an hour of his kissing her she must +have bared them, when she snarled on that other. And her eyes which +had peered into his, to see if liking were there--how had they gleamed. +upon the man she slew? Her sleekness then was that of the cat; but she +had had no claws for him. + +Why had she left him her crucifix? After all, had she murdered the +fellow, or protected herself? She told the monk that she had been +driven into a corner--to save Manvers and herself. Was he to believe +that--or his own eyes? His eyes had just seen a Spanish girl with her +lover, and his judgment was warped. Manuela might be of that sort--she +had not been so to him. Nor could she ever be so, since there was no +question of love between them now, and never could be. + +"Come now," thus he reasoned with himself. "Come now, let us be +reasonable." He had pulled her out of a scuffle and she had been +grateful; she was pretty, he had kissed her. She was grateful, and had +knifed a man who meant him mischief--and she had left him a crucifix. + +Gratitude again. What had her gipsy skin and red kerchief to do with +her heart and conscience? "Beware, my son, of the pathetic fallacy," +he told himself, and as he turned into the carrera San Geronimo, beheld +Manuela robed in white pass along the street. + +He knew her immediately, though her face had but flashed upon him, and +there was not a stitch upon her to remind him of the ragged creature of +the plain. A white mantilla covered her hair, a white gown hid her to +the ankles. He had a glimpse of a white stocking, and remarked her +high-heeled white slippers. Startling transformation! But she walked +like a free-moving creature of the open, and breasted the hot night as +if she had been speeding through a woodland way. That was Manuela, who +had lulled a man to save him. + +After a moment or so of hesitation he followed her, keeping his +distance. She walked steadily up the _carrera_, looking neither to +right nor to left. Many remarked her, some tried to stop her. A +soldier followed her pertinaciously, till presently she turned upon him +in splendid rage and bade him be off. + +Manvers praised her for that, and, quickening, gained upon her. She +turned up a narrow street on the right. It was empty. Manvers, +gaining rapidly, drew up level. They were now walking abreast, with +only the street-way between them; but she kept a rigid profile to +him--as severe, as proud and fine as the Arethusa's on a coin of +Syracuse. The resemblance was striking; straight nose, short lip, +rounded chin; the strong throat; unwinking eyes looking straight before +her; and adding to these beauties of contour her splendid colouring, +and carriage of a young goddess, it is not too much to say that Manvers +was dazzled. + +It is true; he was confounded by the excess of her beauty and by his +knowledge of her condition. His experiences of life and cities could +give him no parallel; but they could and did give him a dangerous sense +of power. This glowing, salient creature was for him, if he would. +One word, and she was at his feet. + +For a moment, as he walked nearly abreast of her, he was ready to throw +everything that was natural to him to the winds. She stirred a depth +in him which he had known nothing of. He felt himself trembling all +over--but while he hesitated a quick step behind caused him to look +round. He saw a man following Manuela, and presently knew that it was +Gil Perez. + +And Gil, with none of his own caution, walked on her side of the street +and, overtaking her, took off his hat and accosted her by some name +which caused her to turn like a beast at bay. Nothing abashed, Gil +asked her a question which clapped a hand to her side and sent her +cowering to the wall. She leaned panting there while he talked +rapidly, explaining with suavity and point. It was very interesting to +Manvers to watch these two together, to see, for instance, how Gil +Perez comported himself out of his master's presence; or how Manuela +dealt with one of her own nation. They became strangers to him, people +he had never known. He felt a foreigner indeed. + +The greatest courtesy was observed, the most exact distance. Gil Perez +kept his hat in his hand, his body at a deferential angle. His weaving +hands were never still. Manuela, her first act of royal rage ended, +held herself superbly. Her eyes were half closed, her lips tightly so; +and she so contrived as to get the effect of looking down upon him from +a height. Manvers imagined that his name or person was being brought +into play, for once Manuela looked at her companion and bowed her head +gravely. Gil Perez ran on with his explanations, and apparently +convinced her judgment, for she seemed to consent to something which he +asked of her; and presently walked on her way with a high head, while +Gil Perez, still holding his hat, and still explaining, walked with +her, but a little way behind her. + +A cooling experience. Manvers strolled back to his hotel and his bed, +with his unsuspected nature deeply hidden again out of sight. He +wondered whether Gil Perez would have anything to tell him in the +morning, or whether, on the other hand, he would be discreetly silent +as to the adventure. He wondered next where that adventure would end. +He had no reason to suppose his servant a man of refined sensibilities. +Remembering his eloquence on the road to Madrid, the paean he blew upon +the fairness of Valencian women, he laughed. "Here's a muddy wash upon +my blood-boltered pastoral," he said aloud. "Here's an end of my +knight-errantry indeed!" + +There was nearly an end of him--for almost at the same moment he was +conscious of a light step behind him and of a sharp stinging pain and a +blow in the back. He turned wildly round and struck out with his +stick. A man, doubled in two, ran like a hare down the empty street +and vanished into the dark. Manvers, feeling sick and faint, leaned to +recover himself against a doorway, and probably fell; for when he came +to himself he was in his bed in the hotel, with Gil Perez and a grave +gentleman in black standing beside him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +CHIVALRY OF GIL PEREZ + +He felt stiff and stupid, with a roasting spot in his back between his +shoulders; but he was able to see the light in Gil Perez' eyes--which +was a good light, saying, "Well so far--but I look for more." Neither +Gil nor the spectacled gentleman in black--the surgeon, he +presumed--spoke to him, and disinclined for speech himself, Manvers lay +watching their tip-toe ministrations, with spells of comfortable dozing +in between, in the course of which he again lost touch with the world +of Spain. + +When he came to once more he was much better and felt hungry. He saw +Gil Perez by the window, reading a little book. The sun-blinds were +down to darken the room; Gil held his book slantwise to a chink and +read diligently, moving his lips to pronounce the words. + +"Gil Perez," said Manvers, "what are you reading?" Gil jumped up at +once. + +"You better, sir? Praised be God! I read," he said, "a little +catholic book which calls itself 'The Garden of the Soul'--ver' good +little book. What you call ver' 'ealthy--ver' good for 'im. But you +are better, master. You 'ungry--I get you a broth." Which he did, +having it hot and hot in the next room. + +"Now I tell you all the 'istory of this affair," he said. "Last night +I see Manuela out a walking. I follow 'er too much--salute 'er--she +lift 'er 'ead back to strike me dead. I say, 'Seńorita, one word. Why +you give your crucifix to my master--ha?' Sir, she began to +shake--'ead shake, knee shake; I think she fall into 'erself. You see +flowers in frost all estiff, stand up all right. By'nbye the sun, 'e +climb the sky--thosa flowers they fall esquash--all rotten insida. So +Manuela fall into 'erself. Then I talk to 'er--she tell me all the +'istory of thata time. She kill Estéban Vincaz, she tell me--kill 'im +quick, just what I told you. Becausa why? Becausa she dicksure +Estéban kill you. But I say to 'er, Manuela, that was too bad, lady. +Kill Estéban all the same. Ver' good for 'im, send 'im what you call +kingdom-come like a shot. But you leava that crucifix on my master's +plate--make 'im tender, too sorry for you. He think, Thata nice girl, +very. I like 'er too much. Now 'e 'as your crucifix in gold, lika +piece of Vera Cruz, lika Santa Teresa's finger, and all the world know +you kill Estéban Vincaz and 'e like you. Sir, I make 'er sorry--she +begin to cry. I think--" and Gil Perez walked to the window--"I think +Manuela ver' fine girl--like a rose. Now, master--" and he returned to +the bed--"I tell you something. That man who estab you las' night was +Tormillo. You know who?" + +Manvers shook his head. "Never heard of him, my friend. Who is he?" + +"He is servant to Don Luis Ramonez, the same I see at the _corrida_. I +tell you about 'im--no money, all pride." + +Manvers stared. "And will you have the goodness to tell me why Don +Luis should want to have me stabbed?" + +"I tell you, sir," said Gil Perez. "Estéban Vincaz was Don Bartolomé +Ramonez, son to Don Luis. Bad son 'e was, if you like, sir. Wil' +oats, what you call. All the sama nobleman, all the sama only son to +Don Luis." + +Manvers considered this oracle with what light he had. "Don Luis +supposes that I killed his son, then," he said. "Is that it?" + +"'E damsure," said Gil Perez, blinking fast. + +"On Manuela's account--eh?" + +"Like a shot!" cried Gil Perez with enthusiasm. + +"So of course he thinks it his duty to kill me in return." + +"Of course 'e does, sir," said Gil. "I tell you, 'e is proud like the +devil." + +"I understand you," said Manvers. "But why does he hire a servant to +do his revenges?" + +"Because 'e think you dog," Gil replied calmly. "'E not beara touch +you witha poker." + +Manvers laughed, and said, "We'll leave it at that. Now I want to know +one more thing. How on earth did Don Luis find out that I was in the +wood with Manuela and his son?" + +"Ah," said Gil Perez, "now you aska me something. Who knows?" He +shrugged profusely. Then his face cleared. "Leave it to me, sir. I +ask Tormillo." He was on his feet, as if about to find the assassin +there and then. + +"Stop a bit," said Manvers, "stop a bit, Gil. Now I must tell you that +I also saw Manuela last night." + +"Ah," said Gil Perez softly; and his eyes glittered. + +"I saw her in the street," Manvers continued, watching his servant. +"She was all in white." + +Gil Perez blinked this fact. "Yes, sir," he said. "That is true. +Poor girl." His eyes clouded over. "Poor Manuela!" he was heard to +say to himself. + +"I followed her for a while," said Manvers, "and saw you catch her up, +and stop her. Then I went away; and then that rascal struck me in the +back. Now do you suppose that Don Luis means to serve Manuela the same +way?" + +Gil Perez did not blink any more. "I think 'e wisha that," he said; +"but I think 'e won't." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I tell Manuela what I see at the _corrida_. She was there +too. She know it already. Bless you, she don't care." + +"But I care," said Manvers sharply. "I've got her on my conscience. I +don't intend her to suffer on my account." + +"That," said Gil Perez, "is what she wanta do." He looked piercingly +at his master. "You know, sir, I ask 'er for your 'andkerchief." + +"Well?" Manvers raised his eyebrows. + +"I tell you whata she do. She look allaways in the dark. Nobody +there. Then she open 'er gown--so!" and Gil held apart the bosom of +his shirt. "I see it in there." There were tears in Gil's eyes. +"Poor Manuela!" he murmured, as if that helped him. "I make 'er give +it me. No good she keepa that in there." + +"Where is it?" he was asked. He tried to be his jaunty self, but +failed. + +"Not 'ere, sir. I 'ave it--I senda to the wash." Manvers looked +keenly at him, but said nothing. He had a suspicion that Gil Perez was +telling a lie. + +"You had better get her out of Madrid," he said, after a while. "There +may be trouble. Let her go and hide herself somewhere until this has +blown over. Give me my pocket-book." He took a couple of bills out +and handed them to Gil. "There's a hundred for her. Get her into some +safe place--and the sooner the better. We'll see her through this +business somehow." + +Gil Perez--very unlike himself--suddenly snatched at his hand and +kissed it. Then he sprang to his feet again and tried to look as if he +had never done such a thing. He went to the door and put his head out, +listening. "Doctor coming," he said. "All righta leave you with 'im." + +"Of course it's all right," said Manvers. But Gil shook his head. + +"Don Luis make me sick," he said. "No use 'e come 'ere." + +"You mean that he might have another shot at me?" + +Gil nodded; very wide-eyed and serious he was. "'E try. I know 'im +too much." Manvers shut his eyes. + +"I expect he'll have the decency to wait till I'm about again. Anyhow, +I'll risk it. What you have to do is to get Manuela away." + +"Yessir," said Gil in his best English, and admitted the surgeon with a +bow. Then he went lightfooted out of the room and shut the door after +him. + +He was away two hours or more, and when he returned seemed perfectly +happy. + +"Manuela quite safa now," he told his master. + +"Where is she, Gil?" he was asked, and waved his hand airily for reply. + +"She all right, sir. Near 'ere. Quita safe. Presently I see 'er." +He could not be brought nearer than that. Questioned on other matters, +he reported that he had failed to find either Don Luis or Tormillo, and +was quite unable to say how they knew of his master's relations with +the Valencian girl, or what their further intentions were. His chagrin +at having been found wanting in any single task set him was a great +delight to Manvers and amused the slow hours of his convalescence. + +His wound, which was deep but not dangerous, healed well and quickly. +In ten days he was up again and inquiring for Manuela's whereabouts. +Better not see her, he was advised, until it was perfectly certain that +Don Luis was appeased. Gil promised that in a few days' time he would +give an account of everything. + +It is doubtful, however, whether he would have kept his word, had not +events been too many for him. One day after dinner he asked his master +if he might speak to him. On receiving permission, he drew him apart +into a little room, the door of which he locked. + +"Hulloa, Gil Perez," said Manvers, "what is your game now?" + +"Sir," said Gil, holding his head up, and looking him full in the face. +"I must espeak to you about Manuela. She is in the Carcel de la +Corte--to-morrow they take 'er to the Audiencia about that +assassination." He folded his arms and waited, watching the effect of +his words. + +Manvers was greatly perturbed. "Then you've made a mess of it," he +said angrily. "You've made a mess of it." + +"No mess," said Gil Perez. "She tell me must go to gaol. I say, all +righta, lady." + +"You had no business to say anything of the sort," Manvers said. "I am +sorry I ever allowed you to interfere. I am very much annoyed with +you, Perez." He had never called him Perez before--and that hurt Gil +more than anything. His voice betrayed his feelings. + +"You casta me off--call me Perez, lika stranger! All right, sir--what +you like," he stammered. "I tell you, Manuela very fine girl--and why +the devil I make 'er bad? No, sir, that imposs'. She too good for me. +She say, Don Luis estab my saviour! Never, never, for me! I show Don +Luis what's whata, she say. I give myself up to justice; then 'e keepa +quiet--say, That's all right. So she say to Paquita--that big girl who +sleep with 'er when--when----" he was embarrassed. "Mostly always +sleep with 'er," he explained--"She say, 'Give me your veil, Paquita de +mi alma.' Then she cover 'erself and say to me, 'Come, Gil Perez.' I +say, 'Seńorita, where you will.' We go to the Carcel de la Corte. +Three or four alguazils in the court see 'er come in; saluta 'er, +'Good-day, seńora--at the feet of your grace,' they say; for they think +''ere come a dam fine woman to see 'er lover.' She eshiver and lift +'erself. 'I am no seńora,' she essay. 'Bad girl. Nama Manuela. I +estab Don Bartolomé Ramonez de Alavia in the wood of La Huerca. You +taka me--do what you like.' Sir, I say, thata very fine thing. I +would kissa the 'and of any girl who do that--same I kiss your 'and." +His voice broke. "By God, I would!" + +"What next?" said Manvers, moved himself. + +"Sir," said Gil Perez, "those alguazils clacka the tongue. 'Soho, la +Manola!' say one, and lift 'er veil and look at 'er. All those others +come and look too. They say she dam pretty woman. She standa there +and look at them, lika they were dirt down in the street. Then I +essay, 'Seńores, you pleasa conduct this lady to the carcelero in two +minutes, or you pay me, Gil Perez, 'er esservant. Thisa lady 'ave +friends,' I say. 'Better for you, seńores, you fetcha carcelero.' +They look at me sharp--and they thinka so too. Then the carcelero 'e +come, and I espeak with him and say, 'We 'ave too much money. Do what +you like.'" + +"And what did he do?" Manvers asked. + +"He essay, 'Lady, come with me.' So then we go away witha carcelero, +and I eshow my fingers--so--to those alguazils and say, 'Dam your eyes, +you fellows, vayan ustedes con Dios!' Then the carcelero maka bow. 'E +say to Manuela, 'Seńora, you 'ave my littla room. All by yourself. My +wifa she maka bed--you first-class in there. Nothing to do with them +dogs down there. I give them what-for lika shot,' say the carcelero. +So I pay 'im well with your bills, sir, and see Manuela all the time +every day." + +He took rapid strides across the room--but stopped abruptly and looked +at Manvers. There was fire in his eyes. "She lika saint, sir. I +catch 'er on 'er knees before our Lady of Atocha. I 'ear 'er words all +broken to bits. I see 'er estrike 'er breasts--Oh, God, that make me +mad! She say, 'Oh, Lady, you with your sorrow and your love--you know +me very well. Bad girl, too unfortunate, too miserable--your daughter +all the sama, and your lover. Give me a great 'eart, Lady, that I may +tell all the truth--all--all--all! If 'e thoughta well of me,' she +say, crying like one o'clock, 'let 'im know me better. No good 'e +think me fine woman--no good he kissa me'"--the delicacy with which Gil +Perez treated this part of the history, which Manvers had never told +him, was a beautiful thing--"'I wanta tell 'im all my 'istory. Then he +say, Pah, what a beast! and serva me right.' Sir, then she bow righta +down to the grounda, she did, and covered 'er 'ead. I say, 'Manuela, I +love you with alla my soul--but you do well, my 'eart.' And then she +turn on me and tell me to go quick." + +"So you are in love with her, Gil?" Manvers asked him. Gil admitted it. + +"I love 'er the minute I see 'er at the _corrida_. My 'earta go alla +water--but I know 'er. I say to myself, "That is la Manuela of my +master Don Osmondo. You be careful, Gil Perez.'" + +Manvers said, "Look here, Gil, I'm ashamed of myself. I kissed her, +you know." + +"Yessir," said Gil, and touched his forehead like a groom. + +"If I had known that you--but I had no idea of it until this moment. I +can only say----" + +"Master," said Gil, "saya nothing at all. I love Manuela lika +mad--that quite true; but she thinka me dirt on the pavement." + +"Then she's very wrong," Manvers said. + +"No, sir," said Gil, "thata true. All beautiful girls lika that. I +understanda too much. But look 'ere--if she belong to me, that all the +same, because I belong to you. You do what you like with 'er. I say, +That all the same to me!" + +"Gil Perez," said Manvers, "you're a gentleman, and I'm very much +ashamed of myself. But we must do what we can for Manuela. I shall +give evidence, of course. I think I can make the judge understand." + +Gil was inordinately grateful, but could not conceal his nervousness. +"I think the Juez, 'e too much friend with Don Luis. I think 'e know +what to do all the time before. Manuela have too mucha trouble. Alla +same she ver' fine girl, most beautiful, most unhappy. That do 'er +good if she cry." + +"I don't think she'll cry," Manvers said, and Gil Perez snorted. + +"She cry! By God she never! She Espanish girl, too mucha proud, too +mucha dicksure what she do with Don Bartolomé. She know she serve 'im +right. Do againa all the time. What do you think 'e do with 'er when +'e 'ave 'er out there in Pobledo an' all those places? Vaya! I tell +you, sir. 'E want to live on 'er. 'E wanta make 'er too bad. Then +she run lika devil. Sir, I tell you what she say to me other days. +'When I saw 'im come longside Don Osmundo,' she say, 'I look in 'is +face an' I see Death. 'E grin at me--then I know why 'e come. 'E talk +very nice--soft, lika gentleman--then I know what 'e want. I say, Son +of a dog, never!'" + +"Poor girl," said Manvers, greatly concerned. + +"Thata quite true, sir," Gil Perez agreed. "Very unfortunate fine +girl. But you know what we say in Espain. Make yourself 'oney, we +say, and the flies willa suck you. Manuela too much 'oney all the +time. I know that, because she tell me everything, to tell you." + +"Don't tell me," said Manvers. + +"Bedam if I do," said Gil Perez. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +TRIAL BY QUESTION + +The court was not full when Manvers and his advocate, with Gil Perez in +attendance, took their places; but it filled up gradually, and the +Judge of First Instance, when he took his seat upon the tribunal, faced +a throng not unworthy of a bull-fight. Bestial, leering, inflamed +faces, peering eyes agog for mischief, all the nervous expectation of +the sudden, the bloody or terrible were there. + +There was the same dead hush when Manuela was brought in as when they +throw open the doors of the _toril_, and the throng holds its breath. +Gil Perez drew his with a long whistling sound, and Manvers, who could +dare to look at her, thought he had never seen maidenly dignity more +beautifully shown. She moved to her place with a gentle consciousness +of what was due to herself very touching to see. + +The crowded court thrilled and murmured, but she did not raise her +eyes; once only did she show her feeling, and that was when she passed +near the barrier where the spectators could have touched her by leaning +over. More than one stretched his hand out, one at least his walking +cane. Then she took hold of her skirt and held it back, just as a girl +does when she passes wet paint. This little touch, which made the +young men jeer and whisper obscenity, brought the water to Manvers' +eyes. He heard Gil Perez draw again his whistling breath, and felt him +tremble. Directly Manuela was in her place, standing, facing the +assize, Gil Perez looked at her, and never took his eyes from her +again. She was dressed in black, and her hair was smooth over her +ears, knotted neatly on the nape of her neck. + +The Judge, a fatigued, monumental person with a long face, pointed +whiskers, and the eyes of a dead fish, told her to stand up. As she +was already standing, she looked at him with patient inquiry; but he +took no notice of that. Her self-possession was indeed remarkable. +She gave her answers quietly, without hesitation, and when anything was +asked her which offended her, either ignored it or told the questioner +what she thought of it. From the outset Manvers could see that the +Judge's business was to incriminate her beyond repair. Her plea of +guilty was not to help her. She was to be shown infamous. + +The examination ran thus:-- + +_Judge_: "You are Manuela, daughter of Incarnacion Presa of Valencia, +and have never known your father?" (_Manuela bows her head_.) "Answer +the Court." + +_Manuela_: "It is true." + +_Judge_: "It is said that your father was the _gitano_ Sagruel?" + +_Manuela_: "I don't know." + +_Judge_: "You may well say that. Remember that you are condemning your +mother by such answers. Your mother sold you at twelve years old to an +unfrocked priest named Tormes?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes. For three _pesos_." + +_Judge_: "Disgraceful transaction! This wretch taught you dancing, +posturing, and all manner of wickedness?" + +_Manuela_: "He taught me to dance." + +_Judge_: "How long were you in his company?" + +_Manuela_: "For three years." + +_Judge_: "He took you from fair to fair. You were a public dancer?" + +_Manuela_: "That is true." + +_Judge_: "I can imagine--the court can imagine--your course of life +during this time. This master of yours, this Tormes, how did he treat +you?" + +_Manuela_: "Very ill." + +_Judge_: "Be more explicit, Manuela. In what way?" + +_Manuela_: "He beat me. He hurt me." + +_Judge_: "Why so?" + +_Manuela_: "I cannot tell you any more about him." + +_Judge_: "You refuse?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +Judge: "The court places its interpretation upon your silence." (He +looked painfully round as if he regretted the absence of the proper +means of extracting answers. Manvers heard Gil Perez curse him under +his breath.) + +The Judge made lengthy notes upon the margin of his docquet, and then +proceeded. + +_Judge_: "The young gentleman, Don Bartolomé Ramonez, first saw you at +the fair of Salamanca in 1859?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "He saw you often, and followed you to Valladolid, where his +father Don Luis lived?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "He professed his passion for you, gave you presents?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "You persuaded him to take you away from Tormes?" + +_Manuela_: "No." + +_Judge_: "What do I hear?" + +_Manuela_: "I said 'No.' It was because he said that he loved me that +I went with him. He wished to marry me, he said." + +_Judge_: "What! Don Bartolomé Ramonez marry a public dancer! Be +careful what you say there, Manuela." + +_Manuela_: "He told me so, and I believed him." + +_Judge_: "I pass on. You were with him until the April of this +year--you were with him two years?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "And then you found another lover and deserted him?" + +_Manuela_: "No. I ran away from him by myself." + +_Judge_: "But you found another lover?" + +_Manuela_: "No." + +_Judge_: "Be careful, Manuela. You will trip in a moment. You ran +away from Don Bartolomé when you were at Pobledo, and you went to +Palencia. What did you do there?" + +_Manuela_: "I cannot answer you." + +_Judge_: "You mean that you will not?" + +_Manuela_: "I mean that I cannot." + +_Judge_: "This is wilful prevarication again. I have authority to +compel you." + +_Manuela_: "You have none." + +_Judge_: "We shall see, Manuela, we shall see. You left Palencia on +the 12th of May in the company of an Englishman?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "He is here in court?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "Do you see him at this moment?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." (But she did not turn her head to look at Manvers +until the Judge forced her.) + +_Judge_: "I am not he. I am not likely to have taken you from Palencia +and your proceedings there. Look at the Englishman." (She hesitated +for a little while, and then turned her eyes upon him with such gentle +modesty that Manvers felt nearer to loving her than he had ever done. +He rose slightly in his seat and bowed to her: she returned the salute +like a young queen. The Judge had gained nothing by that.) "I see +that you treat each other with ceremony; there may be reasons for that. +We shall soon see. This gentleman then took you away from Palencia in +the direction of Valladolid, and made you certain proposals. What were +they?" + +_Manuela_: "He proposed that I should return to Palencia." + +_Judge_: "And you refused?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "Why?" + +_Manuela_: "I could not go back to Palencia." + +_Judge_: "Why?" + +_Manuela_: "There were many reasons. One was that I was afraid of +seeing Estéban there." + +_Judge_: "You mean Don Bartolomé Ramonez de, Alavia?" (She nodded.) +"Answer me." + +_Manuela_: "Yes, yes." + +_Judge_: "You are impatient because your evil deeds are coming to +light. I am not surprised; but you must command yourself. There is +more to come." (Manvers, who was furious, asked his advocate whether +something could not be done. Directly her fear of Estéban was touched +upon, he said, the Judge changed his tactics. The advocate smiled. +"Be patient, sir," he said. "The Judge has been instructed +beforehand." "You mean," said Manvers, "that he has been bribed?" "I +did not say so," the advocate replied.) + +The Judge returned to Palencia. "What other reasons had you?" was his +next question, but Manuela was clever enough to see where her strength +lay. "My fear of Estéban swallowed all other reasons." She saved +herself, and with unconcealed chagrin the Judge went on towards the +real point. + +_Judge_: "The Englishman then made you another proposal?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes, sir. He proposed to take me to a convent." + +_Judge_: "You refused that?" + +_Manuela_: "No, sir. I should have been glad to go to a convent." + +_Judge_: "You, however, accepted his third proposal, namely, that you +should be under his protection?" + +_Manuela_: "I was thankful for his protection when I saw Estéban +coming." + +_Judge_: "I have no doubt of that. You had reason to fear Don +Bartolomé's resentment?" + +_Manuela_: "I knew that Estéban intended to murder me." + +_Judge_: "Don Bartolomé overtook you. You were riding before the +Englishman on his horse?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes. I could not walk. I was ill." + +_Judge_: "Don Bartolomé remained with you until the Englishman ran +away?" + +_Manuela_: "He did not run away. Why should he? He went away on his +own affairs." + +_Judge_ (after looking at his papers): "I see. The Englishman went +away after the pair of you had killed Don Bartolomé?" + +_Manuela_: "That is not true. He went away to bathe, and then I killed +Estéban with his own knife. I killed him because he told me that he +intended to murder me, and the English gentleman who had been kind to +me. I confess it--I confessed it to the _alguazils_ and the +_carcelero_. You may twist what I say as you will, to please your +friends, but the truth is in what I say." + +_Judge_: "Silence! It is for you to answer the questions which I put +to you. You forget yourself, Manuela. But I will take your confession +as true for the moment. Supposing it to be true, did you not stab Don +Bartolomé in the neck in order that you might be free?" + +_Manuela_: "I killed him to defend myself and an innocent person. I +have told you so." + +_Judge_: "Why should Don Bartolomé wish to kill you?" + +_Manuela_: "He hated me because I had refused to do his pleasure. He +wished to make me bad----" + +_Judge_ (lifting his hands and throwing his head up): "Bad! Was he not +jealous of the Englishman?" + +_Manuela_: "I don't know." + +_Judge_: "Did he not tell you that the Englishman was your lover? Did +you not say so to Fray Juan de la Cruz?" + +_Manuela_: "He spoke falsely. It was not true. He may have believed +it." + +_Judge_: "We shall see. Have patience, Manuela. Having slain your old +lover, you were careful to leave a token for his successor. You left +more than that: your crucifix from your neck, and a message with Fray +Juan?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes. I told Fray Juan the whole of the truth, and begged +him to tell the gentleman, because I wished him to think well of me. I +told him that Estéban----" + +_Judge_: "Softly, softly, Manuela. Why did you leave your crucifix +behind you?" + +_Manuela_: "Because I was grateful to the gentleman who had saved my +life at Palencia; because I had nothing else to give him. Had I had +anything more valuable I would have left it. Nobody had been kind to +me before." + +_Judge_: "You know what he has done with your crucifix, Manuela?" + +_Manuela_: "I do not." + +_Judge_: "What are you saying?" + +_Manuela_: "The truth." + +_Judge_: "I have the means of confuting you. You told Fray Juan that +you were going to Madrid?" + +_Manuela_: "I did not." + +_Judge_: "In the hope that he would tell the Englishman?" + +_Manuela_: "If he told the gentleman that, he lied." + +_Judge_: "It is then a singular coincidence which led to your meeting +him here in Madrid?" + +_Manuela_: "I did not meet him." + +_Judge_: "Did you not meet him a few nights before you surrendered to +justice?" + +_Manuela_: "No." + +_Judge_: "Did you meet his servant?" + +_Manuela_: "I cannot tell you." + +_Judge_: "Did not the Englishman pay for your lodging in the Carcel de +la Corte? Did he not send his servant every day to see you?" + +_Manuela_: "The gentleman was lying wounded at the hotel. He had been +stabbed in the street." + +_Judge_: "We are not discussing the Englishman's private affairs. +Answer my questions?" + +_Manuela_: "I cannot answer them." + +_Judge_: "You mean that you will not, Manuela. Did you not know that +the Englishman caused your crucifix to be set in gold, like a holy +relic?" + +_Manuela_: "I did not know it." + +_Judge_: "We have it on your own confession that you slew Don Bartolomé +Ramonez in the wood of La Huerca, and you admit that the Englishman was +protecting you before that dreadful deed was done, that he has since +paid for your treatment in prison, and that he has treasured your +crucifix like a sacred relic?" + +_Manuela_: "You are pleased to say these things. I don't say them. +You wish to incriminate a person who has been kind to me." + +_Judge_: "I will ask you one more question, Manuela. Why did you give +yourself up to justice?" + +_Manuela_ (after a painful pause, speaking with high fervour and some +approach to dramatic effect): "I will answer you, seńor Juez. It was +because I knew that Don Luis would contrive the death of Don Osmundo if +I did not prove him innocent." + +_Judge_ (rising, very angry): "Silence! The court cannot entertain +your views of persons not concerned in your crime." + +_Manuela_: "But----" (She shrugged, and looked away.) + +_Judge_: "You can sit down." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +NEMESIS--DON LUIS + +Manvers' reiterated question of how in the name of wonder Don Luis or +anybody else knew what he had done with Manuela's crucifix was answered +before the day was over; but not by Gil Perez or the advocate whom he +had engaged to defend the unhappy girl. + +This personage gave him to understand without disguise that there was +very little chance for Manuela. The Judge, he said, had been +"instructed." He clung to that phrase. When Manvers said, "Let us +instruct him a little," he took snuff and replied that he feared +previous "instruction" might have created a prejudice. He undertook, +however, to see him privately before judgment was delivered, but +intimated that he must have a very free hand. + +Manvers' rejoinder took the shape of a blank cheque with his signature +upon it. The advocate, fanning himself with it in an abstracted +manner, went on to advise the greatest candour in the witness-box. +"Beware of irritation, dear sir," he said. "The Judge will plant a +banderilla here and there, you may be sure. That is his method. You +learn more from an angry man than a cool one. For my own part," he +went on, "you know how we stand--without witnesses. I shall do what I +can, you may be sure." + +"I hope you will get something useful from the prisoner," Manvers said. +"A little of Master Estéban's private history should be useful." + +"It would be perfectly useless, if you will allow me to say so," +replied the advocate. "The Judge will not hear a word against a family +like the Ramonez. So noble and so poor! Perhaps you are not aware +that the Archbishop of Toledo is Don Luis' first cousin? That is so." + +"But is that allowed to justify his rip of a son in goading a girl on +to murder?" cried Manvers. + +The advocate again took snuff, shrugging as he tapped his fingers on +the box. "The Ramonez say, you see, sir, that Don Bartolomé may have +threatened her, moved by jealousy. Jealousy is a well-understood +passion here. The plea is valid and good." + +"Might it not stand for Manuela too?" he was asked. + +"I don't think we had better advance it, Don Osmundo," he said, after a +significant pause. + +Gil Perez, pale and all on edge, had been walking the room like a caged +wolf. He swore to himself--but in English, out of politeness to his +master. "Thata dam thief! Ah, Juez of my soul, if I see you twist in +'ell is good for me." Presently he took Manvers aside and, his eyes +full of tears, asked him, "Sir, you escusa Manuela, if you please. She +maka story ver' bad to 'ear. She no like--I see 'er red as fire, burn +like the devil, sir. She ver' unfortunata girl--too beautiful to live. +And all these 'ogs--Oh, my God, what can she do?" He opened his arms, +and turned his pinched face to the sky. "What can she do, Oh, my God?" +he cried. "So beautiful as a rose, an' so poor, and so a child! You +sorry, sir, hey?" he asked, and Manvers said he was more sorry than he +could say. + +That comforted him. He kissed his master's hand, and then told him +that Manuela was glad that he knew all about her. "She dam glad, sir, +that I know. She say to me las' night--'What I shall tell the Juez +will be the very truth. Seńor Don Osmundo shall know what I am,' she +say. 'To 'im I could never say it. To thata Juez too easy say it. +To-morrow,' she say, ''e know me for what I am--too bad girl!'" + +"I think she is a noble girl," said Manvers. "She's got more courage +in her little finger than I have in my body. She's a girl in a +thousand." + +Gil Perez glowed, and lifted up his beaten head. "Esplendid--eh?" he +cried out. "By God, I serve 'er on my knees!" + +On returning to the court, the beard and patient face of Fray Juan +greeted our friend. He had very little to testify, save that he was +sure the Englishman had known nothing of the crime. The prisoner had +told him her story without haste or passion. He had been struck by +that. She said that she killed. Don Bartolomé in a hurry lest he +should kill both her and her benefactor. She had not informed him, nor +had he reported to the gentleman, that she was going to Madrid. The +Englishman said that he intended to find her, and witness had strongly +advised him against it. He had told him that his motives would be +misunderstood. "As, in fact, they have been, brother?" the advocate +suggested. Fray Juan raised his eyebrows, and sighed. "_Quien sabe?_" +was his answer. + +Manvers then stood up and spoke his testimony. He gave the facts as +the reader knows then, and made it clear that Manuela was in terror of +Estéban from the moment he appeared, and even before he appeared. He +had noticed that she frequently glanced behind them as they rode, and +had asked her the reason. Her fear of him in the wood was manifest, +and he blamed himself greatly for leaving her alone with the young man. + +"I was new to the country, you must understand," he said. "I could see +that there was some previous acquaintance between those two, but could +not guess that it was so serious. I thought, however, that they had +made up their differences and gone off together when I returned from +bathing. When Pray Juan showed me the body and told me what had been +done I was very much shocked. It had been, in one sense, my fault, for +if I had not rescued her, Estéban would not have suspected me, or +intended my death. That I saw at once; and my desire of meeting +Manuela again was that I might defend her from the consequences of an +act which I had, in that one sense, brought about--to which she had, at +any rate, been driven on my account." + +"I will ask you, sir," said the Judge, "one question upon that. Was +that also your motive in having the crucifix set in pure gold?" + +"No," said Manvers, "not altogether. I doubt if I can explain that to +you." + +"I am of that opinion myself," said the Judge, with an elaborate bow. +"But the court will be interested to hear you." + +The court was. + +"This girl," Manvers said, "was plainly most unfortunate. She was +ragged, poorly fed, had been ill-used, and was being shamefully handled +when I first saw her. I snatched her out of the hands of the wretches +who would have torn her to pieces if I had not interfered. From +beginning to end I never saw more shocking treatment of a woman than I +saw at Palencia. Not to have interfered would have shamed me for life. +What then? I rescued her, as I say, and she showed herself grateful in +a variety of ways. Then Estéban Vincaz came up and chose to treat me +as her lover. I believe he knew better, and think that my horse and +haversack had more to do with it. Well, I left Manuela with him in the +wood--hardly, I may suggest, the act of a lover--and never saw Estéban +alive again. But I believe Manuela's story absolutely; I am certain +she would not lie at such a time, or to such a man as Fray Juan. The +facts were extraordinary, and her crime, done as it was in defence of +myself, was heroic--or I thought so. Her leaving of the crucifix was, +to me, a proof of her honest intention. I valued the gift, partly for +the sake of the giver, partly for the act which it commemorated. She +had received a small service from me, and had returned it fifty-fold by +an act of desperate courage. To crown her charity, she left me all +that she had in the world. I do not wonder myself at what I did. I +took the crucifix to a jeweller at Valladolid, had it set as I thought +it deserved--and I see now that I did her there a cruel wrong." + +"Permit me to say, sir," said the triumphant Judge, "that you also did +Don Luis Ramonez a great service. Through your act, however intended, +he has been enabled to bring a criminal to justice." + +"I beg pardon," said Manvers, "she brought herself to justice--so soon +as Don Luis Ramonez sent his assassin out to stab me in the back, and +in the dark. And this again was a proof of her heroism, since she +thought by these means to satisfy his craving for human blood." + +Manvers spoke incisively and with severity. The court thrilled, and +the murmuring was on his side. The Judge was much disturbed. Manuela +alone maintained her calm, sitting like a pensive Hebe, her cheek upon +her hand. + +The Judge's annoyance was extreme. It tempted him to wrangle. + +"I beg you, sir, to restrain yourself. The court cannot listen to +extraneous matter. It is concerned with the consideration of a serious +crime. The illustrious gentleman of your reference mourns the loss of +his only son." + +"I fail," said Manvers, "to see how my violent death can assuage his +grief." The Judge was not the only person in court to raise his +eyebrows; if Manvers had not been angry he would have seen the whole +assembly in the same act, and been certified that they were not with +him now. His advocate whispered him urgently to sit down. He did, +still mystified. The Judge immediately retired to consider his +judgment. + +Manvers' advocate left the court and was away for an hour. He returned +very sedately to his place, with the plainly expressed intention of +saying nothing. The court buzzed with talk, much of it directed at the +beautiful prisoner, whose person, bearing, motives, and fate were +freely discussed. Oddly enough, at that moment, half the men in the +hall were ready to protect her. + +Manvers felt his heart beating, but could neither think nor speak +coherently. If Manuela were to be condemned to death, what was he to +do? He knew not at all; but the crisis to which his own affairs and +his own life were now brought turned him cold. He dared not look at +Gil Perez. The minutes dragged on---- + +The Judge entered the court and sat in his chair. He looked very much +like a codfish--with his gaping mouth and foolish eyes. He pulled one +of his long whiskers and inspected the end of it; detected a split +hair, separated it from its happier fellows, shut his eyes, gave a +vicious wrench to it and gasped as it parted. Then he stared at the +assembly before him, as if to catch them laughing, frowned at Manvers, +who sat before him with folded arms; lastly he turned to the prisoner, +who stood up and looked him in the face. + +"Manuela," he said, "you stand condemned upon your own confession of +murder in the first degree--murder of a gentleman who had been your +benefactor, of whose life and protection you desired, for reasons of +your own, to be ridded. The court is clear that you are guilty and +cannot give you any assurance that your surrender to justice has +assisted the ministers of justice. Those diligent guardians would have +found you sooner or later, you may be sure. If anyone is to be thanked +it is, perhaps, the foreign gentleman, whose candour"--and here he had +the assurance to make Manvers a bow--"whose candour, I say, has +favourably impressed the court. But, nevertheless, the court, in its +clemency, is willing to allow you the merits of your intention. It is +true that justice would have been done without your confession; but it +may be allowed that you desired to stand well with the laws, after +having violated them in an outrageous manner. It is this desire of +yours which inclines the court to mercy. I shall not inflict the last +penalty upon you, nor exact the uttermost farthing which your crime +deserves. The court is willing to believe that you are penitent, and +condemns you to perpetual seclusion in the Institution of the Recogidas +de Santa Maria Magdalena." + +Manuela was seen to close her eyes; but she collected herself directly. +She looked once, piercingly, at Manvers, then surrendered herself to +him who touched her on the shoulder, turned, and went out of the court. + +Everybody was against her now: they jeered, howled, hissed and cursed +her. A spoiled plaything had got its deserts. Manvers turned upon +them in a white fury. "Dogs," he cried, "will nothing shame you?" But +nobody seemed to hear or heed him at the moment, and Gil Perez +whispered in his ear, "That no good, master. This _canalla_ all the +same swine. You come with me, sir, I tell you dam good thing." He had +recovered his old jauntiness, and swaggered before his master, clearing +the way with oaths and threatenings. + +Manvers followed him in a very stern mood. By the door he felt a touch +on the arm, and turning, saw a tall, elderly gentleman cloaked in +black. He recognised him at once by his hollow eye-sockets and +smouldering, deeply set eyes. "You will remember me, seńor caballero, +in the shop of Sebastian the goldsmith," he said; and Manvers admitted +it. He received another bow, and the reminder. "We met again, I +think, in the Church of Las Angustias in Valladolid." + +"Yes, indeed," Manvers said, "I remember you very well." + +"Then you remember, no doubt, saying to me with regard to your +crucifix, which I had seen in Sebastian's hands, then in your own, that +it was a piece of extravagance on your part. You will not withdraw +that statement to-day, I suppose." + +That which lay latent in his words was betrayed by the gleam of cold +fire in his eyes. Manvers coloured. "You have this advantage of me, +seńor," he said, "that you know to whom you are speaking, and I do not." + +"It is very true, seńor Don Osmundo," the gentleman said severely. "I +will enlighten you. I am Don Luis Ramonez de Alavia, at your service." + +Manvers turned white. He had indeed made Manuela pay double. So much +for sentiment in Spain. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE HERALD + +A card of ample size and flourished characters, bearing the name of El +Marqués de Fuenterrabia, was brought up by Gil Perez. + +"Who is he?" Manvers inquired; and Gil waved his hand. + +"This olda gentleman," he explained, "'e come Embassador from Don Luis. +'E say, 'What you do next, seńor Don Osmundo?' You tell 'im, sir--is +my advice." + +"But I don't know what I am going to do," said Manvers irritably. "How +the deuce should I know?" + +"You tell 'im that, sir," Gil said softly. "Thata best of all." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean, sir, then 'e tell you what Don Luis, 'e do." + +"Show him in," said Manvers. + +The Marqués de Fuenterrabia was a white-whiskered, irascible personage, +of stately manners and slight stature. He wore a blue frock-coat, and +nankeen trousers over riding-boots. His face was one uniform pink, his +eyes small, fierce, and blue. They appeared to emit heat as well as +light; for it was a frequent trick of their proprietor's to snatch at +his spectacles and wipe the mist from them with a bandana handkerchief. +Unglazed, his eyes showed a blank and indiscriminate ferocity which +Manvers found exceedingly comical. + +They bowed to each other--the Marqués with ceremonious cordiality, +Manvers with the stiffness of an Englishman to an unknown visitor. Gil +Perez hovered in the background, as it were, on the tips of his toes. + +The Marqués, having made his bow, said nothing. His whole attitude +seemed to imply, "Well, what next?" + +Manvers said that he was at his service; and then the Marqués explained +himself. + +"My friend, Don Luis Ramonez de Alavia," he said, "has entrusted me +with his confidence. It appears that a series of occurrences, +involving his happiness, honour and dignity at once, can be traced to +your Excellency's intromission in his affairs. I take it that your +Excellency does not deny----" + +"Pardon me," Manvers said, "I deny it absolutely." + +The Marqués was very much annoyed. "_Que! Que!_" he muttered and +snatched off his spectacles. Glaring ferociously at them, he wiped +them with his bandana. + +"If Don Luis really imagines that I compassed the death of his son," +said Manvers, "I suppose he has his legal remedy. He had better have +me arrested and have done with it." + +The Marqués, his spectacles on, gazed at the speaker with astonishment. +"Is it possible, sir, that you can so misconceive the mind of a +gentleman as to suggest legal process in an affair of the kind? +Whatever my friend Don Luis may consider you, he could not be guilty of +such a discourtesy. One may think he is going too far in the other +direction, indeed--though one is debarred from saying so under the +circumstances. But I am not here to bandy words with you. My friend +Don Luis commissions me to ask your Excellency, for the name of a +friend, to whom the arrangements may be referred for ending a painful +controversy in the usual manner. If you will be so good as to oblige +me, I need not intrude upon you again." + +"Do you mean to suggest, seńor Marqués," said Manvers, after a pause, +"that I am to meet Don Luis on the field?" + +"Pardon?" said the Marqués, in such a way as to answer the question. + +"My dear sir," he was assured, "I would just as soon fight my +grandfather. The thing is preposterous." The Marqués gasped for air, +but Manvers continued. "Had your friend's age been anywhere near my +own, I doubt if I could have gratified him after what took place the +other day. He caused a man of his to stab me in the back as I was +walking down a dark street. In my country we call that a dastard's +act." + +The Marqués started, and winced as if he was hurt; but he remembered +himself and the laws of warfare, and when he spoke it was within the +extremes of politeness. + +"I confess, sir," he said, "that I was not prepared for your refusal. +It puts me in a delicate position, and to a certain extent I must +involve my friend also. It is my duty to declare to you that it is Don +Luis' intention to break the laws of Spain. An outrage has been +committed against his house and blood which one thing only can efface. +Moved by extreme courtesy, Don Luis was prepared to take the remedy of +gentlemen; but since you have refused him that, he is driven to the use +of natural law. It will be in your power--I cannot deny--to deprive +him of that also; but he is persuaded that you will not take advantage +of it. Should you show any signs of doing so, I am to say, Don Luis +will be forced to consider you outside the pale of civilisation, and to +treat you without any kind of toleration. To suggest such a +possibility is painful to me, and I beg your pardon very truly for it." + +In truth the Marqués looked ashamed of himself. + +Manvers considered the very oblique oration to which he had listened. +"I hope I understand you, seńor Marqués," he said. "You intend to say +that Don Luis means to have my life by all means?" + +The Marqués bowed. "That is so, seńor Don Osmundo." + +"But you suggest that it is possible that I might stop him by informing +the authorities?" + +"No, no," said the Marqués hastily, "I did not suggest that. The +authorities would never interfere. The British Embassy might perhaps +be persuaded--but you will do me the justice to admit that I apologised +for the suggestion." + +"Oh, by all means," said Manvers. "You thought pretty badly of me--but +not so badly as all that." + +"Quite so," said the Marqués; and then the surprising Gil Perez +descended from mid-air, and lowed to the stranger. + +"My master, Don Osmundo, seńor Marqués, is incapable of such conduct," +said he--and looked to Manvers for approval. + +He struggled with himself, but failed. His guffaw must out, and +exploded with violent effect. It drove the Marqués back to the door, +and sent Gil Perez scudding on tiptoe to the window. + +"You are magnificent, all of you!" cried Manvers. "You flatter me into +connivance. Let me state the case exactly. Don Luis is to stab or +shoot me at sight, and I am to give him a free hand. Is that what you +mean? Admirable. But let me ask you one question. Am I not supposed +to protect myself?" + +The Marqués stared. "I don't think I perfectly understand you, Don +Osmundo. Reprisals are naturally open to you. We declare war, that is +all." + +"Oh," said Manvers. "You declare war? Then I may go shooting, too?" + +"Naturally," said the Marqués. "That is understood." + +"No dam fear about that," said Gil Perez to his master. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +LA RECOGIDA + +Sister Chucha, the nun who took first charge of newcomers to the +Penitentiary, was fat and kindly, and not very discreet. It was her +business to measure Manuela for a garb and to see to the cutting of her +hair. She told the girl that she was by far the most handsome penitent +she had ever had under her hands. + +"It is a thousand pities to cut all this beauty away," she said; "for +it is obvious you will want it before long. So far as that goes you +will find the cap not unbecoming; and I'll see to it that you have a +piece of looking-glass--though, by ordinary, that is forbidden. Good +gracious, child, what a figure you have! If I had had one quarter of +your good fortune I should never have been religious." + +She went on to describe the rules of the Institution, the hours and +nature of the work, the offices in Chapel, the recreation times and +hours for meals. Manuela, she said, was not the build for rope and mat +work. + +"I shall get Reverend Mother to put you to housework, I think," she +said. "That will give you exercise, and the chance of an occasional +peep at the window. You don't deserve it, I fancy; but you are so +handsome that I have a weakness for you. All you have to do is to +speak fairly to Father Vicente and curtsey to the Reverend Mother +whenever you see her. Above all, no tantrums. Leave the others alone, +and they'll let you alone. There's not one of them but has her scheme +for getting away, or her friend outside. That's occupation enough for +her. It will be the same with you. Your friends will find you out. +You'll have a _novio_ spending the night in the street before +to-morrow's over unless I am very much mistaken." She patted her +cheek. "I'll do what I can for you, my dear." + +Manuela curtseyed, and thanked the good nun. "All I have to do," she +said, "is to repent of my sin--which has become very horrible to me." + +"La-la-la!" cried Sister Chucha. "Keep that for Father Vicente, if +you please, my dear. That is his affair. Our patroness led a jolly +life before she was a saint. No doubt, you should not have stabbed Don +Bartolomé, and of course the Ramonez would never overlook such a thing. +But we all understand that you must save your own skin if you +could--that's very reasonable. And I hear that there was another +reason." Here she chucked her chin. "I don't wonder at it," she said +with a meaning smile. + +The girl coloured and hung her head. She was still quivering with the +shame of her public torture. She could still see Manvers' eyes stare +chilly at the wall before them, and believe them to grow colder with +each stave of her admissions. Her one consolation lay in the thought +that she could please him by amendment and save him by a conviction; so +it was hard to be petted by Sister Chucha. She would have welcomed the +whip, would have hugged it to her bosom--the rod of Salvation, she +would have called it; but compliments on her beauty, caresses of cheek +and chin--was she not to be allowed to be good? As for escape, she had +no desire for that. She could love her Don Osmundo best from a +distance. What was to be gained, but shame, by seeing him? + +Her shining hair was cut off; the cap, the straight prison garb were +put on. She stood up, slim-necked, an arrowy maid, with her burning +face and sea-green eyes chastened by real humility. She made a good +confession to Father Vicente, and took her place among her mates. + +It was true, what Sister Chucha had told her. Every penitent in that +great and gaunt building was thrilled with one persistent hope, worked +patiently with that in view, and under its spell refrained from +violence or clamour. There was not one face of those files of +grey-gowned girls which, at stated hours, entered the chapel, knelt at +the altar, or stooped at painful labour through the stifling days, +which did not show a gleam. Stupid, vacant, vicious, morose, pretty, +sparkling, whatever the face might be, there was that expectation to +redeem or enhance it, to make it human, to make it womanish. There +was, or there would be, some day, any day, a lover outside--to whom it +would be the face of all faces. + +Manuela had not been two hours in the company of her fellow-prisoners +before she was told that there were two ways of escape from the +Recogidas. Religion or marriage these were; but the religious +alternative was not discussed. + +Sister Chucha, it transpired, had chosen that way--"But do you wonder?" +cried the girl who told Manuela, with shrill scorn. Most of the +sisters had once been penitents--"_Vaya_! Look at them, my dear!" +cried this young Amazon, conscious of her own charms. + +She was a plump Andalusian, black-eyed, merry, and quick to change her +moods. Love had sent her to Saint Mary Magdalene, and love would take +her out again. + +That Chucha, she owned, was a kind soul. She always put the pretty +ones to housework--"it gives us a chance at the windows. I have +Fernando, who works at the sand-carting in the river. He never fails +to look up this way. Some day he will ask for me." She peered at +herself in a pail of water, and fingered her cap daintily. "How does +my skirt hang now, Manuela? Too short, I fancy. Did you ever see such +shoes as they give you here! Lucky that nobody can see you." + +This was the strain of everybody's talk in the House of Las +Recogidas--in the whitewashed galleries where they walked in squads +under the eye of a nun who sat reading a good book against the wall, in +the court where they lay in the shade to rest, prone, with their faces +hidden in their arms, or with knees huddled up and eyes fixed in a +stare. They talked to each other in the hoarse, tearful staccato of +Spain, which, beginning low, seems to gather force and volume as it +runs, until, like a beck in flood, it carries speaker and listener over +the bar and into tossing waves of yeasty water. + +Manuela, through all, kept her thoughts to herself, and spoke nothing +of her own affairs. There may have been others like her, fixed to the +great achievement of justifying themselves to their own standard: she +had no means of knowing. Her standard was this, that she had purged +herself by open confession to the man whom she loved. She was clean, +sweetened and full of heart. All she had to do was to open wide her +house that holiness might enter in. + +Besides this she had, at the moment, the consciousness of a good +action; for she firmly believed that by her surrender to the law she +had again saved Manvers from assassination. If Don Luis could only +cleanse his honour by blood, he now had her heart's blood. That should +suffice him. She grew happier as the days went on. + +Meanwhile it was remarked upon by Mercédes and Dolores, and half a +dozen more, that distinguished strangers came to the gallery of the +chapel. The outlines of them could be descried through the _grille_; +for behind the _grille_ was a great white window which threw them into +high relief. + +It was the fixed opinion of Mercédes and Dolores that Manuela had a +_novio_. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE NOVIO + +It is true that Manvers had gone to the Chapel of the Recogidas to look +for, or to look at, Manuela. This formed the one amusing episode in +his week's round in Madrid, where otherwise he was extremely bored, and +where he only remained to give Don Luis a chance of waging his war. + +To be shot at in the street, or stabbed in the back as you are homing +through the dusk are, to be sure, not everybody's amusements, and in an +ordinary way they were not those of Mr. Manvers. But he found that his +life gained a zest by being threatened with deprivation, and so long as +that zest lasted he was willing to oblige Don Luis. The weather was +insufferably hot, one could only be abroad early in the morning or late +at night--both the perfection of seasons for the assassin's game. + +Yet nothing very serious had occurred during the week following the +declaration of war. Gil Perez could not find Tormillo, and had to +declare that his suspicions of a Manchegan teamster, who had jostled +his master in the Puerta del Sol and made as if to draw his knife, were +without foundation. What satisfied him was that the Manchegan, that +same evening, stabbed somebody else to death. "That show 'e is good +fellow--too much after 'is enemy," said Gil Perez affably. So Manvers +felt justified in his refusal to wear mail or carry either revolver or +sword-stick; and by the end of the week he forgot that he was a marked +man. + +On Sunday he told Gil Perez that he intended to visit the Chapel of the +Recogidas. + +The rogue's face twinkled. "Good, sir, good. We go. I show you +Manuela all-holy like a nun. I know whata she do. Look for 'eaven all +day. That Chucha she tell me something--and the _portero_, 'e damgood +fellow." + + +Resplendent in white duck trousers, Mr. Manvers was remarked upon by a +purely native company of sightseers. Quick-eyed ladies in mantillas +were there, making play with their fans and scent-bottles; attendant +cavaliers found something of which to whisper in the cool-faced +Englishman with his fair beard, blue eyes, and eye-glass, his air of +detachment, which disguised his real feelings, and of readiness to be +entertained, which they misinterpreted. + +The facts were that he was painfully involved in Manuela's fate, and +uncomfortably near being in love again with the lovely unfortunate. +She was no longer a pretty thing to be kissed, no longer even a +handsome murderess; she was become a heroine, a martyr, a thing enskied +and sainted. + +He had seen more than he had been meant to see during his ordeal in the +Audiencia--her consciousness of himself, for instance, as revealed in +that last dying look she had given him, that long look before she +turned and followed her gaolers out of court. He guessed at her +agonies of shame, he understood how it was that she had courted it; in +fine, he knew very well that her heart was in his keeping--and that's a +dangerous possession for a man already none too sure of the whereabouts +of his own. + +When the organ music thrilled and opened, and the Recogidas filed +in--some hundred of them--his heart for a moment stood still, as he +scanned them through the gloom. They were dressed exactly alike in +dull clinging grey, all wore close-fitting white caps, were nearly all +dead-white in the face. They all shuffled, as convicts do when they +move close-ordered to their work afield. + +It shocked him that he utterly failed to identify Manuela--and it +brought him sharply to his better senses that Gil Perez saw her at +once. "See her there, master, see there my beautiful," the man groaned +under his breath, and Manvers looked where he pointed, and saw her; but +now the glamour was gone. Gil was her declared lover. The Squire of +Somerset could not stoop to be his valet's rival. + +The Squire of Somerset, however, observed that she held herself more +stiffly than her co-mates, and shuffled less. The prison garb clothed +her like a weed; she had the trick of wearing clothes so that they +draped the figure, not concealed it, were as wax upon it, not a +cerement. That which fell shapeless and heavily from the shoulders of +the others, upon her seemed to grow rather from the waist--to creep +upwards over the shoulders, as ivy steals clinging over a statue in a +park. Here, said he, is a maiden that cannot be hid. Call her a +murderess, she remains perfect woman; call her convict, Magdalen, she +is some man's solace. He looked: at Gil Perez, motionless and intent +by his side, and heard his short breath: There is her mate, he thought +to himself, and was saved. + +They filed out as they had come in. They all stood, turned towards the +exit, and waited until they were directed to move. Then they followed +each other like sheep through a gateway, looking, so far as he could +see, at nothing, expecting nothing, and remembering nothing. A +down-trodden herd, he conceived them, their wits dulled by toil. He +was not near enough to see the gleam which kept them alive. Nuns gave +them their orders with authoritative hands, quick always, and callous +by routine, probably not intended to be so harsh as they appeared. He +saw one girl pushed forward by the shoulder with such suddenness that +she nearly fell; another flinched at a passionate command; another +scowled as she passed her mistress. He watched to see how Manuela, who +had come in one of the first and must go out one of the last, would +bear herself, and was relieved by a pretty and enheartening episode. + +Manuela, as she passed, drew her hand along the top of the bench with a +lingering, trailing touch. It encountered that of the nun in command, +and he saw the nun's hand enclose and press the penitent's. He saw +Manuela's look of gratitude, and the nun's smiling affection; he +believed that Manuela blushed. That gratified him extremely, and +enlarged his benevolent intention. + +Had Gil Perez seen it? He thought not. Gil Perez' black eyes were +fixed upon Manuela's form. They glittered like a cat's when he watches +a bird in a shrubbery. The valet was quite unlike himself as he +followed his master homewards and asked leave of absence for the +evening--for the first time in his period of service. Manvers had no +doubt at all how that evening was spent--in rapt attention below the +barred windows of the House of the Recogidas. + +That was so. Gil Perez "played the bear," as they call it, from dusk +till the small hours--perfectly happy, in a rapture of adoration which +the Squire of Somerset could never have realised. All the romance +which, if we may believe Cervantes, once transfigured the life of +Spain, and gilded the commonest acts till they seemed confident appeals +for the applause of God, feats boldly done under Heaven's thronged +barriers, is nowadays concentred in this one strange vigil which all +lovers have to keep. + +Gil Perez the quick, the admirable servant, the jaunty adventurer, the +assured rogue, had vanished. Here he stood beneath the stars, +breathing prayers and praises--not a little valet sighing for a +convicted Magdalen, but a young knight keeping watch beneath his lady's +tower. And he was not alone there: at due intervals along the frowning +walls were posted other servants of the sleeping girls behind them; +other knights at watch and ward. + +The prayer he breathed was the prayer breathed too for Dolores or +Mercédes in prison. "Virgin of Atocha, Virgin of the Pillar, Virgin of +Sorrow, of Divine Compassion, send happy sleep to thy handmaid Manuela, +shed the dew of thy love upon her eyelids, keep smooth her brows, keep +innocent her lips. Dignify me, thy servant, Gil Perez, more than other +men, that I may be worthy to sustain this high honour of love." + +His eyes never wavered from a certain upper window. It was as blank as +all the rest, differed in no way from any other of a row of +five-and-twenty. To him if was the pride of the great building. + +"O fortunate stars!" he whispered to himself, "that can look through +these and see my love upon her bed. O rays too much blessed, that can +kiss her eyelids, and touch lightly upon the scented strands of her +hair! O breath of the night, that can fan in her white neck and stroke +her arm stretched out over the coverlet! To you, night-wind, and to +you, stars, I give an errand; you shall take a message from me to +lovely Manuela of the golden tresses. Tell her that I am watching out +the dark; tell her that no harm shall come to her. Whisper in her ear, +mingle with her dreams, and tell her that she has a lover. Tell her +also that the nights in Madrid are not like those in Valencia, and that +she would do well to cover her arm and shoulder up lest she catch cold, +and suffer." + +There spoke the realist, the romantic realist of Spain; for it is to be +observed that Gil Perez did not know at all whereabouts Manuela lay +asleep, and could not, naturally, know whether her arm was out of bed +or in it. He had forgotten also that her hair had been cut off--but +these are trifles. Happy he! he had forgotten much more than that. + +When Manvers told him that he intended to pay Manuela a visit on the +day allowed, Gil Perez suffered the tortures of the damned. Jealous +rage consumed his vitals like a corroding acid, which reason and +loyalty had no power to assuage. Yet reason and loyalty played out +their allotted parts, and it had been a fine sight to see Gil grinning +and gibbering at his own white face in the looking-glass, shaking his +finger at it and saying to it, in English (since it was his master's +shaving-glass), "Gil Perez, my fellow, you shut up!" He said it many +times, for he had nothing else to say--jealousy deprived him of his +wits; and he felt better for the discipline. When Manvers returned +there was no sign upon Gil's brisk person of the stormy conflict which +had ravaged it. + +Manvers had seen her and, by Sister Chucha's charity, had seen her +alone. The poor girl had fallen at his feet and would have kissed them +if he had not lifted her up. "No, my dear, no," he said; "it is I who +ought to kneel. You have done wonders for me. You are as brave as a +lion, Manuela; but I must get you away from this place." + +"No, no, Don Osmundo," she cried, flushing up, "indeed I am better +here." She stood before him, commanding herself, steeling herself in +the presence of this man she loved against any hint of her beating +heart. + +He had himself well in hand. Her beauty, her distress and misfortune +could not touch him now. All that he had for her was admiration and +pure benevolence. Fatal offerings for a woman inflamed: so soon as she +perceived it her courage was needed for another tussle. Her blood lay +like lead in her veins, her heart sank to the deeps of her, and she +must screw it back again to the work of the day. + +He took her hand, and she let him have it. What could it matter now +what he had of hers? "Manuela," he said, "there is a way of freedom +for you, if you will take it. A man loves you truly, and asks nothing +better than to work for you. I know him; he's been a good friend to +me. Will you let me pay you off my debt? His name is Gil Perez. You +have seen him, I know. He's an honest man, my dear, and loves you to +distraction. What are you going to say to him if he asks for you?" + +She stood, handfasted to the man who had kissed her--and in kissing her +had drawn out her soul through her lips; who now was pleading that +another man might have her dead lips. The mockery of the thing might +have made a worse woman laugh horribly; but this was a woman made pure +by love. She saw no mockery, no discrepancy in what he asked her. She +knew he was in earnest and wished her nothing but good. + +And she could see, without knowing that she saw, how much he desired to +be rid of his obligation to her. Therefore, she reasoned, she would be +serving him again if she agreed to what he proposed. Here--if laughing +had been her mood--was matter for laughter, that when he tried to pay +her off he was really getting deeper into debt. Look at it in this +way. You owe a fine sum, principal and interest, to a Jew; you go to +him and propose to borrow again of him in order that you may pay off +the first debt and be done with it. The Jew might laugh but he would +lend; and Manuela, who hoarded love, hugged to her heart the new bond +she was offered. The deeper he went into debt the more she must lend +him! There was pleasure in this--shrill pleasure not far off from +pain; but she was a child of pleasure, and must take what she could get. + +Her grave eyes, uncurtained, searched his face. "Is this what you +desire me to do? Is this what you ask of me?" + +"My dear," said he, "I desire your freedom. I desire to see you happy +and cared for. I must go away. I must go home. I shall go more +willingly if I know that I have provided for my friend." + +She urged a half-hearted plea. "I am very well here, Don Osmundo. The +sisters are kind to me, the work is light. I might be happy here----" + +"What!" he cried, "in prison!" + +"It is what I deserve," she said; but he would not hear of it. + +"You are here through my blunders," he insisted. "If I hadn't left you +with that scoundrel in the wood this would never have happened. And +there's another thing which I must say----" He grew very serious. +"I'm ashamed of myself--but I must say it." She looked at her hands in +her lap, knowing what was coming. + +"They said, you know, that Estéban must have thought me your lover." +She sat as still as death. "Well--I was." + +Not a word from her. "My dear," he went on painfully--for Eleanor +Vernon's clear grey eyes were on him now, "I must tell you that I did +what I had no business to do. There's a lady in England who--whom--I +was carried away--I thought----" He stopped, truly shocked at what he +had thought her to be. "Now that I know you, Manuela, I tell you +fairly I behaved like a villain." + +Her face was flung up like that of a spurred horse; she was on the +point to reveal herself,--to tell him that in that act of his lay all +her glory. But she stopped in time, and resumed her drooping, and her +dejection. "I must serve him still--serve him always," was her burden. + +"I was your lover truly," he continued, "after I knew what you had +risked for me, what you had brought yourself to do for me. Not before +that. Before that, I had been a thief--a brute. But after it, I loved +you--and then I had your cross set in gold--and betrayed you into Don +Luis' mad old hands. All this trouble is my fault--you are here +through me--you must be got out through me. Gil Perez is a better man +than I am ever likely to be. He loves you sincerely. He loved you +before you gave yourself up. You know that, I expect..." + +She knew it, of course, perfectly well, but she said nothing. + +"He wouldn't wish to bustle you into marriage, or anything of the sort. +He's a gentleman, is Gil Perez, and I shall see that he doesn't ask for +you empty-handed. I am sure he can make you happy; and I tell you +fairly that the only way I can be happy myself is to know that I have +made you amends." He got up--at the end of his resources. "Let me +leave his case before you. He'll plead it in his own way, you'll find. +I can't help thinking that you must know what the state of his feelings +is. Think of him as kindly as you can--and think of me, too, Manuela, +as a man who has done you a great wrong, and wants to put himself right +if he may." He held out his hand. "Good-bye, my dear. I'll see you +again, I hope--or send a better man." + +"Good-bye, Don Osmundo," she said, and gave him her hand. He pressed +it and went away, feeling extremely satisfied with the hour's work. +Eleanor Vernon's clear grey eyes smiled approvingly upon him. "Damn it +all," he said to himself, "I've got that tangle out at last." He began +to think of England--Somersetshire--Eleanor--partridges. "I shall get +home, I hope, by the first," he said. + +"He's a splendour, your _novio_, Manuelita," said Sister Chucha, and +emphasised her approval with a kiss. "Fie!" she cried, "what a cold +cheek! The cheek of a dead woman. And you with a _hidalgo_ for your +_novio_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE WAR OPENS + +Returning from his visit, climbing the Calle Mayor at that blankest +hour of the summer day when the sun is at his fiercest, raging +vertically down upon a street empty of folk, but glittering like glass +and radiant with quivering air, Manvers was shot at from a distance, so +far as he could judge, of thirty yards. He heard the ball go shrilling +past him and then splash and flatten upon a church wall beyond. He +turned quickly, but could see nothing. Not a sign of life was upon the +broad way, not a curtain was lifted, not a shutter swung apart. To all +intents and purposes he was upon the Castilian plains. + +Unarmed though he was, he went back upon his traces down the hill, +expecting at any moment that the assassin would flare out upon him and +shoot him down at point-blank. He went back in all some fifty yards. +There was no man in lurking that he could discover. After a few +moments' irresolution--whether to stand or proceed--he decided that the +sooner he was within walls the better. He turned again and walked +briskly towards the Puerta del Sol. + +Sixty yards or so from the great _plaza_, within sight of it, he was +fired at again, and this time he was hit in the muscles of the left +arm. He felt the burning sting, the shock and the aching. The welling +of blood was a blessed relief. On this occasion he pushed forward, and +reached his inn without further trouble. He sent for Gil Perez, who +whisked off for the surgeon; by the time he brought one in Manvers was +feverish, and so remained until the morning, tossing and jerking +through the fervent night, with his arm stiff from shoulder to +finger-points. + +"That a dam thief, sir, 'e count on you never looka back," said Gil +Perez, nodding grimly. "Capitan Rodney, 'e all the same as you. Walka +'is blessed way, never taka no notice of anybody. See 'im at +Sevastopol do lika that all the time. So then this assassin 'e creep +after you lika one o'clock up Calle Mayor, leta fly at you twice, three +time, four time--so longa you let 'im. You walka backward, 'e never +shoot--you see." + +Manvers felt that to walk backwards would be at least as tiresome as to +walk forwards and be shot at in a city which now held little for him +but danger and _ennui_. Not even Manuela's fortunes could prevail +against boredom. As he lay upon his hateful bed, disgust with Spain +grew upon him hand over hand. He became irritable. To Gil Perez he +announced his determination. This sort of thing must end. + +Gil bowed and rubbed his hands. "You go 'ome, sir? Is besta place for +you. Don Luis, 'e kill you for sure. You go, 'e go 'ome, esleep on +'is olda bed--too mucha satisfy." Under his breath he added, "Poor +Manuela--my poor beautiful! She is tormented in vain!" + +Manvers told him what had passed in the House of the Recogidas. "I +spoke for you, Gil. I think she will listen to you." + +Gil lifted up his head. "Every nighta, when you are asleep, sir, I +estand under the wall. I toucha--I say 'Keep safa guard of Manuela, +you wall.' If she 'ave me I maka 'er never sorry for it. I love 'er +too much. But I think she call me dirt. I know all about 'er too +much." + +What he knew he kept hidden; but one day he went to the Recogidas and +asked to see Sister Chucha. He was obsequious, but impassioned, full +of cajolery, but not for a moment did he try to impose upon his +countrywoman by any assumption of omniscience. That was reserved for +his master, and was indeed a kind of compliment to his needs. Sister +Chucha heard him at first with astonishment. + +"Then it was for you, Gil Perez, that the gentleman came here?" + +Gil nodded. "It was for me, sister. How could it be otherwise?" + +"I thought that the gentleman was interested." + +Gil peered closely into her face. "That gentleman is persecuted. +Manuela can save him from the danger he stands in--but only through me. +Sister, I love her more than life and the sky, but I am content, and +she will be content, that life shall be dumb and the sky dark if that +gentleman may go free. Let me speak with Manuela--you will see." + +The nun was troubled. "Too many see Manuela," she said. "Only +yesterday there came here a man." + +"Ha!" said Gil Perez fiercely. "What manner of a man?" + +"A little man," she told him, "that came in creeping, rounding his +shoulders--so, and swimming with his hands. He saw Manuela, and left +her trembling. She was white and grey--and very cold." + +"That man," said Gil, folding his arms, "was our enemy. Let me now see +Manuela." + +It was more a command than an entreaty. Sister Chucha obeyed it. She +went away without a word, and returned presently, leading Manuela by +the hand. She brought her into the room, released her, and stood, +watching and listening. + +Eyes leaped to meet--Manuela was on fire, but Gil's fire ate up hers. + +"Seńorita, you have surrendered in vain. These men must have blood for +blood. The patron lies wounded, and will die unless we save him. +Seńorita, you are willing, and I am willing--speak." + +She regarded him steadily. "You know that I am willing, Gil Perez." + +"It was Tormillo you saw yesterday?" + +"Yes, Tormillo--like a toad." + +"He was sent to mock you in your pain. He is a fool. We will show him +a fool in his own likeness. Are you content to die?" + +"You know that I am content." + +He turned to the nun. "Sister Chucha, you will let this lady go. She +goes out to die--I, who love her, am content that she should die. If +she dies not, she returns here. If she dies, you will not ask for her." + +The sister stared. "What do you mean, you two? How is she to die? +When? Where?" + +"She is to die under the knife of Don Luis," said Gil Perez. "And I am +to lay her there." + +"You, my friend! And what have you to do with Don Luis and his +affairs?" + +"Manuela is young," said Gil, "and loves her life. I am young, and +love Manuela more than life. If I take her to Don Luis and say, 'Kill +her, Seńor Don Luis, and in that act kill me also,' I think he will be +satisfied. I can see no other way of saving the life of Don Osmundo." + +"And what do you ask me to do?" the nun asked presently. + +"I ask you to give me Manuela presently for one hour or for eternity. +If Don Luis rejects her, I bring her back to you here--on the word of +an old Christian. If he takes her, she goes directly to God, where you +would have her be. Sister Chucha," said Gil Perez finely, "I am +persuaded that you will help us." + +Sister Chucha looked at her hands--fat and very white hands. "You ask +me to do a great deal--to incur a great danger--for a gentleman who is +nothing to me." + +"He is everything to Manuela," said Gil softly. "That you know." + +"And you, Gil Perez--what is he to you?" This was Sister Chucha's +sharpest. Gil took it with a blink. + +"He is my master--that is something. He is more to Manuela. And she +is everything to me. Sister, you may trust me with her." + +The nun turned from him to the motionless beauty by her side. + +"You, my child, what do you say to this project? Shall I let you go?" + +Manuela wavered a little. She swayed about and balanced herself with +her hands. But she quickly recovered. + +"Sister Chucha," she said, "let me go." The soft green light from her +eyes spoke for her. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MEETING BY MOONLIGHT + +By moonlight, in the sheeted park, four persons met to do battle for +the life of Mr. Manvers, while he lay grumbling and burning in his bed, +behind the curtains of it. Don Luis Ramonez was there, the first to +come--tall and gaunt, with undying pride in his hollow eyes, like a +spectre of rancour kept out of the grave. Behind him Tormillo came +creeping, a little restless man, dogging his master's footsteps, +watching for word or sign from him. These two stood by the lake in the +huge empty park, still under its shroud of white moonlight. + +Don Luis picked up the corner of his cloak and threw it over his left +shoulder. He stalked stately up and down the arc of a circle which a +stone seat defined. Tormillo sat upon the edge of the seat, his elbows +on his knees, and looked at the ground. But he kept his master in the +tail of his eye. Now and again, furtively, but as if he loved what he +feared, he put his hand into his breast and felt the edge of his long +knife. + +Once indeed, when Don Luis on his sentry-march had his back to him, he +drew out the blade and turned it under the moon, watching the cold +light shiver and flash up along it and down. Not fleck or flaw was +upon it; it showed the moon whole within its face. This pair, each +absorbed in his own business, waited for the other. + +Tormillo saw them coming, and marked it by rising from his seat. He +peered along the edge of the water to be sure, then he went noiselessly +towards them, looking back often over his shoulder at Don Luis. But +his master did not seem to be aware of anyone. He stood still, looking +over the gloomy lake. + +Tormillo, having gone half way, waited. Gil Perez hailed him. "Is +that you, Tormillo?" The muffled figure of a girl by his side gave no +sign. + +"It is I, Gil Perez. Be not afraid." + +"If I were afraid of anything, I should not be here. I have brought +Manuela of her own will." + +"Good," said Tormillo. "Give her to me. We will go to Don Luis." + +"Yes, you shall take her. I will remain here. Seńorita, will you go +with him?" + +Manuela said, "I am ready." + +Tormillo turned his face away, and Gil Perez with passion whispered to +Manuela. + +"My soul, my life, Manuela! One sign from you, and I kill him!" + + She turned him her rapt face. "No +sign from me, brother--no sign from me." + +"My life," sighed Gil Perez. "Soul of my soul!" She held him out her +hand. + +"Pray for me," she said. He snatched at her hand, knelt on his knee, +stooped over it, and then, jumping up, flung himself from her. + +"Take her you, Tormillo." + +Tormillo took her by the hand, and they went together towards the +semicircular seat, in whose centre stood Don Luis like a black statue. +Soft-footed went she, swaying a little, like a gossamer caught in a +light wind. Don Luis half-turned, and saluted her. + +"Master," said Tormillo, "Manuela is here." As if she were a figure to +be displayed he lightly threw back her veil. Manuela stood still and +bowed her head to the uncovered gentleman. + +"I am ready, seńor Don Luis," she said. He came nearer, watching her, +saying nothing. + +"I killed Don Bartolomé, your son," she said, "because I feared him. +He told me that he had come to kill me; but I was beforehand with him +there. It is true that I loved Don Osmundo, who had been kind to me." + +"You killed my son," said Don Luis, "and you loved the Englishman." + +"I own the truth," she said, "and am ready to requite you. I thought +to have satisfied you by giving myself up--but you have shown me that +that was not enough. Now then I give you myself of my own will, if you +will let Don Osmundo go free. Will you make a bargain with me? He +knew nothing of Don Bartolomé, your son." + +Don Luis bowed. Manuela turned her head slowly about to the still +trees, to the sleeping water, to the moon in the clear sky, as if to +greet the earth for the last time. For one moment her eyes fell on Gil +Perez afar off--on his knees with his hands raised to heaven. + +"I am ready," she said again, and bowed her head. Tormillo put into +Don Luis' hands the long knife. Don Luis threw it out far into the +lake. It fled like a streak of light, struck, skimmed along the +surface, and sank without a splash. He went to Manuela and put his +hand on her shoulder. She quivered at his touch. + +"My child," said he, "I cannot touch you. You have redeemed yourself. +Go now, and sin no more." + +He left her and went his way, stately, along the edge of the water. He +stalked past Gil Perez at his prayers as if he saw him not--as may well +be the case. But Gil Perez got upon his feet as he went by and saluted +him with profound respect. + +Immediately afterwards he went like the wind to Manuela. He found her +crying freely on the stone seat, her arms upon the back of it and her +face hidden in her arms She wept with passion; her sobs were pitiful to +hear. Tormillo, not at all moved, waited for Gil Perez. + +"_Esa te quiere bien que te hace llorar_," he said: "She loves thee +well, that makes thee weep." + +"I weep not," said Gil Perez; "it is she that weeps. As for me, I +praise God." + +"Aha, Gil Perez," Tormillo began--then he chuckled. "For you, my +friend, there's still sunlight on the wall." + +Gil nodded. "I believe it." Then he looked fiercely at the other man. +"Go you with God, Tormillo, and leave me with her." + +Tormillo stared, spat on the ground. "No need of your 'chuck chuck' to +an old dog. I go, Gil Perez. _Adios, hermano_." + +Gil Perez sat on the stone seat, and drew Manuela's head to his +shoulder. She suffered him. + + + + +[Illustration: Inside back cover art (left side)] + + + + +[Illustration: Inside back cover art (right side)] + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spanish Jade, by Maurice Hewlett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPANISH JADE *** + +***** This file should be named 29545-8.txt or 29545-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/5/4/29545/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Spanish Jade + +Author: Maurice Hewlett + +Illustrator: William Hyde + +Release Date: July 29, 2009 [EBook #29545] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPANISH JADE *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-fpap1"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-fpap1.jpg" ALT="Inside front cover art (left side)" BORDER="2" WIDTH="579" HEIGHT="921"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 579px"> +Inside front cover art (left side) +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-fpap2"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-fpap2.jpg" ALT="Inside front cover art (right side)" BORDER="2" WIDTH="579" HEIGHT="921"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 579px"> +Inside front cover art (right side) +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="Castilian table lands." BORDER="2" WIDTH="494" HEIGHT="712"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 494px"> +Castilian table lands. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE SPANISH JADE +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +MAURICE HEWLETT +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WITH FULL PAGE COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS +<BR> +BY WILLIAM HYDE +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED +<BR> +LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK, TORONTO AND MELBOURNE +<BR> +MCMVIII +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#intro">INTRODUCTION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE PLEASANT ERRAND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">THE TRAVELLER AT LARGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">DIVERSIONS OF TRAVEL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">TWO ON HORSEBACK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">THE AMBIGUOUS THIRD</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">A SPANISH CHAPTER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">THE SLEEPER AWAKENED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">REFLECTIONS OF AN ENGLISHMAN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">A VISIT TO THE JEWELLER'S</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">FURTHER EPISODES IN THE LIFE OF DON LUIS RAMONEZ</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">GIL PEREZ DE SEGOVIA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">A GLIMPSE OF MANUELA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">CHIVALRY OF GIL PEREZ</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">TRIAL BY QUESTION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">NEMESIS—DON LUIS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">THE HERALD</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">LA RACOGIDA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">THE NOVIO</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">THE WAR OPENS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">MEETING BY MOONLIGHT</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS +</H2> + +<H4> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +CASTILIAN TABLE LANDS . . . . . . . . . <I>Frontispiece</I> +</A> +</H4> + +<H4> +<A HREF="#img-104"> +UPON A BLUE FIELD LAY VALLADOLID +</A> +</H4> + +<H4> +<A HREF="#img-152"> +THE TOWERS OF SEGOVIA +</A> +</H4> + +<H4> +<A HREF="#img-176"> +MADRID BY NIGHT +</A> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="intro"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +INTRODUCTION +</H3> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +Cada puta hile (Let every jade go spin).—SANCHO PANZA. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Almost alone in Europe stands Spain, the country of things as they are. +The Spaniard weaves no glamour about facts, apologises for nothing, +extenuates nothing. <I>Lo que ha de ser no puede faltar</I>! If you must +have an explanation, here it is. Chew it, Englishman, and be content; +you will get no other. One result of this is that Circumstance, left +naked, is to be seen more often a strong than a pretty thing; and +another that the Englishman, inveterately a draper, is often horrified +and occasionally heart-broken. The Spaniard may regret, but cannot +mend the organ. His own will never suffer the same fate. <I>Chercher le +midi ŕ quatorze heures</I> is no foible of his. +</P> + +<P> +The state of things cannot last; for the sentimental pour into the +country now, and insist that the natives shall become as self-conscious +as themselves. The <I>Sud-Express</I> brings them from England and Germany, +vast ships convey them from New York. Then there are the newspapers, +eager as ever to make bricks without straw. Against Teutonic +travellers, and journalists, no idiosyncrasy can stand out. The +country will run to pulp, as a pear, bitten without by wasps and within +by a maggot, will get sleepy and drop. But that end is not yet, the +Lord be praised, and will not be in your time or mine. The tale I have +to tell—an old one, as we reckon news now—might have happened +yesterday; for that was when I was last in Spain, and satisfied myself +that all the concomitants were still in being. I can assure you that +many a Don Luis yet, bitterly poor and bitterly proud, starves and +shivers, and hugs up his bones in his <I>capa</I> between the Bidassoa and +the Manzanares; many a wild-hearted, unlettered Manuela applies the +inexorable law of the land to her own detriment, and, with a sob in the +breath, sits down to her spinning again, her mouldy crust and cup of +cold water, or worse fare than that. Joy is not for the poor, she +says—and then, with a shrug, <I>Lo que ha de ser</I>...! +</P> + +<P> +But, as a matter of fact, it belongs to George Borrow's day, this tale, +when gentlemen rode a-horseback between town and town, and followed the +river-bed rather than the road. A stranger then, in the plains of +Castile, was either a fool who knew not when he was well off, or an +unfortunate, whose misery at home forced him afield. There was no +<I>genus</I> Tourist; the traveller was conspicuous and could be traced from +Spain to Spain. When you get on you'll see; that is how Tormillo +weaselled out Mr. Manvers, by the smell of his blood. A great, roomy, +haggard country, half desert waste and half bare rock, was the Spain of +1860, immemorially old, immutably the same, splendidly frank, +acquainted with grief and sin, shameless and free; like some brown +gipsy wench of the wayside, with throat and half her bosom bare, who +would laugh and show her teeth, and be free with her jest; but if you +touched her honour, ignorant that she had one, would stab you without +ruth, and go her free way, leaving you carrion in the ditch. Such was +the Spain which Mr. Manvers visited some fifty years ago. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE SPANISH JADE +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE PLEASANT ERRAND +</H4> + +<P> +Into the plain beyond Burgos, through the sunless glare of before-dawn; +upon a soft-padding ass that cast no shadow and made no sound; well +upon the stern of that ass, and with two bare heels to kick him; alone +in the immensity of Castile, and as happy as a king may be, rode a +young man on a May morning, singing to himself a wailing, winding chant +in the minor which, as it had no end, may well have had no beginning. +He only paused in it to look before him between his donkey's ears; and +then—"<I>Arré, burra, hijo de perra!</I>"—he would drive his heels into +the animal's rump. In a few minutes the song went spearing aloft again +.... "<I>En batalla-a-a temero-o-sa-a</I>....!" +</P> + +<P> +I say that he was young; he was very young, and looked very delicate, +with his transparent, alabaster skin, lustrous grey eyes and pale, thin +lips. He had a sagging straw hat upon his round and shapely head, a +shirt—and a dirty shirt—open to the waist. His <I>faja</I> was a broad +band of scarlet cloth wound half a dozen times about his middle, and +supported a murderous long knife. For the rest, cotton drawers, bare +legs, and feet as brown as walnuts. All of him that was not +whitey-brown cotton or red cloth was the colour of the country; but his +cropped head was black, and his eyes were very light grey, keen, +restless and bold. He was sharp-featured, careless and impudent; but +when he smiled you might think him bewitching. His name he would give +you as Estéban Vincaz—which it was not; his affair was pressing, +pleasant and pious. Of that he had no doubt at all. He was intending +the murder of a young woman. +</P> + +<P> +His eyes, as he sang, roamed the sun-struck land, and saw everything as +it should be. Life was a grim business for man and beast and herb of +the field, no better for one than for the others. The winter corn in +patches struggled sparsely through the clods; darnels, tares, +deadnettle and couch, the vetches of last year and the thistles of +next, contended with it, not in vain. The olives were not yet in +flower, but the plums and sloes were powdered with white; all was in +order. +</P> + +<P> +When a clump of smoky-blue iris caught his downward looks, he slipped +off his ass and snatched a handful for his hat. "The Sword-flower," he +called it, and accepting the omen with a chuckle, jumped into his seat +again and kicked the beast with his naked heels into the shamble that +does duty for a pace. As he decorated his hat-string he resumed his +song:— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"En batalla temerosa<BR> +Andaba el Cid castellano<BR> +Con Búcar, ese rey moro,<BR> +Que contra el Cid ha llegado<BR> +A le ganar a Valencia..."<BR> +</P> + +<P> +He hung upon the pounding assonances, and his heart thumped in accord, +as if his present adventure had been that crowning one of the hero's. +</P> + +<P> +Accept him for what he was, the graceless son of his +parents—horse-thief, sheep-thief, contrabandist, bully, trader of +women—he had the look of a seraph when he sang, the complacency of an +angel of the Weighing of Souls. And why not? He had no doubts; he +could justify every hour of his life. If money failed him, wits did +not; he had the manners of a gentleman—and a gentleman he actually +was, hidalgo by birth—and the morals of a hyaena, that is to say, none +at all. I doubt if he had anything worth having except the grand air; +the rest had been discarded as of no account. +</P> + +<P> +Schooling had been his, he had let it slip; if his gentlehood had been +negotiable he had carded it away. Nowadays he knew only elementary +things—hunger, thirst, fatigue, desire, hatred, fear. What he craved, +that he took, if he could. He feared the dark, and God in the +Sacrament. He pitied nothing, regretted nothing; for to pity a thing +you must respect it, and to respect you must fear; and as for regret, +when it came to feeling the loss of a thing it came naturally also to +hating the cause of its loss; and so the greater lust swallowed up the +less. +</P> + +<P> +He had felt regret when Manuela ran away; it had hurt him, and he hated +her for it. That was why he intended at all cost to find her again, +and to kill her; because she had been his <I>amiga</I>, and had left him. +Three weeks ago, it had been, at the fair of Pobledo. The fair had +been spoiled for him, he had earned nothing, and lost much; esteem, to +wit, his own esteem, mortally wounded by the loss of Manuela, whose +beauty had been a mark, and its possession an asset; and time—valuable +time—lost in finding out where she had gone. +</P> + +<P> +Friends of his had helped him; he had hailed every <I>arriero</I> on the +road, from Pamplona to La Coruńa; and when he had what he wanted he had +only delayed for one day, to get his knife ground. He knew exactly +where she was, at what hour he should find her, and with whom. His +tongue itched and brought water into his mouth when he pictured the +meeting. He pictured it now, as he jogged and sang and looked +contentedly at the endless plain. +</P> + +<P> +Presently he came within sight, and, since he made no effort to avoid +it, presently again into the street of a mud-built village. Few people +were astir. A man slept in an angle of a wall, flies about his head; a +dog in an entry scratched himself with ecstasy; a woman at a doorway +was combing her child's hair, and looked up to watch him coming. +</P> + +<P> +Entering in his easy way, he looked to the east to judge of the light. +Sunrise was nearly an hour away; he could afford to obey the summons of +the cracked bell, filling the place with its wrangling, with the +creaking of its wheel. He hobbled his beast in the little <I>plaza</I>, and +followed some straying women into church. +</P> + +<P> +Immediately confronting him at the door was a hideous idol. A huge and +brown, wooden Christ, with black horse-hair tresses, staring white +eyeballs, staring red wounds, towered before him, hanging from a cross. +Estéban knelt to it on one knee, and, remembering his hat, doffed it +sideways over his ear. He said his two <I>Paternosters</I>, and then +performed one odd ceremony more. Several people saw him do it, but no +one was surprised. He took the long knife from his <I>faja</I>, running his +finger lightly along the edge, laid it flat before the Cross, and +looking up at the tormented God, said him another <I>Pater</I>. That done, +he went into the church, and knelt upon the floor in company with +kerchiefed women, children, a dog or two, and some beggars of +incredible age and infirmities beyond description, and rose to one +knee, fell to both, covered his eyes, watched the celebrant, or the +youngest of the women, just as the server's little bell bade him. +Simple ceremonies, done by rote and common to Latin Europe; certainly +not learned of the Moors. +</P> + +<P> +Mass over, our young avenger prepared to resume his journey by breaking +his fast. A hunch of bread and a few raisins sufficed him, and he ate +these sitting on the steps of the church, watching the women as they +loitered on their way home. Estéban had a keen eye for women; pence +only, I mean the lack of them, prevented him from being a collector. +But the eye is free; he viewed them all from the standpoint of the +cabinet. One he approved. She carried herself well, had fine ankles, +and wore a flower in her hair like an Andalusian. Now, it was one of +his many grudges against fate that he had never been in Andalusia and +seen the women there. For certain, they were handsome; a <I>Sevillana</I>, +for instance! Would they wear flowers in their hair—over the +ear—unless they dared be looked at? Manuela was of Valencia, more +than half <I>gitana</I>: a wonderfully supple girl. When she danced the +<I>jota</I> it was like nothing so much as a snake in an agony. Her hair +was tawny yellow, and very long. She wore no flower in it, but bound a +red handkerchief in and out of the plaits. She was vain of her +hair—heart of God, how he hated her! +</P> + +<P> +Then the priest came out of church, fat, dewlapped, greasy, very short +of breath, but benevolent. "Good-day, good-day to you," he said. "You +are a stranger. From the North?" +</P> + +<P> +"My reverence, from Burgos." +</P> + +<P> +"Ha, from Burgos this morning! A fine city, a great city." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir, it's true. It is where they buried our lord the Campeador." +</P> + +<P> +"So they say. You are lettered! And early afoot." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir. I am called to be early. I still go South." +</P> + +<P> +"Seeking work, no doubt. You are honest, I hope?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir, a very honest Christian. But I seek no work. I find it." +</P> + +<P> +"You are lucky," said the priest, and took snuff. "And where is your +work? In Valladolid, perhaps?" +</P> + +<P> +Estéban blinked hard at that last question. "No, sir," he said. "Not +there." Do what he might he could not repress the bitter gleam in his +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The old priest paused, his fingers once more in the snuff-box. "There +again you have a great city. Ah, and there was a time when Valladolid +was one of the greatest in Castile. The capital of a kingdom! Chosen +seat of a king! Pattern of the true Faith!" His eyelids narrowed +quickly. "You do not know it?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir," said Estéban gently. "I have never been there." +</P> + +<P> +The priest shrugged. "<I>Vaya</I>! it is no affair of mine," he said. Then +he waved his hand, wagging it about like a fan. "Go your ways," he +added, "with God." +</P> + +<P> +"Always at the feet of your reverence," said Estéban, and watched him +depart. He stared after him, and looked sick. +</P> + +<P> +Altogether he delayed for an hour and a quarter in this village: a +material time. The sun was up as he left it—a burning globe, just +above the limits of the plain. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE TRAVELLER AT LARGE +</H4> + +<P> +Ahead of Estéban some five or six hours, or, rather converging upon a +common centre so far removed from him, was one Osmund Manvers, a young +English gentleman of easy fortune, independent habits and analytical +disposition; also riding, also singing to himself, equally early +afoot, but in very different circumstances. He bestrode a horse +tolerably sound, had a haversack before him reasonably stored. He had +a clean shirt on him, and another embaled, a brace of pistols, a New +Testament and a "Don Quixote"; he wore brown knee-boots, a tweed +jacket, white duck breeches, and a straw hat as little picturesque as +it was comfortable or convenient. Neither revenge nor enemy lay ahead, +of him; he travelled for his pleasure, and so pleasantly that even Time +was his friend. Health was the salt of his daily fare, and curiosity +gave him appetite for every minute of the day. +</P> + +<P> +He would have looked incongruous in the elfin landscape—in that empty +plain, under that ringing sky—if he had not appeared to be as +extremely at home in it as young Estéban himself; but there was this +farther difference to be noted, that whereas Estéban seemed to belong +to the land, the land seemed to belong to Mr. Manvers—the land of the +Spains and all those vast distances of it, the enormous space of +ground, the dim blue mountains at the edge, the great arch of sky over +all. He might have been a young squire at home, overlooking his farms, +one eye for the tillage or the upkeep of fence and hedge, another for a +covey, or a hare in a farrow. He was as serene as Estéban and as +contented; but his comfort lay in easy possession, not in being easily +possessed. Occasionally he whistled as he rode, but, like Estéban, +broke now and again into a singing voice, more cheerful, I think, than +melodious. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"If she be not fair for me,<BR> +What care I how fair she be?"<BR> +</P> + +<P> +An old song. But Henry Chorley made a tone for it the summer before +Mr. Manvers left England, and it had caught his fancy, both the air and +the sentiment. They had come aptly to suit his scoffing mood, and to +help him salve the wound which a Miss Eleanor Vernon had dealt his +heart—a Miss Eleanor Vernon with her clear disdainful eyes. She had +given him his first acquaintance with the hot-and-cold disease. +</P> + +<P> +"If she be not fair for me!" Well, she was not to be that. Let her go +spin then, and—"What care I how fair she be?" He had discarded her +with the Dover cliffs, and resumed possession of himself and his seeing +eye. By this time a course of desultory journeying through Brittany +and the West of France, a winter in Paris, a packet from Bordeaux to +Santander had cured him of his hurt. The song came unsought to his +lips, but had no wounded heart to salve. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Manvers was a pleasant-looking young man, sanguine in hue, grey in +the eye, with a twisted sort of smile by no means unattractive. His +features were irregular, but he looked wholesome; his humour was +fitful, sometimes easy, sometimes unaccountably stiff. They called him +a Character at home, meaning that he was liable to freakish asides from +the common rotted road, and could not be counted on. It was true. He, +for his part, called himself an observer of Manvers, which implied that +he had rather watch than take a side; but he was both hot-tempered and +quick-tempered, and might well find himself in the middle of things +before he knew it. His crooked smile, however, seldom deserted him, +seldom was exchanged for a crooked scowl; and the light beard which he +had allowed himself in the solitudes of Paris led one to imagine his +jaw less square than it really was. +</P> + +<P> +I suppose him to have been five foot ten in his boots, and strong to +match. He had a comfortable income, derived from land in +Somersetshire, upon which his mother, a widow lady, and his two +unmarried sisters lived, and attended archery meetings in company of +the curate. The disdain of Miss Eleanor Vernon had cured him of a +taste for such simple joys, and now that, by travel, he had cured +himself of Miss Eleanor, he was travelling on for his pleasure, or, as +he told himself, to avoid the curate. Thus neatly he referred to his +obligations to Church and State in Somersetshire. +</P> + +<P> +By six o'clock on this fine May morning he had already ridden far—from +Sahagun, indeed, where he had spent some idle days, lounging, and +exchanging observations on the weather with the inhabitants. He had +been popular, for he was perfectly simple, and without airs; never +asked what he did not want to know, and never refused to answer what it +was obviously desired he should. But man cannot live upon small talk; +and as he had taken up his rest in Sahagun in a moment of impulse—when +he saw that it possessed a church-dome covered with glazed green +tiles—so now he left it. +</P> + +<P> +"High Heaven!" he had cried, sitting up in bed, "what the deuce am I +doing here? Nothing. Nothing on earth. Let's get out of it." So out +he had got, and could not ask for breakfast at four in the morning. +</P> + +<P> +He rode fast, desiring to make way before the heat began, and by six +o'clock, with the sun above the horizon, was not sorry to see towers +and pinnacles, or to hear across the emptiness the clangorous notes of +a deep-toned bell. "The muezzin calls the faithful, but for me another +summons must be sounded. That town will be Palencia. There I +breakfast, by the grace of God. Coffee and eggs." +</P> + +<P> +Palencia it was, a town of pretence, if such a word can be applied to +anything Spanish, where things either are or are not, and there's an +end. It was as drab as the landscape, as weatherworn and austere; but +it had a squat officer sitting at the receipt of custom, which Sahagun +had not, and a file of anxious peasants before him, bargaining for +their chickens and hay. +</P> + +<P> +Upon the horseman's approach the functionary raised himself, looking +over the heads of the crowd as at a greater thing, saluted, and +inquired for gate-dues with his patient eyes. "I have here," said +Manvers, who loved to be didactic in a foreign language, "a shirt and a +comb, the New Testament, the History of the Ingenious Gentleman, Don +Quixote de la Mancha, and a toothbrush." +</P> + +<P> +Much of this was Greek to the <I>doganero</I>, who, however, understood that +the stranger was referring in tolerable Castilian to a provincial +gentleman of degree. The name and Manvers' twisted smile together won +him the entry. The officer just eased his peaked cap. "Go with God, +sir," he directed. +</P> + +<P> +"Assuredly," said Manvers, "but pray assist me to the inn." +</P> + +<P> +The Providencia was named, indicated, and found. There was an elderly +man in the yard of it, placidly plucking a live fowl, a barbarity with +which our traveller had now ceased to quarrel. +</P> + +<P> +"Leave your horrid task, my friend," he said. "Take my horse, and feed +him." +</P> + +<P> +The bird was released, and after shaking, by force of habit, what no +longer, or only partially existed, rejoined its companions. They +received it coldly, but it soon showed that it could pick as well as be +picked. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," said Manvers to the ostler, "give this horse half a feed of +corn, then some water, then the other half feed; but give him nothing +until you have cooled him down. Do these things, and I present you +with one <I>peseta</I>. Omit any of them, and I give you nothing at all. +Is that a bargain?" +</P> + +<P> +The old man haled off the horse, muttering that it would be a bad +bargain for his Grace, to which Manvers replied that we should see. +Then he went into the Providencia for his coffee and eggs. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +DIVERSIONS OF TRAVEL +</H4> + +<P> +If Sahagun puts you out of conceit with Castile, you are not likely to +be put in again by Palencia; for a second-rate town in this kingdom is +like a piece of the plain enclosed by a wall, and only emphasises the +desolation at the expense of the freedom; and as in a windy square all +the city garbage is blown into corners, so the walled town seems to +collect and set to festering all the disreputable creatures of the +waste. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Manvers, his meal over, hankered after broad spaces again. He +walked the arcaded streets and cursed the flies, he entered the +Cathedral and was driven out by the beggars. He leaned over the bridge +and watched the green river, and that set him longing for a swim. If +his maps told him the truth, some few leagues on the road to Valladolid +should discover him a fine wood, the wood of La Huerca, beyond which, +skirting it, in fact, should be the Pisuerga. Here he could bathe, +loiter away the noon, and take his <I>merienda</I>, which should be the best +Palencia could supply. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Muera Marta,<BR> +Y muera harta,"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Let Martha die, but not on an empty stomach," he said to himself. He +knew his Don Quixote better than most Spaniards. +</P> + +<P> +He furnished his haversack, then, with bread, ham, sausages, wine and +oranges, ordered out his horse, satisfied himself that the ostler had +earned his fee, and departed at an ambling pace to seek his amusements. +But, though he knew it not, the finger of Fate was upon him, and he was +enjoying the last of that perfect leisure without which travel, +love-making, the arts and sciences, gardening, or the rearing of a +family, are but weariness and disgust. Just outside the gate of +Palencia he had an adventure which occupied him until the end of this +tale, and, indeed, some way beyond it. +</P> + +<P> +The Puerta de Valladolid is really no gate at all, but a gateway. What +walls it may once have pierced have fallen away from it in their fight +with time, and now buttresses and rubbish-heaps, a moat of blurred +outline and much filth, alone testify to former pretensions. Beyond +was to be found a sandy waste, miscalled an <I>alameda</I>, a littered place +of brown grass, dust and loose stones, fringed with parched acacias, +and diversified by hillocks, upon which, in former days of strife, +standards may have been placed, mangonels planted, perhaps Napoleonic +cannon. +</P> + +<P> +It was upon one of these mounds, which was shaded by a tree, that +Manvers observed, and paused in the gateway to observe, the doings of a +group of persons, some seven boys and lads, and a girl. A kind of +uncouth courtship seemed to be in progress, or (as he put it) the +holding of a rude Court. He thought to see a Circe of picaresque Spain +with her swinish rout about her. To drop metaphor, the young woman sat +upon the hillock, with the half dozen tatterdemalions round her in +various stages of amorous enchantment. +</P> + +<P> +He set the girl down for a gipsy, for he knew enough of the country to +be sure that no marriageable maiden of worth could be courted in this +fashion. Or if not a gipsy then a thing of nought, to be pitied if the +truth were known, at any rate to be skirted. Her hair, which seemed to +be of a dusty gold tinge, was knotted up in a red handkerchief; her +gown was of blue faded to green, her feet were bare. If a gipsy, she +was to be trusted to take care of herself; if but a sunburnt vagrant +she could be let to shift; and yet he watched her curiously, while she +sat as impassive as a young Sphinx, and wondered to himself why he did +it. +</P> + +<P> +Suppose her of that sort you may see any day at a fair, jigging outside +a booth in red bodice and spangles, a waif, a little who-knows-who, +suppose her pretty to death—what is she even then but an iridescent +bubble, as one might say, thrown up by some standing pool of vice, as +filmy, very nearly as fleeting, and quite as poisonous? It struck him +as he watched—not the girl in particular, but a whole genus centred in +her—as really extraordinary, as an obliquity of Providence, that such +ephemerids must abound, predestined to misery; must come and sin, and +wail and go, with souls inside them to be saved, which nobody could +save, and bodies fair enough to be loved, which nobody could stoop to +love. Had the scheme of our Redemption scope enough for this—for this +trifle, along with Santa Teresa, and the Queen of Sheba, and Isabella +the Catholic? He perceived himself slipping into the sententious on +slight pretence—but presently found himself engaged. +</P> + +<P> +Hatless, shoeless, and coatless were the oafs who surrounded the object +of his speculations, some lying flat, with elbows forward and chins to +fist; some creeping and scrambling about her to get her notice, or fire +her into a rage; some squatting at an easy distance with ribaldries to +exchange. But there was one, sitting a little above her on the mound, +who seemed to consider himself, in a sort, her proprietor. He was +master of the pack, warily on the watch, able by position and strength +to prevent what he might at any moment choose to think on infringement +of his rights. A sullen, grudging, silent, and jealous dog, Manvers +saw him, and asked himself how long she would stand it. At present she +seemed unaware of her surroundings. +</P> + +<P> +He saw that she sat broodingly, as if ruminating on more serious +things, such as famine or thirst, her elbows on her knees and her face +in her two hands. That was the true gipsy attitude, he knew, all the +world over. But so intent she was, that she was careless of her +person, careless that her bodice was open at the neck and that more +people than Manvers were aware of it. A flower was in her mouth, or he +thought so, judging from the blot of scarlet thereabouts; her face was +set fixedly towards the town—too fixedly that he might care, since she +cared so little, whether she saw him there or not. And after all, not +she, but the manners of the game centred about her, was what mattered. +</P> + +<P> +Manners, indeed! The fastidious in our young man was all on edge; he +became a critic of Spain. Where in England, France, or Italy could you +have witnessed such a scene as this? Or what people but the Spaniards +among the children of Noah know themselves so certainly lords of the +earth that they can treat women, mules, prisoners, Jews, and bulls +according to the caprices of appetite? That an Italian should make +public display of his property in a woman, or his scorn of her, was a +thing unthinkable; yet, if you came to consider it, so it was that a +Spaniard should not. Set aside, said he to himself, the grand air, and +what has the Spaniard which the brutes have not? +</P> + +<P> +Hotly questioning the attendant heavens, Manvers saw just such an act +of mastery, when the lumpish fellow above the girl put his hand upon +her, and kept it there, and the others thereupon drew back and ceased +their tricks, as if admitting possession had and seisin taken, as the +lawyers call it. To Manvers a hateful thing. He felt his blood surge +in his neck. "Damn him! I've a mind——! And they pray to a woman!" +</P> + +<P> +But the girl did nothing—neither moved, nor seemed to be aware. Then +the drama suddenly quickened, the actors serried, and the acts, down to +the climax, followed fast. +</P> + +<P> +Emboldened by her passivity, the oaf advanced by inches, visibly. He +looked knowingly about him, collecting approval from his followers, he +whispered in her ear, hummed gallant airs, regaled the company with +snatches of salt song. Fixed as the Sphinx and unfathomable, she sat +on broodingly until, piqued by her indifference, maybe, or swayed by +some wave of desire, he caught her round the waist and buried his face +in her neck; and then, all at once, she awoke, shivered and collected +herself, without warning shook herself free, and hit her bully a blow +on the nose with all her force. +</P> + +<P> +He reeled back, with his hands to his face; the blood gushed over his +fingers. Then all were on their feet, and a scuffle began, the most +unequal you can conceive, and the most impossible. It was all against +one, with stones flying and imprecations after them, and in the midst +the tawny-haired girl fighting like one possessed. +</P> + +<P> +A minute of this—hardly so much—was more than enough for Manvers, +who, when he could believe his eyes, pricked headlong into the fray, +and began to lay about him with his crop. "Dogs, sons of dogs, down +with your hands!" he cried, in Spanish which was fluent, if +imaginative. But his science with the whip was beyond dispute, and the +diversion, coming suddenly from behind, scattered the enemy into +headlong flight. +</P> + +<P> +The field cleared, the girl was to be seen. She lay moaning on the +ground, her arms extended, her right leg twitching. She was bleeding +at the ear. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +TWO ON HORSEBACK +</H4> + +<P> +Now, Manvers was under fire; for the enemy, reinforced by stragglers +from the town, had unmasked a battery of stones, and was making fine +practice from the ruins of the wall. He was hit more than once, his +horse more than he; both were exasperated, and he in particular was +furious at the presence of spectators who, comfortably in the shade, +watched, and had been watching, the whole affair with enviable +detachment of mind and body. With so much to chafe him, he may be +pardoned for some irritability. +</P> + +<P> +He dismounted as coolly as he could, and led his horse about to cover +her from the stones. "Come," he said, as he stooped to touch her, "I +must move you out of this. Saint Stephen—blessed young man—has +forestalled this particular means of going to Heaven. Oh, damn the +stones!" +</P> + +<P> +He used no ceremony, but picked her up as if she had been a +dressmaker's dummy, and set her on her feet, where, after swaying +about, and some balancing with her hands, she presently steadied +herself, and stood, dazed and empty-eyed. Her cheek was cut, her ear +was bleeding; her hair was down, the red handkerchief uncoiled; her +dusky skin was stained with dirt and scratches, and her bosom heaved +riotously as she caught for her breath. +</P> + +<P> +"Take your time, my dear," said Manvers kindly. And she did, by +tumbling into his arms. Here, then, was a situation for the student of +Manners; a brisk discharge of stones from an advancing line of +skirmishers, a strictly impartial crowd of sightseers, a fidgety horse, +and himself embarrassed by a girl in a faint. +</P> + +<P> +He called for help and, getting none, shook his fist at the callous +devils who ignored him; he inspected his charge, who looked as pure as +a child in her swoon, all her troubles forgotten and sins blotted out; +he inquired of the skies, as if hopeful that the ravens, as of old, +might bring him help; at last, seeing nothing else for it, he picked up +the girl in both arms and pitched her on to the saddle. There, with +some adjusting, he managed to prop her while he led the horse slowly +away. He had to get the reins in his teeth before he had gone ten +yards. The retreat began. +</P> + +<P> +It was within two hours of noon, or nothing had saved him from a +retirement as harassing as Sir John Moore's. It was the sun, not +ravens, that came to his help. Meantime the girl had recovered herself +somewhat, and, when they were out of sight of the town and its +inhabitants, showed him that she had by sliding from the saddle and +standing firmly on her feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Hulloa!" said Manvers. "What's the matter now? Do you think you can +walk back? You can't, you know." He addressed her in his best +Castilian. "I am afraid you are hurt. Let me help——" but she held +him off with a stiffening arm, while she wiped her face with her +petticoat, and put herself into some sort of order. +</P> + +<P> +She did it deftly and methodically, with the practised hands of a woman +used to the public eye. She might have been an actress at the wings, +about to go on. Nor would she look at him or let him see that she was +aware of his presence until all was in order—her hair twisted into the +red handkerchief, the neck of her dress pinned together, her torn skirt +nicely hung. Her coquetry, her skill in adjusting what seemed past +praying for, her pains with herself, were charming to see and very +touching. Manvers watched her closely and could not deny her beauty. +</P> + +<P> +She was a vivid beauty, fiercely coloured, with her tawny gold hair, +sunburnt skin, and jade-green, far-seeing eyes, her coiled crimson +handkerchief and blue-green gown. She was finely made, slim, and in +contour hardly more than a child; and yet she seemed to him very +mature, a practised hand, with very various knowledge deep in her eyes, +and a wide acquaintance behind her quiet lips. With her re-ordered +toilette she had taken on self-possession and dignity, a reserve which +baffled him. Without any more reason than this he felt for her a kind +of respect which nothing, certainly, in what he had seen of her +circumstances could justify. Yet he gave her her title—which marks +his feeling. +</P> + +<P> +"Seńorita," he said, "I wish to be of service to you. Command me. +Shall I take you back to Palencia?" +</P> + +<P> +She answered him seriously. "I beg that you will not, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"If you have friends——" he began, and she said at once, "I have none." +</P> + +<P> +"Or parents——" +</P> + +<P> +"None." +</P> + +<P> +"Relatives——" +</P> + +<P> +"None, none." +</P> + +<P> +"Then your——" +</P> + +<P> +"I know what you would say. I have no house." +</P> + +<P> +"Then," said Manvers, looking vaguely over the plain, "what do you wish +me to do for you?" +</P> + +<P> +She was now sitting by the roadside, very collectedly looking down at +her hands in her lap. "You will leave me here, if you must," she said; +"but I would ask your charity to take me a little farther from +Palencia. Nobody has ever been kind to me before." +</P> + +<P> +She said this quite simply, as if stating a fact. He was moved. +</P> + +<P> +"You were unhappy in Palencia?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said, "I would rather be left here." The enormous plain of +Castile, treeless, sun-struck, empty of living thing, made her words +eloquent. +</P> + +<P> +"Absurd," said Manvers. "If I leave you here you will die." +</P> + +<P> +"In Palencia," said the girl, "I cannot die." And then her grave eyes +pierced him, and he knew what she meant. +</P> + +<P> +"Great God!" said Manvers. "Then I shall take you to a convent." +</P> + +<P> +She nodded her head. "Where you will, sir," she replied. Her gravity, +far beyond her seeming station, gave value to her confidence. +</P> + +<P> +"That seems to me the best thing I can do with you," Manvers said; "and +if you don't shirk it, there is no reason why I should. Now, can you +stick on the saddle if I put you up?" +</P> + +<P> +She nodded again. "Up you go then." He would have swung her up +sideways, lady-fashion; but she laughed and cried, "No, no," put a hand +on his shoulder, her left foot in the stirrup, and swung herself into +the saddle as neatly as a groom. There she sat astride, like a +circus-rider, and stuck her arm akimbo as she looked down for his +approval. +</P> + +<P> +"Bravo," said Manvers. "You have been a-horseback before this, my +girl. Now you must make room for me." He got up behind her and took +the reins from under her arm. With the other arm it was necessary to +embrace her; she allowed it sedately. Then they ambled off together, +making a Darby and Joan affair of it. +</P> + +<P> +But the sun was now close upon noon, burning upon them out of a sky of +brass. There was no wind, and the flies were maddening. After a while +he noticed that the girl simply stooped her head to the heat, as if she +were wilting like a picked flower. When he felt her heavy on his arm +he saw that he must stop. So he did, and plied her with wine from his +pocket-flask, feeding her drop by drop as she lay back against him. He +got bread out of his haversack and made her eat; she soon revived, and +then he learned the fact that she had eaten nothing since yesterday's +noon. "How should I eat," she asked, "when I have earned nothing?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nohow, but by charity," he agreed. "Had Palencia no compassion?" She +grew dark and would not answer him at first; presently asked, had he +not seen Palencia? +</P> + +<P> +"I agree," he said. "But let me ask you, if I may without +indiscretion, how did you propose to earn your bread in Palencia?" +</P> + +<P> +"I would have worked in the fields for a day, sir," she told him; "but +not longer, for I have to get on." +</P> + +<P> +"Where do you wish to go?" +</P> + +<P> +"Away from here." +</P> + +<P> +"To Valladolid?" +</P> + +<P> +She looked up into his face—her head was still near his shoulder. "To +Valladolid? Never there." +</P> + +<P> +This made him laugh. "To Palencia? Never there. To Valladolid? +Never there. Where then, lady of the sea-green eyes?" +</P> + +<P> +She veiled her eyes quickly. "To Madrid, I suppose. I wish to work." +</P> + +<P> +"Can you find work there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Surely. It is a great city." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I was there long ago." +</P> + +<P> +"What did you do there?" +</P> + +<P> +"I worked. I was very well there." She sat up and looked back over +his shoulder. She had done that once or twice before, and now he asked +her what she was looking for. She desisted at once: "Nothing" was her +answer. +</P> + +<P> +He made her drink from the flask again and gave her his pocket +handkerchief to cover her head. When she understood she laughed at him +without disguise. Did he think she feared the sun? She bade him look +at her neck—which was walnut brown, and sleek as satin; but when he +would have taken back his handkerchief she refused to give it, and put +it over her head like a hood, and tied it under her chin. She then +turned herself round to face him. "Is it so you would have it, sir?" +she asked, and looked bewitching. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear," said Manvers, "you are a beauty." Shall he be blamed if he +kissed her? Not by me, since she never blamed him. +</P> + +<P> +Her clear-seeing eyes searched his face; her kissed mouth looked very +serious, and also very pure. Then, as he observed her ardently, she +coloured and looked down, and afterwards turned herself the way they +were to go, and with a little sigh settled into his arm. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers spurred his horse, and for some time nothing was said between +them. But he was of a talkative habit, with a trick of conversing with +himself for lack of a better man. He asked her if he was forgiven, and +felt her answer on his arm, though she gave him none in words. This +was not to content him. "I see that you will not," he said, to tease +her. "Well, I call that hard after my stoning. I had believed the +ladies of Spain kinder to their cavaliers than to grudge a kiss for a +cartload of stones at the head. Well, well, I'm properly paid. Laws +go as kings will, I know. God help poor men!" He would have gone on +with his baiting had she not surprised him. +</P> + +<P> +She turned him a burning face. "Caballero, caballero, have done!" she +begged him. "You rescued me from worse than death—and what could I +deny you? See, sir, I have lived fifteen, seventeen years in the +world, and nobody—nobody, I say—has ever done me a kindness before. +And you think that I grudge you!" She was really unhappy, and had to +be comforted. +</P> + +<P> +They became close friends after that. She told him her name was +Manuela, and that she was Valencian by birth. A Gitana? No, indeed. +She was a Christian. "You are a very bewitching Christian, Manuela," +he told her, and drew her face back, and kissed her again. I am told +that there's nothing in kissing, once: it's the second time that +counts. In the very act—for eyes met as well as lips—he noticed that +hers wavered on the way to his, beyond him, over the road they had +travelled; and the ceremony over, he again asked her why. She passed +it off as before, saying that she had looked at nothing, and begged him +to go forward. +</P> + +<P> +Ahead of them now, through the crystalline flicker of the heat, he saw +the dark rim of the wood, the cork forest of La Huerca for which he was +looking, and which hid the river from his aching eyes. No foot-burnt +wanderer in Sahara ever hailed his oasis with heartier thanksgiving; +but it was still a league and a half away. He addressed himself to the +task of reaching it, and we may suppose Manuela respected his efforts. +At any rate, there was silence between the pair for the better part of +an hour—what time the unwinking sun, vertically overhead, deprived +them of so much as the sight of their own shadows, and drove the very +crows with wings adust to skulk in the furrows. The shrilling of +crickets, the stumbling hoofs of an overtaxed horse, and the creaking +of saddle and girth made a din in the deadly stillness of this fervent +noon, and, since there was no other sound to be heard, it is hard to +tell how Manvers was aware of a traveller behind him, unless he was +served by the sixth sense we all have, to warn as that we are not alone. +</P> + +<P> +Sure enough, when he looked over his shoulder, he was aware of a donkey +and his rider drawing smoothly and silently near. The pair of them +were so nearly of the colour of the ground, he had to look long to be +sure; and as he looked, Manuela suddenly leaned sideways and saw what +he saw. It was just as if she had received a stroke of the sun. She +stiffened; he felt the thrill go through her; and when she resumed her +first position she was another person. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE AMBIGUOUS THIRD +</H4> + +<P> +"God save your grace," said Estéban; for it was he who, sitting well +back upon his donkey's rump, with exceedingly bright eyes and a +cheerful grin, now forged level with Manvers and his burdened steed. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers gave him a curt "Good-day," and thought him an impudent +fellow—which was not justified by anything Estéban had done. He had +been discretion itself; and, indeed, to his eyes there had been nothing +of necessity remarkable in the pair on the horse. If a lady—Duchess +or baggage—happened to be sharing the gentleman's saddle, an +arrangement must be presumed, which could not possibly concern himself. +That is the reasonable standpoint of a people who mind their own +business and credit their neighbours with the same preoccupation. +</P> + +<P> +But Manvers was an Englishman, and could not for the life of him +consider Estéban as anything but a puppy for seeing him in a +compromising situation. So much was he annoyed that he did not remark +any longer that Manuela was another person, sitting stiffly, strained +against his arm, every muscle on the stretch, as taut as a ship's cable +in the tideway, her face in rigid profile to the newcomer. +</P> + +<P> +Estéban was in no way put out. "Many good days light upon your grace!" +he cheerfully repeated—so cheerfully that Manvers was appeased. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-day, good-day to you," he said. "You ride light and I ride +heavy, otherwise you had not overtaken us." +</P> + +<P> +Estéban showed his fine teeth, and waved his hand towards the hazy +distance; from the tail of his eye he watched Manuela in profile. "Who +knows that, sir? <I>Lo que ha de ser</I>—as we say. Ah, who knows that?" +Manuela strained her face forward. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Manvers, "I do, for example. I have proved my horse. +He's a Galician, and a good goer. It would want a brave <I>borico</I> to +outpace him." +</P> + +<P> +Estéban slipped into the axiomatic, as all Spaniards will. "There's a +providence of the road, sir, and a saint in charge of travellers. And +we know, sir, <I>a cada puerco viene su San Martin</I>." Manuela stooped +her body forward, and peered ahead, as one strains to see in the dark. +</P> + +<P> +"Your proverb is oddly chosen, it seems to me," said Manvers. +</P> + +<P> +Estéban gave a little chuckle from his throat. +</P> + +<P> +"A proverb is a stone flung into a pack of starlings. It may scare the +most, but may hit one. By mine I referred to the ways of providence, +under a figure. Destiny is always at work." +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt," said Manvers, slightly bored. +</P> + +<P> +"It might have been your destiny to have outpaced me: the odds were +with you. On the other hand, as you have not, it must have been mine +to have overtaken you." +</P> + +<P> +"You are a philosopher?" asked Manvers, fatigue deliberately in his +voice. Estéban's eyes shone intensely; he had marked the changed +inflection. +</P> + +<P> +"I studied the Humanities at Salamanca," he said carelessly. "That was +when I was an innocent. Since then I have learned in a harder school. +I am learning still—every day I learn something new. I am a gentleman +born, as your grace has perceived: why not a philosopher?" +</P> + +<P> +Manvers was rather ashamed of himself. "Of course, of course! Why not +indeed? I am very glad to see you, while our ways coincide." +</P> + +<P> +Estéban raised his battered straw. "I kiss the feet of your grace, and +hope your grace's lady"—Manuela quivered—"is not disturbed by my +company; for to tell you the truth, sir, I propose to enjoy your own as +long as you and she are agreeable. I am used to companionship." He +shot a keen glance at Manuela, who never moved. +</P> + +<P> +"She will speak for herself, no doubt," said Manvers; but she did not. +The gleam in Estéban's light eyes gave point to his next speech. +</P> + +<P> +"I have a notion that the seńora is not of your mind, sir," he said, +"and am sorry. I can hardly remain as an unwelcome third in a journey. +It would be a satisfaction to me if the seńora would assure me that I +am wrong." Manuela now turned her head with an effort and looked down +upon the grinning youth. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should I care whether you stay or go?" she said. Her eyelids +flickered over her eyes as though he were dust in their light. +He showed his teeth. +</P> + +<P> +"Why indeed, seńora? God knows I have no reputation to bring you, +though the company of a gentleman, the son of a gentleman, never comes +amiss, they say. But two is company, and three is a fair. I have +found it so, and so doubtless has your ladyship." +</P> + +<P> +She made him no answer, and had turned away her face long before he had +finished. After that the conversation was mainly of his making; for +Manuela would say nothing, and Manvers had nothing to say. The cork +wood was plain in front of him now; he thanked God for the prospect of +food and rest. In fifteen minutes, thought he, he should be swimming +in the Pisuerga. +</P> + +<P> +The forest began tentatively, with heath, sparse trees and mounds of +cistus and bramble. Manvers followed the road, which ran through a +portion of it, until he saw the welcome thickets on either hand, deep +tunnels of dark and shadowy places where the sun could not stab; then +he turned aside over the broken ground, and Estéban's donkey picked a +dainty way behind him. When he had reached what seemed to him +perfection, he pulled up. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, young lady," he said; "I will give you food and drink, and then +you shall go to sleep, and so will I. Afterwards we will consider what +had best be done with you." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," she replied in a whisper. Manvers dismounted and held out +his hand to her. There was no more coquetting with the saddle. She +scarcely touched his hand, and did not once lift her eyes to him—but +he was busy with his haversack and had no thoughts for her. +</P> + +<P> +Estéban meantime sat the donkey, looking gravely at his company, +blinking his eyes, smiling quietly, recurring now and then to the +winding minor air which had been in his head all day. He was perfectly +unhampered by any doubts of his welcome, and watched with serious +attention the preparations for a meal in the open which Manvers was +making with the ease and despatch of one versed in camps. +</P> + +<P> +Ham and sausage, rolls of bread, a lettuce, oranges, cheese, dates, a +bottle of wine, another of water, salt, olives, a knife and fork, a +plate, a corkscrew; every article was in its own paper, some were +marked in pencil what they were. All were spread out upon a +horse-blanket; in good enough order for a field-inspection. Nothing +was wanting, and Estéban was as keen as a wolf. Even Manvers rubbed +his hands. He looked shrewdly at his neighbour. +</P> + +<P> +"Good <I>alforjas</I>, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Excellent indeed, sir," said Estéban hoarsely. It was hard to see +this food, and know that he could not eat of it. Manuela was sitting +under a tree, her face in her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"How far away," said Manvers, "is the water, do you suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +The water? Estéban collected himself with a start. The water? He +jerked his head towards the display on the blanket. "It is under your +hand, caballero. That bottle, I take it, holds water." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers laughed. "Yes, yes. I mean the river. I am going to swim in +the river. Don't wait for me." He turned to the girl. "Take some +food, my friend. I'll be back before long." +</P> + +<P> +Her swift transitions bewildered him. She showed him now a face of +extreme terror. She was on her feet in a moment, rigid, and her eyes +were so pale that her face looked empty of eyes, like a mask. What on +earth was the matter with her? He understood her to be saying, "I must +go where you go. I must never leave you——" words like that; but they +came from her mouthed rather than voiced, as the babbling of a mad +woman. All that was clear was that she was beside herself with fright. +Looking to Estéban for an explanation, he surprised a triumphant gleam +in that youth's light eyes, and saw him grinning—as a dog grins, with +the lip curled back. +</P> + +<P> +But Estéban spoke. "I think the lady is right, sir. Affection is a +beautiful thing." He added politely, "The loss will be mine." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers looked from one to the other of these curious persons, so +clearly conscious of each other, yet so strict to avoid recognition. +His eyes rested on Manuela. "What's the matter, my child?" She met +his glance furtively, as if afraid that he was angry; plainly she was +ashamed of her panic. Her eyes were now collected, her brow cleared, +and the tension of her arms relaxed. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing is the matter," she said in a low voice. "I will stay here." +She was shaking still; she held herself with both her hands, and shook +the more. +</P> + +<P> +"I think that you are knocked over by the heat and all the rest of your +troubles," said Manvers, "and I don't wonder. Repose yourself +here—eat—drink. Don't spare the victuals, I beg. And as for you, my +brother, I invite you too to eat what you please. And I place this +young lady in your charge. Don't forget that. She's had a fright, and +good reason for it; she's been hurt. I leave her in your care with +every confidence that you will protect her." +</P> + +<P> +Every word spoken was absorbed by Estéban with immense relish. The +words pleased him, to begin with, by their Spanish ring. Manvers had +been pleased himself. It was the longest speech he had yet made in +Castilian; but he had no notion, of course, how exquisitely apposite to +the situation they were. +</P> + +<P> +Estéban became superb. He rose to the height of the argument, and to +that of his inches, took off his old hat and held it out the length of +his arm. "Let the lady fear nothing, seńor caballero of my soul. I +engage the honour of a gentleman that she shall have every +consideration at my hands which her virtues merit. No more"—he looked +at the sullen beauty between him and the Englishman—"No more, for that +would be idolatrous; and no less, for that would be injustice. <I>Vaya, +seńor caballero, vaya V<SUP>d</SUP> con Dios</I>." Manvers nodded and strolled +away. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A SPANISH CHAPTER +</H4> + +<P> +His removal snapped a chain. These two persons became themselves. +</P> + +<P> +Manuela with eyes ablaze strode over to Estéban. "Well," she said. +"You have found me. What is your pleasure?" +</P> + +<P> +He sat very still on his donkey, watching her. He rolled himself a +cigarette, still watching, and as he lighted it, looked at her over the +flame. +</P> + +<P> +"Speak, Estéban," she said, quivering; but he took two luxurious +inhalations first, discharged in dense columns through his nose. Then +he said, breathing smoke, "I have come to kill you, Manuelita—from +Pobledo in a day and a half." +</P> + +<P> +She had folded her arms, and now nodded. "I know it. I have expected +you." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," said Estéban, inhaling enormously. He shot the smoke +upwards towards the light, where it floated and spread out in radiant +bars of blue. Manuela was tapping her foot. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I am here," she said. "I might have left you, but I have not. +Why don't you do what you intend?" +</P> + +<P> +"There is plenty of time," said Estéban, and continued to smoke. He +began to make another cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know why I chose to stay with you?" she asked him softly. "Do +you know, Estéban?" +</P> + +<P> +He raised his eyebrows. "Not at all." +</P> + +<P> +"It was because I had a bargain to make with you." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her inquiringly; but he shrugged. "It will be a hard +bargain for you, my girl," he told her. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you will agree to it," she said quickly, "seeing that of my +own will I have remained here. I will let you kill me as you +please—on a condition." +</P> + +<P> +"Name your condition," said Estéban. "I will only say now that it is +my wish to strangle you with my hands." +</P> + +<P> +She put both hers to her throat. "Good," she said. "That shall be +your affair. But let the caballero go free. He has done you no harm." +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary," said Estéban, "I shall certainly kill him when he +returns. Have no doubt of that. Then I shall have his horse." +</P> + +<P> +Immediately, without fear, she went up to him where he sat his donkey. +She saw the knife in his <I>faja</I>, but had no fear at all. She came +quite close to him, with an ardent face, with eyes alight. She +stretched out her arms like a man on a cross. +</P> + +<P> +"Kill, kill, Estéban! But listen first. You shall spare that +gentleman's life, for he has done you no wrong." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed her down. "Wrong! And you come to me to swear that on the +Cross of Christ? Daughter of swine, you lie." +</P> + +<P> +Tears were in her eyes, which made her blink and shake her head—but +she came closer yet in a passion of entreaty. She was so close that +her bosom touched him. "Kill, Estéban, kill—but love me first!" Her +arms were about him now, as if she must have love of him or die. +"Estéban, Estéban!" she was whispering as if she hungered and thirsted +for him. He shivered at a memory. "Love me once, love me once, +Estéban!" Closer and closer she clung to him; her eyes implored a kiss. +</P> + +<P> +"Loose me, you jade," he said, less sharply, but she clove the closer +to him, and one hand crept downwards from his shoulder, as if she would +embrace him by the middle. "Too late, Manuelita, too late," he said +again, but he was plainly softening. She drew his face towards hers as +if to kiss him, then whipped the long knife out of his girdle and drove +it with all her sobbing force into his neck. Estéban uttered a thick +groan, threw his head up and rocked twice. Then his head dropped, and +he fell sideways off his donkey. +</P> + +<P> +She stood staring at what she had done. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE SLEEPER AWAKENED +</H4> + +<P> +Manvers returned whistling from his bath, at peace with all the world +of Spain, in a large mood of benevolence and charitable judgment. His +mind dwelt pleasantly on Manuela, but pity mixed with his thought; and +he added some prudence on his own account. "That child—she's no +more—I must do something for her. Not a bad 'un, I'll swear, not +fundamentally bad. I don't doubt her as I doubt the male: he's too +glib by half... She's distractingly pretty—what nectarine colour! +The mouth of a child—that droop at the corners—and as soft as a +child's too." He shook his head. "No more kissing or I shall be in a +mess." +</P> + +<P> +When he reached his tree and his luncheon, to find his companions gone, +he was a little taken aback. His genial proposals were suddenly +chilled. "Queer couple—I had a notion that they knew something of +each other. So they've made a match of it." +</P> + +<P> +Then he saw a brass crucifix lying in the middle of his plate. +"Hulloa!" He stooped to pick it up. It was still warm. He smiled and +felt a glow come back. "Now that's charming of her. That's a pretty +touch—from a pretty girl. She's no baggage, depend upon it." The +string had plainly hung the thing round her neck, the warmth was that +of her bosom. He held it tenderly while he turned it about. "I'll +warrant now, that was all she had upon her. Not a maravedi beside. I +know it's the last thing to leave 'em. I'm repaid, more than repaid. +I'll wear you for a bit, my friend, if you won't scorch a heretic." +Here he slipped the string over his head, and dropped the cross within +his collar. "I'll treat you to a chain in Valladolid," was his final +thought before he consigned Manuela to his cabinet of memories. +</P> + +<P> +He poured and drank, hacked at his ham-bone and ate. "By the Lord," he +went on commenting, "they've not had bite or sup. Too busy with their +match-making? Too delicate to feast without invitation? Which?" He +pondered the puzzle. He had invited Manuela, he was sure: had he +included her swain? If not, the thing was clear. She wouldn't eat +without him, and he couldn't eat without his host. It was the best +thing he knew of Estéban. +</P> + +<P> +He finished his meal, filled and lit a pipe, smoked half of it +drowsily, then lay and slept. Nothing disturbed his three hours' rest, +not even the gathering cloud of flies, whose droning over a +neighbouring thicket must have kept awake a lighter sleeper. But +Manvers was so fast that he did not hear footsteps in the wood, nor the +sound of picking in the peaty ground. +</P> + +<P> +It was four o'clock and more when he awoke, sat up and looked at his +watch. Yawning and stretching at ease, he then became aware of a +friar, with a brown shaven head and fine black beard, who was digging +near by. This man, whose eyes had been upon him, waiting for +recognition, immediately stopped his toil, struck his spade into the +ground, and came towards him, bowing as he came. +</P> + +<P> +"Good evening, seńor caballero," he said. "I am Fray Juan de la Cruz, +at your service; from the convent of N. S. de la Peńa near by. I have +to be my own grave-digger; but will you be so obliging as to commit the +body while I read the office?" +</P> + +<P> +To this abrupt invitation Manvers could only reply by staring. Fray +Juan apologised. +</P> + +<P> +"I imagined that you had perceived my business," he said, "which truly +is none of yours. It will be an act of charity on your part—therefore +its own reward." +</P> + +<P> +"May I ask you," said Manvers, now on his feet, "what, or whom, you are +burying?" +</P> + +<P> +"Come," the friar replied. "I will show you the body." Manvers +followed him into the thicket. +</P> + +<P> +"Good God, what's this?" The staring light eyes of Estéban Vincaz had +no reply for him. He had to turn away, sick at the sight. +</P> + +<P> +Fray Juan de la Cruz told him what he knew. A young girl, riding an +ass, had come to the church of the convent, where he happened to be, +cleaning the sanctuary. The Reverend Prior was absent, the brothers +were afield. She was in haste, she said, and the matter would not +allow of delay. She reported that she had killed a man in the wood of +La Huerca, to save the life of a gentleman who had been kind to her, +who had, indeed, but recently imperilled his own for hers. "If you +doubt me," she had said, "go to the forest, to such and such a part. +There you will find the gentleman asleep. He has a crucifix of mine. +The dead man lies not far away, with his own knife near him, with which +I killed him. Now," she had said, "I trust you to report all I have +said to that gentleman, for I must be off." +</P> + +<P> +"Good God!" said Manvers again. +</P> + +<P> +"God indeed is the only good," said Fray Juan, "and His ways past +finding out. But I have no reason to doubt this girl's story. She +told me, moreover, the name of the man—or his names, as you may say." +</P> + +<P> +"Had he more than one then?" Manvers asked him, but without interest. +The dead was nothing to him, but the deed was much. This wild girl, +who had been sleek and kissing but a few hours before, now stood robed +in tragic weeds, fell purpose in her green eyes! And her child's +mouth—stretched to murder! And her youth—hardy enough to stab! +</P> + +<P> +"The unfortunate young man," said Fray Juan, "was the son of a more +unfortunate father; but the name that he used was not that of his +house. His father, it seems——" but Manvers stopped him. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me—I don't care about his father or his names. Tell me +anything more that the girl had to say." +</P> + +<P> +"I have told you everything, seńor caballero," said Fray Juan; "and I +will only add that you are not to suppose that I am violating the +confidences of God. Far from that. She made no confession in the true +sense, though she promised me that she would not fail to do so at the +earliest moment. I had it urgently from herself that I should seek you +out with her tale, and rehearse it to you. In justice to her, I am now +to ask you if it is true, so far as you are concerned in it?" +</P> + +<P> +Manvers replied, "It's perfectly true. I found her in bad company at +Palencia; a pack of ruffians was about her, and she might have been +killed. I got her out of their hands, knocked about and wounded, and +brought her so far on the road to the first convent I could come at. +That poor devil there overtook us about a league from the wood. She +had nothing to say to him, nor he to her, but I remember noticing that +she didn't seem happy after he had joined us. He had been her lover, I +suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"She gave me to understand that," said Fray Juan gravely. Manvers here +started at a memory. +</P> + +<P> +"By the Lord," he cried, "I'll tell you something. When we got to the +wood I wanted to bathe in the river, and was going to leave those two +together. Well, she was in a taking about that. She wanted to come +with me—there was something of a scene." He recalled her terror, and +Estéban's snarling lip. "I might have saved all this—but how was I to +know? I blame myself. But what puzzles me still is why the man should +have wanted my life. Can you explain that?" +</P> + +<P> +Fray Juan was discreet. "Robbery," he suggested, but Manvers laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"I travel light," he said. "He must have seen that I was not his game. +No, no," he shook his head. "It couldn't have been robbery." +</P> + +<P> +Fray Juan, I say, was discreet; and it was no business of his.... But +it was certainly in his mind to say that Estéban need not have been the +robber, nor Manvers' portmanteau the booty. However, he was silent, +until the Englishman muttered, "God in Heaven, what a country!" and +then he took up his parable. +</P> + +<P> +"All countries are very much the same, as I take it, since God made +them all together, and put man up to be the master of them, and took +the woman out of his side to be his blessing and curse at once. The +place whence she was taken, they say, can never fully be healed until +she is restored to it; and when that is done, it is not a certain cure. +Such being the plan of this world, it does not become us to quarrel +with its manifestations here or there. Seńor caballero, if you are +ready I will proceed. Assistance at the feet, a handful of earth at +the proper moment are all I shall ask of you." He slipped a surplice +over his head. The office was said. +</P> + +<P> +"Fray Juan," said Manvers at the end, "will you take this trifle from +me? A mass, I suppose, for that poor devil's soul would not come +amiss." +</P> + +<P> +Fray Juan took that as a sign of grace, and was glad that he had held +his tongue. "Far from it," he said, "it would be extremely proper. It +shall be offered, I promise you." +</P> + +<P> +"Now," said Manvers after a pause, "I wonder if you can tell me this. +Which way did she go off?" +</P> + +<P> +Fray Juan shook his head. "No lo sé. She came to me in the church, +and spoke, and passed like the angel of death. May she go with God!" +</P> + +<P> +"I hope so," said Manvers. Then he looked into the placid face of the +brown friar. "But I must find her somehow." Upon that addition he +shut his mouth with a snap. The survey which he had to endure from +Fray Juan's patient eyes was the best answer to it. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but I must, you know," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Better not, my son," said Fray Juan. "It seems to me that you have +seen enough. Your motives will be misunderstood." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers laughed. "They are rather obscure to me—but I can't let her +pay for my fault." +</P> + +<P> +"You may make her pay double," said Fray Juan. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Manvers decisively, "I won't. It's my turn to pay now." +</P> + +<P> +The Friar shrugged. "It is usually the woman who pays. But <I>lo que ha +de ser</I>...!" +</P> + +<P> +The everlasting phrase! "That proverb serves you well in Spain, Fray +Juan," said Manvers, who was in a staring fit. +</P> + +<P> +"It is all we have that matters. Other nations have to learn it; here +we know it." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers mounted his horse and stooping from the saddle, offered his +hand. "Adios, Fray Juan." +</P> + +<P> +"Vaya V<SUP>d</SUP> con Dios!" said the friar, and watched him away. +"Pobrecita!" he said to himself—"unhappy Manuela!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +REFLECTIONS OF AN ENGLISHMAN +</H4> + +<P> +But Manvers was well upon his way, riding with squared jaw, with rein +and spur towards Valladolid. He neither whistled nor chanted to the +air; he was <I>vacuus viator</I> no longer, travelled not for pleasure but +to get over the leagues. For him this country of distances and great +air was not Castile, but Broceliande; a land of enchantments and pain. +He was no longer fancy-free, but bound to a quest. +</P> + +<P> +Consider the issues of this day of his. From bathing in pastoral he +had been suddenly soused into tragedy's seething-pot. His idyll of the +tanned gipsy, with her glancing eyes and warm lips, had been spattered +out with a brushful of blood; the scene was changed from sunny life to +wan death. Here were the staring eyes of a dead man, and his mouth +twisted awry in its last agony. He could not away with the shock, nor +divest himself of a share in it. If he, by mischance, had taken up +with Manuela, he had taken up with Estéban too. +</P> + +<P> +The vanished players in the drama loomed in his mind larger for that +fateful last act. The tragic sock and the mask enhanced them. What +mystery lay behind Manuela's sidelong eyes? What sin or suffering? +What knowledge, how gained, justified Estéban's wizened saws? These +two were wise before their time; when they ought to have been flirting +on the brink of life, here they were, breasting the great flood, +familiar with death, hating and stabbing! +</P> + +<P> +A pretty child with a knife in her hand; and a boy murdered—what a +country! And where stood he, Manvers, the squire of Somerset, with his +thirty years, his University education and his seat on the bench? +Exactly level with the curate, to be counted on for an archery meeting! +Well enough for diversion; but when serious affairs were on hand, sent +out of the way. Was it not so, that he, as the child of the party, was +dismissed to bathe while his elders fought out their deadly quarrel? I +put it in the interrogative; but he himself smarted under the answer to +it, and although he never formulated the thought, and made no plans, +and could make none, I have no doubt but that his wounded self-esteem, +seeking a salve, found it in the assurance that he would protect +Manuela from the consequences of her desperate act; that his protection +was his duty and her need. The English mind works that way; we cannot +endure a breath upon our fair surface. We must direct the operations +of this world, or the devil's in it. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers was not, of course, in love with Manuela. He was sentimentally +engaged in her affairs, and very sure that they were, and must be, his +own. Yet I don't know whether the waking dream which he had upon the +summit of that plateau of brown rock which bounds Valladolid upon the +north was the cause or consequence of his implication. +</P> + +<P> +He had climbed this sharp ridge because a track wavered up it which cut +off some miles of the road. It was not easy going by any means, but +the view rewarded him. The land stretched away to the four quarters of +the compass and disappeared into a copper-brown haze. He stood well +above the plain, which seemed infinite. Corn-land and waste, river-bed +and moor, were laid out below him as in a geographer's model. He +thought that he stood up there apart, contemplating time and existence. +He was indeed upon the convex of the world, projecting from it into +illimitable space, consciously sharing its mighty surge. +</P> + +<P> +This did not belittle him. On the contrary, he felt something of the +helmsman's pride, something of the captain's on the bridge. He was +driving the world. He soared, perched up there, apart from men and +their concerns. All Spain lay at his feet; he marked the way it must +go. It was possible for him now to watch a man crawl, like a maggot, +from his cradle, and urge a painful way to his grave. And, to his +exalted eye, from cradle to grave was but a span's length. +</P> + +<P> +From such sublime investigation it was but a step to sublimity itself. +His soul seemed separate from his body; he was dispassionate, +superhuman, all-seeing and all-comprehending. Now he could see men as +winged ants, crossing each other, nearing, drifting apart, +interweaving, floating in a cloud, blown high, blown low by wafts of +air; and here, presently, came one Manvers, and there, driven by a +gust, went another, Manuela. +</P> + +<P> +At these two insects, as one follows idly one gull out of a flock, he +could look with interest, and without emotion. He saw them drift, +touch and part, and each be blown its way, helpless mote in the dust of +the great plain. From one to the other he turned his eyes. The +Manvers gnat flew the straighter course, holding to an upper current; +the Manuela wavered, but tended ever to a lower plane. The wind from +the mountains of Asturias freshened and blew over him. In a singular +moment of divination he saw the two insects of his vision caught in the +draught and whirled together again. A spiral flight upwards was begun; +in ever-narrowing circles they climbed, bid fair to soar. They reached +a steadier stream, they sped along together; but then, as a gust took +them, they dipped below it and steadily declined, wavering, whirling +about each other. Down and down they went, until they were lost to his +eye in the dust of heat. He saw them no more. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers came to himself, and shook his senses back into his head. The +sun was sinking over Portugal, the evening wind was chill. Had he been +dreaming? What sense of fate was upon him? "Come up, Rosinante, take +me out of the cave of Montesinos." He guided his horse in and out of +the boulder-strewn track to the edge of the plateau; and there before +him, many leagues away, like a patch of whitewash splodged down upon a +blue field, lay Valladolid, the city of burning and pride. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-104"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-104.jpg" ALT="Upon a blue field lay Valladolid." BORDER="2" WIDTH="672" HEIGHT="496"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 672px"> +The towers of Segovia. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A VISIT TO THE JEWELLER'S +</H4> + +<P> +If God in His majesty made the Spains and the nations which people +them, perhaps it was His mercy that convoked the Spanish cities—as His +servant Philip piled rock upon rock and called it Madrid—and made +cess-pits for the cleansing of the country. +</P> + +<P> +Behold the Castilian, the Valencian, the Murcian on his glebe, you find +an exact relation established; the one exhales the other. The man is +what his country is, tragic, hag-ridden, yet impassive, patient under +the sun. He stands for the natural verities. You cannot change him, +move, nor hurt him. He can earn neither your praises nor reproach. As +well might you blame the staring noon of summer or throw a kind word to +the everlasting hills. The bleak pride of the Castillano, the flint +and steel of Aragon, the languor which veils Andalusian +fire—travelling the lands which gave them birth, you find them scored +in large over mountain and plain and riverbed, and bitten deep into the +hearts of the indwellers. They are as seasonable there as the flowers +of waste places, and will charm you as much. So Spanish travel is one +of the restful relaxations, because nothing jars upon you. You feel +that you are assisting a destiny, not breaking it. Not discovery is +before you so much as realisation. +</P> + +<P> +But in the city Spanish blood festers, and all that seemed plausible in +the open air is now monstrous, full of vice and despair. Whereas, +outside, the man stood like a rock, and let Fate seam or bleach him +bare; here, within walls, he rages, shows his teeth, blasphemes, or +sinks into sloth. You will find him heaped against the walls like +ordure, hear him howl for blood in the bull-ring, appraise women, as if +they were dainties, in the <I>alamedas</I>, loaf, scratch, pry where none +should pry, go begging with his sores, trade his own soul for his +mother's. His pride becomes insolence, his tragedy hideous revolt, his +impassivity swinish, his rock of sufficiency a rook of offence. God in +His mercy, or the Devil in his despite, made the cities of Spain. +</P> + +<P> +And yet the man, so superbly at his ease in his enormous spaces, is his +own conclusion when he goes to town; the permutation is logical. He is +too strong a thing to break his nature; it will be aggravated but not +deflected. Leave him to swarm in the <I>plaza</I> and seek his nobler +brother. Go out by the gate, descend the winding suburb, which gives +you the burnt plains and far blue hills, now on one hand, now on the +other, as you circle down and down, with the walls mounting as you +fall; touch once more the dusty earth, traverse the deep shade of the +ilex-avenue; greet the ox-teams, the filing mules, as they creep up the +hill to the town: you are bound for their true, great Spain. And +though it may be ten days since you saw it, or fifty years, you will +find nothing altered. The Spaniard is still the flower of his rocks. +<I>O dura tellus Iberiae</I>! +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +From the window of his garret Don Luis Ramonez de Alavia could overlook +the town wall, and by craning his neck out sideways could have seen, if +he had a mind, the cornice-angle of the palace of his race. It was a +barrack in these days, and had been so since ruin had settled down on +the Ramonez with the rest of Valladolid. That had been in the +sixteenth century, but no Ramonez had made any effort to repair it. +Every one of them did as Don Luis was doing now, and accepted misery in +true Spanish fashion. Not only did he never speak of it, he never +thought of it either. It was; therefore it had to be. +</P> + +<P> +He rose at dawn, every day of his life, and took his sop in coffee in +his bedgown, sitting on the edge of his bed. He heard mass in the +Church of Las Angustias, in the same chapel at the same hour. Once a +month he communicated, and then the sop was omitted. He was shaved in +the barber's shop—Gomez the Sevillian kept it—at the corner of the +<I>plaza</I>. Gomez, the little dapper, black-eyed man, was a friend of +his, his newspaper and his doctor. +</P> + +<P> +He took a high line with Gomez, as you may when you owe a man twopence +a week. +</P> + +<P> +That over, he took the sun in the <I>plaza</I>, up and down the centre line +of flags in fine weather, up and down the arcade if it rained. He saw +the <I>diligence</I> from Madrid come in, he saw the <I>diligence</I> for Madrid +go out. He knew, and accepted the salutes of every <I>arriero</I> who +worked in and out of the city, and passed the time of day with Micael +the lame water-seller, who never failed to salute him. +</P> + +<P> +At noon he ate an onion and a piece of cheese, and then he dozed till +three. As the clock of the University struck that hour he put on his +<I>capa</I>—summer and winter he wore it, with melancholy and good reason; +by ten minutes past he was entering the shop of Sebastian the +goldsmith, in the Plaza San Benito, in the which he sat till dusk, +motionless and absorbed in thought, talking little, seeming to observe +little, and yet judging everything in the light of strong common sense. +</P> + +<P> +Summer or winter, at dusk he arose, flecked a mote or two of dust from +his <I>capa</I>, seated his beaver upon his grey head, grasped his malacca, +and departed with a "Be with God, my friend." To this Sebastian the +goldsmith invariably replied, "At the feet of your grace, Don Luis." +</P> + +<P> +He supped sparingly, and the last act of his day was his one act of +luxury; his cup of chocolate or glass of <I>agraz</I>, according to season, +at the Café de la Luna in the Plaza Mayor. This was his title to table +and chair, and the respect of all Valladolid from dusk until nine—on +the last stroke of which, saluting the company, who rose almost to a +man, he retired to his garret and thin bed. +</P> + +<P> +Pepe, the head waiter at the Luna, who had been there for thirty years, +Gomez the barber, who was sixty-three and looked forty, Sebastian the +goldsmith, well over middle age, and the old priest of Las Angustias, +who had confessed him every Friday and said mass at the same altar +every morning since his ordination (God knows how long ago), would have +testified to the fact that Don Luis had never once varied his daily +habits within time of memory. +</P> + +<P> +They would have been wrong, of course, like all clean sweepers; for in +addition to his inheritance of ruin, misfortunes had graved him deeply. +Valladolid knew it well. His wife had left him, his son had gone to +the devil. He bore the first blow like a stoic, not moving a muscle +nor varying a habit: the second sent him on a journey. The barber, the +water-seller, Pepe the waiter, Sebastian the deft were troubled about +him for a week or more. He came back, and hid his wound, speaking to +no one of it; and no one dared to pity him. And although he resumed +his routine and was outwardly the same man, we may trace to that last +stroke of Fortune the wasted splendour of his eyes, the look of a dying +stag, which, once seen, haunted the observer. He was extraordinarily +handsome, except for his narrow shoulders and hollow eyes, flawlessly +clean in person and dress; a tall, straight, hawk-nosed, sallow +gentleman. The Archbishop of Toledo was his first cousin, a cadet of +his house. He was entitled to wear his hat in the presence of the +Queen, and he lived upon fivepence a day. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Manvers, reaching Valladolid in the evening, reposed himself for a day +or two, and recovered from his shock. He saw the sights, conversed +with affability with all and sundry, drank <I>agraz</I> in the Café de la +Luna. He must have beamed without knowing it upon Don Luis, for his +brisk appearance, twisted smile and abrupt manner were familiar to that +watchful gentleman by the time that, sweeping aside the curtain like a +buffet of wind, he entered the goldsmith's shop in the Plaza San +Benito. He came in a little before twilight one afternoon, holding by +a string in one hand some swinging object, taking off his hat with the +other as soon as he was past the curtain of the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you," he said to Sebastian, in very fair Spanish, "take up a job +for me a little out of the common?" As he spoke he swung the object +into the air, caught it and enclosed it with his hand. Don Luis, in a +dark corner of the shop, sat back in his accustomed chair, and watched +him. He sat very still, a picture of mournful interest, shrouding his +mouth in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +Sebastian, first master of his craft in a city of goldsmiths, was far +too much the gentleman to imply that any command of his customer need +not be extraordinary. Bowing with gravity, and adjusting the glasses +upon his fine nose, he replied that when he understood the nature of +the business he should be better instructed for his answer. Thereupon +Manvers opened his hand and passed over the counter a brass crucifix. +</P> + +<P> +It is difficult to disturb the self-possession of a gentleman of Spain; +Sebastian did not betray by a twitch what his feelings or thoughts may +have been. He gravely scrutinised the battered cross, back and front, +was polite enough to ignore the greasy string, and handed it back +without a single word. It may have been worth half a <I>real</I>; to watch +his treatment of it was cheap at a dollar. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers, however, flushed with annoyance, and spoke somewhat loftily. +"Am I to understand that you will, or will not oblige me?" +</P> + +<P> +Sebastian temperately replied, "You are to understand, seńor caballero, +that I am at your disposition, but also that I do not yet know what you +wish me to do." Manvers laughed, and the air was clearer. +</P> + +<P> +"A thousand pardons," he said, "a thousand pardons for my stupidity. I +can tell you in two minutes what I want done with this thing." He held +it in the flat of his hand, and looked from it to the jeweller, as he +succinctly explained his wishes. +</P> + +<P> +"I want you," he said, "to encase this cross completely, in thin gold +plates." Conscious of Sebastian's portentous gravity, perhaps of Don +Luis in his dark corner, he showed himself a little self-conscious also +and added, "It's a curious desire of mine, I know, but there's a reason +for it, which is neither here nor there. Make for me then," he went +on, "of thin gold plates, a matrix to hold this cross. It must have a +lid, also, which shall open upon hinges, here—" he indicated the +precise points—"and close with a clasp, here. Let the string also be +encased in gold. I don't know how you will do it—that is a matter for +your skill; but I wish the string to remain where it is, intact, within +a gold covering. This casing should be pliable, so that the cross +could hang, if necessary, round the neck of a person—as it used to +hang. Do I make myself understood?" +</P> + +<P> +The Castilians are not a curious people, but this commission did +undoubtedly interest Sebastian the jeweller. Professionally speaking, +it was a delicate piece of work; humanly, could have but one +explanation. So, at least, he judged. +</P> + +<P> +What Don Luis may have thought of it, there's no telling. If you had +watched him closely you would have seen the pupils of his eyes dilate, +and then contract—just like those of a caged owl, when he becomes +aware of a mouse circling round him. +</P> + +<P> +But while Don Luis could be absorbed in the human problem, it was not +so with his friend. Points of detail engaged him in a series of +suggestions which threatened to be prolonged, and which maddened the +Englishman. Was the outline of the cross to be maintained in the +casing? Undoubtedly it was, otherwise you might as well hang a +card-case round your neck! The hinges, now—might they not better be +here, and here, than there, and there? Manvers was indifferent as to +the hinges. The fastening? Let the fastening be one which could be +snapped-to, and open upon a spring. The chain—ah, there was some +nicety required for that. From his point of view, Sebastian said, with +the light of enthusiasm irradiating his face, that that was the cream +of the job. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers, wishing to get out of the shop, begged him to do the best he +could, and turned to go. At the door he stopped short and came back. +There was one thing more. Inside the lid of the case, in the centre of +the cross, he wished to have engraved the capital letter M, and below +that a date—12 May, 1861. That was really all, except that he was +staying at the Parador de las Diligencias, and would call in a week's +time. He left his card—Mr. Osmund Manvers, Filcote Hall, Taunton; +Oxford and Cambridge Club—elegantly engraved. And then he departed, +with a jerky salute to Don Luis, grave in his corner. +</P> + +<P> +That card, after many turns back and face, was handed to Don Luis for +inspection, while Sebastian looked to him for light over the rim of his +spectacles. +</P> + +<P> +"M for Manvers," he said presently, since Don Luis returned the card +without comment. "That is probable, I imagine." +</P> + +<P> +"It is possible," said Don Luis with his grand air of indifference. +"With an Englishman anything is possible." +</P> + +<P> +Sebastian did not pretend to be indifferent. He hummed an air, and +played it out with his fingers on the counter as he thought. Then he +flashed into life. "The twelfth of May! That is just a week ago. I +have it, Seńor Don Luis! Hear my explanation. This thing of nought +was presented to the gentleman upon his birthday—the twelfth of May. +The giver was poor, or he would have made a more considerable present; +and he was very dear to the gentleman, or he would not have dared to +present such a thing. Nor would the gentleman, I think, have treated +it so handsomely. Handsomely!" He made a rapid calculation. "<I>Ah, +que</I>! He is paying its weight in gold." Now—this was in his air of +triumph—<I>now</I> what had Don Luis to say? +</P> + +<P> +That weary but unbowed antagonist of hunger and despair, after +shrugging his shoulders, considered the matter, while Sebastian waited. +"Why do you suppose," he asked at length, "that the giver of this thing +was a man?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not suppose it," cried Sebastian. "I never did suppose it. The +cross has been worn"—he passed his finger over its smooth back—"and +recently worn. Men do not carry such things about them, unless they +are——" +</P> + +<P> +"What this gentleman is," said Don Luis. "A woman gave him this. A +wench." +</P> + +<P> +Sebastian bowed, and with sparkling eyes re-adjusted his inferences. +</P> + +<P> +"That being admitted, we are brought a little further. M does not +stand for Manvers—for what gentleman would give himself the trouble to +engrave his own name upon a cross? It is the initial of the giver's +name—and observe. Seńor Don Luis, he is very familiar with her, since +he knows her but by one." He looked through his shop window to the +light, as he began a catalogue. +"Maria—Mariquita—Maritornes—Margarita— +Mariana—Mercedes—Miguela——" He stopped short, and his eyes +encountered those of his friend, fast upon him, ominous and absorbing. +He showed a certain confusion. "Any one of these names, it might be, +Seńor Don Luis." +</P> + +<P> +"Or Manuela," said the other, still regarding him steadily. +</P> + +<P> +"Or Manuela—true," said Sebastian with a bow, and a perceptible +deepening of colour. +</P> + +<P> +"In any case—" Don Luis rose, removed a speck of dust from his <I>capa</I>, +and adjusted his beaver—"In any case, my friend, we may assume the +12th of May to be our gentleman's birthday. <I>Adios, hermano</I>." +</P> + +<P> +Sebastian was about to utter his usual ceremonial assurance, when a +thought drove it out of his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Stay, stay a moment, Don Luis of my soul!" He snapped his fingers +together in his excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Ah, que</I>!" muttered Don Luis, who had his hand upon the latch. +</P> + +<P> +"A birthday—what is it? A thing of every year. Is he likely to +receive a brass crucifix worth two maravedis every year, and every year +to sheathe it in gold? Never! This marks a solemnity—a great +solemnity. Listen, I will tell you. It marks the end of a liaison. +She has left him—but tenderly; or he has left her—but regretfully. +It becomes a touching affair. Do you not agree with me?" +</P> + +<P> +Don Luis raised his eyebrows. "I have no means of agreeing with you, +Sebastian. It may mark the end of a story—or the beginning. Who +knows?" He threw out his arms and let them drop. "Seńor God, who +cares?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +FURTHER EPISODES IN THE LIFE OF DON LUIS RAMONEZ +</H4> + +<P> +Goldsmithing is the art of Valladolid, and Sebastian was its master. +That was the opinion of the mystery, and his own opinion. He never +concealed it; but he had now to confess that Manvers had given him a +task worthy of his powers. To cut out and rivet the links of the +chain, which was to sheathe a piece of string and leave it all its +pliancy—"I tell you, Don Luis of my soul," he said, peering up from +his board, "there is no man in our mystery who could cope with it—and +very few frail ladies who could be worthy of it." Don Luis added that +there could be few young men who could be capable of commanding it; but +Sebastian had now conceived an admiration for his client. +</P> + +<P> +"Fantasia, vaya! The English have the hearts of poets in the bodies of +beeves. Did your grace ever hear of Dońa Juanita—who in the French +war ran half over Andalusia in pursuit of an Englishman? I heard my +father tell the tale. Not his person claimed her, but his heart of a +poet. Well, he married her, and from camp to camp she trailed after +him, while he helped our nation beat Bonaparte. But one day they +received the hospitality of a certain hidalgo, and had removed many +leagues from him by the next night, when they camped beside a river. +Dinner was eaten in the tents, and dessert served up in a fine bowl. +'Sola!' says the Englishman, 'that bowl—it is not ours, my heart?' +'No,' says Juanita, 'it is the hidalgo's, and was packed with our +furniture in the hurry of departing.' 'Por dios!' says the Englishman, +'it must be returned to him.' But how? He could not go himself, for +at that moment there entered an alguazil with news of the enemy. What +then? 'Juanita will go,' says the Englishman, and went out, buckling +his sword. Seńor Don Luis, she went, on horseback, all those leagues, +beset with foes, in the night, and rendered back the bowl. I tell you, +the hearts of poets!" +</P> + +<P> +Don Luis, who had been nodding his high approval, now stared. "<I>Ah, +que</I>! But the poet was Dońa Juanita, it seems to me," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me, dear sir, not at all. Our Spanish ladies are not fond of +travel. It was the Englishman who inspired her. He was a poet with a +vision. In his vision he saw her going. Safely then, he could say, +she will go, because he, to whom time was nothing, saw her in the act. +He did not give directions—he went out to engage the enemy. Then she +went—vaya!" +</P> + +<P> +"You may be sure," Sebastian went on, "that my client is a poet and a +fine fellow. You may be sure that the gift of this trifle has touched +his heart. It was not given lightly. The measure of his care is the +measure of its worth in his eyes." +</P> + +<P> +Don Luis allowed the possibility, by raising his eyebrows and tilting +his head sideways; a shrug with an accent, as it were. Then he allowed +Sebastian to clinch his argument by saying that the Englishman seemed +to be getting the better of his emotion; for here was a week, said he, +and he had not once been into the shop to inquire for his relic. +Sebastian was down upon the admission. "What did I tell you, my +friend? Is not that the precise action of our Englishman who said, +'Juanita will ride,' and went out and left her at the table? Precisely +the same! And Juanita rode—and I, by God, have wrought at the work he +gave me to do, and finished it. Vaya, Don Luis, it is not amiss." +</P> + +<P> +It had to be confessed that it was not; and Manvers calling one morning +later was as warm in his praises as his Spanish and his temperament +would admit. He paid the bill without demur. +</P> + +<P> +Sebastian, though he was curious, was discreet. Don Luis, however, +thought proper to remark upon the crucifix, when he chanced to meet its +owner in the Church of Las Angustias. +</P> + +<P> +That church contains a famous statue of Juan de Juni's, a <I>Mater +dolorosa</I> most tragic and memorable. Manvers, in his week's prowling +of the city, had come upon it by accident, and visited it more than +once. She sits, Our Lady of Sorrows, upon a rock, in her widow's +weeds, exhibiting a grief so intense that she may well have been made +larger than life, in order to support a misery which would crush a +mortal woman. It is so fine, this emblem of divine suffering, that it +obscures its tawdry surroundings, its pinchbeck tabernacle, gilding and +red paint. When she is carried in a <I>paso</I>, as whiles she is, no +spangled robe is put over her, no priest's vestment, no crown or veil. +Seven swords are driven into her bosom: she is unconscious of them. +Her wounds are within; but they call her in Valladolid Seńora de los +Chuchillos. +</P> + +<P> +It was in the presence of this august mourner that Manvers was found by +Don Luis Ramonez after mass. He had been present at the ceremony, but +not assisting, and had his crucifix open in the palm of his hand when +the other rose from his knees and saw him. +</P> + +<P> +After a moment's hesitation the old gentleman stayed till the +worshippers had departed, and then drew near to Manvers, and bowed +ceremoniously. +</P> + +<P> +"You will forgive me for remarking upon what you have in your hand, +seńor caballero," he said, "when I tell you that I was present, not +only at the commissioning of the work, but at its daily progress to the +perfection it now bears. My friend, Don Sebastian, had every reason to +be contented with his masterpiece. I am glad to learn from him that +you were no less satisfied." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers, who had immediately shut down his hand, now opened it. "Yes," +he said, "it's a beautiful piece of work. I am more than pleased." +</P> + +<P> +"It is a setting," said Don Luis, "which, in this country, we should +give to a relic of the True Cross." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers looked quickly up. "I know, I know. It must seem to you a +piece of extravagance on my part——; but there were reasons, good +reasons. I could hardly have done less." +</P> + +<P> +Don Luis bowed gravely, but said nothing. Manvers felt impelled to +further discussion. Had he been a Spaniard he would have left the +matter where it was; but he was not, so he went awkwardly on. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a queer story. For some reason or another I don't care to speak +of it. The person who gave me this trinket did me—or intended me—an +immense service, at a great cost." +</P> + +<P> +"She too," said Don Luis, looking at the Dolorosa, "may have had her +reasons." +</P> + +<P> +"It was a woman," said Manvers, with quickening colour, "I see no harm +in saying so. I was going to tell you that she believed herself +indebted to me for some trifling attention I had been able to show her +previously. That is how I explain her giving me the crucifix. It was +her way of thanking me—a pretty way. I was touched." +</P> + +<P> +Don Luis waved his hand. "It is very evident, seńor caballero. Your +way of recording it is exemplary: her way, perhaps, was no less so." +</P> + +<P> +"You will think me of a sentimental race," Manvers laughed, "and I +won't deny it—but it's a fact that I was touched." +</P> + +<P> +Don Luis, who, throughout the conversation, had been turning the +crucifix about, now examined the inscription. He held it up to the +light that he might see it better. Manvers observed him, but did not +take the hint which was thus, rather bluntly, conveyed him. The case +once more in his breast-pocket, he saluted Don Luis and went his way. +</P> + +<P> +Shortly afterwards he left Valladolid on horseback. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps a week went by, perhaps ten days; and then Don Luis had a +visitor one night in the Café de la Luna, a mean-looking, pale and +harassed visitor with a close-cropped head, whose eyebrows flickered +like summer fires in the sky, who would not sit down, who kept his felt +hat rolled in his hands, whose deference was extreme, and accepted as a +matter of course. He was known in Valladolid, it seemed. Pepe knew +him, called him Tormillo. +</P> + +<P> +"A sus piés," was the burthen of his news so far, "a los piés de V<SUP>d</SUP>, +Seńor Don Luis." +</P> + +<P> +Don Luis took no sort of notice of him, but continued to smoke his +cigarette. He allowed the man to stand shuffling about for some three +minutes before he asked him what he wanted. +</P> + +<P> +That was exactly what Tormillo found it so difficult to explain. His +eyebrows ran up to hide in his hair, his hands crushed his hat into his +chest. "Quien sabe?" he gasped to the company, and Don Luis drained +his glass. +</P> + +<P> +Then he looked at the man. "Well, Tormillo?" +</P> + +<P> +Tormillo shifted his feet. "Ha!" he gasped, "who knows what the +seńores may be pleased to say? How am I to know? They ask for an +interview, a short interview in the light of the moon. Two caballeros +in the Campo Grande—ready to oblige your Excellency." +</P> + +<P> +"And who, pray, are these caballeros? And why do they stand in the +Campo?" Don Luis asked in his grandest manner. Tormillo wheedled in +his explanations. +</P> + +<P> +"That which they have to report, Seńor Don Luis," he began, craning +forward, whispering, grinning his extreme goodwill—"Oho! it is not +matter for the Café. It is matter for the moon, and the shade of +trees. And these caballeros——" +</P> + +<P> +Don Luis paid the hovering Pepe his shot, rose and threw his cloak over +his shoulder. "Follow me," he said, and, saluting the company, walked +into the <I>plaza</I>. He crossed it, and entered a narrow street, where +the overhanging houses make a perpetual shade. There he stopped. "Who +are these gentlemen?" he said abruptly. Tormillo seemed to be swimming. +</P> + +<P> +"Worthy men, Seńor Don Luis, worthy of confidence. To me they said +little; it is for your grace's ear. They have titles. They are +written across their foreheads. It is not for me to speak. Who am I, +Tormillo, but the slave of your nobility?" +</P> + +<P> +The more he prevaricated, the less Don Luis pursued him. Stiffening +his neck, shrouded in, his cloak, he now stalked stately from street to +street until he came to the Puerta del Carmen, through the battlements +of which the moon could be seen looking coldly upon Valladolid. He was +known to the gatekeeper, who bowed, and opened for him the wicket. +</P> + +<P> +The great space of the Campo Grande lay like a silver pool, traversed +only by the thin shadows of the trees. At the farther end of the +avenue, which leads directly from the gate, two men were standing close +together. Beyond them a little were two horses, one snuffing at the +bare earth, the other with his head thrown up, and ears pricked +forward. Don Luis turned sharply on his follower. +</P> + +<P> +"Guardia Civil?" +</P> + +<P> +"Si, seńor, si," whispered Tormillo, and his teeth clattered like +castanets. Don Luis went on without faltering, and did not stay until +he was within easy talking distance of the two men. Then it was that +he threw up his head, with a fine gesture of race, and acknowledged the +saluting pair. Tormillo, at this point, turned aside and stood +miserably under a tree, wringing his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Good evening to you, friends. I am Don Luis Ramonez, at your service." +</P> + +<P> +The pair looked at each other: presently one of them spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"At the feet of Seńor Don Luis." +</P> + +<P> +"Your business is pressing, and secret?" +</P> + +<P> +"Si, Seńor Don Luis, pressing, and secret, and serious. We have to ask +your grace to be prepared." +</P> + +<P> +"I thank you. My preparations are made already. Present your report." +</P> + +<P> +He took a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it with a steady hand. +The flame of the match showed his brows and deep-set eyes. If ever a +man had acquaintance with grief printed upon him, it was he. But +throughout the interview the glowing weed could be seen, a waxing and +waning rim of fire, lighting up his grey moustache and then hovering in +mid-air, motionless. +</P> + +<P> +The officer appointed to speak presented his report in these terms. +</P> + +<P> +"We were upon our round about the wood of La Huerca six days ago, and +had occasion to visit the Convent of La Peńa. Upon information +received from the Prior we questioned a certain religious, who admitted +that he had recently buried a man in the wood. After some hesitation, +which we had the means of overcoming, he conducted us to the grave. We +disinterred the deceased, who had been murdered. Seńor Don Luis——" +</P> + +<P> +"Proceed," said Don Luis coldly. "I am listening." +</P> + +<P> +"Sir," said the officer. "It was the body of a young man who had come +from Pobledo. He called himself Estéban Vincaz." Tormillo, under his +tree across the avenue, howled and rent himself. Don Luis heard him. +</P> + +<P> +"Precisely," he said to the officer. "Have the goodness to wait while +I silence that dog over there." He went rapidly over the roadway to +Tormillo, grasped him by the shoulder and spoke to him in a vehement +whisper. That was the single action by which he betrayed himself. He +returned to his interview. +</P> + +<P> +"I am now at leisure again. Let us resume our conversation. You +questioned the religious, you say? When did the assassination take +place?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don Luis, it was upon the twelfth of May." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah," said Don Luis, "the twelfth of May? And did he know who +committed it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Seńor Don Luis, it was a woman." +</P> + +<P> +The wasted eyes were upon the speaker, and made him nervous. He turned +away his head. But Don Luis continued his cross-examination. +</P> + +<P> +"She was a fair woman, I believe? A Valencian?" +</P> + +<P> +"Seńor, si," said the man. "Fair and false, a Valencian." +</P> + +<P> +Of Valencia they say, "<I>La carne es herba, la herba agua, el hombre +muger, la muger nada</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"Her name," said Don Luis, "began with M." +</P> + +<P> +"Seńor, si. It was Manuela, the dancing girl—called La Valenciana, La +Fierita, and a dozen other things. But, pardon me the liberty, your +worship had been informed?" +</P> + +<P> +"I knew something," said Don Luis, "and suspected something. I am much +obliged to you, my friends. Justice will be done. Good night to you." +He turned, touching the brim of his hat; but the man went after him. +</P> + +<P> +"A thousand pardons, seńor Don Luis, but we have our duty to the State." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" said Don Luis sharply. "Well, then, you had best set to work +upon it." +</P> + +<P> +"If your worship has any knowledge of the whereabouts of this woman——" +</P> + +<P> +"I have none," said Don Luis. "If I had I would impart it, and when I +have it shall be yours. Go now with God." +</P> + +<P> +He crossed the pathway of light, laid his hand on the shoulder of the +weeping Tormillo. "Come, I need you," he said. Tormillo crept after +him to his lodging, and the Guardias Civiles made themselves cigarettes. +</P> + +<P> +The following day a miracle was reported in Valladolid. Don Luis +Ramonez was not in his place in the Café de la Luna. Sebastian the +goldsmith, Gomez the pert barber, Pepe the waiter, Micael the +water-seller of the Plaza Mayor knew nothing of his whereabouts. The +old priest of Las Angustias might have told if his lips had not been +sealed. But in the course of the next morning it was noised about that +his Worship had left the city for Madrid, accompanied by a servant. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +GIL PEREZ DE SEGOVIA +</H4> + +<P> +Before he left Valladolid Manvers had sold his horse for what he could +get, and had taken the <I>diligencia</I> as far as Segovia. Not a restful +conveyance, the <I>diligencia</I> of Spain: therefore, in that wonderful +city of towers, silence, and guarded windows, he stayed a full week, in +order, as he put it, that his bones might have time to set. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-152"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-152.jpg" ALT="The towers of Segovia." BORDER="2" WIDTH="676" HEIGHT="514"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 676px"> +The towers of Segovia. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +There it was that he became the property of Gil Perez, who met him one +day on the doorstep of his hotel, saluted him with a flourish and said +in dashing English, "Good morning, Mister. I am the man for you. I +espeak English very good, Dutch, what you like. I show you my city; +you pleased—eh?" He had a merry brown face, half of a quiz and half +of a rogue, was well-dressed in black, wore his hat, which was now in +his hand, rather over one ear. Manvers met his saucy eyes for a +minute, saw anxiety behind their impudence, could not be angry, burst +into a laugh, and was heartily joined by Gil Perez. +</P> + +<P> +"That very good," said Gil. "You laugh, I very glad. That tell me is +all right." He immediately became serious. "I serve you well, sir, +there's no mistake. I am Gil Perez, too well known to the landlord of +this hotel. You see?" He showed his teeth, which were excellent, and +he had also, Manvers reflected, shown his hand, for what it was +worth—which argued a certain security. +</P> + +<P> +"Gil Perez," he said, on an impulse, "I shall take you at your word. +Do you wait where you are." He turned back into the inn and sought his +landlord, who was smoking a cigar in the kitchen while the maids +bustled about. From him he learned what there was to be known of Gil +Perez; that he was a native of Cadiz who had been valet to an English +officer at Gibraltar, followed him out to the Crimea, nursed him +through dysentery (of which he had died), and had then begged his way +home again to Spain. He had been in Segovia a year or two, acting as +guide or interpreter when he could, living on nothing a day mostly and +doing pretty well on it. +</P> + +<P> +"He has been in prison, I shall not conceal from your honour," said the +landlord. "He stabbed a man under the ribs because he had insulted the +English. Gil Perez loves your nation. He considers you to be the +natural protectors of the poor. He will serve you well, you may be +sure." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what he told me himself," said Manvers. +</P> + +<P> +The landlord rested his eyes—large, brown and solemn as those of an +ox—upon his guest. "He told you the truth, seńor. He will serve you +better than he would serve me. You will be his god." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope not," said Manvers, and went out to the door again. Gil Perez, +who had been smoking out in the sun, threw his <I>papelito</I> away, stood +at attention and saluted smartly. +</P> + +<P> +"What was the name of your English master?" Manvers asked him. Gil +replied at once. +</P> + +<P> +"'E call Capitan Rodney. Royalorse Artillery. 'E say 'Gunner.' 'E +was a gentleman, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure he was," said Manvers. +</P> + +<P> +"My master espeak very good Espanish. 'E say 'damn your eyes' all the +time; and call me 'Little devil' just the same. Ah," said Gil Perez, +shaking his head. "'E very good gentleman to me, sir—good master. I +loved 'im. 'E dead." For a minute he gazed wistfully at the sky; +then, as if to clinch the sad matter, he turned to Manvers. "I bury +'im all right," he said briskly, and nodded inward the fact. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers considered for a moment. "I'll give you," he said, and looked +at Gil keenly as he said it, "I'll give you one <I>peseta</I> a day." He +saw his eyes fade and grow blank, though the genial smile hovered still +on his lips. Then the light broke out upon him again. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, sir," he said. "I take, and thank you very much." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers said immediately, "I'll give you two," and Gil Perez accepted +the correction silently, with a bow. By the end of the day they were +on the footing of friends, but not without one short crossing of +swords. After dinner, when Manvers strolled to the door of the inn, he +found his guide waiting for him. Gil was in a confidential humour, it +seemed. +</P> + +<P> +"You care see something, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"What sort of a thing, for instance?" he was asked. +</P> + +<P> +Gil Perez shrugged. "What you like, sir." He peered into his patron's +face, and there was infinite suggestion in his next question. "You see +fine women?" +</P> + +<P> +Manvers had expected something of the sort and had a steely stare ready +for him. "No, thanks," he said drily, and Gil saluted and withdrew. +He was at the door next morning, affable yet respectful, confident in +his powers of pleasing, of interesting, of arranging everything; but he +never presumed again. He knew his affair. +</P> + +<P> +Three days' sightseeing taught master and man their bearings. Manvers +got into the way of forgetting that Gil Perez was there, except when it +was convenient to remember him; Gil, on his part, learned to +distinguish between his patron's soliloquies and his conversation. He +never made a mistake after the third day. If Manvers, in the course of +a ramble, stopped abruptly, buried a hand in his beard and said aloud +that he would be shot if he knew which way to turn, Gil Perez watched +him closely, but made no remark. +</P> + +<P> +Even, "Look here, you know, this won't do," failed to move him beyond a +state of tension, like that of a cat in the act to pounce. He had +found out that Manvers talked to himself, and was put about by +interruptions; and if you realise how sure and certain he was that he +knew much better than his master what was the very thing, or the last +thing, he ought to do, you will see that he must have put considerable +restraint upon himself. +</P> + +<P> +But loyalty was his supreme virtue. From the moment Manvers had taken +him on at two pesetas a day he became the perfect servant of a perfect +master. He could have no doubt, naturally, of his ability to +serve—his belief in himself never wavered; but he had none either in +his gentleman's right to command. I believe if Manvers had desired him +to cut off his right hand he would have complied with a smile. "Very +good, master. You wanta my 'and? I do." +</P> + +<P> +If he had a failing it was this: nothing on earth would induce him to +talk his own language to his master. He was unmoved by encouragement, +unconvinced by the fluency of Manvers' Castilian periods; he would have +risked his place upon this one point of honour. +</P> + +<P> +"Espanish no good, sir, for you an' me," he said once with an +irresistible smile. "Too damsilly for you. Capitan Rodney, 'e teach, +me Englisha speech. Now I know it too much. No, sir. You know what +they say—them <I>filosofistas</I>?" he asked him on another encounter. +"They say, God Almighty 'e maka this world in Latin—ver' fine for +thata big job. Whata come next? Adamo 'e love his lady in +Espanish—esplendid for maka women love. That old Snaka 'e speak to +'er in French—that persuade 'er too much. Then Eva she esplain in +Italian—ver' soft espeech. Adamo 'e say, That all righta. Then God +Almighty ver' savage. 'E turn roun' on them two. 'E say, That be +blowed, 'e say in English. They understan' 'im too much. Believe +me—is the best for you an' me, sir. All people understan' that +espeech." +</P> + +<P> +Taken as a guide, he installed himself as body servant, silently, +tactfully, but infallibly. Manvers caught him one morning putting +boots by his door. "Hulloa, Gil Perez," he called out, "what are you +doing with my boots?" +</P> + +<P> +Gil's confidential manner was a thing to drink. "That <I>mozo</I>, +master—'e fool. 'E no maka shine. I show him how Capitan Rodney lika +'is boots. See 'is a face in 'em." He smirked at his own as he spoke, +and was so pleased that Manvers said no more. +</P> + +<P> +The same night he stood behind his master's chair. Manvers contented +himself by staring at him. Gil Perez smiled with his bright eyes and +became exceedingly busy. Manvers continued to stare, and presently Gil +Perez was observed to be sweating. The poor fellow was self-conscious +for once in his life. Obliged to justify himself, he leaned to his +master's ear. +</P> + +<P> +"That <I>mozo</I>, sir, too much of a dam fool. Imposs' you estand 'im. I +tell 'im, This gentleman no like garlic down his neck. I say, You +breathe too 'ard, my fellow—too much garlic. This gentleman say, +Crikey, what a stink! That no good." +</P> + +<P> +There was no comparison between the new service and the old; and so it +was throughout. Gil Perez drove out the chambermaid and made Manvers' +bed; he brushed his clothes as well as his boots, changed his linen for +him, saw to the wash—in fine, he made himself indispensable. But when +Manvers announced his coming departure, there was a short tussle, +preceded by a pause for breath. +</P> + +<P> +Gil Perez inquired of the sky, searched up the street, searched down. +A group of brown urchins hovered, as always, about the stranger, ready +to risk any deadly sin for the chance of a maravedi or the stump of a +cigar. +</P> + +<P> +Gil snatched at one by the bare shoulder and spoke him burning words. +"<I>Canalla</I>," he cried him, "horrible flea! Thou makest the air to +reek—impossible to breathe. Fly, thou gnat of the midden, or I crack +thee on my thumb." +</P> + +<P> +The boys retired swearing, and Gil, with desperate calling-up of +reserves, faced his ordeal. "Ver' good, master, we go when you like. +We see Escorial—fine place—see La Granja, come by Madrid thata way. +I get 'orses 'ow you please." Then he had an inspiration, and beamed +all over his face. "Or mules! We 'ave mules. Mules cheap, 'orses +dear too much in Segovia." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers could see very well what he was driving at. "I think I'll take +the <I>diligencia</I>, Gil Perez." +</P> + +<P> +Gil shrugged. "'Ow you like, master. Fine air, thata way. Ver' cheap +way to go. You take my advice, you go <I>coupé</I>. I go <I>redonda</I> more +cheap. Give me your passport, master—I take our place." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I know," said Manvers. "But I'm not sure that I need take you on +with me. I travel without a servant mostly." +</P> + +<P> +Gil grappled with his task. He dropped his air of assumption; his eyes +glittered. +</P> + +<P> +"I save you money, master. You find me good servant—make a +difference, yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, a great deal of difference," Manvers admitted. "I like you; you +suit me excellently well, but——" He considered what he had to do in +Madrid, and frowned over it. Manuela was there, and he wished to see +Manuela. He had not calculated upon having a servant when he had +promised himself another interview with her, and was not at all sure +that he wanted one. On the other hand, Gil might be useful in a number +of ways—and his discretion and tact were proved. While he hesitated, +Gil Perez saw his opportunity and darted in. +</P> + +<P> +"I know Madrid too much," he said. "All the ways, all the peoples I +know. Imposs' you live 'appy in Madrid withouta me." He smiled all +over his face—and when he did that he was irresistible. "You try," he +concluded, just like a child. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers, on an impulse, drew from his pocket the gold-set crucifix. +"Look at that, Gil Perez," he said, and put it in his hands. +</P> + +<P> +Gil looked gravely at it, hack and front. He nodded his approval. +"Pretty thing——" and he decided off-hand. "In Valladolid they make." +</P> + +<P> +"Open it," said Manvers; but it was opened, before he had spoken. +Gil's eyes widened, while the pupils of them contracted intensely. He +read the inscription, pondered it; to the crucifix itself he gave but a +momentary glance. Then he shut the case and handed it back to his +master. +</P> + +<P> +"I find 'er for you," he said soberly; and that settled it. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A GLIMPSE OF MANUELA +</H4> + +<P> +Gil Perez had listened gravely to the tale which his master told him. +He nodded once or twice, and asked a few questions in the course of the +narrative—questions of which Manvers could not immediately see the +bearing. One was concerned with her appearance. Did she wear rings in +her ears? He had to confess that he had not observed. Another was +interjected when he described how she had grown stiff under his arm +when Estéban drew alongside. +</P> + +<P> +Gil had nodded rapidly, and became impatient as Manvers insisted on the +fact. "Of course, of course!" he had said, and then he asked, Did she +stiffen her arm and point the first and last fingers of it, keeping the +middle pair clenched? +</P> + +<P> +Manvers understood him, and replied that he had not noticed any such +thing, but that he did not believe she feared the Evil Eye. He went on +with his story uninterrupted until the climax. He had found the +crucifix, he said, on his return from bathing, and had been pleased +with her for leaving it. Then he related the discovery of the body and +his talk with Fray Juan de la Cruz. Here came in Gil's third question. +"Did she return your handkerchief?" he asked—and sharply. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers started. "By George, she never did!" he exclaimed. "And I +don't wonder at it," he said on reflection. "If she had to knife that +fellow, and confess to Fray Juan, and escape for her life, she had +enough to do. Of course, she may have left it in the wood." +</P> + +<P> +Gil Perez pressed his lips together. "She got it still," he said. "We +find 'er—I know where to look for it." +</P> + +<P> +If he did he kept his knowledge to himself, though he spoke freely +enough of Manuela on the way to Madrid. +</P> + +<P> +"This Manuela," he explained, "is a Valenciana—where you find fair +women with black men. Valencianos like Moors—love too much white +women. I think Manuela is not Gitanilla; she is what you call a +Alfanalf. Then she is like the Gitanas, as proud as a fire, but all +the same a Christian—make free with herself. A Gitana never dare love +Christian man—imposs' she do that. Sometimes all the same she do it. +I think Manuela made like that." +</P> + +<P> +Committed to the statement, he presently saw a cheerful solution of it. +"Soon see!" he added, and considered other problems. "That dead man +follow Manuela to kill 'er," he decided. "When 'e find 'er with you, +master, 'e say, 'Now I know why you run, <I>hija de perra</I>. Now I kill +two and get a 'orse.' You see?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Manvers, "I see that. And you think that he told her what +he meant to do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course 'e tell," said Gil Perez with scorn. "Make it too bad for +'er. Make 'er feel sick." +</P> + +<P> +"Brute!" cried Manvers; but Gil went blandly on. +</P> + +<P> +"'E 'ate 'er so much that 'e feel 'ungry and thirsty. 'E eat before 'e +kill. Must do it—too 'ungry. Then she go near 'im, twisting 'erself +about—showing 'erself to please him. 'You kiss me, my 'eart,' she +say; 'I love you all the same. Kiss me—then you kill.' 'E look at +'er—she very fine girl—give pleasure to see. 'E think, 'I love 'er +first—strangle after'—and go on looking. She 'old 'im fast and drag +down 'is 'ead—all the time she know where 'e keep <I>navaja</I>. She cling +and kiss—then nip out <I>navaja</I>, and <I>click</I>! 'E dead man." +Enthusiasm burned in his black eyes, he stood cheering in his stirrups. +"Seńor Don Dios! that very fine! I give twenty dollars to see 'er make +'im love." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers for his part, grew the colder as his man waxed warm. He was +clear, however, that he must find the girl and protect her from any +trouble that might ensue. She had put herself within the law to save +him from the knife; she must certainly be defended from the perils of +the law. +</P> + +<P> +From what he could learn of Spanish justice that meant money and +influence. These she should have; but there should be no more +pastorals. Her kisses had been sweet, the aftertaste was sour in the +mouth. Gil Perez with his eloquence and dramatic fire had cured him of +hankering after more of them. The girl was a rip, and there was an end +of it. +</P> + +<P> +He did not blame himself in the least for having kissed a rip—once. +There was nothing in that. But he had kissed her twice—and that +second kiss had given significance to the first. To think of it made +him sore all over; it implied a tender relation, it made him seem the +girl's lover. Why, it almost justified that sick-faced, grinning +rascal, whose staring eyes had shocked him out of his senses. And what +a damned fool he had made of himself with the crucifix! He ground his +teeth together as he cursed himself for a sentimental idiot. +</P> + +<P> +For the rest of the way it was Gil Perez who cried up the quest—until +he was curtly told by his master to talk about something else; and then +Gil could have bitten his tongue off for saying a word too much. +</P> + +<P> +A couple of days at the Escorial, with nothing of Manuela to interfere, +served Manvers to recover his tone. Before he was in the capital he +was again that good and happy traveller, to whom all things come well +in their seasons, to whom the seasons of all things are the seasons at +which they come. He liked the bustle and flaunt of Madrid, he liked +its brazen front, its crowded <I>carreras</I>, and appetite for shows. +There was hardly a day when the windows of the Puerta del Sol had not +carpets on their balconies. Files of halberdiers went daily to and +from the Palace and the Atocha, escorting some gilded, swinging coach; +and every time the Madrileńos serried and craned their heads. "<I>Viva +Isabella!</I>" "<I>Abajo Don Carlos!</I>" or sometimes the other way about, the +cries went up. Politics buzzed all about the square in the mornings; +evening brimmed the cafés. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers resumed his soul, became again the amused observer. Gil Perez +bided his time, and contented himself with being the perfect +body-servant, which he undoubtedly was. +</P> + +<P> +On the first Sunday after arrival, without any order, he laid before +his master a ticket for the <I>corrida</I>, such a one as comported with his +dignity; but not until he was sure of his ground did he presume to +discuss the gory spectacle. Then, at dinner, he discovered that +Manvers had been more interested in the spectators than the fray, and +allowed himself free discourse. The Queen and the Court, the <I>alcaldé</I> +and the Prime Minister, the <I>manolos</I> and <I>manolas</I>—he had plenty to +say, and to leave unsaid. He just glanced at the +performers—impossible to omit the <I>espada</I>—Corchuelo, the first in +Spain. But the fastidious in Manvers was awake and edgy. He had not +liked the bull-fight; so Gil Perez kept out of the arena. "I see one +very grand old gentleman there, master," was one of his chance casts. +"You see 'im? 'E grandee of Espain, too much poor, proud all the same. +Put 'is 'at on so soon the Queen come in—Don Luis Ramonez de Alavia." +</P> + +<P> +"Who's he?" asked Manvers. +</P> + +<P> +"Great gentleman of Valladolid," said Gil Perez. "Grandee of +Espain—no money—only pride." He did not add, as he might, that he +had seen Manuela, or was pretty sure that he had. That was delicate +ground. +</P> + +<P> +But Manvers, who had forgotten all about her, went cheerfully his ways, +and amused himself in his desultory fashion. After the close-pent +streets of Segovia, where the wayfarer seems throttled by the houses, +and one looks up for light and pants towards the stars and the air, he +was pleased by the breadth of Madrid. The Puerto del Sol was +magnificent—like a lake; the Alcalá and San Geronimo were noble +rivers, feeding it. He liked them at dawn when the hose-pipe had been +newly at work and these great spaces of emptiness lay gleaming in the +mild sunlight, exhaling freshness like that of dewy lawns. When, under +the glare of noon, they lay slumbrous, they were impressive by their +prodigality of width and scope; in the bustle and hum of dusk, with the +cafés filling, and spilling over on to the pavements, he could not tire +of them; but at night, the mystery of their magic enthralled him. How +could one sleep in such a city? The Puerto del Sol was then a sea of +dark fringed with shores of bright light. The two huge feeders of +it—with what argosies they teemed! Shrouded craft! +</P> + +<A NAME="img-176"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-176.jpg" ALT="Madrid by night." BORDER="2" WIDTH="497" HEIGHT="731"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 497px"> +Madrid by night. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +That touch of the East, which you can never miss in Spain, wherever you +may be, was unmistakable in Madrid, in spite of Court and commerce, in +spite of newspaper, Stock Exchange, or Cortes. The cloaked figures +moved silently, swiftly, seldom in pairs, without speech, with footfall +scarcely audible. Now and again Manvers heard the throb of a guitar, +now and again, with sudden clamour, the clack of castanets. But such +noises stopped on the instant, and the traffic was resumed—whatever it +was—secret, swift, impenetrable business. +</P> + +<P> +For the most part this traffic of the night was conducted by men—young +or old, as may be. The <I>capa</I> hid them all, kept their semblance as +secret as their affairs. Here and there, but rarely, walked a woman, +superbly, as Spanish women will, with a self-sufficiency almost +arrogantly strong, robed in white, hooded with a white veil. The +mantilla came streaming from the comb, swathed her pale cheeks and +enhanced her lustrous eyes; but from top to toe she was (whatever else; +she may have been, and it was not difficult to guess) in white. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers watched them pass and repass; at a distance they looked like +moths, but close at hand showed the carriage and intolerance of queens. +They looked at him fairly as they passed, unashamed and unconcerned. +Their eyes asked nothing from him, their lips wooed him not. There was +none of the invitation such women extend elsewhere; far otherwise, it +was the men who craved, the women who dispensed. When they listened it +was as to a petitioner on his knees, when they gave it was like an +alms. Imperious, free-moving, high-headed creatures, they interested +him deeply. +</P> + +<P> +It was true, as Gil Perez was quick to see, that at his first +bull-fight Manvers had been unmoved by the actors, but stirred to the +deeps by the spectators; if he had cared to see another it would have +been to explore the secrets of this wonderful people, who could become +animals without ceasing to be men and women. But why jostle on a +bench, why endure the dust and glare of a <I>corrida</I> when you can see +what Madrid can show you: the women by the Manzanares, or the nightly +dramas of the streets? +</P> + +<P> +Love in Spain, he began to learn, is a terrible thing; a grim tussle of +wills, a matter of life and death, of meat and drink. He saw lovers, +still as death, with upturned faces, tense and white, eating the iron +of guarded balconies. Hour by hour they would stand there, waiting, +watching, hoping on. No one interfered, no one remarked them. He +heard a woman wail for her lover—wail and rock herself about, careless +of who saw or heard her, and indeed neither seen nor heard. Once he +saw a couple close together, vehement speech between them. A lovers' +quarrel, terrible affair! The words seemed to scald. The man had had +his say, and now it was her turn. He listened to her, touched but not +persuaded—had his reasons, no doubt. But she! Manvers had not +believed the heart of a girl could hold such a gamut of emotions. She +was young, slim, very pale; her face was as white as her robe. But her +eyes were like burning lakes; and her voice, hoarse though she had made +herself, had a cry in it as sharp as a violin's, to out the very soul +of you. She spoke with her hands too, with her shoulders and bosom, +with her head and stamping foot. She never faltered though she ran +from scorn of him to deep scorn of herself, and appealed in turn to his +pride, his pity, his honour and his lust. She had no reticence, set no +bounds: she was everything, or nothing; he was a god, or dirt of the +kennel. In the end—and what a climax!—she stopped in the middle of a +sentence, covered her eyes, sobbed, gave a broken cry, turned and fled +away. +</P> + +<P> +The man, left alone, spread his arms out, and lifted his face to the +sky, as if appealing for the compassion of Heaven. Manvers could see +by the light of a lamp which fell upon him that there were tears in his +eyes. He was pitying himself deeply. "Seńor Jesu, have pity!" Manvers +heard him saying. "What could I do? Woe upon me, what could I do?" +</P> + +<P> +To him there, as he stood wavering, returned suddenly the girl. As +swiftly as she had gone she came back, like a white squall. "Ah, son +of a thief? Ah, son of a dog!" and she struck him down with a knife +over the shoulder-blade. He gasped, groaned, and dropped; and she was +upon his breast in a minute, moaning her pity and love. She stroked +his face, crooned over him, lavished the loveliest vocables of her +tongue upon his worthless carcase, and won him by the very excess of +her passion. The fallen man turned in her arms, and met her lips with +his. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers, shaking with excitement, left them. Here again was a Manuela! +Manuela, her burnt face on fire, her eyes blown fierce by rage, her +tawny hair streaming in the wind; Manuela with a knife, hacking the +life out of Estéban, came vividly before him. Ah, those soft lips of +hers could bare the teeth; within an hour of his kissing her she must +have bared them, when she snarled on that other. And her eyes which +had peered into his, to see if liking were there—how had they gleamed. +upon the man she slew? Her sleekness then was that of the cat; but she +had had no claws for him. +</P> + +<P> +Why had she left him her crucifix? After all, had she murdered the +fellow, or protected herself? She told the monk that she had been +driven into a corner—to save Manvers and herself. Was he to believe +that—or his own eyes? His eyes had just seen a Spanish girl with her +lover, and his judgment was warped. Manuela might be of that sort—she +had not been so to him. Nor could she ever be so, since there was no +question of love between them now, and never could be. +</P> + +<P> +"Come now," thus he reasoned with himself. "Come now, let us be +reasonable." He had pulled her out of a scuffle and she had been +grateful; she was pretty, he had kissed her. She was grateful, and had +knifed a man who meant him mischief—and she had left him a crucifix. +</P> + +<P> +Gratitude again. What had her gipsy skin and red kerchief to do with +her heart and conscience? "Beware, my son, of the pathetic fallacy," +he told himself, and as he turned into the carrera San Geronimo, beheld +Manuela robed in white pass along the street. +</P> + +<P> +He knew her immediately, though her face had but flashed upon him, and +there was not a stitch upon her to remind him of the ragged creature of +the plain. A white mantilla covered her hair, a white gown hid her to +the ankles. He had a glimpse of a white stocking, and remarked her +high-heeled white slippers. Startling transformation! But she walked +like a free-moving creature of the open, and breasted the hot night as +if she had been speeding through a woodland way. That was Manuela, who +had lulled a man to save him. +</P> + +<P> +After a moment or so of hesitation he followed her, keeping his +distance. She walked steadily up the <I>carrera</I>, looking neither to +right nor to left. Many remarked her, some tried to stop her. A +soldier followed her pertinaciously, till presently she turned upon him +in splendid rage and bade him be off. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers praised her for that, and, quickening, gained upon her. She +turned up a narrow street on the right. It was empty. Manvers, +gaining rapidly, drew up level. They were now walking abreast, with +only the street-way between them; but she kept a rigid profile to +him—as severe, as proud and fine as the Arethusa's on a coin of +Syracuse. The resemblance was striking; straight nose, short lip, +rounded chin; the strong throat; unwinking eyes looking straight before +her; and adding to these beauties of contour her splendid colouring, +and carriage of a young goddess, it is not too much to say that Manvers +was dazzled. +</P> + +<P> +It is true; he was confounded by the excess of her beauty and by his +knowledge of her condition. His experiences of life and cities could +give him no parallel; but they could and did give him a dangerous sense +of power. This glowing, salient creature was for him, if he would. +One word, and she was at his feet. +</P> + +<P> +For a moment, as he walked nearly abreast of her, he was ready to throw +everything that was natural to him to the winds. She stirred a depth +in him which he had known nothing of. He felt himself trembling all +over—but while he hesitated a quick step behind caused him to look +round. He saw a man following Manuela, and presently knew that it was +Gil Perez. +</P> + +<P> +And Gil, with none of his own caution, walked on her side of the street +and, overtaking her, took off his hat and accosted her by some name +which caused her to turn like a beast at bay. Nothing abashed, Gil +asked her a question which clapped a hand to her side and sent her +cowering to the wall. She leaned panting there while he talked +rapidly, explaining with suavity and point. It was very interesting to +Manvers to watch these two together, to see, for instance, how Gil +Perez comported himself out of his master's presence; or how Manuela +dealt with one of her own nation. They became strangers to him, people +he had never known. He felt a foreigner indeed. +</P> + +<P> +The greatest courtesy was observed, the most exact distance. Gil Perez +kept his hat in his hand, his body at a deferential angle. His weaving +hands were never still. Manuela, her first act of royal rage ended, +held herself superbly. Her eyes were half closed, her lips tightly so; +and she so contrived as to get the effect of looking down upon him from +a height. Manvers imagined that his name or person was being brought +into play, for once Manuela looked at her companion and bowed her head +gravely. Gil Perez ran on with his explanations, and apparently +convinced her judgment, for she seemed to consent to something which he +asked of her; and presently walked on her way with a high head, while +Gil Perez, still holding his hat, and still explaining, walked with +her, but a little way behind her. +</P> + +<P> +A cooling experience. Manvers strolled back to his hotel and his bed, +with his unsuspected nature deeply hidden again out of sight. He +wondered whether Gil Perez would have anything to tell him in the +morning, or whether, on the other hand, he would be discreetly silent +as to the adventure. He wondered next where that adventure would end. +He had no reason to suppose his servant a man of refined sensibilities. +Remembering his eloquence on the road to Madrid, the paean he blew upon +the fairness of Valencian women, he laughed. "Here's a muddy wash upon +my blood-boltered pastoral," he said aloud. "Here's an end of my +knight-errantry indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +There was nearly an end of him—for almost at the same moment he was +conscious of a light step behind him and of a sharp stinging pain and a +blow in the back. He turned wildly round and struck out with his +stick. A man, doubled in two, ran like a hare down the empty street +and vanished into the dark. Manvers, feeling sick and faint, leaned to +recover himself against a doorway, and probably fell; for when he came +to himself he was in his bed in the hotel, with Gil Perez and a grave +gentleman in black standing beside him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHIVALRY OF GIL PEREZ +</H4> + +<P> +He felt stiff and stupid, with a roasting spot in his back between his +shoulders; but he was able to see the light in Gil Perez' eyes—which +was a good light, saying, "Well so far—but I look for more." Neither +Gil nor the spectacled gentleman in black—the surgeon, he +presumed—spoke to him, and disinclined for speech himself, Manvers lay +watching their tip-toe ministrations, with spells of comfortable dozing +in between, in the course of which he again lost touch with the world +of Spain. +</P> + +<P> +When he came to once more he was much better and felt hungry. He saw +Gil Perez by the window, reading a little book. The sun-blinds were +down to darken the room; Gil held his book slantwise to a chink and +read diligently, moving his lips to pronounce the words. +</P> + +<P> +"Gil Perez," said Manvers, "what are you reading?" Gil jumped up at +once. +</P> + +<P> +"You better, sir? Praised be God! I read," he said, "a little +catholic book which calls itself 'The Garden of the Soul'—ver' good +little book. What you call ver' 'ealthy—ver' good for 'im. But you +are better, master. You 'ungry—I get you a broth." Which he did, +having it hot and hot in the next room. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I tell you all the 'istory of this affair," he said. "Last night +I see Manuela out a walking. I follow 'er too much—salute 'er—she +lift 'er 'ead back to strike me dead. I say, 'Seńorita, one word. Why +you give your crucifix to my master—ha?' Sir, she began to +shake—'ead shake, knee shake; I think she fall into 'erself. You see +flowers in frost all estiff, stand up all right. By'nbye the sun, 'e +climb the sky—thosa flowers they fall esquash—all rotten insida. So +Manuela fall into 'erself. Then I talk to 'er—she tell me all the +'istory of thata time. She kill Estéban Vincaz, she tell me—kill 'im +quick, just what I told you. Becausa why? Becausa she dicksure +Estéban kill you. But I say to 'er, Manuela, that was too bad, lady. +Kill Estéban all the same. Ver' good for 'im, send 'im what you call +kingdom-come like a shot. But you leava that crucifix on my master's +plate—make 'im tender, too sorry for you. He think, Thata nice girl, +very. I like 'er too much. Now 'e 'as your crucifix in gold, lika +piece of Vera Cruz, lika Santa Teresa's finger, and all the world know +you kill Estéban Vincaz and 'e like you. Sir, I make 'er sorry—she +begin to cry. I think—" and Gil Perez walked to the window—"I think +Manuela ver' fine girl—like a rose. Now, master—" and he returned to +the bed—"I tell you something. That man who estab you las' night was +Tormillo. You know who?" +</P> + +<P> +Manvers shook his head. "Never heard of him, my friend. Who is he?" +</P> + +<P> +"He is servant to Don Luis Ramonez, the same I see at the <I>corrida</I>. I +tell you about 'im—no money, all pride." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers stared. "And will you have the goodness to tell me why Don +Luis should want to have me stabbed?" +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you, sir," said Gil Perez. "Estéban Vincaz was Don Bartolomé +Ramonez, son to Don Luis. Bad son 'e was, if you like, sir. Wil' +oats, what you call. All the sama nobleman, all the sama only son to +Don Luis." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers considered this oracle with what light he had. "Don Luis +supposes that I killed his son, then," he said. "Is that it?" +</P> + +<P> +"'E damsure," said Gil Perez, blinking fast. +</P> + +<P> +"On Manuela's account—eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Like a shot!" cried Gil Perez with enthusiasm. +</P> + +<P> +"So of course he thinks it his duty to kill me in return." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course 'e does, sir," said Gil. "I tell you, 'e is proud like the +devil." +</P> + +<P> +"I understand you," said Manvers. "But why does he hire a servant to +do his revenges?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because 'e think you dog," Gil replied calmly. "'E not beara touch +you witha poker." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers laughed, and said, "We'll leave it at that. Now I want to know +one more thing. How on earth did Don Luis find out that I was in the +wood with Manuela and his son?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah," said Gil Perez, "now you aska me something. Who knows?" He +shrugged profusely. Then his face cleared. "Leave it to me, sir. I +ask Tormillo." He was on his feet, as if about to find the assassin +there and then. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop a bit," said Manvers, "stop a bit, Gil. Now I must tell you that +I also saw Manuela last night." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah," said Gil Perez softly; and his eyes glittered. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw her in the street," Manvers continued, watching his servant. +"She was all in white." +</P> + +<P> +Gil Perez blinked this fact. "Yes, sir," he said. "That is true. +Poor girl." His eyes clouded over. "Poor Manuela!" he was heard to +say to himself. +</P> + +<P> +"I followed her for a while," said Manvers, "and saw you catch her up, +and stop her. Then I went away; and then that rascal struck me in the +back. Now do you suppose that Don Luis means to serve Manuela the same +way?" +</P> + +<P> +Gil Perez did not blink any more. "I think 'e wisha that," he said; +"but I think 'e won't." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because I tell Manuela what I see at the <I>corrida</I>. She was there +too. She know it already. Bless you, she don't care." +</P> + +<P> +"But I care," said Manvers sharply. "I've got her on my conscience. I +don't intend her to suffer on my account." +</P> + +<P> +"That," said Gil Perez, "is what she wanta do." He looked piercingly +at his master. "You know, sir, I ask 'er for your 'andkerchief." +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" Manvers raised his eyebrows. +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you whata she do. She look allaways in the dark. Nobody +there. Then she open 'er gown—so!" and Gil held apart the bosom of +his shirt. "I see it in there." There were tears in Gil's eyes. +"Poor Manuela!" he murmured, as if that helped him. "I make 'er give +it me. No good she keepa that in there." +</P> + +<P> +"Where is it?" he was asked. He tried to be his jaunty self, but +failed. +</P> + +<P> +"Not 'ere, sir. I 'ave it—I senda to the wash." Manvers looked +keenly at him, but said nothing. He had a suspicion that Gil Perez was +telling a lie. +</P> + +<P> +"You had better get her out of Madrid," he said, after a while. "There +may be trouble. Let her go and hide herself somewhere until this has +blown over. Give me my pocket-book." He took a couple of bills out +and handed them to Gil. "There's a hundred for her. Get her into some +safe place—and the sooner the better. We'll see her through this +business somehow." +</P> + +<P> +Gil Perez—very unlike himself—suddenly snatched at his hand and +kissed it. Then he sprang to his feet again and tried to look as if he +had never done such a thing. He went to the door and put his head out, +listening. "Doctor coming," he said. "All righta leave you with 'im." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course it's all right," said Manvers. But Gil shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Don Luis make me sick," he said. "No use 'e come 'ere." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean that he might have another shot at me?" +</P> + +<P> +Gil nodded; very wide-eyed and serious he was. "'E try. I know 'im +too much." Manvers shut his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I expect he'll have the decency to wait till I'm about again. Anyhow, +I'll risk it. What you have to do is to get Manuela away." +</P> + +<P> +"Yessir," said Gil in his best English, and admitted the surgeon with a +bow. Then he went lightfooted out of the room and shut the door after +him. +</P> + +<P> +He was away two hours or more, and when he returned seemed perfectly +happy. +</P> + +<P> +"Manuela quite safa now," he told his master. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is she, Gil?" he was asked, and waved his hand airily for reply. +</P> + +<P> +"She all right, sir. Near 'ere. Quita safe. Presently I see 'er." +He could not be brought nearer than that. Questioned on other matters, +he reported that he had failed to find either Don Luis or Tormillo, and +was quite unable to say how they knew of his master's relations with +the Valencian girl, or what their further intentions were. His chagrin +at having been found wanting in any single task set him was a great +delight to Manvers and amused the slow hours of his convalescence. +</P> + +<P> +His wound, which was deep but not dangerous, healed well and quickly. +In ten days he was up again and inquiring for Manuela's whereabouts. +Better not see her, he was advised, until it was perfectly certain that +Don Luis was appeased. Gil promised that in a few days' time he would +give an account of everything. +</P> + +<P> +It is doubtful, however, whether he would have kept his word, had not +events been too many for him. One day after dinner he asked his master +if he might speak to him. On receiving permission, he drew him apart +into a little room, the door of which he locked. +</P> + +<P> +"Hulloa, Gil Perez," said Manvers, "what is your game now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sir," said Gil, holding his head up, and looking him full in the face. +"I must espeak to you about Manuela. She is in the Carcel de la +Corte—to-morrow they take 'er to the Audiencia about that +assassination." He folded his arms and waited, watching the effect of +his words. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers was greatly perturbed. "Then you've made a mess of it," he +said angrily. "You've made a mess of it." +</P> + +<P> +"No mess," said Gil Perez. "She tell me must go to gaol. I say, all +righta, lady." +</P> + +<P> +"You had no business to say anything of the sort," Manvers said. "I am +sorry I ever allowed you to interfere. I am very much annoyed with +you, Perez." He had never called him Perez before—and that hurt Gil +more than anything. His voice betrayed his feelings. +</P> + +<P> +"You casta me off—call me Perez, lika stranger! All right, sir—what +you like," he stammered. "I tell you, Manuela very fine girl—and why +the devil I make 'er bad? No, sir, that imposs'. She too good for me. +She say, Don Luis estab my saviour! Never, never, for me! I show Don +Luis what's whata, she say. I give myself up to justice; then 'e keepa +quiet—say, That's all right. So she say to Paquita—that big girl who +sleep with 'er when—when——" he was embarrassed. "Mostly always +sleep with 'er," he explained—"She say, 'Give me your veil, Paquita de +mi alma.' Then she cover 'erself and say to me, 'Come, Gil Perez.' I +say, 'Seńorita, where you will.' We go to the Carcel de la Corte. +Three or four alguazils in the court see 'er come in; saluta 'er, +'Good-day, seńora—at the feet of your grace,' they say; for they think +''ere come a dam fine woman to see 'er lover.' She eshiver and lift +'erself. 'I am no seńora,' she essay. 'Bad girl. Nama Manuela. I +estab Don Bartolomé Ramonez de Alavia in the wood of La Huerca. You +taka me—do what you like.' Sir, I say, thata very fine thing. I +would kissa the 'and of any girl who do that—same I kiss your 'and." +His voice broke. "By God, I would!" +</P> + +<P> +"What next?" said Manvers, moved himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Sir," said Gil Perez, "those alguazils clacka the tongue. 'Soho, la +Manola!' say one, and lift 'er veil and look at 'er. All those others +come and look too. They say she dam pretty woman. She standa there +and look at them, lika they were dirt down in the street. Then I +essay, 'Seńores, you pleasa conduct this lady to the carcelero in two +minutes, or you pay me, Gil Perez, 'er esservant. Thisa lady 'ave +friends,' I say. 'Better for you, seńores, you fetcha carcelero.' +They look at me sharp—and they thinka so too. Then the carcelero 'e +come, and I espeak with him and say, 'We 'ave too much money. Do what +you like.'" +</P> + +<P> +"And what did he do?" Manvers asked. +</P> + +<P> +"He essay, 'Lady, come with me.' So then we go away witha carcelero, +and I eshow my fingers—so—to those alguazils and say, 'Dam your eyes, +you fellows, vayan ustedes con Dios!' Then the carcelero maka bow. 'E +say to Manuela, 'Seńora, you 'ave my littla room. All by yourself. My +wifa she maka bed—you first-class in there. Nothing to do with them +dogs down there. I give them what-for lika shot,' say the carcelero. +So I pay 'im well with your bills, sir, and see Manuela all the time +every day." +</P> + +<P> +He took rapid strides across the room—but stopped abruptly and looked +at Manvers. There was fire in his eyes. "She lika saint, sir. I +catch 'er on 'er knees before our Lady of Atocha. I 'ear 'er words all +broken to bits. I see 'er estrike 'er breasts—Oh, God, that make me +mad! She say, 'Oh, Lady, you with your sorrow and your love—you know +me very well. Bad girl, too unfortunate, too miserable—your daughter +all the sama, and your lover. Give me a great 'eart, Lady, that I may +tell all the truth—all—all—all! If 'e thoughta well of me,' she +say, crying like one o'clock, 'let 'im know me better. No good 'e +think me fine woman—no good he kissa me'"—the delicacy with which Gil +Perez treated this part of the history, which Manvers had never told +him, was a beautiful thing—"'I wanta tell 'im all my 'istory. Then he +say, Pah, what a beast! and serva me right.' Sir, then she bow righta +down to the grounda, she did, and covered 'er 'ead. I say, 'Manuela, I +love you with alla my soul—but you do well, my 'eart.' And then she +turn on me and tell me to go quick." +</P> + +<P> +"So you are in love with her, Gil?" Manvers asked him. Gil admitted it. +</P> + +<P> +"I love 'er the minute I see 'er at the <I>corrida</I>. My 'earta go alla +water—but I know 'er. I say to myself, "That is la Manuela of my +master Don Osmondo. You be careful, Gil Perez.'" +</P> + +<P> +Manvers said, "Look here, Gil, I'm ashamed of myself. I kissed her, +you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Yessir," said Gil, and touched his forehead like a groom. +</P> + +<P> +"If I had known that you—but I had no idea of it until this moment. I +can only say——" +</P> + +<P> +"Master," said Gil, "saya nothing at all. I love Manuela lika +mad—that quite true; but she thinka me dirt on the pavement." +</P> + +<P> +"Then she's very wrong," Manvers said. +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir," said Gil, "thata true. All beautiful girls lika that. I +understanda too much. But look 'ere—if she belong to me, that all the +same, because I belong to you. You do what you like with 'er. I say, +That all the same to me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Gil Perez," said Manvers, "you're a gentleman, and I'm very much +ashamed of myself. But we must do what we can for Manuela. I shall +give evidence, of course. I think I can make the judge understand." +</P> + +<P> +Gil was inordinately grateful, but could not conceal his nervousness. +"I think the Juez, 'e too much friend with Don Luis. I think 'e know +what to do all the time before. Manuela have too mucha trouble. Alla +same she ver' fine girl, most beautiful, most unhappy. That do 'er +good if she cry." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think she'll cry," Manvers said, and Gil Perez snorted. +</P> + +<P> +"She cry! By God she never! She Espanish girl, too mucha proud, too +mucha dicksure what she do with Don Bartolomé. She know she serve 'im +right. Do againa all the time. What do you think 'e do with 'er when +'e 'ave 'er out there in Pobledo an' all those places? Vaya! I tell +you, sir. 'E want to live on 'er. 'E wanta make 'er too bad. Then +she run lika devil. Sir, I tell you what she say to me other days. +'When I saw 'im come longside Don Osmundo,' she say, 'I look in 'is +face an' I see Death. 'E grin at me—then I know why 'e come. 'E talk +very nice—soft, lika gentleman—then I know what 'e want. I say, Son +of a dog, never!'" +</P> + +<P> +"Poor girl," said Manvers, greatly concerned. +</P> + +<P> +"Thata quite true, sir," Gil Perez agreed. "Very unfortunate fine +girl. But you know what we say in Espain. Make yourself 'oney, we +say, and the flies willa suck you. Manuela too much 'oney all the +time. I know that, because she tell me everything, to tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't tell me," said Manvers. +</P> + +<P> +"Bedam if I do," said Gil Perez. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +TRIAL BY QUESTION +</H4> + +<P> +The court was not full when Manvers and his advocate, with Gil Perez in +attendance, took their places; but it filled up gradually, and the +Judge of First Instance, when he took his seat upon the tribunal, faced +a throng not unworthy of a bull-fight. Bestial, leering, inflamed +faces, peering eyes agog for mischief, all the nervous expectation of +the sudden, the bloody or terrible were there. +</P> + +<P> +There was the same dead hush when Manuela was brought in as when they +throw open the doors of the <I>toril</I>, and the throng holds its breath. +Gil Perez drew his with a long whistling sound, and Manvers, who could +dare to look at her, thought he had never seen maidenly dignity more +beautifully shown. She moved to her place with a gentle consciousness +of what was due to herself very touching to see. +</P> + +<P> +The crowded court thrilled and murmured, but she did not raise her +eyes; once only did she show her feeling, and that was when she passed +near the barrier where the spectators could have touched her by leaning +over. More than one stretched his hand out, one at least his walking +cane. Then she took hold of her skirt and held it back, just as a girl +does when she passes wet paint. This little touch, which made the +young men jeer and whisper obscenity, brought the water to Manvers' +eyes. He heard Gil Perez draw again his whistling breath, and felt him +tremble. Directly Manuela was in her place, standing, facing the +assize, Gil Perez looked at her, and never took his eyes from her +again. She was dressed in black, and her hair was smooth over her +ears, knotted neatly on the nape of her neck. +</P> + +<P> +The Judge, a fatigued, monumental person with a long face, pointed +whiskers, and the eyes of a dead fish, told her to stand up. As she +was already standing, she looked at him with patient inquiry; but he +took no notice of that. Her self-possession was indeed remarkable. +She gave her answers quietly, without hesitation, and when anything was +asked her which offended her, either ignored it or told the questioner +what she thought of it. From the outset Manvers could see that the +Judge's business was to incriminate her beyond repair. Her plea of +guilty was not to help her. She was to be shown infamous. +</P> + +<P> +The examination ran thus:— +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "You are Manuela, daughter of Incarnacion Presa of Valencia, +and have never known your father?" (<I>Manuela bows her head</I>.) "Answer +the Court." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "It is true." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "It is said that your father was the <I>gitano</I> Sagruel?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "You may well say that. Remember that you are condemning your +mother by such answers. Your mother sold you at twelve years old to an +unfrocked priest named Tormes?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes. For three <I>pesos</I>." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Disgraceful transaction! This wretch taught you dancing, +posturing, and all manner of wickedness?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "He taught me to dance." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "How long were you in his company?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "For three years." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "He took you from fair to fair. You were a public dancer?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "That is true." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "I can imagine—the court can imagine—your course of life +during this time. This master of yours, this Tormes, how did he treat +you?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Very ill." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Be more explicit, Manuela. In what way?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "He beat me. He hurt me." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Why so?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I cannot tell you any more about him." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "You refuse?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Judge: "The court places its interpretation upon your silence." (He +looked painfully round as if he regretted the absence of the proper +means of extracting answers. Manvers heard Gil Perez curse him under +his breath.) +</P> + +<P> +The Judge made lengthy notes upon the margin of his docquet, and then +proceeded. +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "The young gentleman, Don Bartolomé Ramonez, first saw you at +the fair of Salamanca in 1859?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "He saw you often, and followed you to Valladolid, where his +father Don Luis lived?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "He professed his passion for you, gave you presents?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "You persuaded him to take you away from Tormes?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "No." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "What do I hear?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I said 'No.' It was because he said that he loved me that +I went with him. He wished to marry me, he said." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "What! Don Bartolomé Ramonez marry a public dancer! Be +careful what you say there, Manuela." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "He told me so, and I believed him." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "I pass on. You were with him until the April of this +year—you were with him two years?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "And then you found another lover and deserted him?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "No. I ran away from him by myself." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "But you found another lover?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "No." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Be careful, Manuela. You will trip in a moment. You ran +away from Don Bartolomé when you were at Pobledo, and you went to +Palencia. What did you do there?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I cannot answer you." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "You mean that you will not?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I mean that I cannot." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "This is wilful prevarication again. I have authority to +compel you." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "You have none." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "We shall see, Manuela, we shall see. You left Palencia on +the 12th of May in the company of an Englishman?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "He is here in court?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Do you see him at this moment?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes." (But she did not turn her head to look at Manvers +until the Judge forced her.) +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "I am not he. I am not likely to have taken you from Palencia +and your proceedings there. Look at the Englishman." (She hesitated +for a little while, and then turned her eyes upon him with such gentle +modesty that Manvers felt nearer to loving her than he had ever done. +He rose slightly in his seat and bowed to her: she returned the salute +like a young queen. The Judge had gained nothing by that.) "I see +that you treat each other with ceremony; there may be reasons for that. +We shall soon see. This gentleman then took you away from Palencia in +the direction of Valladolid, and made you certain proposals. What were +they?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "He proposed that I should return to Palencia." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "And you refused?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Why?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I could not go back to Palencia." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Why?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "There were many reasons. One was that I was afraid of +seeing Estéban there." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "You mean Don Bartolomé Ramonez de, Alavia?" (She nodded.) +"Answer me." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes, yes." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "You are impatient because your evil deeds are coming to +light. I am not surprised; but you must command yourself. There is +more to come." (Manvers, who was furious, asked his advocate whether +something could not be done. Directly her fear of Estéban was touched +upon, he said, the Judge changed his tactics. The advocate smiled. +"Be patient, sir," he said. "The Judge has been instructed +beforehand." "You mean," said Manvers, "that he has been bribed?" "I +did not say so," the advocate replied.) +</P> + +<P> +The Judge returned to Palencia. "What other reasons had you?" was his +next question, but Manuela was clever enough to see where her strength +lay. "My fear of Estéban swallowed all other reasons." She saved +herself, and with unconcealed chagrin the Judge went on towards the +real point. +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "The Englishman then made you another proposal?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes, sir. He proposed to take me to a convent." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "You refused that?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "No, sir. I should have been glad to go to a convent." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "You, however, accepted his third proposal, namely, that you +should be under his protection?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I was thankful for his protection when I saw Estéban +coming." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "I have no doubt of that. You had reason to fear Don +Bartolomé's resentment?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I knew that Estéban intended to murder me." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Don Bartolomé overtook you. You were riding before the +Englishman on his horse?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes. I could not walk. I was ill." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Don Bartolomé remained with you until the Englishman ran +away?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "He did not run away. Why should he? He went away on his +own affairs." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I> (after looking at his papers): "I see. The Englishman went +away after the pair of you had killed Don Bartolomé?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "That is not true. He went away to bathe, and then I killed +Estéban with his own knife. I killed him because he told me that he +intended to murder me, and the English gentleman who had been kind to +me. I confess it—I confessed it to the <I>alguazils</I> and the +<I>carcelero</I>. You may twist what I say as you will, to please your +friends, but the truth is in what I say." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Silence! It is for you to answer the questions which I put +to you. You forget yourself, Manuela. But I will take your confession +as true for the moment. Supposing it to be true, did you not stab Don +Bartolomé in the neck in order that you might be free?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I killed him to defend myself and an innocent person. I +have told you so." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Why should Don Bartolomé wish to kill you?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "He hated me because I had refused to do his pleasure. He +wished to make me bad——" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I> (lifting his hands and throwing his head up): "Bad! Was he not +jealous of the Englishman?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Did he not tell you that the Englishman was your lover? Did +you not say so to Fray Juan de la Cruz?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "He spoke falsely. It was not true. He may have believed +it." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "We shall see. Have patience, Manuela. Having slain your old +lover, you were careful to leave a token for his successor. You left +more than that: your crucifix from your neck, and a message with Fray +Juan?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Yes. I told Fray Juan the whole of the truth, and begged +him to tell the gentleman, because I wished him to think well of me. I +told him that Estéban——" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Softly, softly, Manuela. Why did you leave your crucifix +behind you?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "Because I was grateful to the gentleman who had saved my +life at Palencia; because I had nothing else to give him. Had I had +anything more valuable I would have left it. Nobody had been kind to +me before." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "You know what he has done with your crucifix, Manuela?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I do not." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "What are you saying?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "The truth." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "I have the means of confuting you. You told Fray Juan that +you were going to Madrid?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I did not." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "In the hope that he would tell the Englishman?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "If he told the gentleman that, he lied." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "It is then a singular coincidence which led to your meeting +him here in Madrid?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I did not meet him." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Did you not meet him a few nights before you surrendered to +justice?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "No." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Did you meet his servant?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I cannot tell you." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "Did not the Englishman pay for your lodging in the Carcel de +la Corte? Did he not send his servant every day to see you?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "The gentleman was lying wounded at the hotel. He had been +stabbed in the street." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "We are not discussing the Englishman's private affairs. +Answer my questions?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I cannot answer them." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "You mean that you will not, Manuela. Did you not know that +the Englishman caused your crucifix to be set in gold, like a holy +relic?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "I did not know it." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "We have it on your own confession that you slew Don Bartolomé +Ramonez in the wood of La Huerca, and you admit that the Englishman was +protecting you before that dreadful deed was done, that he has since +paid for your treatment in prison, and that he has treasured your +crucifix like a sacred relic?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "You are pleased to say these things. I don't say them. +You wish to incriminate a person who has been kind to me." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "I will ask you one more question, Manuela. Why did you give +yourself up to justice?" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I> (after a painful pause, speaking with high fervour and some +approach to dramatic effect): "I will answer you, seńor Juez. It was +because I knew that Don Luis would contrive the death of Don Osmundo if +I did not prove him innocent." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I> (rising, very angry): "Silence! The court cannot entertain +your views of persons not concerned in your crime." +</P> + +<P> +<I>Manuela</I>: "But——" (She shrugged, and looked away.) +</P> + +<P> +<I>Judge</I>: "You can sit down." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +NEMESIS—DON LUIS +</H4> + +<P> +Manvers' reiterated question of how in the name of wonder Don Luis or +anybody else knew what he had done with Manuela's crucifix was answered +before the day was over; but not by Gil Perez or the advocate whom he +had engaged to defend the unhappy girl. +</P> + +<P> +This personage gave him to understand without disguise that there was +very little chance for Manuela. The Judge, he said, had been +"instructed." He clung to that phrase. When Manvers said, "Let us +instruct him a little," he took snuff and replied that he feared +previous "instruction" might have created a prejudice. He undertook, +however, to see him privately before judgment was delivered, but +intimated that he must have a very free hand. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers' rejoinder took the shape of a blank cheque with his signature +upon it. The advocate, fanning himself with it in an abstracted +manner, went on to advise the greatest candour in the witness-box. +"Beware of irritation, dear sir," he said. "The Judge will plant a +banderilla here and there, you may be sure. That is his method. You +learn more from an angry man than a cool one. For my own part," he +went on, "you know how we stand—without witnesses. I shall do what I +can, you may be sure." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you will get something useful from the prisoner," Manvers said. +"A little of Master Estéban's private history should be useful." +</P> + +<P> +"It would be perfectly useless, if you will allow me to say so," +replied the advocate. "The Judge will not hear a word against a family +like the Ramonez. So noble and so poor! Perhaps you are not aware +that the Archbishop of Toledo is Don Luis' first cousin? That is so." +</P> + +<P> +"But is that allowed to justify his rip of a son in goading a girl on +to murder?" cried Manvers. +</P> + +<P> +The advocate again took snuff, shrugging as he tapped his fingers on +the box. "The Ramonez say, you see, sir, that Don Bartolomé may have +threatened her, moved by jealousy. Jealousy is a well-understood +passion here. The plea is valid and good." +</P> + +<P> +"Might it not stand for Manuela too?" he was asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think we had better advance it, Don Osmundo," he said, after a +significant pause. +</P> + +<P> +Gil Perez, pale and all on edge, had been walking the room like a caged +wolf. He swore to himself—but in English, out of politeness to his +master. "Thata dam thief! Ah, Juez of my soul, if I see you twist in +'ell is good for me." Presently he took Manvers aside and, his eyes +full of tears, asked him, "Sir, you escusa Manuela, if you please. She +maka story ver' bad to 'ear. She no like—I see 'er red as fire, burn +like the devil, sir. She ver' unfortunata girl—too beautiful to live. +And all these 'ogs—Oh, my God, what can she do?" He opened his arms, +and turned his pinched face to the sky. "What can she do, Oh, my God?" +he cried. "So beautiful as a rose, an' so poor, and so a child! You +sorry, sir, hey?" he asked, and Manvers said he was more sorry than he +could say. +</P> + +<P> +That comforted him. He kissed his master's hand, and then told him +that Manuela was glad that he knew all about her. "She dam glad, sir, +that I know. She say to me las' night—'What I shall tell the Juez +will be the very truth. Seńor Don Osmundo shall know what I am,' she +say. 'To 'im I could never say it. To thata Juez too easy say it. +To-morrow,' she say, ''e know me for what I am—too bad girl!'" +</P> + +<P> +"I think she is a noble girl," said Manvers. "She's got more courage +in her little finger than I have in my body. She's a girl in a +thousand." +</P> + +<P> +Gil Perez glowed, and lifted up his beaten head. "Esplendid—eh?" he +cried out. "By God, I serve 'er on my knees!" +</P> + +<P> +On returning to the court, the beard and patient face of Fray Juan +greeted our friend. He had very little to testify, save that he was +sure the Englishman had known nothing of the crime. The prisoner had +told him her story without haste or passion. He had been struck by +that. She said that she killed. Don Bartolomé in a hurry lest he +should kill both her and her benefactor. She had not informed him, nor +had he reported to the gentleman, that she was going to Madrid. The +Englishman said that he intended to find her, and witness had strongly +advised him against it. He had told him that his motives would be +misunderstood. "As, in fact, they have been, brother?" the advocate +suggested. Fray Juan raised his eyebrows, and sighed. "<I>Quien sabe?</I>" +was his answer. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers then stood up and spoke his testimony. He gave the facts as +the reader knows then, and made it clear that Manuela was in terror of +Estéban from the moment he appeared, and even before he appeared. He +had noticed that she frequently glanced behind them as they rode, and +had asked her the reason. Her fear of him in the wood was manifest, +and he blamed himself greatly for leaving her alone with the young man. +</P> + +<P> +"I was new to the country, you must understand," he said. "I could see +that there was some previous acquaintance between those two, but could +not guess that it was so serious. I thought, however, that they had +made up their differences and gone off together when I returned from +bathing. When Pray Juan showed me the body and told me what had been +done I was very much shocked. It had been, in one sense, my fault, for +if I had not rescued her, Estéban would not have suspected me, or +intended my death. That I saw at once; and my desire of meeting +Manuela again was that I might defend her from the consequences of an +act which I had, in that one sense, brought about—to which she had, at +any rate, been driven on my account." +</P> + +<P> +"I will ask you, sir," said the Judge, "one question upon that. Was +that also your motive in having the crucifix set in pure gold?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Manvers, "not altogether. I doubt if I can explain that to +you." +</P> + +<P> +"I am of that opinion myself," said the Judge, with an elaborate bow. +"But the court will be interested to hear you." +</P> + +<P> +The court was. +</P> + +<P> +"This girl," Manvers said, "was plainly most unfortunate. She was +ragged, poorly fed, had been ill-used, and was being shamefully handled +when I first saw her. I snatched her out of the hands of the wretches +who would have torn her to pieces if I had not interfered. From +beginning to end I never saw more shocking treatment of a woman than I +saw at Palencia. Not to have interfered would have shamed me for life. +What then? I rescued her, as I say, and she showed herself grateful in +a variety of ways. Then Estéban Vincaz came up and chose to treat me +as her lover. I believe he knew better, and think that my horse and +haversack had more to do with it. Well, I left Manuela with him in the +wood—hardly, I may suggest, the act of a lover—and never saw Estéban +alive again. But I believe Manuela's story absolutely; I am certain +she would not lie at such a time, or to such a man as Fray Juan. The +facts were extraordinary, and her crime, done as it was in defence of +myself, was heroic—or I thought so. Her leaving of the crucifix was, +to me, a proof of her honest intention. I valued the gift, partly for +the sake of the giver, partly for the act which it commemorated. She +had received a small service from me, and had returned it fifty-fold by +an act of desperate courage. To crown her charity, she left me all +that she had in the world. I do not wonder myself at what I did. I +took the crucifix to a jeweller at Valladolid, had it set as I thought +it deserved—and I see now that I did her there a cruel wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"Permit me to say, sir," said the triumphant Judge, "that you also did +Don Luis Ramonez a great service. Through your act, however intended, +he has been enabled to bring a criminal to justice." +</P> + +<P> +"I beg pardon," said Manvers, "she brought herself to justice—so soon +as Don Luis Ramonez sent his assassin out to stab me in the back, and +in the dark. And this again was a proof of her heroism, since she +thought by these means to satisfy his craving for human blood." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers spoke incisively and with severity. The court thrilled, and +the murmuring was on his side. The Judge was much disturbed. Manuela +alone maintained her calm, sitting like a pensive Hebe, her cheek upon +her hand. +</P> + +<P> +The Judge's annoyance was extreme. It tempted him to wrangle. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg you, sir, to restrain yourself. The court cannot listen to +extraneous matter. It is concerned with the consideration of a serious +crime. The illustrious gentleman of your reference mourns the loss of +his only son." +</P> + +<P> +"I fail," said Manvers, "to see how my violent death can assuage his +grief." The Judge was not the only person in court to raise his +eyebrows; if Manvers had not been angry he would have seen the whole +assembly in the same act, and been certified that they were not with +him now. His advocate whispered him urgently to sit down. He did, +still mystified. The Judge immediately retired to consider his +judgment. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers' advocate left the court and was away for an hour. He returned +very sedately to his place, with the plainly expressed intention of +saying nothing. The court buzzed with talk, much of it directed at the +beautiful prisoner, whose person, bearing, motives, and fate were +freely discussed. Oddly enough, at that moment, half the men in the +hall were ready to protect her. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers felt his heart beating, but could neither think nor speak +coherently. If Manuela were to be condemned to death, what was he to +do? He knew not at all; but the crisis to which his own affairs and +his own life were now brought turned him cold. He dared not look at +Gil Perez. The minutes dragged on—— +</P> + +<P> +The Judge entered the court and sat in his chair. He looked very much +like a codfish—with his gaping mouth and foolish eyes. He pulled one +of his long whiskers and inspected the end of it; detected a split +hair, separated it from its happier fellows, shut his eyes, gave a +vicious wrench to it and gasped as it parted. Then he stared at the +assembly before him, as if to catch them laughing, frowned at Manvers, +who sat before him with folded arms; lastly he turned to the prisoner, +who stood up and looked him in the face. +</P> + +<P> +"Manuela," he said, "you stand condemned upon your own confession of +murder in the first degree—murder of a gentleman who had been your +benefactor, of whose life and protection you desired, for reasons of +your own, to be ridded. The court is clear that you are guilty and +cannot give you any assurance that your surrender to justice has +assisted the ministers of justice. Those diligent guardians would have +found you sooner or later, you may be sure. If anyone is to be thanked +it is, perhaps, the foreign gentleman, whose candour"—and here he had +the assurance to make Manvers a bow—"whose candour, I say, has +favourably impressed the court. But, nevertheless, the court, in its +clemency, is willing to allow you the merits of your intention. It is +true that justice would have been done without your confession; but it +may be allowed that you desired to stand well with the laws, after +having violated them in an outrageous manner. It is this desire of +yours which inclines the court to mercy. I shall not inflict the last +penalty upon you, nor exact the uttermost farthing which your crime +deserves. The court is willing to believe that you are penitent, and +condemns you to perpetual seclusion in the Institution of the Recogidas +de Santa Maria Magdalena." +</P> + +<P> +Manuela was seen to close her eyes; but she collected herself directly. +She looked once, piercingly, at Manvers, then surrendered herself to +him who touched her on the shoulder, turned, and went out of the court. +</P> + +<P> +Everybody was against her now: they jeered, howled, hissed and cursed +her. A spoiled plaything had got its deserts. Manvers turned upon +them in a white fury. "Dogs," he cried, "will nothing shame you?" But +nobody seemed to hear or heed him at the moment, and Gil Perez +whispered in his ear, "That no good, master. This <I>canalla</I> all the +same swine. You come with me, sir, I tell you dam good thing." He had +recovered his old jauntiness, and swaggered before his master, clearing +the way with oaths and threatenings. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers followed him in a very stern mood. By the door he felt a touch +on the arm, and turning, saw a tall, elderly gentleman cloaked in +black. He recognised him at once by his hollow eye-sockets and +smouldering, deeply set eyes. "You will remember me, seńor caballero, +in the shop of Sebastian the goldsmith," he said; and Manvers admitted +it. He received another bow, and the reminder. "We met again, I +think, in the Church of Las Angustias in Valladolid." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, indeed," Manvers said, "I remember you very well." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you remember, no doubt, saying to me with regard to your +crucifix, which I had seen in Sebastian's hands, then in your own, that +it was a piece of extravagance on your part. You will not withdraw +that statement to-day, I suppose." +</P> + +<P> +That which lay latent in his words was betrayed by the gleam of cold +fire in his eyes. Manvers coloured. "You have this advantage of me, +seńor," he said, "that you know to whom you are speaking, and I do not." +</P> + +<P> +"It is very true, seńor Don Osmundo," the gentleman said severely. "I +will enlighten you. I am Don Luis Ramonez de Alavia, at your service." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers turned white. He had indeed made Manuela pay double. So much +for sentiment in Spain. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE HERALD +</H4> + +<P> +A card of ample size and flourished characters, bearing the name of El +Marqués de Fuenterrabia, was brought up by Gil Perez. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is he?" Manvers inquired; and Gil waved his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"This olda gentleman," he explained, "'e come Embassador from Don Luis. +'E say, 'What you do next, seńor Don Osmundo?' You tell 'im, sir—is +my advice." +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't know what I am going to do," said Manvers irritably. "How +the deuce should I know?" +</P> + +<P> +"You tell 'im that, sir," Gil said softly. "Thata best of all." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean, sir, then 'e tell you what Don Luis, 'e do." +</P> + +<P> +"Show him in," said Manvers. +</P> + +<P> +The Marqués de Fuenterrabia was a white-whiskered, irascible personage, +of stately manners and slight stature. He wore a blue frock-coat, and +nankeen trousers over riding-boots. His face was one uniform pink, his +eyes small, fierce, and blue. They appeared to emit heat as well as +light; for it was a frequent trick of their proprietor's to snatch at +his spectacles and wipe the mist from them with a bandana handkerchief. +Unglazed, his eyes showed a blank and indiscriminate ferocity which +Manvers found exceedingly comical. +</P> + +<P> +They bowed to each other—the Marqués with ceremonious cordiality, +Manvers with the stiffness of an Englishman to an unknown visitor. Gil +Perez hovered in the background, as it were, on the tips of his toes. +</P> + +<P> +The Marqués, having made his bow, said nothing. His whole attitude +seemed to imply, "Well, what next?" +</P> + +<P> +Manvers said that he was at his service; and then the Marqués explained +himself. +</P> + +<P> +"My friend, Don Luis Ramonez de Alavia," he said, "has entrusted me +with his confidence. It appears that a series of occurrences, +involving his happiness, honour and dignity at once, can be traced to +your Excellency's intromission in his affairs. I take it that your +Excellency does not deny——" +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me," Manvers said, "I deny it absolutely." +</P> + +<P> +The Marqués was very much annoyed. "<I>Que! Que!</I>" he muttered and +snatched off his spectacles. Glaring ferociously at them, he wiped +them with his bandana. +</P> + +<P> +"If Don Luis really imagines that I compassed the death of his son," +said Manvers, "I suppose he has his legal remedy. He had better have +me arrested and have done with it." +</P> + +<P> +The Marqués, his spectacles on, gazed at the speaker with astonishment. +"Is it possible, sir, that you can so misconceive the mind of a +gentleman as to suggest legal process in an affair of the kind? +Whatever my friend Don Luis may consider you, he could not be guilty of +such a discourtesy. One may think he is going too far in the other +direction, indeed—though one is debarred from saying so under the +circumstances. But I am not here to bandy words with you. My friend +Don Luis commissions me to ask your Excellency, for the name of a +friend, to whom the arrangements may be referred for ending a painful +controversy in the usual manner. If you will be so good as to oblige +me, I need not intrude upon you again." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean to suggest, seńor Marqués," said Manvers, after a pause, +"that I am to meet Don Luis on the field?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon?" said the Marqués, in such a way as to answer the question. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear sir," he was assured, "I would just as soon fight my +grandfather. The thing is preposterous." The Marqués gasped for air, +but Manvers continued. "Had your friend's age been anywhere near my +own, I doubt if I could have gratified him after what took place the +other day. He caused a man of his to stab me in the back as I was +walking down a dark street. In my country we call that a dastard's +act." +</P> + +<P> +The Marqués started, and winced as if he was hurt; but he remembered +himself and the laws of warfare, and when he spoke it was within the +extremes of politeness. +</P> + +<P> +"I confess, sir," he said, "that I was not prepared for your refusal. +It puts me in a delicate position, and to a certain extent I must +involve my friend also. It is my duty to declare to you that it is Don +Luis' intention to break the laws of Spain. An outrage has been +committed against his house and blood which one thing only can efface. +Moved by extreme courtesy, Don Luis was prepared to take the remedy of +gentlemen; but since you have refused him that, he is driven to the use +of natural law. It will be in your power—I cannot deny—to deprive +him of that also; but he is persuaded that you will not take advantage +of it. Should you show any signs of doing so, I am to say, Don Luis +will be forced to consider you outside the pale of civilisation, and to +treat you without any kind of toleration. To suggest such a +possibility is painful to me, and I beg your pardon very truly for it." +</P> + +<P> +In truth the Marqués looked ashamed of himself. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers considered the very oblique oration to which he had listened. +"I hope I understand you, seńor Marqués," he said. "You intend to say +that Don Luis means to have my life by all means?" +</P> + +<P> +The Marqués bowed. "That is so, seńor Don Osmundo." +</P> + +<P> +"But you suggest that it is possible that I might stop him by informing +the authorities?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no," said the Marqués hastily, "I did not suggest that. The +authorities would never interfere. The British Embassy might perhaps +be persuaded—but you will do me the justice to admit that I apologised +for the suggestion." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, by all means," said Manvers. "You thought pretty badly of me—but +not so badly as all that." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," said the Marqués; and then the surprising Gil Perez +descended from mid-air, and lowed to the stranger. +</P> + +<P> +"My master, Don Osmundo, seńor Marqués, is incapable of such conduct," +said he—and looked to Manvers for approval. +</P> + +<P> +He struggled with himself, but failed. His guffaw must out, and +exploded with violent effect. It drove the Marqués back to the door, +and sent Gil Perez scudding on tiptoe to the window. +</P> + +<P> +"You are magnificent, all of you!" cried Manvers. "You flatter me into +connivance. Let me state the case exactly. Don Luis is to stab or +shoot me at sight, and I am to give him a free hand. Is that what you +mean? Admirable. But let me ask you one question. Am I not supposed +to protect myself?" +</P> + +<P> +The Marqués stared. "I don't think I perfectly understand you, Don +Osmundo. Reprisals are naturally open to you. We declare war, that is +all." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," said Manvers. "You declare war? Then I may go shooting, too?" +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally," said the Marqués. "That is understood." +</P> + +<P> +"No dam fear about that," said Gil Perez to his master. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +LA RECOGIDA +</H4> + +<P> +Sister Chucha, the nun who took first charge of newcomers to the +Penitentiary, was fat and kindly, and not very discreet. It was her +business to measure Manuela for a garb and to see to the cutting of her +hair. She told the girl that she was by far the most handsome penitent +she had ever had under her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a thousand pities to cut all this beauty away," she said; "for +it is obvious you will want it before long. So far as that goes you +will find the cap not unbecoming; and I'll see to it that you have a +piece of looking-glass—though, by ordinary, that is forbidden. Good +gracious, child, what a figure you have! If I had had one quarter of +your good fortune I should never have been religious." +</P> + +<P> +She went on to describe the rules of the Institution, the hours and +nature of the work, the offices in Chapel, the recreation times and +hours for meals. Manuela, she said, was not the build for rope and mat +work. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall get Reverend Mother to put you to housework, I think," she +said. "That will give you exercise, and the chance of an occasional +peep at the window. You don't deserve it, I fancy; but you are so +handsome that I have a weakness for you. All you have to do is to +speak fairly to Father Vicente and curtsey to the Reverend Mother +whenever you see her. Above all, no tantrums. Leave the others alone, +and they'll let you alone. There's not one of them but has her scheme +for getting away, or her friend outside. That's occupation enough for +her. It will be the same with you. Your friends will find you out. +You'll have a <I>novio</I> spending the night in the street before +to-morrow's over unless I am very much mistaken." She patted her +cheek. "I'll do what I can for you, my dear." +</P> + +<P> +Manuela curtseyed, and thanked the good nun. "All I have to do," she +said, "is to repent of my sin—which has become very horrible to me." +</P> + +<P> +"La-la-la!" cried Sister Chucha. "Keep that for Father Vicente, if +you please, my dear. That is his affair. Our patroness led a jolly +life before she was a saint. No doubt, you should not have stabbed Don +Bartolomé, and of course the Ramonez would never overlook such a thing. +But we all understand that you must save your own skin if you +could—that's very reasonable. And I hear that there was another +reason." Here she chucked her chin. "I don't wonder at it," she said +with a meaning smile. +</P> + +<P> +The girl coloured and hung her head. She was still quivering with the +shame of her public torture. She could still see Manvers' eyes stare +chilly at the wall before them, and believe them to grow colder with +each stave of her admissions. Her one consolation lay in the thought +that she could please him by amendment and save him by a conviction; so +it was hard to be petted by Sister Chucha. She would have welcomed the +whip, would have hugged it to her bosom—the rod of Salvation, she +would have called it; but compliments on her beauty, caresses of cheek +and chin—was she not to be allowed to be good? As for escape, she had +no desire for that. She could love her Don Osmundo best from a +distance. What was to be gained, but shame, by seeing him? +</P> + +<P> +Her shining hair was cut off; the cap, the straight prison garb were +put on. She stood up, slim-necked, an arrowy maid, with her burning +face and sea-green eyes chastened by real humility. She made a good +confession to Father Vicente, and took her place among her mates. +</P> + +<P> +It was true, what Sister Chucha had told her. Every penitent in that +great and gaunt building was thrilled with one persistent hope, worked +patiently with that in view, and under its spell refrained from +violence or clamour. There was not one face of those files of +grey-gowned girls which, at stated hours, entered the chapel, knelt at +the altar, or stooped at painful labour through the stifling days, +which did not show a gleam. Stupid, vacant, vicious, morose, pretty, +sparkling, whatever the face might be, there was that expectation to +redeem or enhance it, to make it human, to make it womanish. There +was, or there would be, some day, any day, a lover outside—to whom it +would be the face of all faces. +</P> + +<P> +Manuela had not been two hours in the company of her fellow-prisoners +before she was told that there were two ways of escape from the +Recogidas. Religion or marriage these were; but the religious +alternative was not discussed. +</P> + +<P> +Sister Chucha, it transpired, had chosen that way—"But do you wonder?" +cried the girl who told Manuela, with shrill scorn. Most of the +sisters had once been penitents—"<I>Vaya</I>! Look at them, my dear!" +cried this young Amazon, conscious of her own charms. +</P> + +<P> +She was a plump Andalusian, black-eyed, merry, and quick to change her +moods. Love had sent her to Saint Mary Magdalene, and love would take +her out again. +</P> + +<P> +That Chucha, she owned, was a kind soul. She always put the pretty +ones to housework—"it gives us a chance at the windows. I have +Fernando, who works at the sand-carting in the river. He never fails +to look up this way. Some day he will ask for me." She peered at +herself in a pail of water, and fingered her cap daintily. "How does +my skirt hang now, Manuela? Too short, I fancy. Did you ever see such +shoes as they give you here! Lucky that nobody can see you." +</P> + +<P> +This was the strain of everybody's talk in the House of Las +Recogidas—in the whitewashed galleries where they walked in squads +under the eye of a nun who sat reading a good book against the wall, in +the court where they lay in the shade to rest, prone, with their faces +hidden in their arms, or with knees huddled up and eyes fixed in a +stare. They talked to each other in the hoarse, tearful staccato of +Spain, which, beginning low, seems to gather force and volume as it +runs, until, like a beck in flood, it carries speaker and listener over +the bar and into tossing waves of yeasty water. +</P> + +<P> +Manuela, through all, kept her thoughts to herself, and spoke nothing +of her own affairs. There may have been others like her, fixed to the +great achievement of justifying themselves to their own standard: she +had no means of knowing. Her standard was this, that she had purged +herself by open confession to the man whom she loved. She was clean, +sweetened and full of heart. All she had to do was to open wide her +house that holiness might enter in. +</P> + +<P> +Besides this she had, at the moment, the consciousness of a good +action; for she firmly believed that by her surrender to the law she +had again saved Manvers from assassination. If Don Luis could only +cleanse his honour by blood, he now had her heart's blood. That should +suffice him. She grew happier as the days went on. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile it was remarked upon by Mercédes and Dolores, and half a +dozen more, that distinguished strangers came to the gallery of the +chapel. The outlines of them could be descried through the <I>grille</I>; +for behind the <I>grille</I> was a great white window which threw them into +high relief. +</P> + +<P> +It was the fixed opinion of Mercédes and Dolores that Manuela had a +<I>novio</I>. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE NOVIO +</H4> + +<P> +It is true that Manvers had gone to the Chapel of the Recogidas to look +for, or to look at, Manuela. This formed the one amusing episode in +his week's round in Madrid, where otherwise he was extremely bored, and +where he only remained to give Don Luis a chance of waging his war. +</P> + +<P> +To be shot at in the street, or stabbed in the back as you are homing +through the dusk are, to be sure, not everybody's amusements, and in an +ordinary way they were not those of Mr. Manvers. But he found that his +life gained a zest by being threatened with deprivation, and so long as +that zest lasted he was willing to oblige Don Luis. The weather was +insufferably hot, one could only be abroad early in the morning or late +at night—both the perfection of seasons for the assassin's game. +</P> + +<P> +Yet nothing very serious had occurred during the week following the +declaration of war. Gil Perez could not find Tormillo, and had to +declare that his suspicions of a Manchegan teamster, who had jostled +his master in the Puerta del Sol and made as if to draw his knife, were +without foundation. What satisfied him was that the Manchegan, that +same evening, stabbed somebody else to death. "That show 'e is good +fellow—too much after 'is enemy," said Gil Perez affably. So Manvers +felt justified in his refusal to wear mail or carry either revolver or +sword-stick; and by the end of the week he forgot that he was a marked +man. +</P> + +<P> +On Sunday he told Gil Perez that he intended to visit the Chapel of the +Recogidas. +</P> + +<P> +The rogue's face twinkled. "Good, sir, good. We go. I show you +Manuela all-holy like a nun. I know whata she do. Look for 'eaven all +day. That Chucha she tell me something—and the <I>portero</I>, 'e damgood +fellow." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Resplendent in white duck trousers, Mr. Manvers was remarked upon by a +purely native company of sightseers. Quick-eyed ladies in mantillas +were there, making play with their fans and scent-bottles; attendant +cavaliers found something of which to whisper in the cool-faced +Englishman with his fair beard, blue eyes, and eye-glass, his air of +detachment, which disguised his real feelings, and of readiness to be +entertained, which they misinterpreted. +</P> + +<P> +The facts were that he was painfully involved in Manuela's fate, and +uncomfortably near being in love again with the lovely unfortunate. +She was no longer a pretty thing to be kissed, no longer even a +handsome murderess; she was become a heroine, a martyr, a thing enskied +and sainted. +</P> + +<P> +He had seen more than he had been meant to see during his ordeal in the +Audiencia—her consciousness of himself, for instance, as revealed in +that last dying look she had given him, that long look before she +turned and followed her gaolers out of court. He guessed at her +agonies of shame, he understood how it was that she had courted it; in +fine, he knew very well that her heart was in his keeping—and that's a +dangerous possession for a man already none too sure of the whereabouts +of his own. +</P> + +<P> +When the organ music thrilled and opened, and the Recogidas filed +in—some hundred of them—his heart for a moment stood still, as he +scanned them through the gloom. They were dressed exactly alike in +dull clinging grey, all wore close-fitting white caps, were nearly all +dead-white in the face. They all shuffled, as convicts do when they +move close-ordered to their work afield. +</P> + +<P> +It shocked him that he utterly failed to identify Manuela—and it +brought him sharply to his better senses that Gil Perez saw her at +once. "See her there, master, see there my beautiful," the man groaned +under his breath, and Manvers looked where he pointed, and saw her; but +now the glamour was gone. Gil was her declared lover. The Squire of +Somerset could not stoop to be his valet's rival. +</P> + +<P> +The Squire of Somerset, however, observed that she held herself more +stiffly than her co-mates, and shuffled less. The prison garb clothed +her like a weed; she had the trick of wearing clothes so that they +draped the figure, not concealed it, were as wax upon it, not a +cerement. That which fell shapeless and heavily from the shoulders of +the others, upon her seemed to grow rather from the waist—to creep +upwards over the shoulders, as ivy steals clinging over a statue in a +park. Here, said he, is a maiden that cannot be hid. Call her a +murderess, she remains perfect woman; call her convict, Magdalen, she +is some man's solace. He looked: at Gil Perez, motionless and intent +by his side, and heard his short breath: There is her mate, he thought +to himself, and was saved. +</P> + +<P> +They filed out as they had come in. They all stood, turned towards the +exit, and waited until they were directed to move. Then they followed +each other like sheep through a gateway, looking, so far as he could +see, at nothing, expecting nothing, and remembering nothing. A +down-trodden herd, he conceived them, their wits dulled by toil. He +was not near enough to see the gleam which kept them alive. Nuns gave +them their orders with authoritative hands, quick always, and callous +by routine, probably not intended to be so harsh as they appeared. He +saw one girl pushed forward by the shoulder with such suddenness that +she nearly fell; another flinched at a passionate command; another +scowled as she passed her mistress. He watched to see how Manuela, who +had come in one of the first and must go out one of the last, would +bear herself, and was relieved by a pretty and enheartening episode. +</P> + +<P> +Manuela, as she passed, drew her hand along the top of the bench with a +lingering, trailing touch. It encountered that of the nun in command, +and he saw the nun's hand enclose and press the penitent's. He saw +Manuela's look of gratitude, and the nun's smiling affection; he +believed that Manuela blushed. That gratified him extremely, and +enlarged his benevolent intention. +</P> + +<P> +Had Gil Perez seen it? He thought not. Gil Perez' black eyes were +fixed upon Manuela's form. They glittered like a cat's when he watches +a bird in a shrubbery. The valet was quite unlike himself as he +followed his master homewards and asked leave of absence for the +evening—for the first time in his period of service. Manvers had no +doubt at all how that evening was spent—in rapt attention below the +barred windows of the House of the Recogidas. +</P> + +<P> +That was so. Gil Perez "played the bear," as they call it, from dusk +till the small hours—perfectly happy, in a rapture of adoration which +the Squire of Somerset could never have realised. All the romance +which, if we may believe Cervantes, once transfigured the life of +Spain, and gilded the commonest acts till they seemed confident appeals +for the applause of God, feats boldly done under Heaven's thronged +barriers, is nowadays concentred in this one strange vigil which all +lovers have to keep. +</P> + +<P> +Gil Perez the quick, the admirable servant, the jaunty adventurer, the +assured rogue, had vanished. Here he stood beneath the stars, +breathing prayers and praises—not a little valet sighing for a +convicted Magdalen, but a young knight keeping watch beneath his lady's +tower. And he was not alone there: at due intervals along the frowning +walls were posted other servants of the sleeping girls behind them; +other knights at watch and ward. +</P> + +<P> +The prayer he breathed was the prayer breathed too for Dolores or +Mercédes in prison. "Virgin of Atocha, Virgin of the Pillar, Virgin of +Sorrow, of Divine Compassion, send happy sleep to thy handmaid Manuela, +shed the dew of thy love upon her eyelids, keep smooth her brows, keep +innocent her lips. Dignify me, thy servant, Gil Perez, more than other +men, that I may be worthy to sustain this high honour of love." +</P> + +<P> +His eyes never wavered from a certain upper window. It was as blank as +all the rest, differed in no way from any other of a row of +five-and-twenty. To him if was the pride of the great building. +</P> + +<P> +"O fortunate stars!" he whispered to himself, "that can look through +these and see my love upon her bed. O rays too much blessed, that can +kiss her eyelids, and touch lightly upon the scented strands of her +hair! O breath of the night, that can fan in her white neck and stroke +her arm stretched out over the coverlet! To you, night-wind, and to +you, stars, I give an errand; you shall take a message from me to +lovely Manuela of the golden tresses. Tell her that I am watching out +the dark; tell her that no harm shall come to her. Whisper in her ear, +mingle with her dreams, and tell her that she has a lover. Tell her +also that the nights in Madrid are not like those in Valencia, and that +she would do well to cover her arm and shoulder up lest she catch cold, +and suffer." +</P> + +<P> +There spoke the realist, the romantic realist of Spain; for it is to be +observed that Gil Perez did not know at all whereabouts Manuela lay +asleep, and could not, naturally, know whether her arm was out of bed +or in it. He had forgotten also that her hair had been cut off—but +these are trifles. Happy he! he had forgotten much more than that. +</P> + +<P> +When Manvers told him that he intended to pay Manuela a visit on the +day allowed, Gil Perez suffered the tortures of the damned. Jealous +rage consumed his vitals like a corroding acid, which reason and +loyalty had no power to assuage. Yet reason and loyalty played out +their allotted parts, and it had been a fine sight to see Gil grinning +and gibbering at his own white face in the looking-glass, shaking his +finger at it and saying to it, in English (since it was his master's +shaving-glass), "Gil Perez, my fellow, you shut up!" He said it many +times, for he had nothing else to say—jealousy deprived him of his +wits; and he felt better for the discipline. When Manvers returned +there was no sign upon Gil's brisk person of the stormy conflict which +had ravaged it. +</P> + +<P> +Manvers had seen her and, by Sister Chucha's charity, had seen her +alone. The poor girl had fallen at his feet and would have kissed them +if he had not lifted her up. "No, my dear, no," he said; "it is I who +ought to kneel. You have done wonders for me. You are as brave as a +lion, Manuela; but I must get you away from this place." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, Don Osmundo," she cried, flushing up, "indeed I am better +here." She stood before him, commanding herself, steeling herself in +the presence of this man she loved against any hint of her beating +heart. +</P> + +<P> +He had himself well in hand. Her beauty, her distress and misfortune +could not touch him now. All that he had for her was admiration and +pure benevolence. Fatal offerings for a woman inflamed: so soon as she +perceived it her courage was needed for another tussle. Her blood lay +like lead in her veins, her heart sank to the deeps of her, and she +must screw it back again to the work of the day. +</P> + +<P> +He took her hand, and she let him have it. What could it matter now +what he had of hers? "Manuela," he said, "there is a way of freedom +for you, if you will take it. A man loves you truly, and asks nothing +better than to work for you. I know him; he's been a good friend to +me. Will you let me pay you off my debt? His name is Gil Perez. You +have seen him, I know. He's an honest man, my dear, and loves you to +distraction. What are you going to say to him if he asks for you?" +</P> + +<P> +She stood, handfasted to the man who had kissed her—and in kissing her +had drawn out her soul through her lips; who now was pleading that +another man might have her dead lips. The mockery of the thing might +have made a worse woman laugh horribly; but this was a woman made pure +by love. She saw no mockery, no discrepancy in what he asked her. She +knew he was in earnest and wished her nothing but good. +</P> + +<P> +And she could see, without knowing that she saw, how much he desired to +be rid of his obligation to her. Therefore, she reasoned, she would be +serving him again if she agreed to what he proposed. Here—if laughing +had been her mood—was matter for laughter, that when he tried to pay +her off he was really getting deeper into debt. Look at it in this +way. You owe a fine sum, principal and interest, to a Jew; you go to +him and propose to borrow again of him in order that you may pay off +the first debt and be done with it. The Jew might laugh but he would +lend; and Manuela, who hoarded love, hugged to her heart the new bond +she was offered. The deeper he went into debt the more she must lend +him! There was pleasure in this—shrill pleasure not far off from +pain; but she was a child of pleasure, and must take what she could get. +</P> + +<P> +Her grave eyes, uncurtained, searched his face. "Is this what you +desire me to do? Is this what you ask of me?" +</P> + +<P> +"My dear," said he, "I desire your freedom. I desire to see you happy +and cared for. I must go away. I must go home. I shall go more +willingly if I know that I have provided for my friend." +</P> + +<P> +She urged a half-hearted plea. "I am very well here, Don Osmundo. The +sisters are kind to me, the work is light. I might be happy here——" +</P> + +<P> +"What!" he cried, "in prison!" +</P> + +<P> +"It is what I deserve," she said; but he would not hear of it. +</P> + +<P> +"You are here through my blunders," he insisted. "If I hadn't left you +with that scoundrel in the wood this would never have happened. And +there's another thing which I must say——" He grew very serious. +"I'm ashamed of myself—but I must say it." She looked at her hands in +her lap, knowing what was coming. +</P> + +<P> +"They said, you know, that Estéban must have thought me your lover." +She sat as still as death. "Well—I was." +</P> + +<P> +Not a word from her. "My dear," he went on painfully—for Eleanor +Vernon's clear grey eyes were on him now, "I must tell you that I did +what I had no business to do. There's a lady in England who—whom—I +was carried away—I thought——" He stopped, truly shocked at what he +had thought her to be. "Now that I know you, Manuela, I tell you +fairly I behaved like a villain." +</P> + +<P> +Her face was flung up like that of a spurred horse; she was on the +point to reveal herself,—to tell him that in that act of his lay all +her glory. But she stopped in time, and resumed her drooping, and her +dejection. "I must serve him still—serve him always," was her burden. +</P> + +<P> +"I was your lover truly," he continued, "after I knew what you had +risked for me, what you had brought yourself to do for me. Not before +that. Before that, I had been a thief—a brute. But after it, I loved +you—and then I had your cross set in gold—and betrayed you into Don +Luis' mad old hands. All this trouble is my fault—you are here +through me—you must be got out through me. Gil Perez is a better man +than I am ever likely to be. He loves you sincerely. He loved you +before you gave yourself up. You know that, I expect..." +</P> + +<P> +She knew it, of course, perfectly well, but she said nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"He wouldn't wish to bustle you into marriage, or anything of the sort. +He's a gentleman, is Gil Perez, and I shall see that he doesn't ask for +you empty-handed. I am sure he can make you happy; and I tell you +fairly that the only way I can be happy myself is to know that I have +made you amends." He got up—at the end of his resources. "Let me +leave his case before you. He'll plead it in his own way, you'll find. +I can't help thinking that you must know what the state of his feelings +is. Think of him as kindly as you can—and think of me, too, Manuela, +as a man who has done you a great wrong, and wants to put himself right +if he may." He held out his hand. "Good-bye, my dear. I'll see you +again, I hope—or send a better man." +</P> + +<P> +"Good-bye, Don Osmundo," she said, and gave him her hand. He pressed +it and went away, feeling extremely satisfied with the hour's work. +Eleanor Vernon's clear grey eyes smiled approvingly upon him. "Damn it +all," he said to himself, "I've got that tangle out at last." He began +to think of England—Somersetshire—Eleanor—partridges. "I shall get +home, I hope, by the first," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"He's a splendour, your <I>novio</I>, Manuelita," said Sister Chucha, and +emphasised her approval with a kiss. "Fie!" she cried, "what a cold +cheek! The cheek of a dead woman. And you with a <I>hidalgo</I> for your +<I>novio</I>!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE WAR OPENS +</H4> + +<P> +Returning from his visit, climbing the Calle Mayor at that blankest +hour of the summer day when the sun is at his fiercest, raging +vertically down upon a street empty of folk, but glittering like glass +and radiant with quivering air, Manvers was shot at from a distance, so +far as he could judge, of thirty yards. He heard the ball go shrilling +past him and then splash and flatten upon a church wall beyond. He +turned quickly, but could see nothing. Not a sign of life was upon the +broad way, not a curtain was lifted, not a shutter swung apart. To all +intents and purposes he was upon the Castilian plains. +</P> + +<P> +Unarmed though he was, he went back upon his traces down the hill, +expecting at any moment that the assassin would flare out upon him and +shoot him down at point-blank. He went back in all some fifty yards. +There was no man in lurking that he could discover. After a few +moments' irresolution—whether to stand or proceed—he decided that the +sooner he was within walls the better. He turned again and walked +briskly towards the Puerta del Sol. +</P> + +<P> +Sixty yards or so from the great <I>plaza</I>, within sight of it, he was +fired at again, and this time he was hit in the muscles of the left +arm. He felt the burning sting, the shock and the aching. The welling +of blood was a blessed relief. On this occasion he pushed forward, and +reached his inn without further trouble. He sent for Gil Perez, who +whisked off for the surgeon; by the time he brought one in Manvers was +feverish, and so remained until the morning, tossing and jerking +through the fervent night, with his arm stiff from shoulder to +finger-points. +</P> + +<P> +"That a dam thief, sir, 'e count on you never looka back," said Gil +Perez, nodding grimly. "Capitan Rodney, 'e all the same as you. Walka +'is blessed way, never taka no notice of anybody. See 'im at +Sevastopol do lika that all the time. So then this assassin 'e creep +after you lika one o'clock up Calle Mayor, leta fly at you twice, three +time, four time—so longa you let 'im. You walka backward, 'e never +shoot—you see." +</P> + +<P> +Manvers felt that to walk backwards would be at least as tiresome as to +walk forwards and be shot at in a city which now held little for him +but danger and <I>ennui</I>. Not even Manuela's fortunes could prevail +against boredom. As he lay upon his hateful bed, disgust with Spain +grew upon him hand over hand. He became irritable. To Gil Perez he +announced his determination. This sort of thing must end. +</P> + +<P> +Gil bowed and rubbed his hands. "You go 'ome, sir? Is besta place for +you. Don Luis, 'e kill you for sure. You go, 'e go 'ome, esleep on +'is olda bed—too mucha satisfy." Under his breath he added, "Poor +Manuela—my poor beautiful! She is tormented in vain!" +</P> + +<P> +Manvers told him what had passed in the House of the Recogidas. "I +spoke for you, Gil. I think she will listen to you." +</P> + +<P> +Gil lifted up his head. "Every nighta, when you are asleep, sir, I +estand under the wall. I toucha—I say 'Keep safa guard of Manuela, +you wall.' If she 'ave me I maka 'er never sorry for it. I love 'er +too much. But I think she call me dirt. I know all about 'er too +much." +</P> + +<P> +What he knew he kept hidden; but one day he went to the Recogidas and +asked to see Sister Chucha. He was obsequious, but impassioned, full +of cajolery, but not for a moment did he try to impose upon his +countrywoman by any assumption of omniscience. That was reserved for +his master, and was indeed a kind of compliment to his needs. Sister +Chucha heard him at first with astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Then it was for you, Gil Perez, that the gentleman came here?" +</P> + +<P> +Gil nodded. "It was for me, sister. How could it be otherwise?" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought that the gentleman was interested." +</P> + +<P> +Gil peered closely into her face. "That gentleman is persecuted. +Manuela can save him from the danger he stands in—but only through me. +Sister, I love her more than life and the sky, but I am content, and +she will be content, that life shall be dumb and the sky dark if that +gentleman may go free. Let me speak with Manuela—you will see." +</P> + +<P> +The nun was troubled. "Too many see Manuela," she said. "Only +yesterday there came here a man." +</P> + +<P> +"Ha!" said Gil Perez fiercely. "What manner of a man?" +</P> + +<P> +"A little man," she told him, "that came in creeping, rounding his +shoulders—so, and swimming with his hands. He saw Manuela, and left +her trembling. She was white and grey—and very cold." +</P> + +<P> +"That man," said Gil, folding his arms, "was our enemy. Let me now see +Manuela." +</P> + +<P> +It was more a command than an entreaty. Sister Chucha obeyed it. She +went away without a word, and returned presently, leading Manuela by +the hand. She brought her into the room, released her, and stood, +watching and listening. +</P> + +<P> +Eyes leaped to meet—Manuela was on fire, but Gil's fire ate up hers. +</P> + +<P> +"Seńorita, you have surrendered in vain. These men must have blood for +blood. The patron lies wounded, and will die unless we save him. +Seńorita, you are willing, and I am willing—speak." +</P> + +<P> +She regarded him steadily. "You know that I am willing, Gil Perez." +</P> + +<P> +"It was Tormillo you saw yesterday?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Tormillo—like a toad." +</P> + +<P> +"He was sent to mock you in your pain. He is a fool. We will show him +a fool in his own likeness. Are you content to die?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know that I am content." +</P> + +<P> +He turned to the nun. "Sister Chucha, you will let this lady go. She +goes out to die—I, who love her, am content that she should die. If +she dies not, she returns here. If she dies, you will not ask for her." +</P> + +<P> +The sister stared. "What do you mean, you two? How is she to die? +When? Where?" +</P> + +<P> +"She is to die under the knife of Don Luis," said Gil Perez. "And I am +to lay her there." +</P> + +<P> +"You, my friend! And what have you to do with Don Luis and his +affairs?" +</P> + +<P> +"Manuela is young," said Gil, "and loves her life. I am young, and +love Manuela more than life. If I take her to Don Luis and say, 'Kill +her, Seńor Don Luis, and in that act kill me also,' I think he will be +satisfied. I can see no other way of saving the life of Don Osmundo." +</P> + +<P> +"And what do you ask me to do?" the nun asked presently. +</P> + +<P> +"I ask you to give me Manuela presently for one hour or for eternity. +If Don Luis rejects her, I bring her back to you here—on the word of +an old Christian. If he takes her, she goes directly to God, where you +would have her be. Sister Chucha," said Gil Perez finely, "I am +persuaded that you will help us." +</P> + +<P> +Sister Chucha looked at her hands—fat and very white hands. "You ask +me to do a great deal—to incur a great danger—for a gentleman who is +nothing to me." +</P> + +<P> +"He is everything to Manuela," said Gil softly. "That you know." +</P> + +<P> +"And you, Gil Perez—what is he to you?" This was Sister Chucha's +sharpest. Gil took it with a blink. +</P> + +<P> +"He is my master—that is something. He is more to Manuela. And she +is everything to me. Sister, you may trust me with her." +</P> + +<P> +The nun turned from him to the motionless beauty by her side. +</P> + +<P> +"You, my child, what do you say to this project? Shall I let you go?" +</P> + +<P> +Manuela wavered a little. She swayed about and balanced herself with +her hands. But she quickly recovered. +</P> + +<P> +"Sister Chucha," she said, "let me go." The soft green light from her +eyes spoke for her. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +MEETING BY MOONLIGHT +</H4> + +<P> +By moonlight, in the sheeted park, four persons met to do battle for +the life of Mr. Manvers, while he lay grumbling and burning in his bed, +behind the curtains of it. Don Luis Ramonez was there, the first to +come—tall and gaunt, with undying pride in his hollow eyes, like a +spectre of rancour kept out of the grave. Behind him Tormillo came +creeping, a little restless man, dogging his master's footsteps, +watching for word or sign from him. These two stood by the lake in the +huge empty park, still under its shroud of white moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +Don Luis picked up the corner of his cloak and threw it over his left +shoulder. He stalked stately up and down the arc of a circle which a +stone seat defined. Tormillo sat upon the edge of the seat, his elbows +on his knees, and looked at the ground. But he kept his master in the +tail of his eye. Now and again, furtively, but as if he loved what he +feared, he put his hand into his breast and felt the edge of his long +knife. +</P> + +<P> +Once indeed, when Don Luis on his sentry-march had his back to him, he +drew out the blade and turned it under the moon, watching the cold +light shiver and flash up along it and down. Not fleck or flaw was +upon it; it showed the moon whole within its face. This pair, each +absorbed in his own business, waited for the other. +</P> + +<P> +Tormillo saw them coming, and marked it by rising from his seat. He +peered along the edge of the water to be sure, then he went noiselessly +towards them, looking back often over his shoulder at Don Luis. But +his master did not seem to be aware of anyone. He stood still, looking +over the gloomy lake. +</P> + +<P> +Tormillo, having gone half way, waited. Gil Perez hailed him. "Is +that you, Tormillo?" The muffled figure of a girl by his side gave no +sign. +</P> + +<P> +"It is I, Gil Perez. Be not afraid." +</P> + +<P> +"If I were afraid of anything, I should not be here. I have brought +Manuela of her own will." +</P> + +<P> +"Good," said Tormillo. "Give her to me. We will go to Don Luis." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you shall take her. I will remain here. Seńorita, will you go +with him?" +</P> + +<P> +Manuela said, "I am ready." +</P> + +<P> +Tormillo turned his face away, and Gil Perez with passion whispered to +Manuela. +</P> + +<P> +"My soul, my life, Manuela! One sign from you, and I kill him!" +</P> + +<P> +he turned him her rapt face. "No<BR> +sign from me, brother—no sign from me." +</P> + +<P> +"My life," sighed Gil Perez. "Soul of my soul!" She held him out her +hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Pray for me," she said. He snatched at her hand, knelt on his knee, +stooped over it, and then, jumping up, flung himself from her. +</P> + +<P> +"Take her you, Tormillo." +</P> + +<P> +Tormillo took her by the hand, and they went together towards the +semicircular seat, in whose centre stood Don Luis like a black statue. +Soft-footed went she, swaying a little, like a gossamer caught in a +light wind. Don Luis half-turned, and saluted her. +</P> + +<P> +"Master," said Tormillo, "Manuela is here." As if she were a figure to +be displayed he lightly threw back her veil. Manuela stood still and +bowed her head to the uncovered gentleman. +</P> + +<P> +"I am ready, seńor Don Luis," she said. He came nearer, watching her, +saying nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"I killed Don Bartolomé, your son," she said, "because I feared him. +He told me that he had come to kill me; but I was beforehand with him +there. It is true that I loved Don Osmundo, who had been kind to me." +</P> + +<P> +"You killed my son," said Don Luis, "and you loved the Englishman." +</P> + +<P> +"I own the truth," she said, "and am ready to requite you. I thought +to have satisfied you by giving myself up—but you have shown me that +that was not enough. Now then I give you myself of my own will, if you +will let Don Osmundo go free. Will you make a bargain with me? He +knew nothing of Don Bartolomé, your son." +</P> + +<P> +Don Luis bowed. Manuela turned her head slowly about to the still +trees, to the sleeping water, to the moon in the clear sky, as if to +greet the earth for the last time. For one moment her eyes fell on Gil +Perez afar off—on his knees with his hands raised to heaven. +</P> + +<P> +"I am ready," she said again, and bowed her head. Tormillo put into +Don Luis' hands the long knife. Don Luis threw it out far into the +lake. It fled like a streak of light, struck, skimmed along the +surface, and sank without a splash. He went to Manuela and put his +hand on her shoulder. She quivered at his touch. +</P> + +<P> +"My child," said he, "I cannot touch you. You have redeemed yourself. +Go now, and sin no more." +</P> + +<P> +He left her and went his way, stately, along the edge of the water. He +stalked past Gil Perez at his prayers as if he saw him not—as may well +be the case. But Gil Perez got upon his feet as he went by and saluted +him with profound respect. +</P> + +<P> +Immediately afterwards he went like the wind to Manuela. He found her +crying freely on the stone seat, her arms upon the back of it and her +face hidden in her arms She wept with passion; her sobs were pitiful to +hear. Tormillo, not at all moved, waited for Gil Perez. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Esa te quiere bien que te hace llorar</I>," he said: "She loves thee +well, that makes thee weep." +</P> + +<P> +"I weep not," said Gil Perez; "it is she that weeps. As for me, I +praise God." +</P> + +<P> +"Aha, Gil Perez," Tormillo began—then he chuckled. "For you, my +friend, there's still sunlight on the wall." +</P> + +<P> +Gil nodded. "I believe it." Then he looked fiercely at the other man. +"Go you with God, Tormillo, and leave me with her." +</P> + +<P> +Tormillo stared, spat on the ground. "No need of your 'chuck chuck' to +an old dog. I go, Gil Perez. <I>Adios, hermano</I>." +</P> + +<P> +Gil Perez sat on the stone seat, and drew Manuela's head to his +shoulder. She suffered him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-bpap1"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-bpap1.jpg" ALT="Inside back cover art (left side)" BORDER="2" WIDTH="553" HEIGHT="915"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 553px"> +Inside back cover art (left side) +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-bpap2"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-bpap2.jpg" ALT="Inside back cover art (right side)" BORDER="2" WIDTH="553" HEIGHT="915"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 553px"> +Inside back cover art (right side) +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spanish Jade, by Maurice Hewlett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPANISH JADE *** + +***** This file should be named 29545-h.htm or 29545-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/5/4/29545/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Spanish Jade + +Author: Maurice Hewlett + +Illustrator: William Hyde + +Release Date: July 29, 2009 [EBook #29545] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPANISH JADE *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Transcriber's note: superscripted characters in this file are +indicated by surrounding them with the vertical bar character, e.g. +"|d|".] + + + + + +[Illustration: Inside front cover art (left side)] + + + + +[Illustration: Inside front cover art (right side)] + + + + +[Frontispiece: Castilian table lands.] + + + + + +THE SPANISH JADE + + +BY + +MAURICE HEWLETT + + + + +WITH FULL PAGE COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS + +BY WILLIAM HYDE + + + + +CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED + +LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK, TORONTO AND MELBOURNE + +MCMVIII + + + + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + INTRODUCTION + I. THE PLEASANT ERRAND + II. THE TRAVELLER AT LARGE + III. DIVERSIONS OF TRAVEL + IV. TWO ON HORSEBACK + V. THE AMBIGUOUS THIRD + VI. A SPANISH CHAPTER + VII. THE SLEEPER AWAKENED + VIII. REFLECTIONS OF AN ENGLISHMAN + IX. A VISIT TO THE JEWELLER'S + X. FURTHER EPISODES IN THE LIFE OF DON LUIS RAMONEZ + XI. GIL PEREZ DE SEGOVIA + XII. A GLIMPSE OF MANUELA + XIII. CHIVALRY OF GIL PEREZ + XIV. TRIAL BY QUESTION + XV. NEMESIS--DON LUIS + XVI. THE HERALD + XVII. LA RACOGIDA + XVIII. THE NOVIO + XIX. THE WAR OPENS + XX. MEETING BY MOONLIGHT + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +CASTILIAN TABLE LANDS . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +UPON A BLUE FIELD LAY VALLADOLID + +THE TOWERS OF SEGOVIA + +MADRID BY NIGHT + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +Cada puta hile (Let every jade go spin).--SANCHO PANZA. + + +Almost alone in Europe stands Spain, the country of things as they are. +The Spaniard weaves no glamour about facts, apologises for nothing, +extenuates nothing. _Lo que ha de ser no puede faltar_! If you must +have an explanation, here it is. Chew it, Englishman, and be content; +you will get no other. One result of this is that Circumstance, left +naked, is to be seen more often a strong than a pretty thing; and +another that the Englishman, inveterately a draper, is often horrified +and occasionally heart-broken. The Spaniard may regret, but cannot +mend the organ. His own will never suffer the same fate. _Chercher le +midi a quatorze heures_ is no foible of his. + +The state of things cannot last; for the sentimental pour into the +country now, and insist that the natives shall become as self-conscious +as themselves. The _Sud-Express_ brings them from England and Germany, +vast ships convey them from New York. Then there are the newspapers, +eager as ever to make bricks without straw. Against Teutonic +travellers, and journalists, no idiosyncrasy can stand out. The +country will run to pulp, as a pear, bitten without by wasps and within +by a maggot, will get sleepy and drop. But that end is not yet, the +Lord be praised, and will not be in your time or mine. The tale I have +to tell--an old one, as we reckon news now--might have happened +yesterday; for that was when I was last in Spain, and satisfied myself +that all the concomitants were still in being. I can assure you that +many a Don Luis yet, bitterly poor and bitterly proud, starves and +shivers, and hugs up his bones in his _capa_ between the Bidassoa and +the Manzanares; many a wild-hearted, unlettered Manuela applies the +inexorable law of the land to her own detriment, and, with a sob in the +breath, sits down to her spinning again, her mouldy crust and cup of +cold water, or worse fare than that. Joy is not for the poor, she +says--and then, with a shrug, _Lo que ha de ser_...! + +But, as a matter of fact, it belongs to George Borrow's day, this tale, +when gentlemen rode a-horseback between town and town, and followed the +river-bed rather than the road. A stranger then, in the plains of +Castile, was either a fool who knew not when he was well off, or an +unfortunate, whose misery at home forced him afield. There was no +_genus_ Tourist; the traveller was conspicuous and could be traced from +Spain to Spain. When you get on you'll see; that is how Tormillo +weaselled out Mr. Manvers, by the smell of his blood. A great, roomy, +haggard country, half desert waste and half bare rock, was the Spain of +1860, immemorially old, immutably the same, splendidly frank, +acquainted with grief and sin, shameless and free; like some brown +gipsy wench of the wayside, with throat and half her bosom bare, who +would laugh and show her teeth, and be free with her jest; but if you +touched her honour, ignorant that she had one, would stab you without +ruth, and go her free way, leaving you carrion in the ditch. Such was +the Spain which Mr. Manvers visited some fifty years ago. + + + + +THE SPANISH JADE + + +CHAPTER I + +THE PLEASANT ERRAND + +Into the plain beyond Burgos, through the sunless glare of before-dawn; +upon a soft-padding ass that cast no shadow and made no sound; well +upon the stern of that ass, and with two bare heels to kick him; alone +in the immensity of Castile, and as happy as a king may be, rode a +young man on a May morning, singing to himself a wailing, winding chant +in the minor which, as it had no end, may well have had no beginning. +He only paused in it to look before him between his donkey's ears; and +then--"_Arre, burra, hijo de perra!_"--he would drive his heels into +the animal's rump. In a few minutes the song went spearing aloft again +.... "_En batalla-a-a temero-o-sa-a_....!" + +I say that he was young; he was very young, and looked very delicate, +with his transparent, alabaster skin, lustrous grey eyes and pale, thin +lips. He had a sagging straw hat upon his round and shapely head, a +shirt--and a dirty shirt--open to the waist. His _faja_ was a broad +band of scarlet cloth wound half a dozen times about his middle, and +supported a murderous long knife. For the rest, cotton drawers, bare +legs, and feet as brown as walnuts. All of him that was not +whitey-brown cotton or red cloth was the colour of the country; but his +cropped head was black, and his eyes were very light grey, keen, +restless and bold. He was sharp-featured, careless and impudent; but +when he smiled you might think him bewitching. His name he would give +you as Esteban Vincaz--which it was not; his affair was pressing, +pleasant and pious. Of that he had no doubt at all. He was intending +the murder of a young woman. + +His eyes, as he sang, roamed the sun-struck land, and saw everything as +it should be. Life was a grim business for man and beast and herb of +the field, no better for one than for the others. The winter corn in +patches struggled sparsely through the clods; darnels, tares, +deadnettle and couch, the vetches of last year and the thistles of +next, contended with it, not in vain. The olives were not yet in +flower, but the plums and sloes were powdered with white; all was in +order. + +When a clump of smoky-blue iris caught his downward looks, he slipped +off his ass and snatched a handful for his hat. "The Sword-flower," he +called it, and accepting the omen with a chuckle, jumped into his seat +again and kicked the beast with his naked heels into the shamble that +does duty for a pace. As he decorated his hat-string he resumed his +song:-- + + "En batalla temerosa + Andaba el Cid castellano + Con Bucar, ese rey moro, + Que contra el Cid ha llegado + A le ganar a Valencia..." + + +He hung upon the pounding assonances, and his heart thumped in accord, +as if his present adventure had been that crowning one of the hero's. + +Accept him for what he was, the graceless son of his +parents--horse-thief, sheep-thief, contrabandist, bully, trader of +women--he had the look of a seraph when he sang, the complacency of an +angel of the Weighing of Souls. And why not? He had no doubts; he +could justify every hour of his life. If money failed him, wits did +not; he had the manners of a gentleman--and a gentleman he actually +was, hidalgo by birth--and the morals of a hyaena, that is to say, none +at all. I doubt if he had anything worth having except the grand air; +the rest had been discarded as of no account. + +Schooling had been his, he had let it slip; if his gentlehood had been +negotiable he had carded it away. Nowadays he knew only elementary +things--hunger, thirst, fatigue, desire, hatred, fear. What he craved, +that he took, if he could. He feared the dark, and God in the +Sacrament. He pitied nothing, regretted nothing; for to pity a thing +you must respect it, and to respect you must fear; and as for regret, +when it came to feeling the loss of a thing it came naturally also to +hating the cause of its loss; and so the greater lust swallowed up the +less. + +He had felt regret when Manuela ran away; it had hurt him, and he hated +her for it. That was why he intended at all cost to find her again, +and to kill her; because she had been his _amiga_, and had left him. +Three weeks ago, it had been, at the fair of Pobledo. The fair had +been spoiled for him, he had earned nothing, and lost much; esteem, to +wit, his own esteem, mortally wounded by the loss of Manuela, whose +beauty had been a mark, and its possession an asset; and time--valuable +time--lost in finding out where she had gone. + +Friends of his had helped him; he had hailed every _arriero_ on the +road, from Pamplona to La Coruna; and when he had what he wanted he had +only delayed for one day, to get his knife ground. He knew exactly +where she was, at what hour he should find her, and with whom. His +tongue itched and brought water into his mouth when he pictured the +meeting. He pictured it now, as he jogged and sang and looked +contentedly at the endless plain. + +Presently he came within sight, and, since he made no effort to avoid +it, presently again into the street of a mud-built village. Few people +were astir. A man slept in an angle of a wall, flies about his head; a +dog in an entry scratched himself with ecstasy; a woman at a doorway +was combing her child's hair, and looked up to watch him coming. + +Entering in his easy way, he looked to the east to judge of the light. +Sunrise was nearly an hour away; he could afford to obey the summons of +the cracked bell, filling the place with its wrangling, with the +creaking of its wheel. He hobbled his beast in the little _plaza_, and +followed some straying women into church. + +Immediately confronting him at the door was a hideous idol. A huge and +brown, wooden Christ, with black horse-hair tresses, staring white +eyeballs, staring red wounds, towered before him, hanging from a cross. +Esteban knelt to it on one knee, and, remembering his hat, doffed it +sideways over his ear. He said his two _Paternosters_, and then +performed one odd ceremony more. Several people saw him do it, but no +one was surprised. He took the long knife from his _faja_, running his +finger lightly along the edge, laid it flat before the Cross, and +looking up at the tormented God, said him another _Pater_. That done, +he went into the church, and knelt upon the floor in company with +kerchiefed women, children, a dog or two, and some beggars of +incredible age and infirmities beyond description, and rose to one +knee, fell to both, covered his eyes, watched the celebrant, or the +youngest of the women, just as the server's little bell bade him. +Simple ceremonies, done by rote and common to Latin Europe; certainly +not learned of the Moors. + +Mass over, our young avenger prepared to resume his journey by breaking +his fast. A hunch of bread and a few raisins sufficed him, and he ate +these sitting on the steps of the church, watching the women as they +loitered on their way home. Esteban had a keen eye for women; pence +only, I mean the lack of them, prevented him from being a collector. +But the eye is free; he viewed them all from the standpoint of the +cabinet. One he approved. She carried herself well, had fine ankles, +and wore a flower in her hair like an Andalusian. Now, it was one of +his many grudges against fate that he had never been in Andalusia and +seen the women there. For certain, they were handsome; a _Sevillana_, +for instance! Would they wear flowers in their hair--over the +ear--unless they dared be looked at? Manuela was of Valencia, more +than half _gitana_: a wonderfully supple girl. When she danced the +_jota_ it was like nothing so much as a snake in an agony. Her hair +was tawny yellow, and very long. She wore no flower in it, but bound a +red handkerchief in and out of the plaits. She was vain of her +hair--heart of God, how he hated her! + +Then the priest came out of church, fat, dewlapped, greasy, very short +of breath, but benevolent. "Good-day, good-day to you," he said. "You +are a stranger. From the North?" + +"My reverence, from Burgos." + +"Ha, from Burgos this morning! A fine city, a great city." + +"Yes, sir, it's true. It is where they buried our lord the Campeador." + +"So they say. You are lettered! And early afoot." + +"Yes, sir. I am called to be early. I still go South." + +"Seeking work, no doubt. You are honest, I hope?" + +"Yes, sir, a very honest Christian. But I seek no work. I find it." + +"You are lucky," said the priest, and took snuff. "And where is your +work? In Valladolid, perhaps?" + +Esteban blinked hard at that last question. "No, sir," he said. "Not +there." Do what he might he could not repress the bitter gleam in his +eyes. + +The old priest paused, his fingers once more in the snuff-box. "There +again you have a great city. Ah, and there was a time when Valladolid +was one of the greatest in Castile. The capital of a kingdom! Chosen +seat of a king! Pattern of the true Faith!" His eyelids narrowed +quickly. "You do not know it?" + +"No, sir," said Esteban gently. "I have never been there." + +The priest shrugged. "_Vaya_! it is no affair of mine," he said. Then +he waved his hand, wagging it about like a fan. "Go your ways," he +added, "with God." + +"Always at the feet of your reverence," said Esteban, and watched him +depart. He stared after him, and looked sick. + +Altogether he delayed for an hour and a quarter in this village: a +material time. The sun was up as he left it--a burning globe, just +above the limits of the plain. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE TRAVELLER AT LARGE + +Ahead of Esteban some five or six hours, or, rather converging upon a +common centre so far removed from him, was one Osmund Manvers, a young +English gentleman of easy fortune, independent habits and analytical +disposition; also riding, also singing to himself, equally early +afoot, but in very different circumstances. He bestrode a horse +tolerably sound, had a haversack before him reasonably stored. He had +a clean shirt on him, and another embaled, a brace of pistols, a New +Testament and a "Don Quixote"; he wore brown knee-boots, a tweed +jacket, white duck breeches, and a straw hat as little picturesque as +it was comfortable or convenient. Neither revenge nor enemy lay ahead, +of him; he travelled for his pleasure, and so pleasantly that even Time +was his friend. Health was the salt of his daily fare, and curiosity +gave him appetite for every minute of the day. + +He would have looked incongruous in the elfin landscape--in that empty +plain, under that ringing sky--if he had not appeared to be as +extremely at home in it as young Esteban himself; but there was this +farther difference to be noted, that whereas Esteban seemed to belong +to the land, the land seemed to belong to Mr. Manvers--the land of the +Spains and all those vast distances of it, the enormous space of +ground, the dim blue mountains at the edge, the great arch of sky over +all. He might have been a young squire at home, overlooking his farms, +one eye for the tillage or the upkeep of fence and hedge, another for a +covey, or a hare in a farrow. He was as serene as Esteban and as +contented; but his comfort lay in easy possession, not in being easily +possessed. Occasionally he whistled as he rode, but, like Esteban, +broke now and again into a singing voice, more cheerful, I think, than +melodious. + + "If she be not fair for me, + What care I how fair she be?" + + +An old song. But Henry Chorley made a tone for it the summer before +Mr. Manvers left England, and it had caught his fancy, both the air and +the sentiment. They had come aptly to suit his scoffing mood, and to +help him salve the wound which a Miss Eleanor Vernon had dealt his +heart--a Miss Eleanor Vernon with her clear disdainful eyes. She had +given him his first acquaintance with the hot-and-cold disease. + +"If she be not fair for me!" Well, she was not to be that. Let her go +spin then, and--"What care I how fair she be?" He had discarded her +with the Dover cliffs, and resumed possession of himself and his seeing +eye. By this time a course of desultory journeying through Brittany +and the West of France, a winter in Paris, a packet from Bordeaux to +Santander had cured him of his hurt. The song came unsought to his +lips, but had no wounded heart to salve. + +Mr. Manvers was a pleasant-looking young man, sanguine in hue, grey in +the eye, with a twisted sort of smile by no means unattractive. His +features were irregular, but he looked wholesome; his humour was +fitful, sometimes easy, sometimes unaccountably stiff. They called him +a Character at home, meaning that he was liable to freakish asides from +the common rotted road, and could not be counted on. It was true. He, +for his part, called himself an observer of Manvers, which implied that +he had rather watch than take a side; but he was both hot-tempered and +quick-tempered, and might well find himself in the middle of things +before he knew it. His crooked smile, however, seldom deserted him, +seldom was exchanged for a crooked scowl; and the light beard which he +had allowed himself in the solitudes of Paris led one to imagine his +jaw less square than it really was. + +I suppose him to have been five foot ten in his boots, and strong to +match. He had a comfortable income, derived from land in +Somersetshire, upon which his mother, a widow lady, and his two +unmarried sisters lived, and attended archery meetings in company of +the curate. The disdain of Miss Eleanor Vernon had cured him of a +taste for such simple joys, and now that, by travel, he had cured +himself of Miss Eleanor, he was travelling on for his pleasure, or, as +he told himself, to avoid the curate. Thus neatly he referred to his +obligations to Church and State in Somersetshire. + +By six o'clock on this fine May morning he had already ridden far--from +Sahagun, indeed, where he had spent some idle days, lounging, and +exchanging observations on the weather with the inhabitants. He had +been popular, for he was perfectly simple, and without airs; never +asked what he did not want to know, and never refused to answer what it +was obviously desired he should. But man cannot live upon small talk; +and as he had taken up his rest in Sahagun in a moment of impulse--when +he saw that it possessed a church-dome covered with glazed green +tiles--so now he left it. + +"High Heaven!" he had cried, sitting up in bed, "what the deuce am I +doing here? Nothing. Nothing on earth. Let's get out of it." So out +he had got, and could not ask for breakfast at four in the morning. + +He rode fast, desiring to make way before the heat began, and by six +o'clock, with the sun above the horizon, was not sorry to see towers +and pinnacles, or to hear across the emptiness the clangorous notes of +a deep-toned bell. "The muezzin calls the faithful, but for me another +summons must be sounded. That town will be Palencia. There I +breakfast, by the grace of God. Coffee and eggs." + +Palencia it was, a town of pretence, if such a word can be applied to +anything Spanish, where things either are or are not, and there's an +end. It was as drab as the landscape, as weatherworn and austere; but +it had a squat officer sitting at the receipt of custom, which Sahagun +had not, and a file of anxious peasants before him, bargaining for +their chickens and hay. + +Upon the horseman's approach the functionary raised himself, looking +over the heads of the crowd as at a greater thing, saluted, and +inquired for gate-dues with his patient eyes. "I have here," said +Manvers, who loved to be didactic in a foreign language, "a shirt and a +comb, the New Testament, the History of the Ingenious Gentleman, Don +Quixote de la Mancha, and a toothbrush." + +Much of this was Greek to the _doganero_, who, however, understood that +the stranger was referring in tolerable Castilian to a provincial +gentleman of degree. The name and Manvers' twisted smile together won +him the entry. The officer just eased his peaked cap. "Go with God, +sir," he directed. + +"Assuredly," said Manvers, "but pray assist me to the inn." + +The Providencia was named, indicated, and found. There was an elderly +man in the yard of it, placidly plucking a live fowl, a barbarity with +which our traveller had now ceased to quarrel. + +"Leave your horrid task, my friend," he said. "Take my horse, and feed +him." + +The bird was released, and after shaking, by force of habit, what no +longer, or only partially existed, rejoined its companions. They +received it coldly, but it soon showed that it could pick as well as be +picked. + +"Now," said Manvers to the ostler, "give this horse half a feed of +corn, then some water, then the other half feed; but give him nothing +until you have cooled him down. Do these things, and I present you +with one _peseta_. Omit any of them, and I give you nothing at all. +Is that a bargain?" + +The old man haled off the horse, muttering that it would be a bad +bargain for his Grace, to which Manvers replied that we should see. +Then he went into the Providencia for his coffee and eggs. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DIVERSIONS OF TRAVEL + +If Sahagun puts you out of conceit with Castile, you are not likely to +be put in again by Palencia; for a second-rate town in this kingdom is +like a piece of the plain enclosed by a wall, and only emphasises the +desolation at the expense of the freedom; and as in a windy square all +the city garbage is blown into corners, so the walled town seems to +collect and set to festering all the disreputable creatures of the +waste. + +Mr. Manvers, his meal over, hankered after broad spaces again. He +walked the arcaded streets and cursed the flies, he entered the +Cathedral and was driven out by the beggars. He leaned over the bridge +and watched the green river, and that set him longing for a swim. If +his maps told him the truth, some few leagues on the road to Valladolid +should discover him a fine wood, the wood of La Huerca, beyond which, +skirting it, in fact, should be the Pisuerga. Here he could bathe, +loiter away the noon, and take his _merienda_, which should be the best +Palencia could supply. + + "Muera Marta, + Y muera harta," + +"Let Martha die, but not on an empty stomach," he said to himself. He +knew his Don Quixote better than most Spaniards. + +He furnished his haversack, then, with bread, ham, sausages, wine and +oranges, ordered out his horse, satisfied himself that the ostler had +earned his fee, and departed at an ambling pace to seek his amusements. +But, though he knew it not, the finger of Fate was upon him, and he was +enjoying the last of that perfect leisure without which travel, +love-making, the arts and sciences, gardening, or the rearing of a +family, are but weariness and disgust. Just outside the gate of +Palencia he had an adventure which occupied him until the end of this +tale, and, indeed, some way beyond it. + +The Puerta de Valladolid is really no gate at all, but a gateway. What +walls it may once have pierced have fallen away from it in their fight +with time, and now buttresses and rubbish-heaps, a moat of blurred +outline and much filth, alone testify to former pretensions. Beyond +was to be found a sandy waste, miscalled an _alameda_, a littered place +of brown grass, dust and loose stones, fringed with parched acacias, +and diversified by hillocks, upon which, in former days of strife, +standards may have been placed, mangonels planted, perhaps Napoleonic +cannon. + +It was upon one of these mounds, which was shaded by a tree, that +Manvers observed, and paused in the gateway to observe, the doings of a +group of persons, some seven boys and lads, and a girl. A kind of +uncouth courtship seemed to be in progress, or (as he put it) the +holding of a rude Court. He thought to see a Circe of picaresque Spain +with her swinish rout about her. To drop metaphor, the young woman sat +upon the hillock, with the half dozen tatterdemalions round her in +various stages of amorous enchantment. + +He set the girl down for a gipsy, for he knew enough of the country to +be sure that no marriageable maiden of worth could be courted in this +fashion. Or if not a gipsy then a thing of nought, to be pitied if the +truth were known, at any rate to be skirted. Her hair, which seemed to +be of a dusty gold tinge, was knotted up in a red handkerchief; her +gown was of blue faded to green, her feet were bare. If a gipsy, she +was to be trusted to take care of herself; if but a sunburnt vagrant +she could be let to shift; and yet he watched her curiously, while she +sat as impassive as a young Sphinx, and wondered to himself why he did +it. + +Suppose her of that sort you may see any day at a fair, jigging outside +a booth in red bodice and spangles, a waif, a little who-knows-who, +suppose her pretty to death--what is she even then but an iridescent +bubble, as one might say, thrown up by some standing pool of vice, as +filmy, very nearly as fleeting, and quite as poisonous? It struck him +as he watched--not the girl in particular, but a whole genus centred in +her--as really extraordinary, as an obliquity of Providence, that such +ephemerids must abound, predestined to misery; must come and sin, and +wail and go, with souls inside them to be saved, which nobody could +save, and bodies fair enough to be loved, which nobody could stoop to +love. Had the scheme of our Redemption scope enough for this--for this +trifle, along with Santa Teresa, and the Queen of Sheba, and Isabella +the Catholic? He perceived himself slipping into the sententious on +slight pretence--but presently found himself engaged. + +Hatless, shoeless, and coatless were the oafs who surrounded the object +of his speculations, some lying flat, with elbows forward and chins to +fist; some creeping and scrambling about her to get her notice, or fire +her into a rage; some squatting at an easy distance with ribaldries to +exchange. But there was one, sitting a little above her on the mound, +who seemed to consider himself, in a sort, her proprietor. He was +master of the pack, warily on the watch, able by position and strength +to prevent what he might at any moment choose to think on infringement +of his rights. A sullen, grudging, silent, and jealous dog, Manvers +saw him, and asked himself how long she would stand it. At present she +seemed unaware of her surroundings. + +He saw that she sat broodingly, as if ruminating on more serious +things, such as famine or thirst, her elbows on her knees and her face +in her two hands. That was the true gipsy attitude, he knew, all the +world over. But so intent she was, that she was careless of her +person, careless that her bodice was open at the neck and that more +people than Manvers were aware of it. A flower was in her mouth, or he +thought so, judging from the blot of scarlet thereabouts; her face was +set fixedly towards the town--too fixedly that he might care, since she +cared so little, whether she saw him there or not. And after all, not +she, but the manners of the game centred about her, was what mattered. + +Manners, indeed! The fastidious in our young man was all on edge; he +became a critic of Spain. Where in England, France, or Italy could you +have witnessed such a scene as this? Or what people but the Spaniards +among the children of Noah know themselves so certainly lords of the +earth that they can treat women, mules, prisoners, Jews, and bulls +according to the caprices of appetite? That an Italian should make +public display of his property in a woman, or his scorn of her, was a +thing unthinkable; yet, if you came to consider it, so it was that a +Spaniard should not. Set aside, said he to himself, the grand air, and +what has the Spaniard which the brutes have not? + +Hotly questioning the attendant heavens, Manvers saw just such an act +of mastery, when the lumpish fellow above the girl put his hand upon +her, and kept it there, and the others thereupon drew back and ceased +their tricks, as if admitting possession had and seisin taken, as the +lawyers call it. To Manvers a hateful thing. He felt his blood surge +in his neck. "Damn him! I've a mind----! And they pray to a woman!" + +But the girl did nothing--neither moved, nor seemed to be aware. Then +the drama suddenly quickened, the actors serried, and the acts, down to +the climax, followed fast. + +Emboldened by her passivity, the oaf advanced by inches, visibly. He +looked knowingly about him, collecting approval from his followers, he +whispered in her ear, hummed gallant airs, regaled the company with +snatches of salt song. Fixed as the Sphinx and unfathomable, she sat +on broodingly until, piqued by her indifference, maybe, or swayed by +some wave of desire, he caught her round the waist and buried his face +in her neck; and then, all at once, she awoke, shivered and collected +herself, without warning shook herself free, and hit her bully a blow +on the nose with all her force. + +He reeled back, with his hands to his face; the blood gushed over his +fingers. Then all were on their feet, and a scuffle began, the most +unequal you can conceive, and the most impossible. It was all against +one, with stones flying and imprecations after them, and in the midst +the tawny-haired girl fighting like one possessed. + +A minute of this--hardly so much--was more than enough for Manvers, +who, when he could believe his eyes, pricked headlong into the fray, +and began to lay about him with his crop. "Dogs, sons of dogs, down +with your hands!" he cried, in Spanish which was fluent, if +imaginative. But his science with the whip was beyond dispute, and the +diversion, coming suddenly from behind, scattered the enemy into +headlong flight. + +The field cleared, the girl was to be seen. She lay moaning on the +ground, her arms extended, her right leg twitching. She was bleeding +at the ear. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TWO ON HORSEBACK + +Now, Manvers was under fire; for the enemy, reinforced by stragglers +from the town, had unmasked a battery of stones, and was making fine +practice from the ruins of the wall. He was hit more than once, his +horse more than he; both were exasperated, and he in particular was +furious at the presence of spectators who, comfortably in the shade, +watched, and had been watching, the whole affair with enviable +detachment of mind and body. With so much to chafe him, he may be +pardoned for some irritability. + +He dismounted as coolly as he could, and led his horse about to cover +her from the stones. "Come," he said, as he stooped to touch her, "I +must move you out of this. Saint Stephen--blessed young man--has +forestalled this particular means of going to Heaven. Oh, damn the +stones!" + +He used no ceremony, but picked her up as if she had been a +dressmaker's dummy, and set her on her feet, where, after swaying +about, and some balancing with her hands, she presently steadied +herself, and stood, dazed and empty-eyed. Her cheek was cut, her ear +was bleeding; her hair was down, the red handkerchief uncoiled; her +dusky skin was stained with dirt and scratches, and her bosom heaved +riotously as she caught for her breath. + +"Take your time, my dear," said Manvers kindly. And she did, by +tumbling into his arms. Here, then, was a situation for the student of +Manners; a brisk discharge of stones from an advancing line of +skirmishers, a strictly impartial crowd of sightseers, a fidgety horse, +and himself embarrassed by a girl in a faint. + +He called for help and, getting none, shook his fist at the callous +devils who ignored him; he inspected his charge, who looked as pure as +a child in her swoon, all her troubles forgotten and sins blotted out; +he inquired of the skies, as if hopeful that the ravens, as of old, +might bring him help; at last, seeing nothing else for it, he picked up +the girl in both arms and pitched her on to the saddle. There, with +some adjusting, he managed to prop her while he led the horse slowly +away. He had to get the reins in his teeth before he had gone ten +yards. The retreat began. + +It was within two hours of noon, or nothing had saved him from a +retirement as harassing as Sir John Moore's. It was the sun, not +ravens, that came to his help. Meantime the girl had recovered herself +somewhat, and, when they were out of sight of the town and its +inhabitants, showed him that she had by sliding from the saddle and +standing firmly on her feet. + +"Hulloa!" said Manvers. "What's the matter now? Do you think you can +walk back? You can't, you know." He addressed her in his best +Castilian. "I am afraid you are hurt. Let me help----" but she held +him off with a stiffening arm, while she wiped her face with her +petticoat, and put herself into some sort of order. + +She did it deftly and methodically, with the practised hands of a woman +used to the public eye. She might have been an actress at the wings, +about to go on. Nor would she look at him or let him see that she was +aware of his presence until all was in order--her hair twisted into the +red handkerchief, the neck of her dress pinned together, her torn skirt +nicely hung. Her coquetry, her skill in adjusting what seemed past +praying for, her pains with herself, were charming to see and very +touching. Manvers watched her closely and could not deny her beauty. + +She was a vivid beauty, fiercely coloured, with her tawny gold hair, +sunburnt skin, and jade-green, far-seeing eyes, her coiled crimson +handkerchief and blue-green gown. She was finely made, slim, and in +contour hardly more than a child; and yet she seemed to him very +mature, a practised hand, with very various knowledge deep in her eyes, +and a wide acquaintance behind her quiet lips. With her re-ordered +toilette she had taken on self-possession and dignity, a reserve which +baffled him. Without any more reason than this he felt for her a kind +of respect which nothing, certainly, in what he had seen of her +circumstances could justify. Yet he gave her her title--which marks +his feeling. + +"Senorita," he said, "I wish to be of service to you. Command me. +Shall I take you back to Palencia?" + +She answered him seriously. "I beg that you will not, sir." + +"If you have friends----" he began, and she said at once, "I have none." + +"Or parents----" + +"None." + +"Relatives----" + +"None, none." + +"Then your----" + +"I know what you would say. I have no house." + +"Then," said Manvers, looking vaguely over the plain, "what do you wish +me to do for you?" + +She was now sitting by the roadside, very collectedly looking down at +her hands in her lap. "You will leave me here, if you must," she said; +"but I would ask your charity to take me a little farther from +Palencia. Nobody has ever been kind to me before." + +She said this quite simply, as if stating a fact. He was moved. + +"You were unhappy in Palencia?" + +"Yes," she said, "I would rather be left here." The enormous plain of +Castile, treeless, sun-struck, empty of living thing, made her words +eloquent. + +"Absurd," said Manvers. "If I leave you here you will die." + +"In Palencia," said the girl, "I cannot die." And then her grave eyes +pierced him, and he knew what she meant. + +"Great God!" said Manvers. "Then I shall take you to a convent." + +She nodded her head. "Where you will, sir," she replied. Her gravity, +far beyond her seeming station, gave value to her confidence. + +"That seems to me the best thing I can do with you," Manvers said; "and +if you don't shirk it, there is no reason why I should. Now, can you +stick on the saddle if I put you up?" + +She nodded again. "Up you go then." He would have swung her up +sideways, lady-fashion; but she laughed and cried, "No, no," put a hand +on his shoulder, her left foot in the stirrup, and swung herself into +the saddle as neatly as a groom. There she sat astride, like a +circus-rider, and stuck her arm akimbo as she looked down for his +approval. + +"Bravo," said Manvers. "You have been a-horseback before this, my +girl. Now you must make room for me." He got up behind her and took +the reins from under her arm. With the other arm it was necessary to +embrace her; she allowed it sedately. Then they ambled off together, +making a Darby and Joan affair of it. + +But the sun was now close upon noon, burning upon them out of a sky of +brass. There was no wind, and the flies were maddening. After a while +he noticed that the girl simply stooped her head to the heat, as if she +were wilting like a picked flower. When he felt her heavy on his arm +he saw that he must stop. So he did, and plied her with wine from his +pocket-flask, feeding her drop by drop as she lay back against him. He +got bread out of his haversack and made her eat; she soon revived, and +then he learned the fact that she had eaten nothing since yesterday's +noon. "How should I eat," she asked, "when I have earned nothing?" + +"Nohow, but by charity," he agreed. "Had Palencia no compassion?" She +grew dark and would not answer him at first; presently asked, had he +not seen Palencia? + +"I agree," he said. "But let me ask you, if I may without +indiscretion, how did you propose to earn your bread in Palencia?" + +"I would have worked in the fields for a day, sir," she told him; "but +not longer, for I have to get on." + +"Where do you wish to go?" + +"Away from here." + +"To Valladolid?" + +She looked up into his face--her head was still near his shoulder. "To +Valladolid? Never there." + +This made him laugh. "To Palencia? Never there. To Valladolid? +Never there. Where then, lady of the sea-green eyes?" + +She veiled her eyes quickly. "To Madrid, I suppose. I wish to work." + +"Can you find work there?" + +"Surely. It is a great city." + +"Do you know it?" + +"Yes, I was there long ago." + +"What did you do there?" + +"I worked. I was very well there." She sat up and looked back over +his shoulder. She had done that once or twice before, and now he asked +her what she was looking for. She desisted at once: "Nothing" was her +answer. + +He made her drink from the flask again and gave her his pocket +handkerchief to cover her head. When she understood she laughed at him +without disguise. Did he think she feared the sun? She bade him look +at her neck--which was walnut brown, and sleek as satin; but when he +would have taken back his handkerchief she refused to give it, and put +it over her head like a hood, and tied it under her chin. She then +turned herself round to face him. "Is it so you would have it, sir?" +she asked, and looked bewitching. + +"My dear," said Manvers, "you are a beauty." Shall he be blamed if he +kissed her? Not by me, since she never blamed him. + +Her clear-seeing eyes searched his face; her kissed mouth looked very +serious, and also very pure. Then, as he observed her ardently, she +coloured and looked down, and afterwards turned herself the way they +were to go, and with a little sigh settled into his arm. + +Manvers spurred his horse, and for some time nothing was said between +them. But he was of a talkative habit, with a trick of conversing with +himself for lack of a better man. He asked her if he was forgiven, and +felt her answer on his arm, though she gave him none in words. This +was not to content him. "I see that you will not," he said, to tease +her. "Well, I call that hard after my stoning. I had believed the +ladies of Spain kinder to their cavaliers than to grudge a kiss for a +cartload of stones at the head. Well, well, I'm properly paid. Laws +go as kings will, I know. God help poor men!" He would have gone on +with his baiting had she not surprised him. + +She turned him a burning face. "Caballero, caballero, have done!" she +begged him. "You rescued me from worse than death--and what could I +deny you? See, sir, I have lived fifteen, seventeen years in the +world, and nobody--nobody, I say--has ever done me a kindness before. +And you think that I grudge you!" She was really unhappy, and had to +be comforted. + +They became close friends after that. She told him her name was +Manuela, and that she was Valencian by birth. A Gitana? No, indeed. +She was a Christian. "You are a very bewitching Christian, Manuela," +he told her, and drew her face back, and kissed her again. I am told +that there's nothing in kissing, once: it's the second time that +counts. In the very act--for eyes met as well as lips--he noticed that +hers wavered on the way to his, beyond him, over the road they had +travelled; and the ceremony over, he again asked her why. She passed +it off as before, saying that she had looked at nothing, and begged him +to go forward. + +Ahead of them now, through the crystalline flicker of the heat, he saw +the dark rim of the wood, the cork forest of La Huerca for which he was +looking, and which hid the river from his aching eyes. No foot-burnt +wanderer in Sahara ever hailed his oasis with heartier thanksgiving; +but it was still a league and a half away. He addressed himself to the +task of reaching it, and we may suppose Manuela respected his efforts. +At any rate, there was silence between the pair for the better part of +an hour--what time the unwinking sun, vertically overhead, deprived +them of so much as the sight of their own shadows, and drove the very +crows with wings adust to skulk in the furrows. The shrilling of +crickets, the stumbling hoofs of an overtaxed horse, and the creaking +of saddle and girth made a din in the deadly stillness of this fervent +noon, and, since there was no other sound to be heard, it is hard to +tell how Manvers was aware of a traveller behind him, unless he was +served by the sixth sense we all have, to warn as that we are not alone. + +Sure enough, when he looked over his shoulder, he was aware of a donkey +and his rider drawing smoothly and silently near. The pair of them +were so nearly of the colour of the ground, he had to look long to be +sure; and as he looked, Manuela suddenly leaned sideways and saw what +he saw. It was just as if she had received a stroke of the sun. She +stiffened; he felt the thrill go through her; and when she resumed her +first position she was another person. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE AMBIGUOUS THIRD + +"God save your grace," said Esteban; for it was he who, sitting well +back upon his donkey's rump, with exceedingly bright eyes and a +cheerful grin, now forged level with Manvers and his burdened steed. + +Manvers gave him a curt "Good-day," and thought him an impudent +fellow--which was not justified by anything Esteban had done. He had +been discretion itself; and, indeed, to his eyes there had been nothing +of necessity remarkable in the pair on the horse. If a lady--Duchess +or baggage--happened to be sharing the gentleman's saddle, an +arrangement must be presumed, which could not possibly concern himself. +That is the reasonable standpoint of a people who mind their own +business and credit their neighbours with the same preoccupation. + +But Manvers was an Englishman, and could not for the life of him +consider Esteban as anything but a puppy for seeing him in a +compromising situation. So much was he annoyed that he did not remark +any longer that Manuela was another person, sitting stiffly, strained +against his arm, every muscle on the stretch, as taut as a ship's cable +in the tideway, her face in rigid profile to the newcomer. + +Esteban was in no way put out. "Many good days light upon your grace!" +he cheerfully repeated--so cheerfully that Manvers was appeased. + +"Good-day, good-day to you," he said. "You ride light and I ride +heavy, otherwise you had not overtaken us." + +Esteban showed his fine teeth, and waved his hand towards the hazy +distance; from the tail of his eye he watched Manuela in profile. "Who +knows that, sir? _Lo que ha de ser_--as we say. Ah, who knows that?" +Manuela strained her face forward. + +"Well," said Manvers, "I do, for example. I have proved my horse. +He's a Galician, and a good goer. It would want a brave _borico_ to +outpace him." + +Esteban slipped into the axiomatic, as all Spaniards will. "There's a +providence of the road, sir, and a saint in charge of travellers. And +we know, sir, _a cada puerco viene su San Martin_." Manuela stooped +her body forward, and peered ahead, as one strains to see in the dark. + +"Your proverb is oddly chosen, it seems to me," said Manvers. + +Esteban gave a little chuckle from his throat. + +"A proverb is a stone flung into a pack of starlings. It may scare the +most, but may hit one. By mine I referred to the ways of providence, +under a figure. Destiny is always at work." + +"No doubt," said Manvers, slightly bored. + +"It might have been your destiny to have outpaced me: the odds were +with you. On the other hand, as you have not, it must have been mine +to have overtaken you." + +"You are a philosopher?" asked Manvers, fatigue deliberately in his +voice. Esteban's eyes shone intensely; he had marked the changed +inflection. + +"I studied the Humanities at Salamanca," he said carelessly. "That was +when I was an innocent. Since then I have learned in a harder school. +I am learning still--every day I learn something new. I am a gentleman +born, as your grace has perceived: why not a philosopher?" + +Manvers was rather ashamed of himself. "Of course, of course! Why not +indeed? I am very glad to see you, while our ways coincide." + +Esteban raised his battered straw. "I kiss the feet of your grace, and +hope your grace's lady"--Manuela quivered--"is not disturbed by my +company; for to tell you the truth, sir, I propose to enjoy your own as +long as you and she are agreeable. I am used to companionship." He +shot a keen glance at Manuela, who never moved. + +"She will speak for herself, no doubt," said Manvers; but she did not. +The gleam in Esteban's light eyes gave point to his next speech. + +"I have a notion that the senora is not of your mind, sir," he said, +"and am sorry. I can hardly remain as an unwelcome third in a journey. +It would be a satisfaction to me if the senora would assure me that I +am wrong." Manuela now turned her head with an effort and looked down +upon the grinning youth. + +"Why should I care whether you stay or go?" she said. Her eyelids +flickered over her eyes as though he were dust in their light. +He showed his teeth. + +"Why indeed, senora? God knows I have no reputation to bring you, +though the company of a gentleman, the son of a gentleman, never comes +amiss, they say. But two is company, and three is a fair. I have +found it so, and so doubtless has your ladyship." + +She made him no answer, and had turned away her face long before he had +finished. After that the conversation was mainly of his making; for +Manuela would say nothing, and Manvers had nothing to say. The cork +wood was plain in front of him now; he thanked God for the prospect of +food and rest. In fifteen minutes, thought he, he should be swimming +in the Pisuerga. + +The forest began tentatively, with heath, sparse trees and mounds of +cistus and bramble. Manvers followed the road, which ran through a +portion of it, until he saw the welcome thickets on either hand, deep +tunnels of dark and shadowy places where the sun could not stab; then +he turned aside over the broken ground, and Esteban's donkey picked a +dainty way behind him. When he had reached what seemed to him +perfection, he pulled up. + +"Now, young lady," he said; "I will give you food and drink, and then +you shall go to sleep, and so will I. Afterwards we will consider what +had best be done with you." + +"Yes, sir," she replied in a whisper. Manvers dismounted and held out +his hand to her. There was no more coquetting with the saddle. She +scarcely touched his hand, and did not once lift her eyes to him--but +he was busy with his haversack and had no thoughts for her. + +Esteban meantime sat the donkey, looking gravely at his company, +blinking his eyes, smiling quietly, recurring now and then to the +winding minor air which had been in his head all day. He was perfectly +unhampered by any doubts of his welcome, and watched with serious +attention the preparations for a meal in the open which Manvers was +making with the ease and despatch of one versed in camps. + +Ham and sausage, rolls of bread, a lettuce, oranges, cheese, dates, a +bottle of wine, another of water, salt, olives, a knife and fork, a +plate, a corkscrew; every article was in its own paper, some were +marked in pencil what they were. All were spread out upon a +horse-blanket; in good enough order for a field-inspection. Nothing +was wanting, and Esteban was as keen as a wolf. Even Manvers rubbed +his hands. He looked shrewdly at his neighbour. + +"Good _alforjas_, eh?" + +"Excellent indeed, sir," said Esteban hoarsely. It was hard to see +this food, and know that he could not eat of it. Manuela was sitting +under a tree, her face in her hands. + +"How far away," said Manvers, "is the water, do you suppose?" + +The water? Esteban collected himself with a start. The water? He +jerked his head towards the display on the blanket. "It is under your +hand, caballero. That bottle, I take it, holds water." + +Manvers laughed. "Yes, yes. I mean the river. I am going to swim in +the river. Don't wait for me." He turned to the girl. "Take some +food, my friend. I'll be back before long." + +Her swift transitions bewildered him. She showed him now a face of +extreme terror. She was on her feet in a moment, rigid, and her eyes +were so pale that her face looked empty of eyes, like a mask. What on +earth was the matter with her? He understood her to be saying, "I must +go where you go. I must never leave you----" words like that; but they +came from her mouthed rather than voiced, as the babbling of a mad +woman. All that was clear was that she was beside herself with fright. +Looking to Esteban for an explanation, he surprised a triumphant gleam +in that youth's light eyes, and saw him grinning--as a dog grins, with +the lip curled back. + +But Esteban spoke. "I think the lady is right, sir. Affection is a +beautiful thing." He added politely, "The loss will be mine." + +Manvers looked from one to the other of these curious persons, so +clearly conscious of each other, yet so strict to avoid recognition. +His eyes rested on Manuela. "What's the matter, my child?" She met +his glance furtively, as if afraid that he was angry; plainly she was +ashamed of her panic. Her eyes were now collected, her brow cleared, +and the tension of her arms relaxed. + +"Nothing is the matter," she said in a low voice. "I will stay here." +She was shaking still; she held herself with both her hands, and shook +the more. + +"I think that you are knocked over by the heat and all the rest of your +troubles," said Manvers, "and I don't wonder. Repose yourself +here--eat--drink. Don't spare the victuals, I beg. And as for you, my +brother, I invite you too to eat what you please. And I place this +young lady in your charge. Don't forget that. She's had a fright, and +good reason for it; she's been hurt. I leave her in your care with +every confidence that you will protect her." + +Every word spoken was absorbed by Esteban with immense relish. The +words pleased him, to begin with, by their Spanish ring. Manvers had +been pleased himself. It was the longest speech he had yet made in +Castilian; but he had no notion, of course, how exquisitely apposite to +the situation they were. + +Esteban became superb. He rose to the height of the argument, and to +that of his inches, took off his old hat and held it out the length of +his arm. "Let the lady fear nothing, senor caballero of my soul. I +engage the honour of a gentleman that she shall have every +consideration at my hands which her virtues merit. No more"--he looked +at the sullen beauty between him and the Englishman--"No more, for that +would be idolatrous; and no less, for that would be injustice. _Vaya, +senor caballero, vaya V|d| con Dios_." Manvers nodded and strolled +away. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A SPANISH CHAPTER + +His removal snapped a chain. These two persons became themselves. + +Manuela with eyes ablaze strode over to Esteban. "Well," she said. +"You have found me. What is your pleasure?" + +He sat very still on his donkey, watching her. He rolled himself a +cigarette, still watching, and as he lighted it, looked at her over the +flame. + +"Speak, Esteban," she said, quivering; but he took two luxurious +inhalations first, discharged in dense columns through his nose. Then +he said, breathing smoke, "I have come to kill you, Manuelita--from +Pobledo in a day and a half." + +She had folded her arms, and now nodded. "I know it. I have expected +you." + +"Of course," said Esteban, inhaling enormously. He shot the smoke +upwards towards the light, where it floated and spread out in radiant +bars of blue. Manuela was tapping her foot. + +"Well, I am here," she said. "I might have left you, but I have not. +Why don't you do what you intend?" + +"There is plenty of time," said Esteban, and continued to smoke. He +began to make another cigarette. + +"Do you know why I chose to stay with you?" she asked him softly. "Do +you know, Esteban?" + +He raised his eyebrows. "Not at all." + +"It was because I had a bargain to make with you." + +He looked at her inquiringly; but he shrugged. "It will be a hard +bargain for you, my girl," he told her. + +"I believe you will agree to it," she said quickly, "seeing that of my +own will I have remained here. I will let you kill me as you +please--on a condition." + +"Name your condition," said Esteban. "I will only say now that it is +my wish to strangle you with my hands." + +She put both hers to her throat. "Good," she said. "That shall be +your affair. But let the caballero go free. He has done you no harm." + +"On the contrary," said Esteban, "I shall certainly kill him when he +returns. Have no doubt of that. Then I shall have his horse." + +Immediately, without fear, she went up to him where he sat his donkey. +She saw the knife in his _faja_, but had no fear at all. She came +quite close to him, with an ardent face, with eyes alight. She +stretched out her arms like a man on a cross. + +"Kill, kill, Esteban! But listen first. You shall spare that +gentleman's life, for he has done you no wrong." + +He laughed her down. "Wrong! And you come to me to swear that on the +Cross of Christ? Daughter of swine, you lie." + +Tears were in her eyes, which made her blink and shake her head--but +she came closer yet in a passion of entreaty. She was so close that +her bosom touched him. "Kill, Esteban, kill--but love me first!" Her +arms were about him now, as if she must have love of him or die. +"Esteban, Esteban!" she was whispering as if she hungered and thirsted +for him. He shivered at a memory. "Love me once, love me once, +Esteban!" Closer and closer she clung to him; her eyes implored a kiss. + +"Loose me, you jade," he said, less sharply, but she clove the closer +to him, and one hand crept downwards from his shoulder, as if she would +embrace him by the middle. "Too late, Manuelita, too late," he said +again, but he was plainly softening. She drew his face towards hers as +if to kiss him, then whipped the long knife out of his girdle and drove +it with all her sobbing force into his neck. Esteban uttered a thick +groan, threw his head up and rocked twice. Then his head dropped, and +he fell sideways off his donkey. + +She stood staring at what she had done. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE SLEEPER AWAKENED + +Manvers returned whistling from his bath, at peace with all the world +of Spain, in a large mood of benevolence and charitable judgment. His +mind dwelt pleasantly on Manuela, but pity mixed with his thought; and +he added some prudence on his own account. "That child--she's no +more--I must do something for her. Not a bad 'un, I'll swear, not +fundamentally bad. I don't doubt her as I doubt the male: he's too +glib by half... She's distractingly pretty--what nectarine colour! +The mouth of a child--that droop at the corners--and as soft as a +child's too." He shook his head. "No more kissing or I shall be in a +mess." + +When he reached his tree and his luncheon, to find his companions gone, +he was a little taken aback. His genial proposals were suddenly +chilled. "Queer couple--I had a notion that they knew something of +each other. So they've made a match of it." + +Then he saw a brass crucifix lying in the middle of his plate. +"Hulloa!" He stooped to pick it up. It was still warm. He smiled and +felt a glow come back. "Now that's charming of her. That's a pretty +touch--from a pretty girl. She's no baggage, depend upon it." The +string had plainly hung the thing round her neck, the warmth was that +of her bosom. He held it tenderly while he turned it about. "I'll +warrant now, that was all she had upon her. Not a maravedi beside. I +know it's the last thing to leave 'em. I'm repaid, more than repaid. +I'll wear you for a bit, my friend, if you won't scorch a heretic." +Here he slipped the string over his head, and dropped the cross within +his collar. "I'll treat you to a chain in Valladolid," was his final +thought before he consigned Manuela to his cabinet of memories. + +He poured and drank, hacked at his ham-bone and ate. "By the Lord," he +went on commenting, "they've not had bite or sup. Too busy with their +match-making? Too delicate to feast without invitation? Which?" He +pondered the puzzle. He had invited Manuela, he was sure: had he +included her swain? If not, the thing was clear. She wouldn't eat +without him, and he couldn't eat without his host. It was the best +thing he knew of Esteban. + +He finished his meal, filled and lit a pipe, smoked half of it +drowsily, then lay and slept. Nothing disturbed his three hours' rest, +not even the gathering cloud of flies, whose droning over a +neighbouring thicket must have kept awake a lighter sleeper. But +Manvers was so fast that he did not hear footsteps in the wood, nor the +sound of picking in the peaty ground. + +It was four o'clock and more when he awoke, sat up and looked at his +watch. Yawning and stretching at ease, he then became aware of a +friar, with a brown shaven head and fine black beard, who was digging +near by. This man, whose eyes had been upon him, waiting for +recognition, immediately stopped his toil, struck his spade into the +ground, and came towards him, bowing as he came. + +"Good evening, senor caballero," he said. "I am Fray Juan de la Cruz, +at your service; from the convent of N. S. de la Pena near by. I have +to be my own grave-digger; but will you be so obliging as to commit the +body while I read the office?" + +To this abrupt invitation Manvers could only reply by staring. Fray +Juan apologised. + +"I imagined that you had perceived my business," he said, "which truly +is none of yours. It will be an act of charity on your part--therefore +its own reward." + +"May I ask you," said Manvers, now on his feet, "what, or whom, you are +burying?" + +"Come," the friar replied. "I will show you the body." Manvers +followed him into the thicket. + +"Good God, what's this?" The staring light eyes of Esteban Vincaz had +no reply for him. He had to turn away, sick at the sight. + +Fray Juan de la Cruz told him what he knew. A young girl, riding an +ass, had come to the church of the convent, where he happened to be, +cleaning the sanctuary. The Reverend Prior was absent, the brothers +were afield. She was in haste, she said, and the matter would not +allow of delay. She reported that she had killed a man in the wood of +La Huerca, to save the life of a gentleman who had been kind to her, +who had, indeed, but recently imperilled his own for hers. "If you +doubt me," she had said, "go to the forest, to such and such a part. +There you will find the gentleman asleep. He has a crucifix of mine. +The dead man lies not far away, with his own knife near him, with which +I killed him. Now," she had said, "I trust you to report all I have +said to that gentleman, for I must be off." + +"Good God!" said Manvers again. + +"God indeed is the only good," said Fray Juan, "and His ways past +finding out. But I have no reason to doubt this girl's story. She +told me, moreover, the name of the man--or his names, as you may say." + +"Had he more than one then?" Manvers asked him, but without interest. +The dead was nothing to him, but the deed was much. This wild girl, +who had been sleek and kissing but a few hours before, now stood robed +in tragic weeds, fell purpose in her green eyes! And her child's +mouth--stretched to murder! And her youth--hardy enough to stab! + +"The unfortunate young man," said Fray Juan, "was the son of a more +unfortunate father; but the name that he used was not that of his +house. His father, it seems----" but Manvers stopped him. + +"Excuse me--I don't care about his father or his names. Tell me +anything more that the girl had to say." + +"I have told you everything, senor caballero," said Fray Juan; "and I +will only add that you are not to suppose that I am violating the +confidences of God. Far from that. She made no confession in the true +sense, though she promised me that she would not fail to do so at the +earliest moment. I had it urgently from herself that I should seek you +out with her tale, and rehearse it to you. In justice to her, I am now +to ask you if it is true, so far as you are concerned in it?" + +Manvers replied, "It's perfectly true. I found her in bad company at +Palencia; a pack of ruffians was about her, and she might have been +killed. I got her out of their hands, knocked about and wounded, and +brought her so far on the road to the first convent I could come at. +That poor devil there overtook us about a league from the wood. She +had nothing to say to him, nor he to her, but I remember noticing that +she didn't seem happy after he had joined us. He had been her lover, I +suppose?" + +"She gave me to understand that," said Fray Juan gravely. Manvers here +started at a memory. + +"By the Lord," he cried, "I'll tell you something. When we got to the +wood I wanted to bathe in the river, and was going to leave those two +together. Well, she was in a taking about that. She wanted to come +with me--there was something of a scene." He recalled her terror, and +Esteban's snarling lip. "I might have saved all this--but how was I to +know? I blame myself. But what puzzles me still is why the man should +have wanted my life. Can you explain that?" + +Fray Juan was discreet. "Robbery," he suggested, but Manvers laughed. + +"I travel light," he said. "He must have seen that I was not his game. +No, no," he shook his head. "It couldn't have been robbery." + +Fray Juan, I say, was discreet; and it was no business of his.... But +it was certainly in his mind to say that Esteban need not have been the +robber, nor Manvers' portmanteau the booty. However, he was silent, +until the Englishman muttered, "God in Heaven, what a country!" and +then he took up his parable. + +"All countries are very much the same, as I take it, since God made +them all together, and put man up to be the master of them, and took +the woman out of his side to be his blessing and curse at once. The +place whence she was taken, they say, can never fully be healed until +she is restored to it; and when that is done, it is not a certain cure. +Such being the plan of this world, it does not become us to quarrel +with its manifestations here or there. Senor caballero, if you are +ready I will proceed. Assistance at the feet, a handful of earth at +the proper moment are all I shall ask of you." He slipped a surplice +over his head. The office was said. + +"Fray Juan," said Manvers at the end, "will you take this trifle from +me? A mass, I suppose, for that poor devil's soul would not come +amiss." + +Fray Juan took that as a sign of grace, and was glad that he had held +his tongue. "Far from it," he said, "it would be extremely proper. It +shall be offered, I promise you." + +"Now," said Manvers after a pause, "I wonder if you can tell me this. +Which way did she go off?" + +Fray Juan shook his head. "No lo se. She came to me in the church, +and spoke, and passed like the angel of death. May she go with God!" + +"I hope so," said Manvers. Then he looked into the placid face of the +brown friar. "But I must find her somehow." Upon that addition he +shut his mouth with a snap. The survey which he had to endure from +Fray Juan's patient eyes was the best answer to it. + +"Oh, but I must, you know," he said. + +"Better not, my son," said Fray Juan. "It seems to me that you have +seen enough. Your motives will be misunderstood." + +Manvers laughed. "They are rather obscure to me--but I can't let her +pay for my fault." + +"You may make her pay double," said Fray Juan. + +"No," said Manvers decisively, "I won't. It's my turn to pay now." + +The Friar shrugged. "It is usually the woman who pays. But _lo que ha +de ser_...!" + +The everlasting phrase! "That proverb serves you well in Spain, Fray +Juan," said Manvers, who was in a staring fit. + +"It is all we have that matters. Other nations have to learn it; here +we know it." + +Manvers mounted his horse and stooping from the saddle, offered his +hand. "Adios, Fray Juan." + +"Vaya V|d| con Dios!" said the friar, and watched him away. +"Pobrecita!" he said to himself--"unhappy Manuela!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +REFLECTIONS OF AN ENGLISHMAN + +But Manvers was well upon his way, riding with squared jaw, with rein +and spur towards Valladolid. He neither whistled nor chanted to the +air; he was _vacuus viator_ no longer, travelled not for pleasure but +to get over the leagues. For him this country of distances and great +air was not Castile, but Broceliande; a land of enchantments and pain. +He was no longer fancy-free, but bound to a quest. + +Consider the issues of this day of his. From bathing in pastoral he +had been suddenly soused into tragedy's seething-pot. His idyll of the +tanned gipsy, with her glancing eyes and warm lips, had been spattered +out with a brushful of blood; the scene was changed from sunny life to +wan death. Here were the staring eyes of a dead man, and his mouth +twisted awry in its last agony. He could not away with the shock, nor +divest himself of a share in it. If he, by mischance, had taken up +with Manuela, he had taken up with Esteban too. + +The vanished players in the drama loomed in his mind larger for that +fateful last act. The tragic sock and the mask enhanced them. What +mystery lay behind Manuela's sidelong eyes? What sin or suffering? +What knowledge, how gained, justified Esteban's wizened saws? These +two were wise before their time; when they ought to have been flirting +on the brink of life, here they were, breasting the great flood, +familiar with death, hating and stabbing! + +A pretty child with a knife in her hand; and a boy murdered--what a +country! And where stood he, Manvers, the squire of Somerset, with his +thirty years, his University education and his seat on the bench? +Exactly level with the curate, to be counted on for an archery meeting! +Well enough for diversion; but when serious affairs were on hand, sent +out of the way. Was it not so, that he, as the child of the party, was +dismissed to bathe while his elders fought out their deadly quarrel? I +put it in the interrogative; but he himself smarted under the answer to +it, and although he never formulated the thought, and made no plans, +and could make none, I have no doubt but that his wounded self-esteem, +seeking a salve, found it in the assurance that he would protect +Manuela from the consequences of her desperate act; that his protection +was his duty and her need. The English mind works that way; we cannot +endure a breath upon our fair surface. We must direct the operations +of this world, or the devil's in it. + +Manvers was not, of course, in love with Manuela. He was sentimentally +engaged in her affairs, and very sure that they were, and must be, his +own. Yet I don't know whether the waking dream which he had upon the +summit of that plateau of brown rock which bounds Valladolid upon the +north was the cause or consequence of his implication. + +He had climbed this sharp ridge because a track wavered up it which cut +off some miles of the road. It was not easy going by any means, but +the view rewarded him. The land stretched away to the four quarters of +the compass and disappeared into a copper-brown haze. He stood well +above the plain, which seemed infinite. Corn-land and waste, river-bed +and moor, were laid out below him as in a geographer's model. He +thought that he stood up there apart, contemplating time and existence. +He was indeed upon the convex of the world, projecting from it into +illimitable space, consciously sharing its mighty surge. + +This did not belittle him. On the contrary, he felt something of the +helmsman's pride, something of the captain's on the bridge. He was +driving the world. He soared, perched up there, apart from men and +their concerns. All Spain lay at his feet; he marked the way it must +go. It was possible for him now to watch a man crawl, like a maggot, +from his cradle, and urge a painful way to his grave. And, to his +exalted eye, from cradle to grave was but a span's length. + +From such sublime investigation it was but a step to sublimity itself. +His soul seemed separate from his body; he was dispassionate, +superhuman, all-seeing and all-comprehending. Now he could see men as +winged ants, crossing each other, nearing, drifting apart, +interweaving, floating in a cloud, blown high, blown low by wafts of +air; and here, presently, came one Manvers, and there, driven by a +gust, went another, Manuela. + +At these two insects, as one follows idly one gull out of a flock, he +could look with interest, and without emotion. He saw them drift, +touch and part, and each be blown its way, helpless mote in the dust of +the great plain. From one to the other he turned his eyes. The +Manvers gnat flew the straighter course, holding to an upper current; +the Manuela wavered, but tended ever to a lower plane. The wind from +the mountains of Asturias freshened and blew over him. In a singular +moment of divination he saw the two insects of his vision caught in the +draught and whirled together again. A spiral flight upwards was begun; +in ever-narrowing circles they climbed, bid fair to soar. They reached +a steadier stream, they sped along together; but then, as a gust took +them, they dipped below it and steadily declined, wavering, whirling +about each other. Down and down they went, until they were lost to his +eye in the dust of heat. He saw them no more. + +Manvers came to himself, and shook his senses back into his head. The +sun was sinking over Portugal, the evening wind was chill. Had he been +dreaming? What sense of fate was upon him? "Come up, Rosinante, take +me out of the cave of Montesinos." He guided his horse in and out of +the boulder-strewn track to the edge of the plateau; and there before +him, many leagues away, like a patch of whitewash splodged down upon a +blue field, lay Valladolid, the city of burning and pride. + +[Illustration: Upon a blue field lay Valladolid.] + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A VISIT TO THE JEWELLER'S + +If God in His majesty made the Spains and the nations which people +them, perhaps it was His mercy that convoked the Spanish cities--as His +servant Philip piled rock upon rock and called it Madrid--and made +cess-pits for the cleansing of the country. + +Behold the Castilian, the Valencian, the Murcian on his glebe, you find +an exact relation established; the one exhales the other. The man is +what his country is, tragic, hag-ridden, yet impassive, patient under +the sun. He stands for the natural verities. You cannot change him, +move, nor hurt him. He can earn neither your praises nor reproach. As +well might you blame the staring noon of summer or throw a kind word to +the everlasting hills. The bleak pride of the Castillano, the flint +and steel of Aragon, the languor which veils Andalusian +fire--travelling the lands which gave them birth, you find them scored +in large over mountain and plain and riverbed, and bitten deep into the +hearts of the indwellers. They are as seasonable there as the flowers +of waste places, and will charm you as much. So Spanish travel is one +of the restful relaxations, because nothing jars upon you. You feel +that you are assisting a destiny, not breaking it. Not discovery is +before you so much as realisation. + +But in the city Spanish blood festers, and all that seemed plausible in +the open air is now monstrous, full of vice and despair. Whereas, +outside, the man stood like a rock, and let Fate seam or bleach him +bare; here, within walls, he rages, shows his teeth, blasphemes, or +sinks into sloth. You will find him heaped against the walls like +ordure, hear him howl for blood in the bull-ring, appraise women, as if +they were dainties, in the _alamedas_, loaf, scratch, pry where none +should pry, go begging with his sores, trade his own soul for his +mother's. His pride becomes insolence, his tragedy hideous revolt, his +impassivity swinish, his rock of sufficiency a rook of offence. God in +His mercy, or the Devil in his despite, made the cities of Spain. + +And yet the man, so superbly at his ease in his enormous spaces, is his +own conclusion when he goes to town; the permutation is logical. He is +too strong a thing to break his nature; it will be aggravated but not +deflected. Leave him to swarm in the _plaza_ and seek his nobler +brother. Go out by the gate, descend the winding suburb, which gives +you the burnt plains and far blue hills, now on one hand, now on the +other, as you circle down and down, with the walls mounting as you +fall; touch once more the dusty earth, traverse the deep shade of the +ilex-avenue; greet the ox-teams, the filing mules, as they creep up the +hill to the town: you are bound for their true, great Spain. And +though it may be ten days since you saw it, or fifty years, you will +find nothing altered. The Spaniard is still the flower of his rocks. +_O dura tellus Iberiae_! + + +From the window of his garret Don Luis Ramonez de Alavia could overlook +the town wall, and by craning his neck out sideways could have seen, if +he had a mind, the cornice-angle of the palace of his race. It was a +barrack in these days, and had been so since ruin had settled down on +the Ramonez with the rest of Valladolid. That had been in the +sixteenth century, but no Ramonez had made any effort to repair it. +Every one of them did as Don Luis was doing now, and accepted misery in +true Spanish fashion. Not only did he never speak of it, he never +thought of it either. It was; therefore it had to be. + +He rose at dawn, every day of his life, and took his sop in coffee in +his bedgown, sitting on the edge of his bed. He heard mass in the +Church of Las Angustias, in the same chapel at the same hour. Once a +month he communicated, and then the sop was omitted. He was shaved in +the barber's shop--Gomez the Sevillian kept it--at the corner of the +_plaza_. Gomez, the little dapper, black-eyed man, was a friend of +his, his newspaper and his doctor. + +He took a high line with Gomez, as you may when you owe a man twopence +a week. + +That over, he took the sun in the _plaza_, up and down the centre line +of flags in fine weather, up and down the arcade if it rained. He saw +the _diligence_ from Madrid come in, he saw the _diligence_ for Madrid +go out. He knew, and accepted the salutes of every _arriero_ who +worked in and out of the city, and passed the time of day with Micael +the lame water-seller, who never failed to salute him. + +At noon he ate an onion and a piece of cheese, and then he dozed till +three. As the clock of the University struck that hour he put on his +_capa_--summer and winter he wore it, with melancholy and good reason; +by ten minutes past he was entering the shop of Sebastian the +goldsmith, in the Plaza San Benito, in the which he sat till dusk, +motionless and absorbed in thought, talking little, seeming to observe +little, and yet judging everything in the light of strong common sense. + +Summer or winter, at dusk he arose, flecked a mote or two of dust from +his _capa_, seated his beaver upon his grey head, grasped his malacca, +and departed with a "Be with God, my friend." To this Sebastian the +goldsmith invariably replied, "At the feet of your grace, Don Luis." + +He supped sparingly, and the last act of his day was his one act of +luxury; his cup of chocolate or glass of _agraz_, according to season, +at the Cafe de la Luna in the Plaza Mayor. This was his title to table +and chair, and the respect of all Valladolid from dusk until nine--on +the last stroke of which, saluting the company, who rose almost to a +man, he retired to his garret and thin bed. + +Pepe, the head waiter at the Luna, who had been there for thirty years, +Gomez the barber, who was sixty-three and looked forty, Sebastian the +goldsmith, well over middle age, and the old priest of Las Angustias, +who had confessed him every Friday and said mass at the same altar +every morning since his ordination (God knows how long ago), would have +testified to the fact that Don Luis had never once varied his daily +habits within time of memory. + +They would have been wrong, of course, like all clean sweepers; for in +addition to his inheritance of ruin, misfortunes had graved him deeply. +Valladolid knew it well. His wife had left him, his son had gone to +the devil. He bore the first blow like a stoic, not moving a muscle +nor varying a habit: the second sent him on a journey. The barber, the +water-seller, Pepe the waiter, Sebastian the deft were troubled about +him for a week or more. He came back, and hid his wound, speaking to +no one of it; and no one dared to pity him. And although he resumed +his routine and was outwardly the same man, we may trace to that last +stroke of Fortune the wasted splendour of his eyes, the look of a dying +stag, which, once seen, haunted the observer. He was extraordinarily +handsome, except for his narrow shoulders and hollow eyes, flawlessly +clean in person and dress; a tall, straight, hawk-nosed, sallow +gentleman. The Archbishop of Toledo was his first cousin, a cadet of +his house. He was entitled to wear his hat in the presence of the +Queen, and he lived upon fivepence a day. + + +Manvers, reaching Valladolid in the evening, reposed himself for a day +or two, and recovered from his shock. He saw the sights, conversed +with affability with all and sundry, drank _agraz_ in the Cafe de la +Luna. He must have beamed without knowing it upon Don Luis, for his +brisk appearance, twisted smile and abrupt manner were familiar to that +watchful gentleman by the time that, sweeping aside the curtain like a +buffet of wind, he entered the goldsmith's shop in the Plaza San +Benito. He came in a little before twilight one afternoon, holding by +a string in one hand some swinging object, taking off his hat with the +other as soon as he was past the curtain of the door. + +"Can you," he said to Sebastian, in very fair Spanish, "take up a job +for me a little out of the common?" As he spoke he swung the object +into the air, caught it and enclosed it with his hand. Don Luis, in a +dark corner of the shop, sat back in his accustomed chair, and watched +him. He sat very still, a picture of mournful interest, shrouding his +mouth in his hand. + +Sebastian, first master of his craft in a city of goldsmiths, was far +too much the gentleman to imply that any command of his customer need +not be extraordinary. Bowing with gravity, and adjusting the glasses +upon his fine nose, he replied that when he understood the nature of +the business he should be better instructed for his answer. Thereupon +Manvers opened his hand and passed over the counter a brass crucifix. + +It is difficult to disturb the self-possession of a gentleman of Spain; +Sebastian did not betray by a twitch what his feelings or thoughts may +have been. He gravely scrutinised the battered cross, back and front, +was polite enough to ignore the greasy string, and handed it back +without a single word. It may have been worth half a _real_; to watch +his treatment of it was cheap at a dollar. + +Manvers, however, flushed with annoyance, and spoke somewhat loftily. +"Am I to understand that you will, or will not oblige me?" + +Sebastian temperately replied, "You are to understand, senor caballero, +that I am at your disposition, but also that I do not yet know what you +wish me to do." Manvers laughed, and the air was clearer. + +"A thousand pardons," he said, "a thousand pardons for my stupidity. I +can tell you in two minutes what I want done with this thing." He held +it in the flat of his hand, and looked from it to the jeweller, as he +succinctly explained his wishes. + +"I want you," he said, "to encase this cross completely, in thin gold +plates." Conscious of Sebastian's portentous gravity, perhaps of Don +Luis in his dark corner, he showed himself a little self-conscious also +and added, "It's a curious desire of mine, I know, but there's a reason +for it, which is neither here nor there. Make for me then," he went +on, "of thin gold plates, a matrix to hold this cross. It must have a +lid, also, which shall open upon hinges, here--" he indicated the +precise points--"and close with a clasp, here. Let the string also be +encased in gold. I don't know how you will do it--that is a matter for +your skill; but I wish the string to remain where it is, intact, within +a gold covering. This casing should be pliable, so that the cross +could hang, if necessary, round the neck of a person--as it used to +hang. Do I make myself understood?" + +The Castilians are not a curious people, but this commission did +undoubtedly interest Sebastian the jeweller. Professionally speaking, +it was a delicate piece of work; humanly, could have but one +explanation. So, at least, he judged. + +What Don Luis may have thought of it, there's no telling. If you had +watched him closely you would have seen the pupils of his eyes dilate, +and then contract--just like those of a caged owl, when he becomes +aware of a mouse circling round him. + +But while Don Luis could be absorbed in the human problem, it was not +so with his friend. Points of detail engaged him in a series of +suggestions which threatened to be prolonged, and which maddened the +Englishman. Was the outline of the cross to be maintained in the +casing? Undoubtedly it was, otherwise you might as well hang a +card-case round your neck! The hinges, now--might they not better be +here, and here, than there, and there? Manvers was indifferent as to +the hinges. The fastening? Let the fastening be one which could be +snapped-to, and open upon a spring. The chain--ah, there was some +nicety required for that. From his point of view, Sebastian said, with +the light of enthusiasm irradiating his face, that that was the cream +of the job. + +Manvers, wishing to get out of the shop, begged him to do the best he +could, and turned to go. At the door he stopped short and came back. +There was one thing more. Inside the lid of the case, in the centre of +the cross, he wished to have engraved the capital letter M, and below +that a date--12 May, 1861. That was really all, except that he was +staying at the Parador de las Diligencias, and would call in a week's +time. He left his card--Mr. Osmund Manvers, Filcote Hall, Taunton; +Oxford and Cambridge Club--elegantly engraved. And then he departed, +with a jerky salute to Don Luis, grave in his corner. + +That card, after many turns back and face, was handed to Don Luis for +inspection, while Sebastian looked to him for light over the rim of his +spectacles. + +"M for Manvers," he said presently, since Don Luis returned the card +without comment. "That is probable, I imagine." + +"It is possible," said Don Luis with his grand air of indifference. +"With an Englishman anything is possible." + +Sebastian did not pretend to be indifferent. He hummed an air, and +played it out with his fingers on the counter as he thought. Then he +flashed into life. "The twelfth of May! That is just a week ago. I +have it, Senor Don Luis! Hear my explanation. This thing of nought +was presented to the gentleman upon his birthday--the twelfth of May. +The giver was poor, or he would have made a more considerable present; +and he was very dear to the gentleman, or he would not have dared to +present such a thing. Nor would the gentleman, I think, have treated +it so handsomely. Handsomely!" He made a rapid calculation. "_Ah, +que_! He is paying its weight in gold." Now--this was in his air of +triumph--_now_ what had Don Luis to say? + +That weary but unbowed antagonist of hunger and despair, after +shrugging his shoulders, considered the matter, while Sebastian waited. +"Why do you suppose," he asked at length, "that the giver of this thing +was a man?" + +"I do not suppose it," cried Sebastian. "I never did suppose it. The +cross has been worn"--he passed his finger over its smooth back--"and +recently worn. Men do not carry such things about them, unless they +are----" + +"What this gentleman is," said Don Luis. "A woman gave him this. A +wench." + +Sebastian bowed, and with sparkling eyes re-adjusted his inferences. + +"That being admitted, we are brought a little further. M does not +stand for Manvers--for what gentleman would give himself the trouble to +engrave his own name upon a cross? It is the initial of the giver's +name--and observe. Senor Don Luis, he is very familiar with her, since +he knows her but by one." He looked through his shop window to the +light, as he began a catalogue. +"Maria--Mariquita--Maritornes--Margarita-- +Mariana--Mercedes--Miguela----" He stopped short, and his eyes +encountered those of his friend, fast upon him, ominous and absorbing. +He showed a certain confusion. "Any one of these names, it might be, +Senor Don Luis." + +"Or Manuela," said the other, still regarding him steadily. + +"Or Manuela--true," said Sebastian with a bow, and a perceptible +deepening of colour. + +"In any case--" Don Luis rose, removed a speck of dust from his _capa_, +and adjusted his beaver--"In any case, my friend, we may assume the +12th of May to be our gentleman's birthday. _Adios, hermano_." + +Sebastian was about to utter his usual ceremonial assurance, when a +thought drove it out of his head. + +"Stay, stay a moment, Don Luis of my soul!" He snapped his fingers +together in his excitement. + +"_Ah, que_!" muttered Don Luis, who had his hand upon the latch. + +"A birthday--what is it? A thing of every year. Is he likely to +receive a brass crucifix worth two maravedis every year, and every year +to sheathe it in gold? Never! This marks a solemnity--a great +solemnity. Listen, I will tell you. It marks the end of a liaison. +She has left him--but tenderly; or he has left her--but regretfully. +It becomes a touching affair. Do you not agree with me?" + +Don Luis raised his eyebrows. "I have no means of agreeing with you, +Sebastian. It may mark the end of a story--or the beginning. Who +knows?" He threw out his arms and let them drop. "Senor God, who +cares?" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +FURTHER EPISODES IN THE LIFE OF DON LUIS RAMONEZ + +Goldsmithing is the art of Valladolid, and Sebastian was its master. +That was the opinion of the mystery, and his own opinion. He never +concealed it; but he had now to confess that Manvers had given him a +task worthy of his powers. To cut out and rivet the links of the +chain, which was to sheathe a piece of string and leave it all its +pliancy--"I tell you, Don Luis of my soul," he said, peering up from +his board, "there is no man in our mystery who could cope with it--and +very few frail ladies who could be worthy of it." Don Luis added that +there could be few young men who could be capable of commanding it; but +Sebastian had now conceived an admiration for his client. + +"Fantasia, vaya! The English have the hearts of poets in the bodies of +beeves. Did your grace ever hear of Dona Juanita--who in the French +war ran half over Andalusia in pursuit of an Englishman? I heard my +father tell the tale. Not his person claimed her, but his heart of a +poet. Well, he married her, and from camp to camp she trailed after +him, while he helped our nation beat Bonaparte. But one day they +received the hospitality of a certain hidalgo, and had removed many +leagues from him by the next night, when they camped beside a river. +Dinner was eaten in the tents, and dessert served up in a fine bowl. +'Sola!' says the Englishman, 'that bowl--it is not ours, my heart?' +'No,' says Juanita, 'it is the hidalgo's, and was packed with our +furniture in the hurry of departing.' 'Por dios!' says the Englishman, +'it must be returned to him.' But how? He could not go himself, for +at that moment there entered an alguazil with news of the enemy. What +then? 'Juanita will go,' says the Englishman, and went out, buckling +his sword. Senor Don Luis, she went, on horseback, all those leagues, +beset with foes, in the night, and rendered back the bowl. I tell you, +the hearts of poets!" + +Don Luis, who had been nodding his high approval, now stared. "_Ah, +que_! But the poet was Dona Juanita, it seems to me," he said. + +"Pardon me, dear sir, not at all. Our Spanish ladies are not fond of +travel. It was the Englishman who inspired her. He was a poet with a +vision. In his vision he saw her going. Safely then, he could say, +she will go, because he, to whom time was nothing, saw her in the act. +He did not give directions--he went out to engage the enemy. Then she +went--vaya!" + +"You may be sure," Sebastian went on, "that my client is a poet and a +fine fellow. You may be sure that the gift of this trifle has touched +his heart. It was not given lightly. The measure of his care is the +measure of its worth in his eyes." + +Don Luis allowed the possibility, by raising his eyebrows and tilting +his head sideways; a shrug with an accent, as it were. Then he allowed +Sebastian to clinch his argument by saying that the Englishman seemed +to be getting the better of his emotion; for here was a week, said he, +and he had not once been into the shop to inquire for his relic. +Sebastian was down upon the admission. "What did I tell you, my +friend? Is not that the precise action of our Englishman who said, +'Juanita will ride,' and went out and left her at the table? Precisely +the same! And Juanita rode--and I, by God, have wrought at the work he +gave me to do, and finished it. Vaya, Don Luis, it is not amiss." + +It had to be confessed that it was not; and Manvers calling one morning +later was as warm in his praises as his Spanish and his temperament +would admit. He paid the bill without demur. + +Sebastian, though he was curious, was discreet. Don Luis, however, +thought proper to remark upon the crucifix, when he chanced to meet its +owner in the Church of Las Angustias. + +That church contains a famous statue of Juan de Juni's, a _Mater +dolorosa_ most tragic and memorable. Manvers, in his week's prowling +of the city, had come upon it by accident, and visited it more than +once. She sits, Our Lady of Sorrows, upon a rock, in her widow's +weeds, exhibiting a grief so intense that she may well have been made +larger than life, in order to support a misery which would crush a +mortal woman. It is so fine, this emblem of divine suffering, that it +obscures its tawdry surroundings, its pinchbeck tabernacle, gilding and +red paint. When she is carried in a _paso_, as whiles she is, no +spangled robe is put over her, no priest's vestment, no crown or veil. +Seven swords are driven into her bosom: she is unconscious of them. +Her wounds are within; but they call her in Valladolid Senora de los +Chuchillos. + +It was in the presence of this august mourner that Manvers was found by +Don Luis Ramonez after mass. He had been present at the ceremony, but +not assisting, and had his crucifix open in the palm of his hand when +the other rose from his knees and saw him. + +After a moment's hesitation the old gentleman stayed till the +worshippers had departed, and then drew near to Manvers, and bowed +ceremoniously. + +"You will forgive me for remarking upon what you have in your hand, +senor caballero," he said, "when I tell you that I was present, not +only at the commissioning of the work, but at its daily progress to the +perfection it now bears. My friend, Don Sebastian, had every reason to +be contented with his masterpiece. I am glad to learn from him that +you were no less satisfied." + +Manvers, who had immediately shut down his hand, now opened it. "Yes," +he said, "it's a beautiful piece of work. I am more than pleased." + +"It is a setting," said Don Luis, "which, in this country, we should +give to a relic of the True Cross." + +Manvers looked quickly up. "I know, I know. It must seem to you a +piece of extravagance on my part----; but there were reasons, good +reasons. I could hardly have done less." + +Don Luis bowed gravely, but said nothing. Manvers felt impelled to +further discussion. Had he been a Spaniard he would have left the +matter where it was; but he was not, so he went awkwardly on. + +"It's a queer story. For some reason or another I don't care to speak +of it. The person who gave me this trinket did me--or intended me--an +immense service, at a great cost." + +"She too," said Don Luis, looking at the Dolorosa, "may have had her +reasons." + +"It was a woman," said Manvers, with quickening colour, "I see no harm +in saying so. I was going to tell you that she believed herself +indebted to me for some trifling attention I had been able to show her +previously. That is how I explain her giving me the crucifix. It was +her way of thanking me--a pretty way. I was touched." + +Don Luis waved his hand. "It is very evident, senor caballero. Your +way of recording it is exemplary: her way, perhaps, was no less so." + +"You will think me of a sentimental race," Manvers laughed, "and I +won't deny it--but it's a fact that I was touched." + +Don Luis, who, throughout the conversation, had been turning the +crucifix about, now examined the inscription. He held it up to the +light that he might see it better. Manvers observed him, but did not +take the hint which was thus, rather bluntly, conveyed him. The case +once more in his breast-pocket, he saluted Don Luis and went his way. + +Shortly afterwards he left Valladolid on horseback. + +Perhaps a week went by, perhaps ten days; and then Don Luis had a +visitor one night in the Cafe de la Luna, a mean-looking, pale and +harassed visitor with a close-cropped head, whose eyebrows flickered +like summer fires in the sky, who would not sit down, who kept his felt +hat rolled in his hands, whose deference was extreme, and accepted as a +matter of course. He was known in Valladolid, it seemed. Pepe knew +him, called him Tormillo. + +"A sus pies," was the burthen of his news so far, "a los pies de V|d|, +Senor Don Luis." + +Don Luis took no sort of notice of him, but continued to smoke his +cigarette. He allowed the man to stand shuffling about for some three +minutes before he asked him what he wanted. + +That was exactly what Tormillo found it so difficult to explain. His +eyebrows ran up to hide in his hair, his hands crushed his hat into his +chest. "Quien sabe?" he gasped to the company, and Don Luis drained +his glass. + +Then he looked at the man. "Well, Tormillo?" + +Tormillo shifted his feet. "Ha!" he gasped, "who knows what the +senores may be pleased to say? How am I to know? They ask for an +interview, a short interview in the light of the moon. Two caballeros +in the Campo Grande--ready to oblige your Excellency." + +"And who, pray, are these caballeros? And why do they stand in the +Campo?" Don Luis asked in his grandest manner. Tormillo wheedled in +his explanations. + +"That which they have to report, Senor Don Luis," he began, craning +forward, whispering, grinning his extreme goodwill--"Oho! it is not +matter for the Cafe. It is matter for the moon, and the shade of +trees. And these caballeros----" + +Don Luis paid the hovering Pepe his shot, rose and threw his cloak over +his shoulder. "Follow me," he said, and, saluting the company, walked +into the _plaza_. He crossed it, and entered a narrow street, where +the overhanging houses make a perpetual shade. There he stopped. "Who +are these gentlemen?" he said abruptly. Tormillo seemed to be swimming. + +"Worthy men, Senor Don Luis, worthy of confidence. To me they said +little; it is for your grace's ear. They have titles. They are +written across their foreheads. It is not for me to speak. Who am I, +Tormillo, but the slave of your nobility?" + +The more he prevaricated, the less Don Luis pursued him. Stiffening +his neck, shrouded in, his cloak, he now stalked stately from street to +street until he came to the Puerta del Carmen, through the battlements +of which the moon could be seen looking coldly upon Valladolid. He was +known to the gatekeeper, who bowed, and opened for him the wicket. + +The great space of the Campo Grande lay like a silver pool, traversed +only by the thin shadows of the trees. At the farther end of the +avenue, which leads directly from the gate, two men were standing close +together. Beyond them a little were two horses, one snuffing at the +bare earth, the other with his head thrown up, and ears pricked +forward. Don Luis turned sharply on his follower. + +"Guardia Civil?" + +"Si, senor, si," whispered Tormillo, and his teeth clattered like +castanets. Don Luis went on without faltering, and did not stay until +he was within easy talking distance of the two men. Then it was that +he threw up his head, with a fine gesture of race, and acknowledged the +saluting pair. Tormillo, at this point, turned aside and stood +miserably under a tree, wringing his hands. + +"Good evening to you, friends. I am Don Luis Ramonez, at your service." + +The pair looked at each other: presently one of them spoke. + +"At the feet of Senor Don Luis." + +"Your business is pressing, and secret?" + +"Si, Senor Don Luis, pressing, and secret, and serious. We have to ask +your grace to be prepared." + +"I thank you. My preparations are made already. Present your report." + +He took a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it with a steady hand. +The flame of the match showed his brows and deep-set eyes. If ever a +man had acquaintance with grief printed upon him, it was he. But +throughout the interview the glowing weed could be seen, a waxing and +waning rim of fire, lighting up his grey moustache and then hovering in +mid-air, motionless. + +The officer appointed to speak presented his report in these terms. + +"We were upon our round about the wood of La Huerca six days ago, and +had occasion to visit the Convent of La Pena. Upon information +received from the Prior we questioned a certain religious, who admitted +that he had recently buried a man in the wood. After some hesitation, +which we had the means of overcoming, he conducted us to the grave. We +disinterred the deceased, who had been murdered. Senor Don Luis----" + +"Proceed," said Don Luis coldly. "I am listening." + +"Sir," said the officer. "It was the body of a young man who had come +from Pobledo. He called himself Esteban Vincaz." Tormillo, under his +tree across the avenue, howled and rent himself. Don Luis heard him. + +"Precisely," he said to the officer. "Have the goodness to wait while +I silence that dog over there." He went rapidly over the roadway to +Tormillo, grasped him by the shoulder and spoke to him in a vehement +whisper. That was the single action by which he betrayed himself. He +returned to his interview. + +"I am now at leisure again. Let us resume our conversation. You +questioned the religious, you say? When did the assassination take +place?" + +"Don Luis, it was upon the twelfth of May." + +"Ah," said Don Luis, "the twelfth of May? And did he know who +committed it?" + +"Senor Don Luis, it was a woman." + +The wasted eyes were upon the speaker, and made him nervous. He turned +away his head. But Don Luis continued his cross-examination. + +"She was a fair woman, I believe? A Valencian?" + +"Senor, si," said the man. "Fair and false, a Valencian." + +Of Valencia they say, "_La carne es herba, la herba agua, el hombre +muger, la muger nada_." + +"Her name," said Don Luis, "began with M." + +"Senor, si. It was Manuela, the dancing girl--called La Valenciana, La +Fierita, and a dozen other things. But, pardon me the liberty, your +worship had been informed?" + +"I knew something," said Don Luis, "and suspected something. I am much +obliged to you, my friends. Justice will be done. Good night to you." +He turned, touching the brim of his hat; but the man went after him. + +"A thousand pardons, senor Don Luis, but we have our duty to the State." + +"Eh!" said Don Luis sharply. "Well, then, you had best set to work +upon it." + +"If your worship has any knowledge of the whereabouts of this woman----" + +"I have none," said Don Luis. "If I had I would impart it, and when I +have it shall be yours. Go now with God." + +He crossed the pathway of light, laid his hand on the shoulder of the +weeping Tormillo. "Come, I need you," he said. Tormillo crept after +him to his lodging, and the Guardias Civiles made themselves cigarettes. + +The following day a miracle was reported in Valladolid. Don Luis +Ramonez was not in his place in the Cafe de la Luna. Sebastian the +goldsmith, Gomez the pert barber, Pepe the waiter, Micael the +water-seller of the Plaza Mayor knew nothing of his whereabouts. The +old priest of Las Angustias might have told if his lips had not been +sealed. But in the course of the next morning it was noised about that +his Worship had left the city for Madrid, accompanied by a servant. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +GIL PEREZ DE SEGOVIA + +Before he left Valladolid Manvers had sold his horse for what he could +get, and had taken the _diligencia_ as far as Segovia. Not a restful +conveyance, the _diligencia_ of Spain: therefore, in that wonderful +city of towers, silence, and guarded windows, he stayed a full week, in +order, as he put it, that his bones might have time to set. + +[Illustration: The towers of Segovia.] + +There it was that he became the property of Gil Perez, who met him one +day on the doorstep of his hotel, saluted him with a flourish and said +in dashing English, "Good morning, Mister. I am the man for you. I +espeak English very good, Dutch, what you like. I show you my city; +you pleased--eh?" He had a merry brown face, half of a quiz and half +of a rogue, was well-dressed in black, wore his hat, which was now in +his hand, rather over one ear. Manvers met his saucy eyes for a +minute, saw anxiety behind their impudence, could not be angry, burst +into a laugh, and was heartily joined by Gil Perez. + +"That very good," said Gil. "You laugh, I very glad. That tell me is +all right." He immediately became serious. "I serve you well, sir, +there's no mistake. I am Gil Perez, too well known to the landlord of +this hotel. You see?" He showed his teeth, which were excellent, and +he had also, Manvers reflected, shown his hand, for what it was +worth--which argued a certain security. + +"Gil Perez," he said, on an impulse, "I shall take you at your word. +Do you wait where you are." He turned back into the inn and sought his +landlord, who was smoking a cigar in the kitchen while the maids +bustled about. From him he learned what there was to be known of Gil +Perez; that he was a native of Cadiz who had been valet to an English +officer at Gibraltar, followed him out to the Crimea, nursed him +through dysentery (of which he had died), and had then begged his way +home again to Spain. He had been in Segovia a year or two, acting as +guide or interpreter when he could, living on nothing a day mostly and +doing pretty well on it. + +"He has been in prison, I shall not conceal from your honour," said the +landlord. "He stabbed a man under the ribs because he had insulted the +English. Gil Perez loves your nation. He considers you to be the +natural protectors of the poor. He will serve you well, you may be +sure." + +"That's what he told me himself," said Manvers. + +The landlord rested his eyes--large, brown and solemn as those of an +ox--upon his guest. "He told you the truth, senor. He will serve you +better than he would serve me. You will be his god." + +"I hope not," said Manvers, and went out to the door again. Gil Perez, +who had been smoking out in the sun, threw his _papelito_ away, stood +at attention and saluted smartly. + +"What was the name of your English master?" Manvers asked him. Gil +replied at once. + +"'E call Capitan Rodney. Royalorse Artillery. 'E say 'Gunner.' 'E +was a gentleman, sir." + +"I'm sure he was," said Manvers. + +"My master espeak very good Espanish. 'E say 'damn your eyes' all the +time; and call me 'Little devil' just the same. Ah," said Gil Perez, +shaking his head. "'E very good gentleman to me, sir--good master. I +loved 'im. 'E dead." For a minute he gazed wistfully at the sky; +then, as if to clinch the sad matter, he turned to Manvers. "I bury +'im all right," he said briskly, and nodded inward the fact. + +Manvers considered for a moment. "I'll give you," he said, and looked +at Gil keenly as he said it, "I'll give you one _peseta_ a day." He +saw his eyes fade and grow blank, though the genial smile hovered still +on his lips. Then the light broke out upon him again. + +"All right, sir," he said. "I take, and thank you very much." + +Manvers said immediately, "I'll give you two," and Gil Perez accepted +the correction silently, with a bow. By the end of the day they were +on the footing of friends, but not without one short crossing of +swords. After dinner, when Manvers strolled to the door of the inn, he +found his guide waiting for him. Gil was in a confidential humour, it +seemed. + +"You care see something, sir?" + +"What sort of a thing, for instance?" he was asked. + +Gil Perez shrugged. "What you like, sir." He peered into his patron's +face, and there was infinite suggestion in his next question. "You see +fine women?" + +Manvers had expected something of the sort and had a steely stare ready +for him. "No, thanks," he said drily, and Gil saluted and withdrew. +He was at the door next morning, affable yet respectful, confident in +his powers of pleasing, of interesting, of arranging everything; but he +never presumed again. He knew his affair. + +Three days' sightseeing taught master and man their bearings. Manvers +got into the way of forgetting that Gil Perez was there, except when it +was convenient to remember him; Gil, on his part, learned to +distinguish between his patron's soliloquies and his conversation. He +never made a mistake after the third day. If Manvers, in the course of +a ramble, stopped abruptly, buried a hand in his beard and said aloud +that he would be shot if he knew which way to turn, Gil Perez watched +him closely, but made no remark. + +Even, "Look here, you know, this won't do," failed to move him beyond a +state of tension, like that of a cat in the act to pounce. He had +found out that Manvers talked to himself, and was put about by +interruptions; and if you realise how sure and certain he was that he +knew much better than his master what was the very thing, or the last +thing, he ought to do, you will see that he must have put considerable +restraint upon himself. + +But loyalty was his supreme virtue. From the moment Manvers had taken +him on at two pesetas a day he became the perfect servant of a perfect +master. He could have no doubt, naturally, of his ability to +serve--his belief in himself never wavered; but he had none either in +his gentleman's right to command. I believe if Manvers had desired him +to cut off his right hand he would have complied with a smile. "Very +good, master. You wanta my 'and? I do." + +If he had a failing it was this: nothing on earth would induce him to +talk his own language to his master. He was unmoved by encouragement, +unconvinced by the fluency of Manvers' Castilian periods; he would have +risked his place upon this one point of honour. + +"Espanish no good, sir, for you an' me," he said once with an +irresistible smile. "Too damsilly for you. Capitan Rodney, 'e teach, +me Englisha speech. Now I know it too much. No, sir. You know what +they say--them _filosofistas_?" he asked him on another encounter. +"They say, God Almighty 'e maka this world in Latin--ver' fine for +thata big job. Whata come next? Adamo 'e love his lady in +Espanish--esplendid for maka women love. That old Snaka 'e speak to +'er in French--that persuade 'er too much. Then Eva she esplain in +Italian--ver' soft espeech. Adamo 'e say, That all righta. Then God +Almighty ver' savage. 'E turn roun' on them two. 'E say, That be +blowed, 'e say in English. They understan' 'im too much. Believe +me--is the best for you an' me, sir. All people understan' that +espeech." + +Taken as a guide, he installed himself as body servant, silently, +tactfully, but infallibly. Manvers caught him one morning putting +boots by his door. "Hulloa, Gil Perez," he called out, "what are you +doing with my boots?" + +Gil's confidential manner was a thing to drink. "That _mozo_, +master--'e fool. 'E no maka shine. I show him how Capitan Rodney lika +'is boots. See 'is a face in 'em." He smirked at his own as he spoke, +and was so pleased that Manvers said no more. + +The same night he stood behind his master's chair. Manvers contented +himself by staring at him. Gil Perez smiled with his bright eyes and +became exceedingly busy. Manvers continued to stare, and presently Gil +Perez was observed to be sweating. The poor fellow was self-conscious +for once in his life. Obliged to justify himself, he leaned to his +master's ear. + +"That _mozo_, sir, too much of a dam fool. Imposs' you estand 'im. I +tell 'im, This gentleman no like garlic down his neck. I say, You +breathe too 'ard, my fellow--too much garlic. This gentleman say, +Crikey, what a stink! That no good." + +There was no comparison between the new service and the old; and so it +was throughout. Gil Perez drove out the chambermaid and made Manvers' +bed; he brushed his clothes as well as his boots, changed his linen for +him, saw to the wash--in fine, he made himself indispensable. But when +Manvers announced his coming departure, there was a short tussle, +preceded by a pause for breath. + +Gil Perez inquired of the sky, searched up the street, searched down. +A group of brown urchins hovered, as always, about the stranger, ready +to risk any deadly sin for the chance of a maravedi or the stump of a +cigar. + +Gil snatched at one by the bare shoulder and spoke him burning words. +"_Canalla_," he cried him, "horrible flea! Thou makest the air to +reek--impossible to breathe. Fly, thou gnat of the midden, or I crack +thee on my thumb." + +The boys retired swearing, and Gil, with desperate calling-up of +reserves, faced his ordeal. "Ver' good, master, we go when you like. +We see Escorial--fine place--see La Granja, come by Madrid thata way. +I get 'orses 'ow you please." Then he had an inspiration, and beamed +all over his face. "Or mules! We 'ave mules. Mules cheap, 'orses +dear too much in Segovia." + +Manvers could see very well what he was driving at. "I think I'll take +the _diligencia_, Gil Perez." + +Gil shrugged. "'Ow you like, master. Fine air, thata way. Ver' cheap +way to go. You take my advice, you go _coupe_. I go _redonda_ more +cheap. Give me your passport, master--I take our place." + +"Yes, I know," said Manvers. "But I'm not sure that I need take you on +with me. I travel without a servant mostly." + +Gil grappled with his task. He dropped his air of assumption; his eyes +glittered. + +"I save you money, master. You find me good servant--make a +difference, yes?" + +"Oh, a great deal of difference," Manvers admitted. "I like you; you +suit me excellently well, but----" He considered what he had to do in +Madrid, and frowned over it. Manuela was there, and he wished to see +Manuela. He had not calculated upon having a servant when he had +promised himself another interview with her, and was not at all sure +that he wanted one. On the other hand, Gil might be useful in a number +of ways--and his discretion and tact were proved. While he hesitated, +Gil Perez saw his opportunity and darted in. + +"I know Madrid too much," he said. "All the ways, all the peoples I +know. Imposs' you live 'appy in Madrid withouta me." He smiled all +over his face--and when he did that he was irresistible. "You try," he +concluded, just like a child. + +Manvers, on an impulse, drew from his pocket the gold-set crucifix. +"Look at that, Gil Perez," he said, and put it in his hands. + +Gil looked gravely at it, hack and front. He nodded his approval. +"Pretty thing----" and he decided off-hand. "In Valladolid they make." + +"Open it," said Manvers; but it was opened, before he had spoken. +Gil's eyes widened, while the pupils of them contracted intensely. He +read the inscription, pondered it; to the crucifix itself he gave but a +momentary glance. Then he shut the case and handed it back to his +master. + +"I find 'er for you," he said soberly; and that settled it. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A GLIMPSE OF MANUELA + +Gil Perez had listened gravely to the tale which his master told him. +He nodded once or twice, and asked a few questions in the course of the +narrative--questions of which Manvers could not immediately see the +bearing. One was concerned with her appearance. Did she wear rings in +her ears? He had to confess that he had not observed. Another was +interjected when he described how she had grown stiff under his arm +when Esteban drew alongside. + +Gil had nodded rapidly, and became impatient as Manvers insisted on the +fact. "Of course, of course!" he had said, and then he asked, Did she +stiffen her arm and point the first and last fingers of it, keeping the +middle pair clenched? + +Manvers understood him, and replied that he had not noticed any such +thing, but that he did not believe she feared the Evil Eye. He went on +with his story uninterrupted until the climax. He had found the +crucifix, he said, on his return from bathing, and had been pleased +with her for leaving it. Then he related the discovery of the body and +his talk with Fray Juan de la Cruz. Here came in Gil's third question. +"Did she return your handkerchief?" he asked--and sharply. + +Manvers started. "By George, she never did!" he exclaimed. "And I +don't wonder at it," he said on reflection. "If she had to knife that +fellow, and confess to Fray Juan, and escape for her life, she had +enough to do. Of course, she may have left it in the wood." + +Gil Perez pressed his lips together. "She got it still," he said. "We +find 'er--I know where to look for it." + +If he did he kept his knowledge to himself, though he spoke freely +enough of Manuela on the way to Madrid. + +"This Manuela," he explained, "is a Valenciana--where you find fair +women with black men. Valencianos like Moors--love too much white +women. I think Manuela is not Gitanilla; she is what you call a +Alfanalf. Then she is like the Gitanas, as proud as a fire, but all +the same a Christian--make free with herself. A Gitana never dare love +Christian man--imposs' she do that. Sometimes all the same she do it. +I think Manuela made like that." + +Committed to the statement, he presently saw a cheerful solution of it. +"Soon see!" he added, and considered other problems. "That dead man +follow Manuela to kill 'er," he decided. "When 'e find 'er with you, +master, 'e say, 'Now I know why you run, _hija de perra_. Now I kill +two and get a 'orse.' You see?" + +"Yes," said Manvers, "I see that. And you think that he told her what +he meant to do?" + +"Of course 'e tell," said Gil Perez with scorn. "Make it too bad for +'er. Make 'er feel sick." + +"Brute!" cried Manvers; but Gil went blandly on. + +"'E 'ate 'er so much that 'e feel 'ungry and thirsty. 'E eat before 'e +kill. Must do it--too 'ungry. Then she go near 'im, twisting 'erself +about--showing 'erself to please him. 'You kiss me, my 'eart,' she +say; 'I love you all the same. Kiss me--then you kill.' 'E look at +'er--she very fine girl--give pleasure to see. 'E think, 'I love 'er +first--strangle after'--and go on looking. She 'old 'im fast and drag +down 'is 'ead--all the time she know where 'e keep _navaja_. She cling +and kiss--then nip out _navaja_, and _click_! 'E dead man." +Enthusiasm burned in his black eyes, he stood cheering in his stirrups. +"Senor Don Dios! that very fine! I give twenty dollars to see 'er make +'im love." + +Manvers for his part, grew the colder as his man waxed warm. He was +clear, however, that he must find the girl and protect her from any +trouble that might ensue. She had put herself within the law to save +him from the knife; she must certainly be defended from the perils of +the law. + +From what he could learn of Spanish justice that meant money and +influence. These she should have; but there should be no more +pastorals. Her kisses had been sweet, the aftertaste was sour in the +mouth. Gil Perez with his eloquence and dramatic fire had cured him of +hankering after more of them. The girl was a rip, and there was an end +of it. + +He did not blame himself in the least for having kissed a rip--once. +There was nothing in that. But he had kissed her twice--and that +second kiss had given significance to the first. To think of it made +him sore all over; it implied a tender relation, it made him seem the +girl's lover. Why, it almost justified that sick-faced, grinning +rascal, whose staring eyes had shocked him out of his senses. And what +a damned fool he had made of himself with the crucifix! He ground his +teeth together as he cursed himself for a sentimental idiot. + +For the rest of the way it was Gil Perez who cried up the quest--until +he was curtly told by his master to talk about something else; and then +Gil could have bitten his tongue off for saying a word too much. + +A couple of days at the Escorial, with nothing of Manuela to interfere, +served Manvers to recover his tone. Before he was in the capital he +was again that good and happy traveller, to whom all things come well +in their seasons, to whom the seasons of all things are the seasons at +which they come. He liked the bustle and flaunt of Madrid, he liked +its brazen front, its crowded _carreras_, and appetite for shows. +There was hardly a day when the windows of the Puerta del Sol had not +carpets on their balconies. Files of halberdiers went daily to and +from the Palace and the Atocha, escorting some gilded, swinging coach; +and every time the Madrilenos serried and craned their heads. "_Viva +Isabella!_" "_Abajo Don Carlos!_" or sometimes the other way about, the +cries went up. Politics buzzed all about the square in the mornings; +evening brimmed the cafes. + +Manvers resumed his soul, became again the amused observer. Gil Perez +bided his time, and contented himself with being the perfect +body-servant, which he undoubtedly was. + +On the first Sunday after arrival, without any order, he laid before +his master a ticket for the _corrida_, such a one as comported with his +dignity; but not until he was sure of his ground did he presume to +discuss the gory spectacle. Then, at dinner, he discovered that +Manvers had been more interested in the spectators than the fray, and +allowed himself free discourse. The Queen and the Court, the _alcalde_ +and the Prime Minister, the _manolos_ and _manolas_--he had plenty to +say, and to leave unsaid. He just glanced at the +performers--impossible to omit the _espada_--Corchuelo, the first in +Spain. But the fastidious in Manvers was awake and edgy. He had not +liked the bull-fight; so Gil Perez kept out of the arena. "I see one +very grand old gentleman there, master," was one of his chance casts. +"You see 'im? 'E grandee of Espain, too much poor, proud all the same. +Put 'is 'at on so soon the Queen come in--Don Luis Ramonez de Alavia." + +"Who's he?" asked Manvers. + +"Great gentleman of Valladolid," said Gil Perez. "Grandee of +Espain--no money--only pride." He did not add, as he might, that he +had seen Manuela, or was pretty sure that he had. That was delicate +ground. + +But Manvers, who had forgotten all about her, went cheerfully his ways, +and amused himself in his desultory fashion. After the close-pent +streets of Segovia, where the wayfarer seems throttled by the houses, +and one looks up for light and pants towards the stars and the air, he +was pleased by the breadth of Madrid. The Puerto del Sol was +magnificent--like a lake; the Alcala and San Geronimo were noble +rivers, feeding it. He liked them at dawn when the hose-pipe had been +newly at work and these great spaces of emptiness lay gleaming in the +mild sunlight, exhaling freshness like that of dewy lawns. When, under +the glare of noon, they lay slumbrous, they were impressive by their +prodigality of width and scope; in the bustle and hum of dusk, with the +cafes filling, and spilling over on to the pavements, he could not tire +of them; but at night, the mystery of their magic enthralled him. How +could one sleep in such a city? The Puerto del Sol was then a sea of +dark fringed with shores of bright light. The two huge feeders of +it--with what argosies they teemed! Shrouded craft! + +[Illustration: Madrid by night.] + +That touch of the East, which you can never miss in Spain, wherever you +may be, was unmistakable in Madrid, in spite of Court and commerce, in +spite of newspaper, Stock Exchange, or Cortes. The cloaked figures +moved silently, swiftly, seldom in pairs, without speech, with footfall +scarcely audible. Now and again Manvers heard the throb of a guitar, +now and again, with sudden clamour, the clack of castanets. But such +noises stopped on the instant, and the traffic was resumed--whatever it +was--secret, swift, impenetrable business. + +For the most part this traffic of the night was conducted by men--young +or old, as may be. The _capa_ hid them all, kept their semblance as +secret as their affairs. Here and there, but rarely, walked a woman, +superbly, as Spanish women will, with a self-sufficiency almost +arrogantly strong, robed in white, hooded with a white veil. The +mantilla came streaming from the comb, swathed her pale cheeks and +enhanced her lustrous eyes; but from top to toe she was (whatever else; +she may have been, and it was not difficult to guess) in white. + +Manvers watched them pass and repass; at a distance they looked like +moths, but close at hand showed the carriage and intolerance of queens. +They looked at him fairly as they passed, unashamed and unconcerned. +Their eyes asked nothing from him, their lips wooed him not. There was +none of the invitation such women extend elsewhere; far otherwise, it +was the men who craved, the women who dispensed. When they listened it +was as to a petitioner on his knees, when they gave it was like an +alms. Imperious, free-moving, high-headed creatures, they interested +him deeply. + +It was true, as Gil Perez was quick to see, that at his first +bull-fight Manvers had been unmoved by the actors, but stirred to the +deeps by the spectators; if he had cared to see another it would have +been to explore the secrets of this wonderful people, who could become +animals without ceasing to be men and women. But why jostle on a +bench, why endure the dust and glare of a _corrida_ when you can see +what Madrid can show you: the women by the Manzanares, or the nightly +dramas of the streets? + +Love in Spain, he began to learn, is a terrible thing; a grim tussle of +wills, a matter of life and death, of meat and drink. He saw lovers, +still as death, with upturned faces, tense and white, eating the iron +of guarded balconies. Hour by hour they would stand there, waiting, +watching, hoping on. No one interfered, no one remarked them. He +heard a woman wail for her lover--wail and rock herself about, careless +of who saw or heard her, and indeed neither seen nor heard. Once he +saw a couple close together, vehement speech between them. A lovers' +quarrel, terrible affair! The words seemed to scald. The man had had +his say, and now it was her turn. He listened to her, touched but not +persuaded--had his reasons, no doubt. But she! Manvers had not +believed the heart of a girl could hold such a gamut of emotions. She +was young, slim, very pale; her face was as white as her robe. But her +eyes were like burning lakes; and her voice, hoarse though she had made +herself, had a cry in it as sharp as a violin's, to out the very soul +of you. She spoke with her hands too, with her shoulders and bosom, +with her head and stamping foot. She never faltered though she ran +from scorn of him to deep scorn of herself, and appealed in turn to his +pride, his pity, his honour and his lust. She had no reticence, set no +bounds: she was everything, or nothing; he was a god, or dirt of the +kennel. In the end--and what a climax!--she stopped in the middle of a +sentence, covered her eyes, sobbed, gave a broken cry, turned and fled +away. + +The man, left alone, spread his arms out, and lifted his face to the +sky, as if appealing for the compassion of Heaven. Manvers could see +by the light of a lamp which fell upon him that there were tears in his +eyes. He was pitying himself deeply. "Senor Jesu, have pity!" Manvers +heard him saying. "What could I do? Woe upon me, what could I do?" + +To him there, as he stood wavering, returned suddenly the girl. As +swiftly as she had gone she came back, like a white squall. "Ah, son +of a thief? Ah, son of a dog!" and she struck him down with a knife +over the shoulder-blade. He gasped, groaned, and dropped; and she was +upon his breast in a minute, moaning her pity and love. She stroked +his face, crooned over him, lavished the loveliest vocables of her +tongue upon his worthless carcase, and won him by the very excess of +her passion. The fallen man turned in her arms, and met her lips with +his. + +Manvers, shaking with excitement, left them. Here again was a Manuela! +Manuela, her burnt face on fire, her eyes blown fierce by rage, her +tawny hair streaming in the wind; Manuela with a knife, hacking the +life out of Esteban, came vividly before him. Ah, those soft lips of +hers could bare the teeth; within an hour of his kissing her she must +have bared them, when she snarled on that other. And her eyes which +had peered into his, to see if liking were there--how had they gleamed. +upon the man she slew? Her sleekness then was that of the cat; but she +had had no claws for him. + +Why had she left him her crucifix? After all, had she murdered the +fellow, or protected herself? She told the monk that she had been +driven into a corner--to save Manvers and herself. Was he to believe +that--or his own eyes? His eyes had just seen a Spanish girl with her +lover, and his judgment was warped. Manuela might be of that sort--she +had not been so to him. Nor could she ever be so, since there was no +question of love between them now, and never could be. + +"Come now," thus he reasoned with himself. "Come now, let us be +reasonable." He had pulled her out of a scuffle and she had been +grateful; she was pretty, he had kissed her. She was grateful, and had +knifed a man who meant him mischief--and she had left him a crucifix. + +Gratitude again. What had her gipsy skin and red kerchief to do with +her heart and conscience? "Beware, my son, of the pathetic fallacy," +he told himself, and as he turned into the carrera San Geronimo, beheld +Manuela robed in white pass along the street. + +He knew her immediately, though her face had but flashed upon him, and +there was not a stitch upon her to remind him of the ragged creature of +the plain. A white mantilla covered her hair, a white gown hid her to +the ankles. He had a glimpse of a white stocking, and remarked her +high-heeled white slippers. Startling transformation! But she walked +like a free-moving creature of the open, and breasted the hot night as +if she had been speeding through a woodland way. That was Manuela, who +had lulled a man to save him. + +After a moment or so of hesitation he followed her, keeping his +distance. She walked steadily up the _carrera_, looking neither to +right nor to left. Many remarked her, some tried to stop her. A +soldier followed her pertinaciously, till presently she turned upon him +in splendid rage and bade him be off. + +Manvers praised her for that, and, quickening, gained upon her. She +turned up a narrow street on the right. It was empty. Manvers, +gaining rapidly, drew up level. They were now walking abreast, with +only the street-way between them; but she kept a rigid profile to +him--as severe, as proud and fine as the Arethusa's on a coin of +Syracuse. The resemblance was striking; straight nose, short lip, +rounded chin; the strong throat; unwinking eyes looking straight before +her; and adding to these beauties of contour her splendid colouring, +and carriage of a young goddess, it is not too much to say that Manvers +was dazzled. + +It is true; he was confounded by the excess of her beauty and by his +knowledge of her condition. His experiences of life and cities could +give him no parallel; but they could and did give him a dangerous sense +of power. This glowing, salient creature was for him, if he would. +One word, and she was at his feet. + +For a moment, as he walked nearly abreast of her, he was ready to throw +everything that was natural to him to the winds. She stirred a depth +in him which he had known nothing of. He felt himself trembling all +over--but while he hesitated a quick step behind caused him to look +round. He saw a man following Manuela, and presently knew that it was +Gil Perez. + +And Gil, with none of his own caution, walked on her side of the street +and, overtaking her, took off his hat and accosted her by some name +which caused her to turn like a beast at bay. Nothing abashed, Gil +asked her a question which clapped a hand to her side and sent her +cowering to the wall. She leaned panting there while he talked +rapidly, explaining with suavity and point. It was very interesting to +Manvers to watch these two together, to see, for instance, how Gil +Perez comported himself out of his master's presence; or how Manuela +dealt with one of her own nation. They became strangers to him, people +he had never known. He felt a foreigner indeed. + +The greatest courtesy was observed, the most exact distance. Gil Perez +kept his hat in his hand, his body at a deferential angle. His weaving +hands were never still. Manuela, her first act of royal rage ended, +held herself superbly. Her eyes were half closed, her lips tightly so; +and she so contrived as to get the effect of looking down upon him from +a height. Manvers imagined that his name or person was being brought +into play, for once Manuela looked at her companion and bowed her head +gravely. Gil Perez ran on with his explanations, and apparently +convinced her judgment, for she seemed to consent to something which he +asked of her; and presently walked on her way with a high head, while +Gil Perez, still holding his hat, and still explaining, walked with +her, but a little way behind her. + +A cooling experience. Manvers strolled back to his hotel and his bed, +with his unsuspected nature deeply hidden again out of sight. He +wondered whether Gil Perez would have anything to tell him in the +morning, or whether, on the other hand, he would be discreetly silent +as to the adventure. He wondered next where that adventure would end. +He had no reason to suppose his servant a man of refined sensibilities. +Remembering his eloquence on the road to Madrid, the paean he blew upon +the fairness of Valencian women, he laughed. "Here's a muddy wash upon +my blood-boltered pastoral," he said aloud. "Here's an end of my +knight-errantry indeed!" + +There was nearly an end of him--for almost at the same moment he was +conscious of a light step behind him and of a sharp stinging pain and a +blow in the back. He turned wildly round and struck out with his +stick. A man, doubled in two, ran like a hare down the empty street +and vanished into the dark. Manvers, feeling sick and faint, leaned to +recover himself against a doorway, and probably fell; for when he came +to himself he was in his bed in the hotel, with Gil Perez and a grave +gentleman in black standing beside him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +CHIVALRY OF GIL PEREZ + +He felt stiff and stupid, with a roasting spot in his back between his +shoulders; but he was able to see the light in Gil Perez' eyes--which +was a good light, saying, "Well so far--but I look for more." Neither +Gil nor the spectacled gentleman in black--the surgeon, he +presumed--spoke to him, and disinclined for speech himself, Manvers lay +watching their tip-toe ministrations, with spells of comfortable dozing +in between, in the course of which he again lost touch with the world +of Spain. + +When he came to once more he was much better and felt hungry. He saw +Gil Perez by the window, reading a little book. The sun-blinds were +down to darken the room; Gil held his book slantwise to a chink and +read diligently, moving his lips to pronounce the words. + +"Gil Perez," said Manvers, "what are you reading?" Gil jumped up at +once. + +"You better, sir? Praised be God! I read," he said, "a little +catholic book which calls itself 'The Garden of the Soul'--ver' good +little book. What you call ver' 'ealthy--ver' good for 'im. But you +are better, master. You 'ungry--I get you a broth." Which he did, +having it hot and hot in the next room. + +"Now I tell you all the 'istory of this affair," he said. "Last night +I see Manuela out a walking. I follow 'er too much--salute 'er--she +lift 'er 'ead back to strike me dead. I say, 'Senorita, one word. Why +you give your crucifix to my master--ha?' Sir, she began to +shake--'ead shake, knee shake; I think she fall into 'erself. You see +flowers in frost all estiff, stand up all right. By'nbye the sun, 'e +climb the sky--thosa flowers they fall esquash--all rotten insida. So +Manuela fall into 'erself. Then I talk to 'er--she tell me all the +'istory of thata time. She kill Esteban Vincaz, she tell me--kill 'im +quick, just what I told you. Becausa why? Becausa she dicksure +Esteban kill you. But I say to 'er, Manuela, that was too bad, lady. +Kill Esteban all the same. Ver' good for 'im, send 'im what you call +kingdom-come like a shot. But you leava that crucifix on my master's +plate--make 'im tender, too sorry for you. He think, Thata nice girl, +very. I like 'er too much. Now 'e 'as your crucifix in gold, lika +piece of Vera Cruz, lika Santa Teresa's finger, and all the world know +you kill Esteban Vincaz and 'e like you. Sir, I make 'er sorry--she +begin to cry. I think--" and Gil Perez walked to the window--"I think +Manuela ver' fine girl--like a rose. Now, master--" and he returned to +the bed--"I tell you something. That man who estab you las' night was +Tormillo. You know who?" + +Manvers shook his head. "Never heard of him, my friend. Who is he?" + +"He is servant to Don Luis Ramonez, the same I see at the _corrida_. I +tell you about 'im--no money, all pride." + +Manvers stared. "And will you have the goodness to tell me why Don +Luis should want to have me stabbed?" + +"I tell you, sir," said Gil Perez. "Esteban Vincaz was Don Bartolome +Ramonez, son to Don Luis. Bad son 'e was, if you like, sir. Wil' +oats, what you call. All the sama nobleman, all the sama only son to +Don Luis." + +Manvers considered this oracle with what light he had. "Don Luis +supposes that I killed his son, then," he said. "Is that it?" + +"'E damsure," said Gil Perez, blinking fast. + +"On Manuela's account--eh?" + +"Like a shot!" cried Gil Perez with enthusiasm. + +"So of course he thinks it his duty to kill me in return." + +"Of course 'e does, sir," said Gil. "I tell you, 'e is proud like the +devil." + +"I understand you," said Manvers. "But why does he hire a servant to +do his revenges?" + +"Because 'e think you dog," Gil replied calmly. "'E not beara touch +you witha poker." + +Manvers laughed, and said, "We'll leave it at that. Now I want to know +one more thing. How on earth did Don Luis find out that I was in the +wood with Manuela and his son?" + +"Ah," said Gil Perez, "now you aska me something. Who knows?" He +shrugged profusely. Then his face cleared. "Leave it to me, sir. I +ask Tormillo." He was on his feet, as if about to find the assassin +there and then. + +"Stop a bit," said Manvers, "stop a bit, Gil. Now I must tell you that +I also saw Manuela last night." + +"Ah," said Gil Perez softly; and his eyes glittered. + +"I saw her in the street," Manvers continued, watching his servant. +"She was all in white." + +Gil Perez blinked this fact. "Yes, sir," he said. "That is true. +Poor girl." His eyes clouded over. "Poor Manuela!" he was heard to +say to himself. + +"I followed her for a while," said Manvers, "and saw you catch her up, +and stop her. Then I went away; and then that rascal struck me in the +back. Now do you suppose that Don Luis means to serve Manuela the same +way?" + +Gil Perez did not blink any more. "I think 'e wisha that," he said; +"but I think 'e won't." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I tell Manuela what I see at the _corrida_. She was there +too. She know it already. Bless you, she don't care." + +"But I care," said Manvers sharply. "I've got her on my conscience. I +don't intend her to suffer on my account." + +"That," said Gil Perez, "is what she wanta do." He looked piercingly +at his master. "You know, sir, I ask 'er for your 'andkerchief." + +"Well?" Manvers raised his eyebrows. + +"I tell you whata she do. She look allaways in the dark. Nobody +there. Then she open 'er gown--so!" and Gil held apart the bosom of +his shirt. "I see it in there." There were tears in Gil's eyes. +"Poor Manuela!" he murmured, as if that helped him. "I make 'er give +it me. No good she keepa that in there." + +"Where is it?" he was asked. He tried to be his jaunty self, but +failed. + +"Not 'ere, sir. I 'ave it--I senda to the wash." Manvers looked +keenly at him, but said nothing. He had a suspicion that Gil Perez was +telling a lie. + +"You had better get her out of Madrid," he said, after a while. "There +may be trouble. Let her go and hide herself somewhere until this has +blown over. Give me my pocket-book." He took a couple of bills out +and handed them to Gil. "There's a hundred for her. Get her into some +safe place--and the sooner the better. We'll see her through this +business somehow." + +Gil Perez--very unlike himself--suddenly snatched at his hand and +kissed it. Then he sprang to his feet again and tried to look as if he +had never done such a thing. He went to the door and put his head out, +listening. "Doctor coming," he said. "All righta leave you with 'im." + +"Of course it's all right," said Manvers. But Gil shook his head. + +"Don Luis make me sick," he said. "No use 'e come 'ere." + +"You mean that he might have another shot at me?" + +Gil nodded; very wide-eyed and serious he was. "'E try. I know 'im +too much." Manvers shut his eyes. + +"I expect he'll have the decency to wait till I'm about again. Anyhow, +I'll risk it. What you have to do is to get Manuela away." + +"Yessir," said Gil in his best English, and admitted the surgeon with a +bow. Then he went lightfooted out of the room and shut the door after +him. + +He was away two hours or more, and when he returned seemed perfectly +happy. + +"Manuela quite safa now," he told his master. + +"Where is she, Gil?" he was asked, and waved his hand airily for reply. + +"She all right, sir. Near 'ere. Quita safe. Presently I see 'er." +He could not be brought nearer than that. Questioned on other matters, +he reported that he had failed to find either Don Luis or Tormillo, and +was quite unable to say how they knew of his master's relations with +the Valencian girl, or what their further intentions were. His chagrin +at having been found wanting in any single task set him was a great +delight to Manvers and amused the slow hours of his convalescence. + +His wound, which was deep but not dangerous, healed well and quickly. +In ten days he was up again and inquiring for Manuela's whereabouts. +Better not see her, he was advised, until it was perfectly certain that +Don Luis was appeased. Gil promised that in a few days' time he would +give an account of everything. + +It is doubtful, however, whether he would have kept his word, had not +events been too many for him. One day after dinner he asked his master +if he might speak to him. On receiving permission, he drew him apart +into a little room, the door of which he locked. + +"Hulloa, Gil Perez," said Manvers, "what is your game now?" + +"Sir," said Gil, holding his head up, and looking him full in the face. +"I must espeak to you about Manuela. She is in the Carcel de la +Corte--to-morrow they take 'er to the Audiencia about that +assassination." He folded his arms and waited, watching the effect of +his words. + +Manvers was greatly perturbed. "Then you've made a mess of it," he +said angrily. "You've made a mess of it." + +"No mess," said Gil Perez. "She tell me must go to gaol. I say, all +righta, lady." + +"You had no business to say anything of the sort," Manvers said. "I am +sorry I ever allowed you to interfere. I am very much annoyed with +you, Perez." He had never called him Perez before--and that hurt Gil +more than anything. His voice betrayed his feelings. + +"You casta me off--call me Perez, lika stranger! All right, sir--what +you like," he stammered. "I tell you, Manuela very fine girl--and why +the devil I make 'er bad? No, sir, that imposs'. She too good for me. +She say, Don Luis estab my saviour! Never, never, for me! I show Don +Luis what's whata, she say. I give myself up to justice; then 'e keepa +quiet--say, That's all right. So she say to Paquita--that big girl who +sleep with 'er when--when----" he was embarrassed. "Mostly always +sleep with 'er," he explained--"She say, 'Give me your veil, Paquita de +mi alma.' Then she cover 'erself and say to me, 'Come, Gil Perez.' I +say, 'Senorita, where you will.' We go to the Carcel de la Corte. +Three or four alguazils in the court see 'er come in; saluta 'er, +'Good-day, senora--at the feet of your grace,' they say; for they think +''ere come a dam fine woman to see 'er lover.' She eshiver and lift +'erself. 'I am no senora,' she essay. 'Bad girl. Nama Manuela. I +estab Don Bartolome Ramonez de Alavia in the wood of La Huerca. You +taka me--do what you like.' Sir, I say, thata very fine thing. I +would kissa the 'and of any girl who do that--same I kiss your 'and." +His voice broke. "By God, I would!" + +"What next?" said Manvers, moved himself. + +"Sir," said Gil Perez, "those alguazils clacka the tongue. 'Soho, la +Manola!' say one, and lift 'er veil and look at 'er. All those others +come and look too. They say she dam pretty woman. She standa there +and look at them, lika they were dirt down in the street. Then I +essay, 'Senores, you pleasa conduct this lady to the carcelero in two +minutes, or you pay me, Gil Perez, 'er esservant. Thisa lady 'ave +friends,' I say. 'Better for you, senores, you fetcha carcelero.' +They look at me sharp--and they thinka so too. Then the carcelero 'e +come, and I espeak with him and say, 'We 'ave too much money. Do what +you like.'" + +"And what did he do?" Manvers asked. + +"He essay, 'Lady, come with me.' So then we go away witha carcelero, +and I eshow my fingers--so--to those alguazils and say, 'Dam your eyes, +you fellows, vayan ustedes con Dios!' Then the carcelero maka bow. 'E +say to Manuela, 'Senora, you 'ave my littla room. All by yourself. My +wifa she maka bed--you first-class in there. Nothing to do with them +dogs down there. I give them what-for lika shot,' say the carcelero. +So I pay 'im well with your bills, sir, and see Manuela all the time +every day." + +He took rapid strides across the room--but stopped abruptly and looked +at Manvers. There was fire in his eyes. "She lika saint, sir. I +catch 'er on 'er knees before our Lady of Atocha. I 'ear 'er words all +broken to bits. I see 'er estrike 'er breasts--Oh, God, that make me +mad! She say, 'Oh, Lady, you with your sorrow and your love--you know +me very well. Bad girl, too unfortunate, too miserable--your daughter +all the sama, and your lover. Give me a great 'eart, Lady, that I may +tell all the truth--all--all--all! If 'e thoughta well of me,' she +say, crying like one o'clock, 'let 'im know me better. No good 'e +think me fine woman--no good he kissa me'"--the delicacy with which Gil +Perez treated this part of the history, which Manvers had never told +him, was a beautiful thing--"'I wanta tell 'im all my 'istory. Then he +say, Pah, what a beast! and serva me right.' Sir, then she bow righta +down to the grounda, she did, and covered 'er 'ead. I say, 'Manuela, I +love you with alla my soul--but you do well, my 'eart.' And then she +turn on me and tell me to go quick." + +"So you are in love with her, Gil?" Manvers asked him. Gil admitted it. + +"I love 'er the minute I see 'er at the _corrida_. My 'earta go alla +water--but I know 'er. I say to myself, "That is la Manuela of my +master Don Osmondo. You be careful, Gil Perez.'" + +Manvers said, "Look here, Gil, I'm ashamed of myself. I kissed her, +you know." + +"Yessir," said Gil, and touched his forehead like a groom. + +"If I had known that you--but I had no idea of it until this moment. I +can only say----" + +"Master," said Gil, "saya nothing at all. I love Manuela lika +mad--that quite true; but she thinka me dirt on the pavement." + +"Then she's very wrong," Manvers said. + +"No, sir," said Gil, "thata true. All beautiful girls lika that. I +understanda too much. But look 'ere--if she belong to me, that all the +same, because I belong to you. You do what you like with 'er. I say, +That all the same to me!" + +"Gil Perez," said Manvers, "you're a gentleman, and I'm very much +ashamed of myself. But we must do what we can for Manuela. I shall +give evidence, of course. I think I can make the judge understand." + +Gil was inordinately grateful, but could not conceal his nervousness. +"I think the Juez, 'e too much friend with Don Luis. I think 'e know +what to do all the time before. Manuela have too mucha trouble. Alla +same she ver' fine girl, most beautiful, most unhappy. That do 'er +good if she cry." + +"I don't think she'll cry," Manvers said, and Gil Perez snorted. + +"She cry! By God she never! She Espanish girl, too mucha proud, too +mucha dicksure what she do with Don Bartolome. She know she serve 'im +right. Do againa all the time. What do you think 'e do with 'er when +'e 'ave 'er out there in Pobledo an' all those places? Vaya! I tell +you, sir. 'E want to live on 'er. 'E wanta make 'er too bad. Then +she run lika devil. Sir, I tell you what she say to me other days. +'When I saw 'im come longside Don Osmundo,' she say, 'I look in 'is +face an' I see Death. 'E grin at me--then I know why 'e come. 'E talk +very nice--soft, lika gentleman--then I know what 'e want. I say, Son +of a dog, never!'" + +"Poor girl," said Manvers, greatly concerned. + +"Thata quite true, sir," Gil Perez agreed. "Very unfortunate fine +girl. But you know what we say in Espain. Make yourself 'oney, we +say, and the flies willa suck you. Manuela too much 'oney all the +time. I know that, because she tell me everything, to tell you." + +"Don't tell me," said Manvers. + +"Bedam if I do," said Gil Perez. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +TRIAL BY QUESTION + +The court was not full when Manvers and his advocate, with Gil Perez in +attendance, took their places; but it filled up gradually, and the +Judge of First Instance, when he took his seat upon the tribunal, faced +a throng not unworthy of a bull-fight. Bestial, leering, inflamed +faces, peering eyes agog for mischief, all the nervous expectation of +the sudden, the bloody or terrible were there. + +There was the same dead hush when Manuela was brought in as when they +throw open the doors of the _toril_, and the throng holds its breath. +Gil Perez drew his with a long whistling sound, and Manvers, who could +dare to look at her, thought he had never seen maidenly dignity more +beautifully shown. She moved to her place with a gentle consciousness +of what was due to herself very touching to see. + +The crowded court thrilled and murmured, but she did not raise her +eyes; once only did she show her feeling, and that was when she passed +near the barrier where the spectators could have touched her by leaning +over. More than one stretched his hand out, one at least his walking +cane. Then she took hold of her skirt and held it back, just as a girl +does when she passes wet paint. This little touch, which made the +young men jeer and whisper obscenity, brought the water to Manvers' +eyes. He heard Gil Perez draw again his whistling breath, and felt him +tremble. Directly Manuela was in her place, standing, facing the +assize, Gil Perez looked at her, and never took his eyes from her +again. She was dressed in black, and her hair was smooth over her +ears, knotted neatly on the nape of her neck. + +The Judge, a fatigued, monumental person with a long face, pointed +whiskers, and the eyes of a dead fish, told her to stand up. As she +was already standing, she looked at him with patient inquiry; but he +took no notice of that. Her self-possession was indeed remarkable. +She gave her answers quietly, without hesitation, and when anything was +asked her which offended her, either ignored it or told the questioner +what she thought of it. From the outset Manvers could see that the +Judge's business was to incriminate her beyond repair. Her plea of +guilty was not to help her. She was to be shown infamous. + +The examination ran thus:-- + +_Judge_: "You are Manuela, daughter of Incarnacion Presa of Valencia, +and have never known your father?" (_Manuela bows her head_.) "Answer +the Court." + +_Manuela_: "It is true." + +_Judge_: "It is said that your father was the _gitano_ Sagruel?" + +_Manuela_: "I don't know." + +_Judge_: "You may well say that. Remember that you are condemning your +mother by such answers. Your mother sold you at twelve years old to an +unfrocked priest named Tormes?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes. For three _pesos_." + +_Judge_: "Disgraceful transaction! This wretch taught you dancing, +posturing, and all manner of wickedness?" + +_Manuela_: "He taught me to dance." + +_Judge_: "How long were you in his company?" + +_Manuela_: "For three years." + +_Judge_: "He took you from fair to fair. You were a public dancer?" + +_Manuela_: "That is true." + +_Judge_: "I can imagine--the court can imagine--your course of life +during this time. This master of yours, this Tormes, how did he treat +you?" + +_Manuela_: "Very ill." + +_Judge_: "Be more explicit, Manuela. In what way?" + +_Manuela_: "He beat me. He hurt me." + +_Judge_: "Why so?" + +_Manuela_: "I cannot tell you any more about him." + +_Judge_: "You refuse?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +Judge: "The court places its interpretation upon your silence." (He +looked painfully round as if he regretted the absence of the proper +means of extracting answers. Manvers heard Gil Perez curse him under +his breath.) + +The Judge made lengthy notes upon the margin of his docquet, and then +proceeded. + +_Judge_: "The young gentleman, Don Bartolome Ramonez, first saw you at +the fair of Salamanca in 1859?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "He saw you often, and followed you to Valladolid, where his +father Don Luis lived?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "He professed his passion for you, gave you presents?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "You persuaded him to take you away from Tormes?" + +_Manuela_: "No." + +_Judge_: "What do I hear?" + +_Manuela_: "I said 'No.' It was because he said that he loved me that +I went with him. He wished to marry me, he said." + +_Judge_: "What! Don Bartolome Ramonez marry a public dancer! Be +careful what you say there, Manuela." + +_Manuela_: "He told me so, and I believed him." + +_Judge_: "I pass on. You were with him until the April of this +year--you were with him two years?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "And then you found another lover and deserted him?" + +_Manuela_: "No. I ran away from him by myself." + +_Judge_: "But you found another lover?" + +_Manuela_: "No." + +_Judge_: "Be careful, Manuela. You will trip in a moment. You ran +away from Don Bartolome when you were at Pobledo, and you went to +Palencia. What did you do there?" + +_Manuela_: "I cannot answer you." + +_Judge_: "You mean that you will not?" + +_Manuela_: "I mean that I cannot." + +_Judge_: "This is wilful prevarication again. I have authority to +compel you." + +_Manuela_: "You have none." + +_Judge_: "We shall see, Manuela, we shall see. You left Palencia on +the 12th of May in the company of an Englishman?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "He is here in court?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "Do you see him at this moment?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." (But she did not turn her head to look at Manvers +until the Judge forced her.) + +_Judge_: "I am not he. I am not likely to have taken you from Palencia +and your proceedings there. Look at the Englishman." (She hesitated +for a little while, and then turned her eyes upon him with such gentle +modesty that Manvers felt nearer to loving her than he had ever done. +He rose slightly in his seat and bowed to her: she returned the salute +like a young queen. The Judge had gained nothing by that.) "I see +that you treat each other with ceremony; there may be reasons for that. +We shall soon see. This gentleman then took you away from Palencia in +the direction of Valladolid, and made you certain proposals. What were +they?" + +_Manuela_: "He proposed that I should return to Palencia." + +_Judge_: "And you refused?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes." + +_Judge_: "Why?" + +_Manuela_: "I could not go back to Palencia." + +_Judge_: "Why?" + +_Manuela_: "There were many reasons. One was that I was afraid of +seeing Esteban there." + +_Judge_: "You mean Don Bartolome Ramonez de, Alavia?" (She nodded.) +"Answer me." + +_Manuela_: "Yes, yes." + +_Judge_: "You are impatient because your evil deeds are coming to +light. I am not surprised; but you must command yourself. There is +more to come." (Manvers, who was furious, asked his advocate whether +something could not be done. Directly her fear of Esteban was touched +upon, he said, the Judge changed his tactics. The advocate smiled. +"Be patient, sir," he said. "The Judge has been instructed +beforehand." "You mean," said Manvers, "that he has been bribed?" "I +did not say so," the advocate replied.) + +The Judge returned to Palencia. "What other reasons had you?" was his +next question, but Manuela was clever enough to see where her strength +lay. "My fear of Esteban swallowed all other reasons." She saved +herself, and with unconcealed chagrin the Judge went on towards the +real point. + +_Judge_: "The Englishman then made you another proposal?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes, sir. He proposed to take me to a convent." + +_Judge_: "You refused that?" + +_Manuela_: "No, sir. I should have been glad to go to a convent." + +_Judge_: "You, however, accepted his third proposal, namely, that you +should be under his protection?" + +_Manuela_: "I was thankful for his protection when I saw Esteban +coming." + +_Judge_: "I have no doubt of that. You had reason to fear Don +Bartolome's resentment?" + +_Manuela_: "I knew that Esteban intended to murder me." + +_Judge_: "Don Bartolome overtook you. You were riding before the +Englishman on his horse?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes. I could not walk. I was ill." + +_Judge_: "Don Bartolome remained with you until the Englishman ran +away?" + +_Manuela_: "He did not run away. Why should he? He went away on his +own affairs." + +_Judge_ (after looking at his papers): "I see. The Englishman went +away after the pair of you had killed Don Bartolome?" + +_Manuela_: "That is not true. He went away to bathe, and then I killed +Esteban with his own knife. I killed him because he told me that he +intended to murder me, and the English gentleman who had been kind to +me. I confess it--I confessed it to the _alguazils_ and the +_carcelero_. You may twist what I say as you will, to please your +friends, but the truth is in what I say." + +_Judge_: "Silence! It is for you to answer the questions which I put +to you. You forget yourself, Manuela. But I will take your confession +as true for the moment. Supposing it to be true, did you not stab Don +Bartolome in the neck in order that you might be free?" + +_Manuela_: "I killed him to defend myself and an innocent person. I +have told you so." + +_Judge_: "Why should Don Bartolome wish to kill you?" + +_Manuela_: "He hated me because I had refused to do his pleasure. He +wished to make me bad----" + +_Judge_ (lifting his hands and throwing his head up): "Bad! Was he not +jealous of the Englishman?" + +_Manuela_: "I don't know." + +_Judge_: "Did he not tell you that the Englishman was your lover? Did +you not say so to Fray Juan de la Cruz?" + +_Manuela_: "He spoke falsely. It was not true. He may have believed +it." + +_Judge_: "We shall see. Have patience, Manuela. Having slain your old +lover, you were careful to leave a token for his successor. You left +more than that: your crucifix from your neck, and a message with Fray +Juan?" + +_Manuela_: "Yes. I told Fray Juan the whole of the truth, and begged +him to tell the gentleman, because I wished him to think well of me. I +told him that Esteban----" + +_Judge_: "Softly, softly, Manuela. Why did you leave your crucifix +behind you?" + +_Manuela_: "Because I was grateful to the gentleman who had saved my +life at Palencia; because I had nothing else to give him. Had I had +anything more valuable I would have left it. Nobody had been kind to +me before." + +_Judge_: "You know what he has done with your crucifix, Manuela?" + +_Manuela_: "I do not." + +_Judge_: "What are you saying?" + +_Manuela_: "The truth." + +_Judge_: "I have the means of confuting you. You told Fray Juan that +you were going to Madrid?" + +_Manuela_: "I did not." + +_Judge_: "In the hope that he would tell the Englishman?" + +_Manuela_: "If he told the gentleman that, he lied." + +_Judge_: "It is then a singular coincidence which led to your meeting +him here in Madrid?" + +_Manuela_: "I did not meet him." + +_Judge_: "Did you not meet him a few nights before you surrendered to +justice?" + +_Manuela_: "No." + +_Judge_: "Did you meet his servant?" + +_Manuela_: "I cannot tell you." + +_Judge_: "Did not the Englishman pay for your lodging in the Carcel de +la Corte? Did he not send his servant every day to see you?" + +_Manuela_: "The gentleman was lying wounded at the hotel. He had been +stabbed in the street." + +_Judge_: "We are not discussing the Englishman's private affairs. +Answer my questions?" + +_Manuela_: "I cannot answer them." + +_Judge_: "You mean that you will not, Manuela. Did you not know that +the Englishman caused your crucifix to be set in gold, like a holy +relic?" + +_Manuela_: "I did not know it." + +_Judge_: "We have it on your own confession that you slew Don Bartolome +Ramonez in the wood of La Huerca, and you admit that the Englishman was +protecting you before that dreadful deed was done, that he has since +paid for your treatment in prison, and that he has treasured your +crucifix like a sacred relic?" + +_Manuela_: "You are pleased to say these things. I don't say them. +You wish to incriminate a person who has been kind to me." + +_Judge_: "I will ask you one more question, Manuela. Why did you give +yourself up to justice?" + +_Manuela_ (after a painful pause, speaking with high fervour and some +approach to dramatic effect): "I will answer you, senor Juez. It was +because I knew that Don Luis would contrive the death of Don Osmundo if +I did not prove him innocent." + +_Judge_ (rising, very angry): "Silence! The court cannot entertain +your views of persons not concerned in your crime." + +_Manuela_: "But----" (She shrugged, and looked away.) + +_Judge_: "You can sit down." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +NEMESIS--DON LUIS + +Manvers' reiterated question of how in the name of wonder Don Luis or +anybody else knew what he had done with Manuela's crucifix was answered +before the day was over; but not by Gil Perez or the advocate whom he +had engaged to defend the unhappy girl. + +This personage gave him to understand without disguise that there was +very little chance for Manuela. The Judge, he said, had been +"instructed." He clung to that phrase. When Manvers said, "Let us +instruct him a little," he took snuff and replied that he feared +previous "instruction" might have created a prejudice. He undertook, +however, to see him privately before judgment was delivered, but +intimated that he must have a very free hand. + +Manvers' rejoinder took the shape of a blank cheque with his signature +upon it. The advocate, fanning himself with it in an abstracted +manner, went on to advise the greatest candour in the witness-box. +"Beware of irritation, dear sir," he said. "The Judge will plant a +banderilla here and there, you may be sure. That is his method. You +learn more from an angry man than a cool one. For my own part," he +went on, "you know how we stand--without witnesses. I shall do what I +can, you may be sure." + +"I hope you will get something useful from the prisoner," Manvers said. +"A little of Master Esteban's private history should be useful." + +"It would be perfectly useless, if you will allow me to say so," +replied the advocate. "The Judge will not hear a word against a family +like the Ramonez. So noble and so poor! Perhaps you are not aware +that the Archbishop of Toledo is Don Luis' first cousin? That is so." + +"But is that allowed to justify his rip of a son in goading a girl on +to murder?" cried Manvers. + +The advocate again took snuff, shrugging as he tapped his fingers on +the box. "The Ramonez say, you see, sir, that Don Bartolome may have +threatened her, moved by jealousy. Jealousy is a well-understood +passion here. The plea is valid and good." + +"Might it not stand for Manuela too?" he was asked. + +"I don't think we had better advance it, Don Osmundo," he said, after a +significant pause. + +Gil Perez, pale and all on edge, had been walking the room like a caged +wolf. He swore to himself--but in English, out of politeness to his +master. "Thata dam thief! Ah, Juez of my soul, if I see you twist in +'ell is good for me." Presently he took Manvers aside and, his eyes +full of tears, asked him, "Sir, you escusa Manuela, if you please. She +maka story ver' bad to 'ear. She no like--I see 'er red as fire, burn +like the devil, sir. She ver' unfortunata girl--too beautiful to live. +And all these 'ogs--Oh, my God, what can she do?" He opened his arms, +and turned his pinched face to the sky. "What can she do, Oh, my God?" +he cried. "So beautiful as a rose, an' so poor, and so a child! You +sorry, sir, hey?" he asked, and Manvers said he was more sorry than he +could say. + +That comforted him. He kissed his master's hand, and then told him +that Manuela was glad that he knew all about her. "She dam glad, sir, +that I know. She say to me las' night--'What I shall tell the Juez +will be the very truth. Senor Don Osmundo shall know what I am,' she +say. 'To 'im I could never say it. To thata Juez too easy say it. +To-morrow,' she say, ''e know me for what I am--too bad girl!'" + +"I think she is a noble girl," said Manvers. "She's got more courage +in her little finger than I have in my body. She's a girl in a +thousand." + +Gil Perez glowed, and lifted up his beaten head. "Esplendid--eh?" he +cried out. "By God, I serve 'er on my knees!" + +On returning to the court, the beard and patient face of Fray Juan +greeted our friend. He had very little to testify, save that he was +sure the Englishman had known nothing of the crime. The prisoner had +told him her story without haste or passion. He had been struck by +that. She said that she killed. Don Bartolome in a hurry lest he +should kill both her and her benefactor. She had not informed him, nor +had he reported to the gentleman, that she was going to Madrid. The +Englishman said that he intended to find her, and witness had strongly +advised him against it. He had told him that his motives would be +misunderstood. "As, in fact, they have been, brother?" the advocate +suggested. Fray Juan raised his eyebrows, and sighed. "_Quien sabe?_" +was his answer. + +Manvers then stood up and spoke his testimony. He gave the facts as +the reader knows then, and made it clear that Manuela was in terror of +Esteban from the moment he appeared, and even before he appeared. He +had noticed that she frequently glanced behind them as they rode, and +had asked her the reason. Her fear of him in the wood was manifest, +and he blamed himself greatly for leaving her alone with the young man. + +"I was new to the country, you must understand," he said. "I could see +that there was some previous acquaintance between those two, but could +not guess that it was so serious. I thought, however, that they had +made up their differences and gone off together when I returned from +bathing. When Pray Juan showed me the body and told me what had been +done I was very much shocked. It had been, in one sense, my fault, for +if I had not rescued her, Esteban would not have suspected me, or +intended my death. That I saw at once; and my desire of meeting +Manuela again was that I might defend her from the consequences of an +act which I had, in that one sense, brought about--to which she had, at +any rate, been driven on my account." + +"I will ask you, sir," said the Judge, "one question upon that. Was +that also your motive in having the crucifix set in pure gold?" + +"No," said Manvers, "not altogether. I doubt if I can explain that to +you." + +"I am of that opinion myself," said the Judge, with an elaborate bow. +"But the court will be interested to hear you." + +The court was. + +"This girl," Manvers said, "was plainly most unfortunate. She was +ragged, poorly fed, had been ill-used, and was being shamefully handled +when I first saw her. I snatched her out of the hands of the wretches +who would have torn her to pieces if I had not interfered. From +beginning to end I never saw more shocking treatment of a woman than I +saw at Palencia. Not to have interfered would have shamed me for life. +What then? I rescued her, as I say, and she showed herself grateful in +a variety of ways. Then Esteban Vincaz came up and chose to treat me +as her lover. I believe he knew better, and think that my horse and +haversack had more to do with it. Well, I left Manuela with him in the +wood--hardly, I may suggest, the act of a lover--and never saw Esteban +alive again. But I believe Manuela's story absolutely; I am certain +she would not lie at such a time, or to such a man as Fray Juan. The +facts were extraordinary, and her crime, done as it was in defence of +myself, was heroic--or I thought so. Her leaving of the crucifix was, +to me, a proof of her honest intention. I valued the gift, partly for +the sake of the giver, partly for the act which it commemorated. She +had received a small service from me, and had returned it fifty-fold by +an act of desperate courage. To crown her charity, she left me all +that she had in the world. I do not wonder myself at what I did. I +took the crucifix to a jeweller at Valladolid, had it set as I thought +it deserved--and I see now that I did her there a cruel wrong." + +"Permit me to say, sir," said the triumphant Judge, "that you also did +Don Luis Ramonez a great service. Through your act, however intended, +he has been enabled to bring a criminal to justice." + +"I beg pardon," said Manvers, "she brought herself to justice--so soon +as Don Luis Ramonez sent his assassin out to stab me in the back, and +in the dark. And this again was a proof of her heroism, since she +thought by these means to satisfy his craving for human blood." + +Manvers spoke incisively and with severity. The court thrilled, and +the murmuring was on his side. The Judge was much disturbed. Manuela +alone maintained her calm, sitting like a pensive Hebe, her cheek upon +her hand. + +The Judge's annoyance was extreme. It tempted him to wrangle. + +"I beg you, sir, to restrain yourself. The court cannot listen to +extraneous matter. It is concerned with the consideration of a serious +crime. The illustrious gentleman of your reference mourns the loss of +his only son." + +"I fail," said Manvers, "to see how my violent death can assuage his +grief." The Judge was not the only person in court to raise his +eyebrows; if Manvers had not been angry he would have seen the whole +assembly in the same act, and been certified that they were not with +him now. His advocate whispered him urgently to sit down. He did, +still mystified. The Judge immediately retired to consider his +judgment. + +Manvers' advocate left the court and was away for an hour. He returned +very sedately to his place, with the plainly expressed intention of +saying nothing. The court buzzed with talk, much of it directed at the +beautiful prisoner, whose person, bearing, motives, and fate were +freely discussed. Oddly enough, at that moment, half the men in the +hall were ready to protect her. + +Manvers felt his heart beating, but could neither think nor speak +coherently. If Manuela were to be condemned to death, what was he to +do? He knew not at all; but the crisis to which his own affairs and +his own life were now brought turned him cold. He dared not look at +Gil Perez. The minutes dragged on---- + +The Judge entered the court and sat in his chair. He looked very much +like a codfish--with his gaping mouth and foolish eyes. He pulled one +of his long whiskers and inspected the end of it; detected a split +hair, separated it from its happier fellows, shut his eyes, gave a +vicious wrench to it and gasped as it parted. Then he stared at the +assembly before him, as if to catch them laughing, frowned at Manvers, +who sat before him with folded arms; lastly he turned to the prisoner, +who stood up and looked him in the face. + +"Manuela," he said, "you stand condemned upon your own confession of +murder in the first degree--murder of a gentleman who had been your +benefactor, of whose life and protection you desired, for reasons of +your own, to be ridded. The court is clear that you are guilty and +cannot give you any assurance that your surrender to justice has +assisted the ministers of justice. Those diligent guardians would have +found you sooner or later, you may be sure. If anyone is to be thanked +it is, perhaps, the foreign gentleman, whose candour"--and here he had +the assurance to make Manvers a bow--"whose candour, I say, has +favourably impressed the court. But, nevertheless, the court, in its +clemency, is willing to allow you the merits of your intention. It is +true that justice would have been done without your confession; but it +may be allowed that you desired to stand well with the laws, after +having violated them in an outrageous manner. It is this desire of +yours which inclines the court to mercy. I shall not inflict the last +penalty upon you, nor exact the uttermost farthing which your crime +deserves. The court is willing to believe that you are penitent, and +condemns you to perpetual seclusion in the Institution of the Recogidas +de Santa Maria Magdalena." + +Manuela was seen to close her eyes; but she collected herself directly. +She looked once, piercingly, at Manvers, then surrendered herself to +him who touched her on the shoulder, turned, and went out of the court. + +Everybody was against her now: they jeered, howled, hissed and cursed +her. A spoiled plaything had got its deserts. Manvers turned upon +them in a white fury. "Dogs," he cried, "will nothing shame you?" But +nobody seemed to hear or heed him at the moment, and Gil Perez +whispered in his ear, "That no good, master. This _canalla_ all the +same swine. You come with me, sir, I tell you dam good thing." He had +recovered his old jauntiness, and swaggered before his master, clearing +the way with oaths and threatenings. + +Manvers followed him in a very stern mood. By the door he felt a touch +on the arm, and turning, saw a tall, elderly gentleman cloaked in +black. He recognised him at once by his hollow eye-sockets and +smouldering, deeply set eyes. "You will remember me, senor caballero, +in the shop of Sebastian the goldsmith," he said; and Manvers admitted +it. He received another bow, and the reminder. "We met again, I +think, in the Church of Las Angustias in Valladolid." + +"Yes, indeed," Manvers said, "I remember you very well." + +"Then you remember, no doubt, saying to me with regard to your +crucifix, which I had seen in Sebastian's hands, then in your own, that +it was a piece of extravagance on your part. You will not withdraw +that statement to-day, I suppose." + +That which lay latent in his words was betrayed by the gleam of cold +fire in his eyes. Manvers coloured. "You have this advantage of me, +senor," he said, "that you know to whom you are speaking, and I do not." + +"It is very true, senor Don Osmundo," the gentleman said severely. "I +will enlighten you. I am Don Luis Ramonez de Alavia, at your service." + +Manvers turned white. He had indeed made Manuela pay double. So much +for sentiment in Spain. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE HERALD + +A card of ample size and flourished characters, bearing the name of El +Marques de Fuenterrabia, was brought up by Gil Perez. + +"Who is he?" Manvers inquired; and Gil waved his hand. + +"This olda gentleman," he explained, "'e come Embassador from Don Luis. +'E say, 'What you do next, senor Don Osmundo?' You tell 'im, sir--is +my advice." + +"But I don't know what I am going to do," said Manvers irritably. "How +the deuce should I know?" + +"You tell 'im that, sir," Gil said softly. "Thata best of all." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean, sir, then 'e tell you what Don Luis, 'e do." + +"Show him in," said Manvers. + +The Marques de Fuenterrabia was a white-whiskered, irascible personage, +of stately manners and slight stature. He wore a blue frock-coat, and +nankeen trousers over riding-boots. His face was one uniform pink, his +eyes small, fierce, and blue. They appeared to emit heat as well as +light; for it was a frequent trick of their proprietor's to snatch at +his spectacles and wipe the mist from them with a bandana handkerchief. +Unglazed, his eyes showed a blank and indiscriminate ferocity which +Manvers found exceedingly comical. + +They bowed to each other--the Marques with ceremonious cordiality, +Manvers with the stiffness of an Englishman to an unknown visitor. Gil +Perez hovered in the background, as it were, on the tips of his toes. + +The Marques, having made his bow, said nothing. His whole attitude +seemed to imply, "Well, what next?" + +Manvers said that he was at his service; and then the Marques explained +himself. + +"My friend, Don Luis Ramonez de Alavia," he said, "has entrusted me +with his confidence. It appears that a series of occurrences, +involving his happiness, honour and dignity at once, can be traced to +your Excellency's intromission in his affairs. I take it that your +Excellency does not deny----" + +"Pardon me," Manvers said, "I deny it absolutely." + +The Marques was very much annoyed. "_Que! Que!_" he muttered and +snatched off his spectacles. Glaring ferociously at them, he wiped +them with his bandana. + +"If Don Luis really imagines that I compassed the death of his son," +said Manvers, "I suppose he has his legal remedy. He had better have +me arrested and have done with it." + +The Marques, his spectacles on, gazed at the speaker with astonishment. +"Is it possible, sir, that you can so misconceive the mind of a +gentleman as to suggest legal process in an affair of the kind? +Whatever my friend Don Luis may consider you, he could not be guilty of +such a discourtesy. One may think he is going too far in the other +direction, indeed--though one is debarred from saying so under the +circumstances. But I am not here to bandy words with you. My friend +Don Luis commissions me to ask your Excellency, for the name of a +friend, to whom the arrangements may be referred for ending a painful +controversy in the usual manner. If you will be so good as to oblige +me, I need not intrude upon you again." + +"Do you mean to suggest, senor Marques," said Manvers, after a pause, +"that I am to meet Don Luis on the field?" + +"Pardon?" said the Marques, in such a way as to answer the question. + +"My dear sir," he was assured, "I would just as soon fight my +grandfather. The thing is preposterous." The Marques gasped for air, +but Manvers continued. "Had your friend's age been anywhere near my +own, I doubt if I could have gratified him after what took place the +other day. He caused a man of his to stab me in the back as I was +walking down a dark street. In my country we call that a dastard's +act." + +The Marques started, and winced as if he was hurt; but he remembered +himself and the laws of warfare, and when he spoke it was within the +extremes of politeness. + +"I confess, sir," he said, "that I was not prepared for your refusal. +It puts me in a delicate position, and to a certain extent I must +involve my friend also. It is my duty to declare to you that it is Don +Luis' intention to break the laws of Spain. An outrage has been +committed against his house and blood which one thing only can efface. +Moved by extreme courtesy, Don Luis was prepared to take the remedy of +gentlemen; but since you have refused him that, he is driven to the use +of natural law. It will be in your power--I cannot deny--to deprive +him of that also; but he is persuaded that you will not take advantage +of it. Should you show any signs of doing so, I am to say, Don Luis +will be forced to consider you outside the pale of civilisation, and to +treat you without any kind of toleration. To suggest such a +possibility is painful to me, and I beg your pardon very truly for it." + +In truth the Marques looked ashamed of himself. + +Manvers considered the very oblique oration to which he had listened. +"I hope I understand you, senor Marques," he said. "You intend to say +that Don Luis means to have my life by all means?" + +The Marques bowed. "That is so, senor Don Osmundo." + +"But you suggest that it is possible that I might stop him by informing +the authorities?" + +"No, no," said the Marques hastily, "I did not suggest that. The +authorities would never interfere. The British Embassy might perhaps +be persuaded--but you will do me the justice to admit that I apologised +for the suggestion." + +"Oh, by all means," said Manvers. "You thought pretty badly of me--but +not so badly as all that." + +"Quite so," said the Marques; and then the surprising Gil Perez +descended from mid-air, and lowed to the stranger. + +"My master, Don Osmundo, senor Marques, is incapable of such conduct," +said he--and looked to Manvers for approval. + +He struggled with himself, but failed. His guffaw must out, and +exploded with violent effect. It drove the Marques back to the door, +and sent Gil Perez scudding on tiptoe to the window. + +"You are magnificent, all of you!" cried Manvers. "You flatter me into +connivance. Let me state the case exactly. Don Luis is to stab or +shoot me at sight, and I am to give him a free hand. Is that what you +mean? Admirable. But let me ask you one question. Am I not supposed +to protect myself?" + +The Marques stared. "I don't think I perfectly understand you, Don +Osmundo. Reprisals are naturally open to you. We declare war, that is +all." + +"Oh," said Manvers. "You declare war? Then I may go shooting, too?" + +"Naturally," said the Marques. "That is understood." + +"No dam fear about that," said Gil Perez to his master. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +LA RECOGIDA + +Sister Chucha, the nun who took first charge of newcomers to the +Penitentiary, was fat and kindly, and not very discreet. It was her +business to measure Manuela for a garb and to see to the cutting of her +hair. She told the girl that she was by far the most handsome penitent +she had ever had under her hands. + +"It is a thousand pities to cut all this beauty away," she said; "for +it is obvious you will want it before long. So far as that goes you +will find the cap not unbecoming; and I'll see to it that you have a +piece of looking-glass--though, by ordinary, that is forbidden. Good +gracious, child, what a figure you have! If I had had one quarter of +your good fortune I should never have been religious." + +She went on to describe the rules of the Institution, the hours and +nature of the work, the offices in Chapel, the recreation times and +hours for meals. Manuela, she said, was not the build for rope and mat +work. + +"I shall get Reverend Mother to put you to housework, I think," she +said. "That will give you exercise, and the chance of an occasional +peep at the window. You don't deserve it, I fancy; but you are so +handsome that I have a weakness for you. All you have to do is to +speak fairly to Father Vicente and curtsey to the Reverend Mother +whenever you see her. Above all, no tantrums. Leave the others alone, +and they'll let you alone. There's not one of them but has her scheme +for getting away, or her friend outside. That's occupation enough for +her. It will be the same with you. Your friends will find you out. +You'll have a _novio_ spending the night in the street before +to-morrow's over unless I am very much mistaken." She patted her +cheek. "I'll do what I can for you, my dear." + +Manuela curtseyed, and thanked the good nun. "All I have to do," she +said, "is to repent of my sin--which has become very horrible to me." + +"La-la-la!" cried Sister Chucha. "Keep that for Father Vicente, if +you please, my dear. That is his affair. Our patroness led a jolly +life before she was a saint. No doubt, you should not have stabbed Don +Bartolome, and of course the Ramonez would never overlook such a thing. +But we all understand that you must save your own skin if you +could--that's very reasonable. And I hear that there was another +reason." Here she chucked her chin. "I don't wonder at it," she said +with a meaning smile. + +The girl coloured and hung her head. She was still quivering with the +shame of her public torture. She could still see Manvers' eyes stare +chilly at the wall before them, and believe them to grow colder with +each stave of her admissions. Her one consolation lay in the thought +that she could please him by amendment and save him by a conviction; so +it was hard to be petted by Sister Chucha. She would have welcomed the +whip, would have hugged it to her bosom--the rod of Salvation, she +would have called it; but compliments on her beauty, caresses of cheek +and chin--was she not to be allowed to be good? As for escape, she had +no desire for that. She could love her Don Osmundo best from a +distance. What was to be gained, but shame, by seeing him? + +Her shining hair was cut off; the cap, the straight prison garb were +put on. She stood up, slim-necked, an arrowy maid, with her burning +face and sea-green eyes chastened by real humility. She made a good +confession to Father Vicente, and took her place among her mates. + +It was true, what Sister Chucha had told her. Every penitent in that +great and gaunt building was thrilled with one persistent hope, worked +patiently with that in view, and under its spell refrained from +violence or clamour. There was not one face of those files of +grey-gowned girls which, at stated hours, entered the chapel, knelt at +the altar, or stooped at painful labour through the stifling days, +which did not show a gleam. Stupid, vacant, vicious, morose, pretty, +sparkling, whatever the face might be, there was that expectation to +redeem or enhance it, to make it human, to make it womanish. There +was, or there would be, some day, any day, a lover outside--to whom it +would be the face of all faces. + +Manuela had not been two hours in the company of her fellow-prisoners +before she was told that there were two ways of escape from the +Recogidas. Religion or marriage these were; but the religious +alternative was not discussed. + +Sister Chucha, it transpired, had chosen that way--"But do you wonder?" +cried the girl who told Manuela, with shrill scorn. Most of the +sisters had once been penitents--"_Vaya_! Look at them, my dear!" +cried this young Amazon, conscious of her own charms. + +She was a plump Andalusian, black-eyed, merry, and quick to change her +moods. Love had sent her to Saint Mary Magdalene, and love would take +her out again. + +That Chucha, she owned, was a kind soul. She always put the pretty +ones to housework--"it gives us a chance at the windows. I have +Fernando, who works at the sand-carting in the river. He never fails +to look up this way. Some day he will ask for me." She peered at +herself in a pail of water, and fingered her cap daintily. "How does +my skirt hang now, Manuela? Too short, I fancy. Did you ever see such +shoes as they give you here! Lucky that nobody can see you." + +This was the strain of everybody's talk in the House of Las +Recogidas--in the whitewashed galleries where they walked in squads +under the eye of a nun who sat reading a good book against the wall, in +the court where they lay in the shade to rest, prone, with their faces +hidden in their arms, or with knees huddled up and eyes fixed in a +stare. They talked to each other in the hoarse, tearful staccato of +Spain, which, beginning low, seems to gather force and volume as it +runs, until, like a beck in flood, it carries speaker and listener over +the bar and into tossing waves of yeasty water. + +Manuela, through all, kept her thoughts to herself, and spoke nothing +of her own affairs. There may have been others like her, fixed to the +great achievement of justifying themselves to their own standard: she +had no means of knowing. Her standard was this, that she had purged +herself by open confession to the man whom she loved. She was clean, +sweetened and full of heart. All she had to do was to open wide her +house that holiness might enter in. + +Besides this she had, at the moment, the consciousness of a good +action; for she firmly believed that by her surrender to the law she +had again saved Manvers from assassination. If Don Luis could only +cleanse his honour by blood, he now had her heart's blood. That should +suffice him. She grew happier as the days went on. + +Meanwhile it was remarked upon by Mercedes and Dolores, and half a +dozen more, that distinguished strangers came to the gallery of the +chapel. The outlines of them could be descried through the _grille_; +for behind the _grille_ was a great white window which threw them into +high relief. + +It was the fixed opinion of Mercedes and Dolores that Manuela had a +_novio_. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE NOVIO + +It is true that Manvers had gone to the Chapel of the Recogidas to look +for, or to look at, Manuela. This formed the one amusing episode in +his week's round in Madrid, where otherwise he was extremely bored, and +where he only remained to give Don Luis a chance of waging his war. + +To be shot at in the street, or stabbed in the back as you are homing +through the dusk are, to be sure, not everybody's amusements, and in an +ordinary way they were not those of Mr. Manvers. But he found that his +life gained a zest by being threatened with deprivation, and so long as +that zest lasted he was willing to oblige Don Luis. The weather was +insufferably hot, one could only be abroad early in the morning or late +at night--both the perfection of seasons for the assassin's game. + +Yet nothing very serious had occurred during the week following the +declaration of war. Gil Perez could not find Tormillo, and had to +declare that his suspicions of a Manchegan teamster, who had jostled +his master in the Puerta del Sol and made as if to draw his knife, were +without foundation. What satisfied him was that the Manchegan, that +same evening, stabbed somebody else to death. "That show 'e is good +fellow--too much after 'is enemy," said Gil Perez affably. So Manvers +felt justified in his refusal to wear mail or carry either revolver or +sword-stick; and by the end of the week he forgot that he was a marked +man. + +On Sunday he told Gil Perez that he intended to visit the Chapel of the +Recogidas. + +The rogue's face twinkled. "Good, sir, good. We go. I show you +Manuela all-holy like a nun. I know whata she do. Look for 'eaven all +day. That Chucha she tell me something--and the _portero_, 'e damgood +fellow." + + +Resplendent in white duck trousers, Mr. Manvers was remarked upon by a +purely native company of sightseers. Quick-eyed ladies in mantillas +were there, making play with their fans and scent-bottles; attendant +cavaliers found something of which to whisper in the cool-faced +Englishman with his fair beard, blue eyes, and eye-glass, his air of +detachment, which disguised his real feelings, and of readiness to be +entertained, which they misinterpreted. + +The facts were that he was painfully involved in Manuela's fate, and +uncomfortably near being in love again with the lovely unfortunate. +She was no longer a pretty thing to be kissed, no longer even a +handsome murderess; she was become a heroine, a martyr, a thing enskied +and sainted. + +He had seen more than he had been meant to see during his ordeal in the +Audiencia--her consciousness of himself, for instance, as revealed in +that last dying look she had given him, that long look before she +turned and followed her gaolers out of court. He guessed at her +agonies of shame, he understood how it was that she had courted it; in +fine, he knew very well that her heart was in his keeping--and that's a +dangerous possession for a man already none too sure of the whereabouts +of his own. + +When the organ music thrilled and opened, and the Recogidas filed +in--some hundred of them--his heart for a moment stood still, as he +scanned them through the gloom. They were dressed exactly alike in +dull clinging grey, all wore close-fitting white caps, were nearly all +dead-white in the face. They all shuffled, as convicts do when they +move close-ordered to their work afield. + +It shocked him that he utterly failed to identify Manuela--and it +brought him sharply to his better senses that Gil Perez saw her at +once. "See her there, master, see there my beautiful," the man groaned +under his breath, and Manvers looked where he pointed, and saw her; but +now the glamour was gone. Gil was her declared lover. The Squire of +Somerset could not stoop to be his valet's rival. + +The Squire of Somerset, however, observed that she held herself more +stiffly than her co-mates, and shuffled less. The prison garb clothed +her like a weed; she had the trick of wearing clothes so that they +draped the figure, not concealed it, were as wax upon it, not a +cerement. That which fell shapeless and heavily from the shoulders of +the others, upon her seemed to grow rather from the waist--to creep +upwards over the shoulders, as ivy steals clinging over a statue in a +park. Here, said he, is a maiden that cannot be hid. Call her a +murderess, she remains perfect woman; call her convict, Magdalen, she +is some man's solace. He looked: at Gil Perez, motionless and intent +by his side, and heard his short breath: There is her mate, he thought +to himself, and was saved. + +They filed out as they had come in. They all stood, turned towards the +exit, and waited until they were directed to move. Then they followed +each other like sheep through a gateway, looking, so far as he could +see, at nothing, expecting nothing, and remembering nothing. A +down-trodden herd, he conceived them, their wits dulled by toil. He +was not near enough to see the gleam which kept them alive. Nuns gave +them their orders with authoritative hands, quick always, and callous +by routine, probably not intended to be so harsh as they appeared. He +saw one girl pushed forward by the shoulder with such suddenness that +she nearly fell; another flinched at a passionate command; another +scowled as she passed her mistress. He watched to see how Manuela, who +had come in one of the first and must go out one of the last, would +bear herself, and was relieved by a pretty and enheartening episode. + +Manuela, as she passed, drew her hand along the top of the bench with a +lingering, trailing touch. It encountered that of the nun in command, +and he saw the nun's hand enclose and press the penitent's. He saw +Manuela's look of gratitude, and the nun's smiling affection; he +believed that Manuela blushed. That gratified him extremely, and +enlarged his benevolent intention. + +Had Gil Perez seen it? He thought not. Gil Perez' black eyes were +fixed upon Manuela's form. They glittered like a cat's when he watches +a bird in a shrubbery. The valet was quite unlike himself as he +followed his master homewards and asked leave of absence for the +evening--for the first time in his period of service. Manvers had no +doubt at all how that evening was spent--in rapt attention below the +barred windows of the House of the Recogidas. + +That was so. Gil Perez "played the bear," as they call it, from dusk +till the small hours--perfectly happy, in a rapture of adoration which +the Squire of Somerset could never have realised. All the romance +which, if we may believe Cervantes, once transfigured the life of +Spain, and gilded the commonest acts till they seemed confident appeals +for the applause of God, feats boldly done under Heaven's thronged +barriers, is nowadays concentred in this one strange vigil which all +lovers have to keep. + +Gil Perez the quick, the admirable servant, the jaunty adventurer, the +assured rogue, had vanished. Here he stood beneath the stars, +breathing prayers and praises--not a little valet sighing for a +convicted Magdalen, but a young knight keeping watch beneath his lady's +tower. And he was not alone there: at due intervals along the frowning +walls were posted other servants of the sleeping girls behind them; +other knights at watch and ward. + +The prayer he breathed was the prayer breathed too for Dolores or +Mercedes in prison. "Virgin of Atocha, Virgin of the Pillar, Virgin of +Sorrow, of Divine Compassion, send happy sleep to thy handmaid Manuela, +shed the dew of thy love upon her eyelids, keep smooth her brows, keep +innocent her lips. Dignify me, thy servant, Gil Perez, more than other +men, that I may be worthy to sustain this high honour of love." + +His eyes never wavered from a certain upper window. It was as blank as +all the rest, differed in no way from any other of a row of +five-and-twenty. To him if was the pride of the great building. + +"O fortunate stars!" he whispered to himself, "that can look through +these and see my love upon her bed. O rays too much blessed, that can +kiss her eyelids, and touch lightly upon the scented strands of her +hair! O breath of the night, that can fan in her white neck and stroke +her arm stretched out over the coverlet! To you, night-wind, and to +you, stars, I give an errand; you shall take a message from me to +lovely Manuela of the golden tresses. Tell her that I am watching out +the dark; tell her that no harm shall come to her. Whisper in her ear, +mingle with her dreams, and tell her that she has a lover. Tell her +also that the nights in Madrid are not like those in Valencia, and that +she would do well to cover her arm and shoulder up lest she catch cold, +and suffer." + +There spoke the realist, the romantic realist of Spain; for it is to be +observed that Gil Perez did not know at all whereabouts Manuela lay +asleep, and could not, naturally, know whether her arm was out of bed +or in it. He had forgotten also that her hair had been cut off--but +these are trifles. Happy he! he had forgotten much more than that. + +When Manvers told him that he intended to pay Manuela a visit on the +day allowed, Gil Perez suffered the tortures of the damned. Jealous +rage consumed his vitals like a corroding acid, which reason and +loyalty had no power to assuage. Yet reason and loyalty played out +their allotted parts, and it had been a fine sight to see Gil grinning +and gibbering at his own white face in the looking-glass, shaking his +finger at it and saying to it, in English (since it was his master's +shaving-glass), "Gil Perez, my fellow, you shut up!" He said it many +times, for he had nothing else to say--jealousy deprived him of his +wits; and he felt better for the discipline. When Manvers returned +there was no sign upon Gil's brisk person of the stormy conflict which +had ravaged it. + +Manvers had seen her and, by Sister Chucha's charity, had seen her +alone. The poor girl had fallen at his feet and would have kissed them +if he had not lifted her up. "No, my dear, no," he said; "it is I who +ought to kneel. You have done wonders for me. You are as brave as a +lion, Manuela; but I must get you away from this place." + +"No, no, Don Osmundo," she cried, flushing up, "indeed I am better +here." She stood before him, commanding herself, steeling herself in +the presence of this man she loved against any hint of her beating +heart. + +He had himself well in hand. Her beauty, her distress and misfortune +could not touch him now. All that he had for her was admiration and +pure benevolence. Fatal offerings for a woman inflamed: so soon as she +perceived it her courage was needed for another tussle. Her blood lay +like lead in her veins, her heart sank to the deeps of her, and she +must screw it back again to the work of the day. + +He took her hand, and she let him have it. What could it matter now +what he had of hers? "Manuela," he said, "there is a way of freedom +for you, if you will take it. A man loves you truly, and asks nothing +better than to work for you. I know him; he's been a good friend to +me. Will you let me pay you off my debt? His name is Gil Perez. You +have seen him, I know. He's an honest man, my dear, and loves you to +distraction. What are you going to say to him if he asks for you?" + +She stood, handfasted to the man who had kissed her--and in kissing her +had drawn out her soul through her lips; who now was pleading that +another man might have her dead lips. The mockery of the thing might +have made a worse woman laugh horribly; but this was a woman made pure +by love. She saw no mockery, no discrepancy in what he asked her. She +knew he was in earnest and wished her nothing but good. + +And she could see, without knowing that she saw, how much he desired to +be rid of his obligation to her. Therefore, she reasoned, she would be +serving him again if she agreed to what he proposed. Here--if laughing +had been her mood--was matter for laughter, that when he tried to pay +her off he was really getting deeper into debt. Look at it in this +way. You owe a fine sum, principal and interest, to a Jew; you go to +him and propose to borrow again of him in order that you may pay off +the first debt and be done with it. The Jew might laugh but he would +lend; and Manuela, who hoarded love, hugged to her heart the new bond +she was offered. The deeper he went into debt the more she must lend +him! There was pleasure in this--shrill pleasure not far off from +pain; but she was a child of pleasure, and must take what she could get. + +Her grave eyes, uncurtained, searched his face. "Is this what you +desire me to do? Is this what you ask of me?" + +"My dear," said he, "I desire your freedom. I desire to see you happy +and cared for. I must go away. I must go home. I shall go more +willingly if I know that I have provided for my friend." + +She urged a half-hearted plea. "I am very well here, Don Osmundo. The +sisters are kind to me, the work is light. I might be happy here----" + +"What!" he cried, "in prison!" + +"It is what I deserve," she said; but he would not hear of it. + +"You are here through my blunders," he insisted. "If I hadn't left you +with that scoundrel in the wood this would never have happened. And +there's another thing which I must say----" He grew very serious. +"I'm ashamed of myself--but I must say it." She looked at her hands in +her lap, knowing what was coming. + +"They said, you know, that Esteban must have thought me your lover." +She sat as still as death. "Well--I was." + +Not a word from her. "My dear," he went on painfully--for Eleanor +Vernon's clear grey eyes were on him now, "I must tell you that I did +what I had no business to do. There's a lady in England who--whom--I +was carried away--I thought----" He stopped, truly shocked at what he +had thought her to be. "Now that I know you, Manuela, I tell you +fairly I behaved like a villain." + +Her face was flung up like that of a spurred horse; she was on the +point to reveal herself,--to tell him that in that act of his lay all +her glory. But she stopped in time, and resumed her drooping, and her +dejection. "I must serve him still--serve him always," was her burden. + +"I was your lover truly," he continued, "after I knew what you had +risked for me, what you had brought yourself to do for me. Not before +that. Before that, I had been a thief--a brute. But after it, I loved +you--and then I had your cross set in gold--and betrayed you into Don +Luis' mad old hands. All this trouble is my fault--you are here +through me--you must be got out through me. Gil Perez is a better man +than I am ever likely to be. He loves you sincerely. He loved you +before you gave yourself up. You know that, I expect..." + +She knew it, of course, perfectly well, but she said nothing. + +"He wouldn't wish to bustle you into marriage, or anything of the sort. +He's a gentleman, is Gil Perez, and I shall see that he doesn't ask for +you empty-handed. I am sure he can make you happy; and I tell you +fairly that the only way I can be happy myself is to know that I have +made you amends." He got up--at the end of his resources. "Let me +leave his case before you. He'll plead it in his own way, you'll find. +I can't help thinking that you must know what the state of his feelings +is. Think of him as kindly as you can--and think of me, too, Manuela, +as a man who has done you a great wrong, and wants to put himself right +if he may." He held out his hand. "Good-bye, my dear. I'll see you +again, I hope--or send a better man." + +"Good-bye, Don Osmundo," she said, and gave him her hand. He pressed +it and went away, feeling extremely satisfied with the hour's work. +Eleanor Vernon's clear grey eyes smiled approvingly upon him. "Damn it +all," he said to himself, "I've got that tangle out at last." He began +to think of England--Somersetshire--Eleanor--partridges. "I shall get +home, I hope, by the first," he said. + +"He's a splendour, your _novio_, Manuelita," said Sister Chucha, and +emphasised her approval with a kiss. "Fie!" she cried, "what a cold +cheek! The cheek of a dead woman. And you with a _hidalgo_ for your +_novio_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE WAR OPENS + +Returning from his visit, climbing the Calle Mayor at that blankest +hour of the summer day when the sun is at his fiercest, raging +vertically down upon a street empty of folk, but glittering like glass +and radiant with quivering air, Manvers was shot at from a distance, so +far as he could judge, of thirty yards. He heard the ball go shrilling +past him and then splash and flatten upon a church wall beyond. He +turned quickly, but could see nothing. Not a sign of life was upon the +broad way, not a curtain was lifted, not a shutter swung apart. To all +intents and purposes he was upon the Castilian plains. + +Unarmed though he was, he went back upon his traces down the hill, +expecting at any moment that the assassin would flare out upon him and +shoot him down at point-blank. He went back in all some fifty yards. +There was no man in lurking that he could discover. After a few +moments' irresolution--whether to stand or proceed--he decided that the +sooner he was within walls the better. He turned again and walked +briskly towards the Puerta del Sol. + +Sixty yards or so from the great _plaza_, within sight of it, he was +fired at again, and this time he was hit in the muscles of the left +arm. He felt the burning sting, the shock and the aching. The welling +of blood was a blessed relief. On this occasion he pushed forward, and +reached his inn without further trouble. He sent for Gil Perez, who +whisked off for the surgeon; by the time he brought one in Manvers was +feverish, and so remained until the morning, tossing and jerking +through the fervent night, with his arm stiff from shoulder to +finger-points. + +"That a dam thief, sir, 'e count on you never looka back," said Gil +Perez, nodding grimly. "Capitan Rodney, 'e all the same as you. Walka +'is blessed way, never taka no notice of anybody. See 'im at +Sevastopol do lika that all the time. So then this assassin 'e creep +after you lika one o'clock up Calle Mayor, leta fly at you twice, three +time, four time--so longa you let 'im. You walka backward, 'e never +shoot--you see." + +Manvers felt that to walk backwards would be at least as tiresome as to +walk forwards and be shot at in a city which now held little for him +but danger and _ennui_. Not even Manuela's fortunes could prevail +against boredom. As he lay upon his hateful bed, disgust with Spain +grew upon him hand over hand. He became irritable. To Gil Perez he +announced his determination. This sort of thing must end. + +Gil bowed and rubbed his hands. "You go 'ome, sir? Is besta place for +you. Don Luis, 'e kill you for sure. You go, 'e go 'ome, esleep on +'is olda bed--too mucha satisfy." Under his breath he added, "Poor +Manuela--my poor beautiful! She is tormented in vain!" + +Manvers told him what had passed in the House of the Recogidas. "I +spoke for you, Gil. I think she will listen to you." + +Gil lifted up his head. "Every nighta, when you are asleep, sir, I +estand under the wall. I toucha--I say 'Keep safa guard of Manuela, +you wall.' If she 'ave me I maka 'er never sorry for it. I love 'er +too much. But I think she call me dirt. I know all about 'er too +much." + +What he knew he kept hidden; but one day he went to the Recogidas and +asked to see Sister Chucha. He was obsequious, but impassioned, full +of cajolery, but not for a moment did he try to impose upon his +countrywoman by any assumption of omniscience. That was reserved for +his master, and was indeed a kind of compliment to his needs. Sister +Chucha heard him at first with astonishment. + +"Then it was for you, Gil Perez, that the gentleman came here?" + +Gil nodded. "It was for me, sister. How could it be otherwise?" + +"I thought that the gentleman was interested." + +Gil peered closely into her face. "That gentleman is persecuted. +Manuela can save him from the danger he stands in--but only through me. +Sister, I love her more than life and the sky, but I am content, and +she will be content, that life shall be dumb and the sky dark if that +gentleman may go free. Let me speak with Manuela--you will see." + +The nun was troubled. "Too many see Manuela," she said. "Only +yesterday there came here a man." + +"Ha!" said Gil Perez fiercely. "What manner of a man?" + +"A little man," she told him, "that came in creeping, rounding his +shoulders--so, and swimming with his hands. He saw Manuela, and left +her trembling. She was white and grey--and very cold." + +"That man," said Gil, folding his arms, "was our enemy. Let me now see +Manuela." + +It was more a command than an entreaty. Sister Chucha obeyed it. She +went away without a word, and returned presently, leading Manuela by +the hand. She brought her into the room, released her, and stood, +watching and listening. + +Eyes leaped to meet--Manuela was on fire, but Gil's fire ate up hers. + +"Senorita, you have surrendered in vain. These men must have blood for +blood. The patron lies wounded, and will die unless we save him. +Senorita, you are willing, and I am willing--speak." + +She regarded him steadily. "You know that I am willing, Gil Perez." + +"It was Tormillo you saw yesterday?" + +"Yes, Tormillo--like a toad." + +"He was sent to mock you in your pain. He is a fool. We will show him +a fool in his own likeness. Are you content to die?" + +"You know that I am content." + +He turned to the nun. "Sister Chucha, you will let this lady go. She +goes out to die--I, who love her, am content that she should die. If +she dies not, she returns here. If she dies, you will not ask for her." + +The sister stared. "What do you mean, you two? How is she to die? +When? Where?" + +"She is to die under the knife of Don Luis," said Gil Perez. "And I am +to lay her there." + +"You, my friend! And what have you to do with Don Luis and his +affairs?" + +"Manuela is young," said Gil, "and loves her life. I am young, and +love Manuela more than life. If I take her to Don Luis and say, 'Kill +her, Senor Don Luis, and in that act kill me also,' I think he will be +satisfied. I can see no other way of saving the life of Don Osmundo." + +"And what do you ask me to do?" the nun asked presently. + +"I ask you to give me Manuela presently for one hour or for eternity. +If Don Luis rejects her, I bring her back to you here--on the word of +an old Christian. If he takes her, she goes directly to God, where you +would have her be. Sister Chucha," said Gil Perez finely, "I am +persuaded that you will help us." + +Sister Chucha looked at her hands--fat and very white hands. "You ask +me to do a great deal--to incur a great danger--for a gentleman who is +nothing to me." + +"He is everything to Manuela," said Gil softly. "That you know." + +"And you, Gil Perez--what is he to you?" This was Sister Chucha's +sharpest. Gil took it with a blink. + +"He is my master--that is something. He is more to Manuela. And she +is everything to me. Sister, you may trust me with her." + +The nun turned from him to the motionless beauty by her side. + +"You, my child, what do you say to this project? Shall I let you go?" + +Manuela wavered a little. She swayed about and balanced herself with +her hands. But she quickly recovered. + +"Sister Chucha," she said, "let me go." The soft green light from her +eyes spoke for her. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MEETING BY MOONLIGHT + +By moonlight, in the sheeted park, four persons met to do battle for +the life of Mr. Manvers, while he lay grumbling and burning in his bed, +behind the curtains of it. Don Luis Ramonez was there, the first to +come--tall and gaunt, with undying pride in his hollow eyes, like a +spectre of rancour kept out of the grave. Behind him Tormillo came +creeping, a little restless man, dogging his master's footsteps, +watching for word or sign from him. These two stood by the lake in the +huge empty park, still under its shroud of white moonlight. + +Don Luis picked up the corner of his cloak and threw it over his left +shoulder. He stalked stately up and down the arc of a circle which a +stone seat defined. Tormillo sat upon the edge of the seat, his elbows +on his knees, and looked at the ground. But he kept his master in the +tail of his eye. Now and again, furtively, but as if he loved what he +feared, he put his hand into his breast and felt the edge of his long +knife. + +Once indeed, when Don Luis on his sentry-march had his back to him, he +drew out the blade and turned it under the moon, watching the cold +light shiver and flash up along it and down. Not fleck or flaw was +upon it; it showed the moon whole within its face. This pair, each +absorbed in his own business, waited for the other. + +Tormillo saw them coming, and marked it by rising from his seat. He +peered along the edge of the water to be sure, then he went noiselessly +towards them, looking back often over his shoulder at Don Luis. But +his master did not seem to be aware of anyone. He stood still, looking +over the gloomy lake. + +Tormillo, having gone half way, waited. Gil Perez hailed him. "Is +that you, Tormillo?" The muffled figure of a girl by his side gave no +sign. + +"It is I, Gil Perez. Be not afraid." + +"If I were afraid of anything, I should not be here. I have brought +Manuela of her own will." + +"Good," said Tormillo. "Give her to me. We will go to Don Luis." + +"Yes, you shall take her. I will remain here. Senorita, will you go +with him?" + +Manuela said, "I am ready." + +Tormillo turned his face away, and Gil Perez with passion whispered to +Manuela. + +"My soul, my life, Manuela! One sign from you, and I kill him!" + + She turned him her rapt face. "No +sign from me, brother--no sign from me." + +"My life," sighed Gil Perez. "Soul of my soul!" She held him out her +hand. + +"Pray for me," she said. He snatched at her hand, knelt on his knee, +stooped over it, and then, jumping up, flung himself from her. + +"Take her you, Tormillo." + +Tormillo took her by the hand, and they went together towards the +semicircular seat, in whose centre stood Don Luis like a black statue. +Soft-footed went she, swaying a little, like a gossamer caught in a +light wind. Don Luis half-turned, and saluted her. + +"Master," said Tormillo, "Manuela is here." As if she were a figure to +be displayed he lightly threw back her veil. Manuela stood still and +bowed her head to the uncovered gentleman. + +"I am ready, senor Don Luis," she said. He came nearer, watching her, +saying nothing. + +"I killed Don Bartolome, your son," she said, "because I feared him. +He told me that he had come to kill me; but I was beforehand with him +there. It is true that I loved Don Osmundo, who had been kind to me." + +"You killed my son," said Don Luis, "and you loved the Englishman." + +"I own the truth," she said, "and am ready to requite you. I thought +to have satisfied you by giving myself up--but you have shown me that +that was not enough. Now then I give you myself of my own will, if you +will let Don Osmundo go free. Will you make a bargain with me? He +knew nothing of Don Bartolome, your son." + +Don Luis bowed. Manuela turned her head slowly about to the still +trees, to the sleeping water, to the moon in the clear sky, as if to +greet the earth for the last time. For one moment her eyes fell on Gil +Perez afar off--on his knees with his hands raised to heaven. + +"I am ready," she said again, and bowed her head. Tormillo put into +Don Luis' hands the long knife. Don Luis threw it out far into the +lake. It fled like a streak of light, struck, skimmed along the +surface, and sank without a splash. He went to Manuela and put his +hand on her shoulder. She quivered at his touch. + +"My child," said he, "I cannot touch you. You have redeemed yourself. +Go now, and sin no more." + +He left her and went his way, stately, along the edge of the water. He +stalked past Gil Perez at his prayers as if he saw him not--as may well +be the case. But Gil Perez got upon his feet as he went by and saluted +him with profound respect. + +Immediately afterwards he went like the wind to Manuela. He found her +crying freely on the stone seat, her arms upon the back of it and her +face hidden in her arms She wept with passion; her sobs were pitiful to +hear. Tormillo, not at all moved, waited for Gil Perez. + +"_Esa te quiere bien que te hace llorar_," he said: "She loves thee +well, that makes thee weep." + +"I weep not," said Gil Perez; "it is she that weeps. As for me, I +praise God." + +"Aha, Gil Perez," Tormillo began--then he chuckled. "For you, my +friend, there's still sunlight on the wall." + +Gil nodded. "I believe it." Then he looked fiercely at the other man. +"Go you with God, Tormillo, and leave me with her." + +Tormillo stared, spat on the ground. "No need of your 'chuck chuck' to +an old dog. I go, Gil Perez. _Adios, hermano_." + +Gil Perez sat on the stone seat, and drew Manuela's head to his +shoulder. She suffered him. + + + + +[Illustration: Inside back cover art (left side)] + + + + +[Illustration: Inside back cover art (right side)] + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spanish Jade, by Maurice Hewlett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPANISH JADE *** + +***** This file should be named 29545.txt or 29545.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/5/4/29545/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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