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diff --git a/30623.txt b/30623.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..27cc457 --- /dev/null +++ b/30623.txt @@ -0,0 +1,18651 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Missourian, by Eugene P. (Eugene Percy) +Lyle, Illustrated by Ernest Haskell + + +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 Missourian + + +Author: Eugene P. (Eugene Percy) Lyle + + + +Release Date: December 7, 2009 [eBook #30623] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISSOURIAN*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 30623-h.htm or 30623-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/30623/30623-h/30623-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/30623/30623-h.zip) + + + + + +THE MISSOURIAN + +[Illustration: "JACQUELINE" +"She was the spirit of the enigma, the very personification of the +Napoleonic sphinx"] + +THE MISSOURIAN + +by + +EUGENE P. LYLE, Jr. + +"In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul."--Omar + +Illustrated by Ernest Haskell + + + + + + + +New York +Doubleday, Page & Company +1905 + +Copyright, 1905, by +Doubleday, Page & Company +Published, August, 1905 + +All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign +languages, including the Scandinavian + + + + +To + +MY TWO BEST FRIENDS + +My Father and my Mother + + + + +CONTENTS + +PART I. + +THE THORN IN THE LAND OF ROSES + + I. A Wilful Maid Arrives 3 + II. A Fra Diavolo in the Land of Roses 11 + III. The Violent End of a Terrible Bandit 18 + IV. _La Luz_, Blockade Runner 27 + V. The Storm Centre 34 + VI. A Bruising of Arms for Jacqueline 45 + VII. Swordsmanship in the Dark 55 + VIII. The Thoughts of Youth May Be + Prodigiously Long Thoughts 64 + IX. Toll-Taking in the Huasteca 69 + X. The Brigand Chief 80 + XI. The Cossacks and Their Tiger Colonel 89 + XII. Pastime Passing Excellent 98 + XIII. Unregistered in Any Studbook 108 + XIV. The Herald of the Fair God 114 + XV. The Ritual 122 + XVI. He of the Debonair Sceptre 131 + XVII. Rather a Small Man 140 + XVIII. Little Monarchs, Big Mistakes 149 + XIX. A Tartar, _and_ a Tartar 156 + XX. In the Wake of Princely Cavalcades 164 + XXI. The Red Mongrel 173 + XXII. "Equidad en la Justicia" 182 + XXIII. A Curious Pagan Rite 188 + XXIV. The Man Who Did Not Want to be Shot 193 + XXV. The Person on the Other Horse 200 + XXVI. The Strangest Avowal of Love 209 + XXVII. Berthe 219 + XXVIII. "Mike" 228 + XXIX. The Whisper of the Sphinx 238 + XXX. The Ambassador 242 + XXXI. Carlota 253 + XXXII. The Woman Who Did Not Hesitate 258 + XXXIII. A Sponsor to the Fat Padre 266 + +PART II. + +THE ROSE THAT WAS A THORN IN THE LAND OF ROSES + + I. Meagre Shanks 273 + II. The Black Decree 284 + III. As Between Women 293 + IV. The Lacking Coincidence 298 + V. The Missourians 306 + VI. If a Kiss Were All 315 + VII. A Crop of Colonels 324 + VIII. Royal Resolution 335 + IX. Interpreter to the Almighty 344 + X. Alone Among His Loving Subjects 351 + XI. Fatality and the Missourian 359 + XII. The Rendezvous of the Republic 369 + XIII. A Buccaneer and a Battle 380 + XIV. Blood and Noise--What Else? 391 + XV. Of All News the Most Spiteful 406 + XVI. Vendetta's Half Sister, Better Born 422 + XVII. Under a Spanish Cloak 434 + XVIII. El Chaparrito 443 + XIX. In Articulo Mortis 459 + XX. Knighthood's Belated Flower 465 + XXI. The Title of Nobility 475 + XXII. The Abbey of Mount Regret 484 + XXIII. The Contrariness of Jacqueline 496 + XXIV. The Journalistic Sagacity of a Daniel 506 + + + + +THE PEOPLE OF THE STORY + +THE MISSOURIAN, known in every fight as the Storm Centre. His +real name is John D. Driscoll, familiarly shortened to Din Driscoll. At +the close of the Civil War he finds himself a lieutenant-colonel in +General Joe Shelby's brigade of Confederate daredevils, sent by his +comrades as emissary to the Emperor Maximilian of Mexico. + +JACQUELINE, who is the Marquise Jeanne d'Aumerle, on a mission +of high politics from Napoleon III. to the Court of Mexico. + +BERTHE, her maid. + +MAXIMILIAN, archduke of Austria, occupant of the New World +throne created for him. + +CHARLOTTE OF ORLEANS, the Empress. + +ANASTASIO MURGUIA, a Mexican hacendado, who acquires riches by +running Federal blockades into Southern ports. He is both a coward and a +miser. + +MARIA DE LA LUZ, his daughter. + +RODRIGO GALAN, brigand and guerrilla. + +TIBURCIO, blackmailer of the highway, scout, and "loyal +Imperialist." + +AUGUSTIN FISCHER, "the Fat Padre," a renegade priest of subtle +parts. + +MICHEL NEY, grandson of the "Bravest of the Brave." + +THE MARSHAL BAZAINE, commander-in-chief of the French Army of +Occupation in Mexico. + +MADAME LA MARECHALE, his bride. + +COLONEL DUPIN, the "Tiger of the Tropics," chief of the Contra +Guerrillas. + +MIGUEL LOPEZ, colonel of Dragoons, a favorite of the Emperor. + +MONSIEUR ELOIN, the Emperor's secretary. + +MARQUEZ, MIRAMON, MEJIA, MENDEZ, +Imperialist officers. + +REGULES, ESCOBEDO, Republican officers. + +DANIEL BOONE, first scout among the Missourians, one-time +editor and editor yet to be. + +"OLD BROTHERS AND SISTERS," "TALL MOSE" BLEDSOE, +OF THE COUNTY OF PIKE, and yet more of the Missouri colonels. + +BENITO JUAREZ, president of the Mexican Republic. + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + "JACQUELINE" "She was the spirit of the enigma, the + very personification of the Napoleonic sphinx" _Frontispiece_ + + Facing page + + "MURGUIA" "He had evidently passed through salty spray, had + braved the deep, this shrinking old man in frayed black" 16 + +"RODRIGO GALAN" "The fierce stranger, however, seemed + undecided. His brow furrowed, and for the moment he only + stared" 18 + + "JOHN DINWIDDIE DRISCOLL, THE MISSOURIAN" "His cheeks were + smooth, but they were tight and hard and brown from the + weathering of sun and blizzard" 38 + + "COLONEL DUPIN" "The Tiger of the Tropics ... the chief of + Contra Guerrillas" 94 + + THE EMPEROR MAXIMILIAN 134 + + "MARIA DE LA LUZ" "The tapestry behind them parted and fell" + 146 + + "BERTHE" "... brought down the ponderous knocker so + terrifically that it abashed her, for all her present + agitation" 220 + + + + +PART FIRST + +THE THORN IN THE LAND OF ROSES + + "Array you, lordyngs, one and all, + For here begins no peace." + --_The Ballad of the Battle of Otterburn_ + + + + +CHAPTER I + +A WILFUL MAID ARRIVES FROM FRANCE + + + "I'll tell thee, it is the stubbornest young fellow of France, + full of ambition."--_As You Like It._ + + +Jacqueline was a gentlewoman of France. But there was usually mischief +in her handsome head, for all its queenly poise. Just now, she was +running away from the ship. Captain and officers of the _Imperatrice +Eugenie_, Imperial red pantaloons, gilt Imperial eagles, such tokens +of awe were yet not awful enough to hold Jacqueline. So, with the +humility of limp things in that sticky air, the sailors shoved closer in +the small boat and made place for the adjustment of crisp skirts. With +the lady went her gentle little Breton maid, who trembled with the +trembling of every plank in those norther-rocked waters. The high sun, +just showing himself after the late gale, was sucking a gummy moisture +out upon all surfaces, and the perspiring men felt mean and base before +the starchy freshness of the two girls. + +No one was pleased that Jacqueline was going, except Jacqueline herself. +But she was keen for it. She had been impervious to their flustered +anxiety, also to the tributes to her importance betrayed therein. In +vain they argued no fewer than two emperors to dissuade her. She meant +to have a walk on the shore and--a demure Parisian shrug settled it. + +Jacqueline rested a high-heeled boot on a coil of rope and blithely +hummed an old song--"Mironton, mironton, mirontaine!" Oh, how she had +wearied of bumping, heaving, bumping! At first she had enjoyed the +storm. It was a new kind of play, and the mise-en-scene was quite +adequate. But ennui had surged in again long before danger had surged +out. And now she considered that some later sensation was due her, just +as supper after an evening of fasting. In such a way, her life long, +Jacqueline had sustained existence. Her nourishment was ever the latest +"frisson," to use her own word. She craved thrills of emotion, ecstatic +thrills. Naturally, then, three weeks of ocean had fretted the restless +lass as intolerable, tyrannical. + +During the norther's blinding fury, the liner of the Compagnie +Trans-Atlantique had groped widely out of her course, to find herself +off Tampico when the storm abated. But the skipper saw in his ill-luck a +chance for fresh meat, and he decided to communicate with the port +before going on to Vera Cruz. And when Jacqueline found that out, she +decided to communicate with the port too. + +Little enough harm in that, truly; if only it were any one else but +Jacqueline. In her case, though, all concerned would have felt easier to +keep her on board. Then, when the ship sailed, they were sure to have +her there. Otherwise, they assuredly were not. For they knew well her +startling capacity for whims. But never, never, could they know the +startling next way a whim of hers might jump. Yet did she give herself +the small pains of wheedling? Not she. The mystery of her august +guardianship, of no less than two emperors, and the responsibility +falling on captain, crew, red trousers, and gilt eagles--He bien, what +then? Neither were they cunning with their dark warnings of outlawry and +violence. Dreadfulest horrors might lurk in the motley Gulf town held by +force against bloodthirsty Mexicans. But croaking like that only gave +brighter promise of the ecstatic shiver. So, parbleu, she went! + +The brunt of anxiety fell on poor Sergeant Ney. Here was a young soldier +whom a month before Louis Napoleon had summoned to the Tuileries, to +charge him with the lady's safe return to Maximilian's court in the City +of Mexico, where she was First Dame of Honor about the Empress +Charlotte. The order was not a military one, else it must have fallen to +an officer of rank. It was not even official. But no doubt it enfolded +more of weight for that very reason. Napoleon III. believed that in the +unofficial, in littleness and dark gliding, lay the way to govern a +state. Michel Ney regarded his task as a complete enigma. He had only to +see a girl to the end of her journey. He was a slow-thinking, even a +non-thinking agent, but in a contingency he could fight, still without +thinking. + +The girl under his escort, however, was another sort of agent entirely. +She was the spirit of the enigma, the very personification of the +Napoleonic sphinx. She was the Imperial Secret flung a thousand leagues, +there to work itself out alone in a new land of empire. Two months ago +Louis Napoleon had recalled her from the Mexican court to her old +circle, to the Tuileries, to St. Cloud, to Compiegne, and almost at once +he had sent her back again. This time she came with the sphinx's +purpose. + +Getting himself into the small boat, Ney stole a glance at the gray eyes +opposite him--for the moment they were gray, as well as treacherously +innocent and pensive--and he reflected woefully that she had quite too +much spirit altogether for an Egyptian dame of stone. She was making it +very hard for him. What caprice might not possess her while on shore, +and the ship to sail within a few hours? It was not a predicament for +sabre play. And he made the mistake of trying to wield his wits a +little. + +"I should take it as an honor, mademoiselle," he faltered, "I should, +truly, if you'd only believe that I would impose my escort for the +pleasure it gives me, as well as--as well as----" + +But she did not seem to notice that he stumbled. Her eyes were intent on +the green water, which the oars transmuted into eddying crystals. He +would go on, she knew, and lay more exposed the place where she meant to +strike. She had coquetted with him, old play fellow that he was, for +just a little during the voyage, as with others too, for that matter. +But she had tired of it, as she had also of the chagrin of wives and +sweethearts on board, or as she had of Hugo's "Napoleon le Petit," which +she read purely out of contrariness to the censorship laid on the exiled +poet. Michel Ney, however, and this she noted carefully, now kept close +within his soldier's shell. He had that unofficial duty to think on, +which was enough and over. + +"----as well as," he finished desperately, "as a duty to an authority +over us both. If you would believe that, mademoiselle?" + +Then she struck. A word sufficed. "Oh, Monsieur the Sergeant!" she +exclaimed. Her tone was deprecating, but she lingered wickedly on the +title. The young Frenchman looked down on his natty uniform. No other +cut or cloth in the whole imperial army of France was more dashing than +the sky-blue of a Chasseur d'Afrique, but none of that filled Michel's +eyes. For him there were only the worsted stripes. He colored and +winced. + +"Forgive me," she said meekly, "I should have said, 'Monsieur the +Duke.'" + +The Chasseur flushed like a boy. "Why _will_ you harp on what a +grandfather made me?" he blurted out. "And what's a duke----?" + +"And a prince?--the Prince of Moskowa!" She courtesied from her slender +waist. + +"Alas for my blunders," she sighed, "for it _was_ more delicate +after all to call you sergeant. In that I congratulate you yourself, +Michel, and never a grandfather." + +Ney frowned unhappily. "The first prince of Moskowa was once a +sergeant," he murmured, "and why shouldn't I, in this new country----" + +"Mironton, mironton, mirontaine," she sang, and smiled on him. + +His eyes flashed, and because of the voice his heart quickened. He had +heard of "this new country." It was "a gold mine in a bed of roses," but +with a thorn, to say nothing of a bayonet, for every bud, and like many +another young Frenchman he hoped to win renown in the romantic Mexican +Empire, sprung like Minerva from the brain of his own emperor. And now +here was a girl humming the war song of his fathers and of his race, and +flaunting his warrior's ambition in it. + + "My Sergeant has gone to the wars, + Far off to war in Flanders. + He's a bold prince of commanders, + With a fame like Alexander's-- + Mironton, mironton, mirontaine! + + "Mon Sergot s'en va t-en guerre-- + Ne sais quand reviendra. + Mironton, mironton, mirontaine!" + +Having thus ousted the crusading hero of the song, and put the slang for +"sergeant" in his stead, Jacqueline leaned back on the gunwale quite +contented. She fell to gazing on the transparent emerald of the inshore, +and plunged in her hand. The soft, plump wrist turned baby pink under +the riffles. Of a sudden Berthe her maid half screamed, whereat with a +delighted little gasp of fright, she jerked out the hand. But she put it +back again, to tempt the watchful shark out there. + +"_My_ grandfather was only a duke," she mused aloud, very humbly. +But she peeped up at Ney in the most exasperating manner. He could just +see the gray eyes behind the edge of lace that fell from the slanting +brim of her hat. He would not, though, meet the challenge. He kept to +sincerity as the safer ground. + +"Like mine, mademoiselle, yours made himself one, under Napoleon." + +"The _great_ Napoleon," she corrected him gently. + +Michel assented with a sad little nod. Then he raised his head bravely. +"And why not do things _without_ a _great_ Napoleon, and, +after all, isn't he _a_ Napoleon, and one who----" + +"Is lucky enough to bear a name that means seven million votes. _I_ +should rather be a 'sergeant' and congratulate none but myself on it, +Monsieur the--Duke." + +Again, with the wisdom of a slow intelligence, the Chasseur held back +from her subtleties. If only he might betray her into frankness--a +compliment she paid to few men and to a woman never--then, just +possibly, he might make her tractable as to their prompt return to the +ship. + +"Still, it _is_ a name to rally to," he persisted, acknowledging in +spite of himself the magic that had swayed the Old Guard. + +For once she left the poor shark in peace. + +"A name, a name?" she repeated. + +"Isn't 'France' enough of a name for your rallying, monsieur?" + +But the honest mood could not last. In the same breath she hastened on, +"Yes, yes, France, the beloved of us proud grandchildren of original +dukes. Of myself, sir, with a chateau in the Bourbonnais, whose floors +are as well watered as the vineyards outside. And your France too, +Michel, giving you only your clean linen to disguise the sergeant and +remind us of the marshal of the First Empire. Of course," she added +kindly, "there is the bravery. I had forgotten that, O grandson of the +'brave des braves.' But then?--Bonte divine, there's no rank in courage, +mon ami! It's not the epaulette of a French uniform--it's the merest +lining." + +"And that," the youth cried doggedly, "is still enough to----" + +"To do things for France, eh petit piou-piou?" + +"Helas! our France can't expect much from me. But you, mademoiselle, you +will do things for her!" It was a spontaneous tribute, just that, +without thought of prying into the secret of her mission, "While I," he +ended dismally, "can only fight." + +"But you forget," she answered gravely, "that after all a woman can only +give." + +That cynicism of life which had become a part of the young girl was yet +gaiety itself. Youth and health and beauty would not have even cynicism +otherwise. But now, as she spoke, the irony was bitter, and worn, as of +age. And behind it was a woman's reluctance before some abhorred +sacrifice, a sacrifice which would entail the woman's power to give. + +Ney stared at her uncomprehendingly. Here lay a clue to her mysterious +errand in Mexico. But he was not thinking of her as the Napoleonic +enigma personified. It was of herself he thought, an enigma apart. She +was a flower of France. Yet many, many flowers blossom there. She might +be a grande dame, of nobility of womanhood as well as of family. Or +again, she might be only an alluring, heartless witch, that helped to +make tempting, and damnable, the brilliant Second Empire. But in any +case, Jacqueline was truly as dainty as a flower. + +"It has already cost us enough to gain this New World," ventured the +Chasseur, waving a hand toward the desolate shore, "and we made +Maximilian emperor, but now they say that, that he would--they say so in +Paris, mademoiselle--that he would rob us of it." + +"Indeed, monsieur?" There was warning in the look she gave him. + +"But," he plunged on boldly, "our soldiers still hold it, that is, +until, until someone shall win it for us for our very own, absolutely. +Ducal grandfathers never did more than that for France." + +"Where _are_ you leading, Michel? Please take me with you." + +"To a question. Don't you think 'someone' is risking a great deal for a +little walk on shore?" + +Before she answered he knew that she had seen through all his blundering +wiles. + +"Are there guerrillas there?" she asked pensively. + +"_You_ should know. But they say, that out of Tampico +especially----" + +She was gazing toward the land, sandy and flat. Once she looked back +with lively distaste at the rocking ship. Now she interrupted. + +"It would be fun traveling overland--and _such_ excitement!" + +Ney's shoulders went up in despair. + +"Oh, my poor guardian!" she exclaimed contritely. "But why aren't you a +reader of the poets? Then you would find something to say to make me +feel--sorry." + +"_You_ say it then." + +"Why, for example, you might call all the stored vengeance of heaven +right down on my ungrateful top." + +The soldier gazed at the ungrateful top. It was of burnished copper. A +rebellious lock was then blowing in the wind, and there was a wide, +rakish crown of rice-white straw. There was also a soft skin of creamy +satin, lips blood red, a velvet patch near a dimple, and two gray eyes +that danced behind the hat's filmy curtain. An ungrateful top, out of +all mercy! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A FRA DIAVOLO IN THE LAND OF ROSES + + + "A haunter of marshes, a holder of moors."--_Beowulf._ + + +The torpid, sordid and sun-baked port of Tampico gave little promise of +aught so romantic and rare and exotic as the young French woman's +coveted thrill of ecstasy. There was first the sand bar, which kept +ships from coming up the deep Panuco to the town. Beyond there were +lagoons and swamps mottling the flat, dreary, moisture-sodden, +fever-scourged land. There were solemn pelicans, and such kind of +grotesque bird as use only one leg, it being long enough for two, and +never that to walk upon, so far as anybody had ever noticed. Such an old +fellow would outline himself against the yellow loneliness, like a lump +of pessimistic philosopher impaled on the end of his own hobbling +crutch. Tarpons and sharks and sword-fish, monstrous, sinister, moved +slothfully in the viscid waters. From scrubby growth on the banks a +hundred or a hundred thousand crows had much ado with rebuking the +invaders of their solitude. + +Next, clusters of thatch roofs appeared, and in an hour the party from +the _Imperatrice Eugenie_ gained the wharf of the port. The sailors +managed to steer through a tangle of shipping and dugout scows, the +latter heaped high with fruits and flowers of many colors, or hides or +fish of many aromas. Before the small boat could touch the worm-eaten +quay, Jacqueline had poised herself on its edge, caught her skirts, and +hopped lightly over the stretch of water yet remaining. Then she gazed +curiously around on Mexico. + +And Mexico was there in various forms to greet her, though in no form +animated. Sluggish creatures under peaked sombreros of muddied straw +seemed to be growing against the foreground of wharf and dingy +warehouses, and fastened to the background of sallow blazing streets and +sallow reflecting walls there were still the same human barnacles. But +no creature seemed ever to move. They all looked a part of the decay, of +putrefying vegetable and flesh and fish everywhere, which grew so rank +in life that in death their rotting could never keep pace. + +A lazy town stretched up a lazy street. On a hill farther up the river a +fortress basked in peace, and had no desire to be disturbed. In the town +the buildings were of warped timber, and a few of stone. Parasitic +tumors, like loathsome black ulcers, swelled abundantly on the roofs. +They were the buzzards, the only form of life held sacred. To clean up +nature's and man's spendthrift killing was a blessed service in Tampico. +It saved exertion. + +A strange region, by all odds! But at least one could walk thereon, and +Jacqueline thought it droll. An outlandish corner of the earth such as +this was something never experienced before. But as to that, the +outlandish corner might have said the same about Jacqueline. Men stared +like dazed sheep on the astounding apparition of a lady. Some among them +were entirely clothed, in sun-yellowed white. There was a merchant or +so, a coffee exporter or so, a ranchero or so, and hacendados from the +interior. But they were all hard, typical, and often darkly scowling, +which seemed an habitual expression inspired by the thought of a foreign +Hapsburg emperor so mighty and proud, far off in their capital. There +was not an officer among them; nor, quite likely, a gentleman. Never a +bit of red was to be seen from the garrison on the hill. The French +invaders up there, with pardonable taste, kept to themselves. Their +policing ended with the smothering of revolt. So against the stain of +tainted mankind, the vision of delicate femininity contrasted as a fleck +of spotless white on a besmeared palette. But crows, scavengers, men, +they were all so many "creatures" to Jacqueline--the setting of a very +novel scene, and she would not have had it otherwise. + +She turned to her maid, who shrank hesitating in the boat. "Berthe, you +pitiful little ninny, are you coming? Then do, and do not forget the +satchel." For a promenade of an hour the inhabitants of two imperial +courts must needs have a satchel, filled of course with mysteries of the +toilet. The maid obeyed, and followed her mistress up the lazy ascending +street. They passed through the Alameda of dense cypresses, an inky blot +as on glaring manila paper, while the shade overhead was profane with +jackdaws. The lady tripped on, and into the street again. Ney and a +sailor hurried to overtake her. The other sailors meantime went on their +errand for fresh meat, but Michel had said to the steward in charge, "If +there should be any need, I'll send this man to you. Then you come, all +of you, quick!" + +Jacqueline pushed on her voyage of discovery, and her retinue trooped +behind, single file, over the narrow, burning sidewalks of patched +flagstone. The word "Cafe" on a corner building caught her eye. It was a +native fonda, overflowing with straw-bottomed chairs and rusty iron +tables half-way across the street, making carts and burros find their +way round. Mexico's outward signs at least were being done over into +French. Hence the dignity of "Cafe." + +"Here is Paris," the explorer announced. "And this is the Boulevard." +She seated herself before one of the iron tables that rocked on the +egg-like cobblestones. She made Ney sit down also, and included Berthe +and the sailor. An olive barefoot boy took their order for black coffee. +Jacqueline's elbows were on the table and her chin on two finger tips, +and she disposed herself placidly, as though this were the Maison Doree +and Tout Paris sauntering by. The town was beginning to stretch after +its siesta. That is to say, divers natives manifested symptoms of going +to move in the course of time. + +"Look!" exclaimed Jacqueline. "Only give yourself the trouble to look!" + +She was pointing to a man, of course. The Chasseur stirred uneasily. One +could never see to the end of Jacqueline's slender finger. "There, +Berthe," she cried, "it's Fra Diavolo, just strayed from the Opera." + +The stranger she meant was talking darkly to another man in the door of +the Cafe. If a Fra Diavolo, he was at least not disguised in his monk's +cowl, either because the April day was too hot or because he had never +owned one. But he stood appareled in his banditti role, very picturesque +and barbaric and malevolent. And though he posed heavily, he yet had +that Satanic fascination which the beautiful of the masculine and the +sinister of the devil cannot help having. His battered magnificence of a +charro garb fitted well the diabolic character which Jacqueline assigned +him. Spurs as bright as dollars jangled on high russet heels. His +breeches closed to the flesh like a glove, so that his limbs were as +sleek as some glossy forest animal's. The cloth was of Robin-Hood green, +foxed over in bright yellow leather. From hip to ankle undulated a seam +of silver clasps. More silver, in braided scrolls, adorned his jacket, +and wrapped twice around the waist was a red banda. Jacqueline would +have preferred the ends dangling, like a Neapolitan's. The ranchero, for +such he appeared, wore two belts. One was a vibora, or serpent, for +carrying money; the other held his weapons, a long hunting knife and a +revolver, each in a scabbard of stamped leather embroidered with gold +thread. His sombrero was high pointed and heavy, of chocolate-colored +beaver encircled by a silver rope as thick as a garden hose. + +"Now there's realism in those properties," Jacqueline noted with an +artist's critical eye. "See, there's dry mud on his shoes, and his +bright colors are faded by weather. That man sleeps among the rocks, +I'll wager, and he's in the saddle almost constantly too. My faith, our +Fra Diavolo is exquisite!" + +The other of the two men was a withered, diminutive, gaunt and hollow +old Mexican. He quailed like a frightened miser before Fra Diavolo. + +"The risk? Coming to this town a risk!" Fra Diavolo was echoing the +ancient man. "Bah, Murguia, you would haggle over a little risk as +though it were some poor Confederate's last bale of cotton. But I--por +Dios, I get tired of the mountains. And then I come to Tampico. Yet you +ask why I come? Bien, senor mio, this is why." A gesture explained. Fra +Diavolo unctuously rubbed his thumb over his fingers. The meaning of the +gesture was, "Money!" + +The old man recognized the pantomime and shivered. He shrank into his +long black coat as though right willingly he would shrink away +altogether. His parsimony extended even to speech. He pursued his +fugitive voice into the depths of the voluminous coat and there clutched +it as a coin in a chest. Then he paid it out as though it were a coin +indeed. + +"But----" he stammered. + +"No buts," the fierce ranchero growled thunderously. "Not one, Don +Anastasio, not while our country bleeds under the Austrian tyrant's +heel, not while there yet breathes a patriot to scorn peril and death, +so only that he get the sinews of war." + +The curiously unctuous gesture grew menacing, brutal. Don Anastasio +twitched and trembled before it. Under the towering and prismatic Fra +Diavolo he cowered, an insignificant figure. The unrelieved black of his +attire accorded with his meagre frame. It was secretive, miserly. A +black stock covered a withered collar. A dingy silk tile was tightly +packed over a rusted black wig. Boots hid their tops under the skirts of +his coat, and the coat in turn was partly concealed under a black shawl. +But there was one incongruous item. Boots, coat, hat and all were +crusted with brine. He had evidently passed through salty spray, had +braved the deep, this shrinking old man in frayed black. Just now his +eyes, normally moist and avaricious, were parched dry by fear, as though +a flame had passed over them. They might have rattled in their gaping +sockets. Fear also helped him clutch his voice, which he paid out +regardless of expense. + +"You know, Don----" But Fra Diavolo scowled, and the name died on his +lips. "You know," he went on, "why you haven't seen me for so long. It's +the blockade up there. It's closer than ever now. This time I waited +many nights for a chance to run in, and as many more to run out again." + +"And you squeezed the poor devils all the harder for your weevily corn +and shoddy boots?" + +Jacqueline, who could not hear a word, told her companions with a +child's expectancy only to wait and they would see Fra Diavolo eat up +the poor little crow. + +The crow, meantime, was trying to oust the notion that had alighted in +the brain of Fra Diavolo. "Of course I ought to ask the Confederates +higher prices as the risks increase," he said, then paused and shook his +head and wig and hat like a mournful pendulum. "But how can I? The South +hardly grows any more cotton. It cannot pay high, and----" + +"And that's not my affair, but----" Again the business of thumb and +fingers--"but this is. Quick now!" + +"Senor, I--Your Mercy knows that I always pay at--at the usual +place--near the forest." + +[Illustration: "MURGUIA" +"He had evidently passed through salty spray, had braved the deep, +this shrinking old man in frayed black"] + +"You mean that you won't pay here, because I am the one in danger here, +and not you? Bien, you want a money-getting man for your daughter, eh, +Don Anastasio, though you'll deny that you would give her to any man? +Bien, bonissimo, I am going to prove myself an eligible suitor. In +another minute Your Mercy will be frightened enough to pay. Attention +now!" + +So saying he drew a reed whistle from his jacket. It was no thicker than +a pencil, and not half so long. + +Murguia gripped his arm. "My daughter?" he cried. "It has been weeks +since I--but you must have seen her lately. Oh tell me, senor, there is +no bad news of her?" He had forgotten the threatened extortion. His +voice was open too, generous in its anxiety. + +"News of her, yes. But it is vague news. There's a mystery about your +daughter, Don Anastasio." + +But at this point Fra Diavolo dismissed mystery and daughter both with +an ugly grimace. Nor would he say another word, for all the father's +pleading. Instead, he remembered the little reed whistle in his hand, +and swung round to blow upon it, in spite of the palsied hand clutching +at his arm. But in turning, he became aware of the amused Parisienne +watching him. His jaw fell, whereat Don Anastasio's hand slipped from +his arm, and Don Anastasio himself began to slip away. + +"Stop!" roared Fra Diavolo. "No, go ahead. Wait at the meson, though, +until I come. Wait until I give you your passports." + +Then he turned again to stare at the girl who all unconsciously had +wrought the poor little crow's release. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE VIOLENT END OF A TERRIBLE BANDIT + + + "Come listen to me, you gallants so free, + All you that love mirth for to hear, + And I will tell you of a bold outlaw." + --_Robin Hood._ + + +"Oh, oh, now he's coming to eat _us_!" Jacqueline gasped. + +The fierce stranger, however, seemed undecided. His brow furrowed, and +for the moment he only stared. Jacqueline peeped through the lashes +curtaining her eyes. She wanted to see his face, and she saw one of bold +lines. The chin was a hard right angle. The mouth was a cruel line +between heavily sensuous lips. The nose was a splendid line, and a very +assertive and insolent nose altogether. The forehead was rugged, with a +free curving sweep. Here there would have been a certain nobility, only +its slope was just a hint too low. The skin was tawny. The moustache was +black and bristling, as was also the thick hair, which lay back like +grass before a breeze. The shaggy eyebrows were parted by deep clefts, +the dark corrugations of frowning. One wondered if the man did not turn +the foreboding scowl on and off by design. But all these were matters +that fitted in with the other striking "properties," and Jacqueline was +fairly well satisfied with her Fra Diavolo. As she declared to herself, +here was the very dramatic presence to mount upon a war charger! + +[Illustration: "RODRIGO GALAN" +"The fierce stranger, however, seemed undecided. His brow furrowed, +and for the moment he only stared"] + + Now when Jacqueline peeped--there was something irresistible about +it--the furrows in the black-beetled brow smoothed themselves out, +whether the stranger meant them to or not. And a vague resolve took hold +on him, and quickened his breath. Her glance might have been +invitation--Tampico was not a drawing room--but still he hesitated. +There was a certain hauteur in the set of the demoiselle's head, which +outbalanced the mischief in her eyes. He felt an indefinable severity in +her tempting beauty, and this was new to his philosophy of woman. But as +he drank in further details, his resolve stiffened. That Grecian bend to +her crisp skirt was evidently an extreme from the Rue de la Paix, +foretelling the end of stupendous flounces. Then there was the tilt to +the large hat, and the veil falling to the level of the eyes, and the +disquieting charm of both. The wine-red lips had a way of smiling and +curling at the same time. And still again there was that line of the +neck, from the shoulder up to where it hid under the soft, old-gold +tendrils, and that line was a thing of beauty and seductive mystery. The +dreadful ranchero went down in humility before the splendor of the +tantalizing Parisienne. + +Michel Ney leaned nearer over the table. "In all conscience, +mademoiselle, your Fra Diavolo is bizarre enough," he said, "but please +don't let us stir him up. Think, if anything should happen to you, why +Mexico, why France would----" + +"You flatter!" she mocked him. "Only two empires to keep me out of a +flirtation? It's not enough, Michel." + +A shadow fell over them. "My apologies," spoke a deep voice, "but the +senorita, she is going to the City, to the Capital, perhaps?" + +The syllables fell one by one, distinct and heavy. The Spanish was +elaborately cermonious, but the accent was Mexican and almost gutteral. + +"L'impertinent!" cried Ney, bounding to his feet. No diffidence cloyed +his manner now. He was on familiar ground at last, for the first time +since fighting Arabs in Algeria. He was supremely happy too, and as mad +as a Gaul can be. "L'impertinent!" he repeated, coaxingly. + +"Now don't be ridiculous, Michel," said Jacqueline. "He can't understand +you." + +Moreover, the fame of the Chasseurs, of those colossal heroes with their +terrible sabres, of their legendary prowess in the Crimea, in China, in +Italy, in Africa, none of it seemed to daunt the Mexican in the least. + +"How, little Soldier-Boy Blue?" he inquired with cumbrous pleasantry. + +"Alas, senor," said Jacqueline, "he's quite a little brother to +dragons." + +"What are you talking about?" Michel demanded. + +"I am keeping you from being eaten up, young sire, but," and +Jacqueline's tone changed, "pray give yourself the trouble to be calm. +He only means a kindly offer of service, no doubt, however strange that +may seem to your delicacy of breeding, Monsieur the Duke." + +Michel heaved a sigh and--sat down. He was no longer on familiar ground. +Then Fra Diavolo proceeded to verify mademoiselle's judgment of him. +Sombrero in hand and with a pompous courtliness, he repeated his natural +supposition that the senorita was on her way to the City (meaning the +City of Mexico), and perhaps to the court of His Glorious Majesty, +Maximiliano. He offered himself, therefore, in case he might have the +felicity to be of use. This she need not consider as personal, if it in +any way offended, but as an official courtesy, since she saw in him an +officer--an officer of His Most Peace-loving Majesty's Contra +Guerrillas. And thus to a conclusion, impressively, laboriously. + +Jacqueline was less delighted than at first. The dash and daredeviltry +was somehow not quite sustained. But she replied that he had surmised +correctly, and added that she was Mademoiselle d'Aumerle. + +He started at the name, and her eyes sparkled to note the effect. "The +Marquesa Juana de Aumerle!" he repeated. + +"Jeanne d'Aumerle, no other, sir," she assured him, but she watched him +quizzically, for she knew that another name was hovering on his lips. + +"Surely not----" he began. + +"Si senor," and she smiled good humoredly, "I am--'Jacqueline.'" + +It was a name that had sifted from the court down into distant plebeian +corners of the Mexican Empire, and it was tinged--let us say so at +once--with the unpleasing hue of notoriety. + +"His Ever Considerate Majesty Maximiliano would be furious if any harm +should befall Your Ladyship," Fra Diavolo observed, "though," he added +to himself, "the empress would possibly survive it." + +Jacqueline looked at him sharply. But in his deferential manner she +could detect no hint of a second meaning. Yet he had laid bare the +kernel of the whole business that bore the name of Jacqueline. She +betrayed no vexation. If this were her cross, she was at least too +haughtily proud to evade it. For a passing instant only she looked as +she had in the small boat, when she had said that about the mission of a +woman being to give. The next moment, and the mood was gone. + +With knowledge of her identity, the project that was building in the +stranger's dark mind loomed more and more dangerously venturesome. But +as he gazed and saw how pretty she was, audacity marched strong and he +wavered no longer. And when she thanked him, and added that the ship was +only waiting until she finished her coffee, he roused himself and drove +with hard will to his purpose. + +"Going on by water?" he protested. "But Senorita de Aumerle, we are in +the season for northers. Look, those mean another storm," and he pointed +overhead, to harmless little cotton bunches of clouds scurrying away to +the horizon. + +"Eh bien," returned the senorita, "what would you?" + +He would, it appeared, that she go by land. He hoped that she did not +consider his offer an empty politeness, tendered only in the expectation +of its being refused. He so contrived, however, that that was precisely +the way his offer might be interpreted, and in that he was deeper than +she imagined. She grew interested in the possibility of finishing her +journey overland. He informed her that one could travel a day westward +on horseback to a place called Valles, then take the City of Mexico and +Monterey stage, and reach the City in two days, which was much shorter +than by way of the sea and Vera Cruz. He spoke as dispassionately as a +time table. But he noted that she clothed his skeleton data with a +personal interest. And Ney also, who had caught the drift of things, saw +new mischief brewing in her gray eyes. + +"You really are not thinking, mademoiselle----" he interrupted. + +"And why not, pray?" + +"Why not? Why--uh--the bandits, of course." + +Jacqueline turned to the stranger who served as itinerary folder. Would +he dispose of the childish objection? He would. But he wondered why the +senor had not mentioned one who was the most to be feared of all +bandits; in fact, the most implacable of the rebels still battling +against His Truly Mexican Majesty. The stranger paused expectantly, but +as Ney seemed to recognize no particular outlaw from the description, he +went on with a deepening frown, "----and who is none other than the +Capitan Don Rodrigo Galan." + +"Who's he?" Ney inquired, willing enough to have any scarecrow whatever +for Jacqueline. + +"Is it possible?--Your Mercy does not know?" + +Ney pleaded that he had never been in the country before. + +"But surely," the Mexican objected, "Don Rodrigo is a household word +throughout Europe?" + +"He has certainly been heard of in Mexico," said Jacqueline, whereat Fra +Diavolo turned to her gratefully. "But," she added, "Monsieur Ney will +now find in him another objection to my journeying overland." + +The ardor of the bandit's eulogist faltered. "The senor might indeed," +he confessed, "only," and here he hesitated like a man contemplating +suicide, "only, Don Rodrigo has been--yes, he's been shot, from ambush; +and his band--yes, his band is scattered forever." + +Having achieved the painful massacre, Fra Diavolo traveled on more +easily to assure the senorita that since then the country had been +entirely pacified. Ney, however, was not. How did they know the story +was true? And if it was, he was sorry. He would enjoy meeting the +terrible and provokingly deceased Monsieur Rodrigue, if only to teach +him that being terrible is not good manners. But, did they know for +certain that the bandit was dead? + +"We do," said the Mexican, again like a reluctant suicide, "because I +killed him myself." + +"But how are we to know, sir," Ney persisted, "that you are so terrible +on your own account?" + +"My identification, you mean? Bueno, it is only just. Here, this may +do," and the ranchero drew a paper from his money belt and handed it to +Jacqueline. The paper was an order addressed to one Captain Maurel, who +was to proceed with his company to the district of Tampico, and there to +take and to shoot the guerrilla thief, Rodrigo Galan, and all his band, +who infested the district aforesaid, known as the Huasteca. The Captain +Maurel would take note that this Rodrigo Galan frequented the very city +of Tampico itself, with an impudence to be punished at all hazards. +Signed: Dupin, Colonel of His Majesty's Contra Guerrillas. + +"Colonel Dupin?" Jacqueline repeated with a wry mouth. Dupin, the +Contra-Guerrilla chief, was a brave Frenchman. But the quality of his +mercy had made his name a shudder on the lips of all men, his own +countrymen included. + +"Yes," said Fra Diavolo between his teeth, "Mi Coronel Dupin--the +Tiger." + +"So he is called, I know," said Jacqueline. "And you, it appears, are +Captain Maurel--Maurel, but that is French?" + +"The way it is spelled on the paper, yes. But my Coronel, being French, +made a mistake. He should have written it 'Morel.'" + +"No matter," said Jacqueline, "for you are only a trite, conventional +officer, after all. But how much merrier it would be if you +were--were----" and suddenly she leaned over the paper and placed an +impetuous finger on the bandit's name. "So," she continued wistfully, +"there is no danger. We ride, we take a stage. It is tame. I say it is +tame, monsieur!" + +Captain Maurel, or Morel, desired to add that there was a trader who +owned an hacienda in the interior, and that this trader was starting for +his plantation the very next morning; all of which was very convenient, +because the trader had extra horses, and he, Captain Morel, had a +certain influence with the trader. The senorita's party could travel +with his friend's caravan as far as the stage. + +"Voila!" cried Jacqueline. "It is arranged!" + +"Diable, it is not!" Michel was on his feet again. + +His wayward charge looked him over reflectively. "Our Mars in his baby +clothes again," said she, as a fond, despairing mother with an +incorrigible child. + +The Mexican had shown himself hostile and ready. But seeing Jacqueline's +coolness he melted out of his somewhat theatrical bristling, lest her +sarcasm veer toward himself. + +The tempestuous Mars, however, was beyond the range of scorn. He kept +one stubborn purpose before him. "We go back to the ship, or"--he took +breath where he meant to put a handsome oath--"or--it's a fight!" + +"There, there," said Jacqueline gently. "Besides, are you not to go with +me just the same?" + +Ney turned to the stranger. "I ask you to withdraw, sir, both yourself +and your offers, because you're only meddling here." + +The intruder grew rigid straightway. "_I_ am not one to take back +an offer," he stated loftily. His voice was weighted to a heavier +guttural, and in the deep staccatos harshly chopped off, and each +falling with a thud, there was a quality so ominous and deadly that even +Jacqueline had her doubts. But she would not admit them, to herself +least of all. "And I, Monsieur Ney," she said, "have decided to accept," +though she had not really, until that very moment. + +Ney turned to the one sailor with him. "Run like fury!" he whispered. +"Bring the others!" + +"Oh, very well," said the Mexican. + +As he doubtless intended, Fra Diavolo's words sounded like the low growl +of an awakening lion, and at the same time he brought forth the reed +whistle and put it to his lips. The note that came was faint, like that +of a distant bird in the forest. + +Ney smiled. It seemed inadequate, silly. Lately he had become familiar +with the sonorous foghorn, and besides, he was not a woodsman and knew +nothing of the penetration of the thin, vibrant signal. When the sailors +should come, he would take the troublesome fellow to the commander of +the garrison on the hill. But then a weight fell on him from behind, and +uncleanliness and garlic and the sweating of flesh filled his nostrils. +Bare arms around his neck jerked up his chin, according to the stroke of +Pere Francois. Other writhing arms twined about his waist, his legs, his +ankles; and hands clutched after his sabre and pistol. But at last he +stood free, and glared about him, disarmed and helpless. Jacqueline's +infernal Fra Diavolo was surveying him from the closed door of the Cafe, +behind which he had swept the two women. His stiff pose had relaxed, and +he was even smiling. He waved his hand apologetically over his +followers. "His Exceeding Christian Majesty's most valiant contra +guerrillas," he explained. + +The so-called contra guerrillas were villainous wretches, at the +gentlest estimate. Their scanty, ragged and stained cotton manta flapped +loosely over their skin, which was scaly and as tough as old leather. +Most of them had knives. A few carried muskets, long, rusty, +muzzle-loading weapons that threw a slug of marble size. + +Almost at once the burly French sailors appeared, but Fra Diavolo's +little demons closed in behind them and around them and so kept them +from reaching Ney. Thus both sides circled about and moved cautiously, +waiting for the trouble to begin in earnest. Michel only panted, until +at last he bethought himself that there was such a thing as strategy. + +"One of you out there," he shouted in French, "quick, go to the fort. +Bring the soldiers!" + +The Mexicans did not understand, and before they could prevent, a sailor +had taken to his heels. + +Then Fra Diavolo comprehended. "You idiots!" he bellowed. "You--Pedro! +Catch him! Faster!--Catch him, I say!" + +A little demon darted away in pursuit of the sailor. Obviously, the +situation hung on the swifter in the race. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +LA LUZ, BLOCKADE RUNNER + + + "For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring." + --_Romeo and Juliet._ + + +"Meson" is Spanish for hostelry. In the ancient caravansaries, like the +one at Bethlehem sacred to the Christ child, the same accommodations +were meted out to man and beast alike. More recently there are "hotels," +which distinguish a man from his beast, usually; though sometimes +undeservedly. And so the word "meson" got left behind along with its +primitive meaning. But in Mexico word and meaning still go together to +this day, and both described pretty well the four walls in Tampico where +Anastasio Murguia tarried. Excepting the porter's lodge at the entrance, +the establishment's only roof formed an open corridor against one of the +walls, in which species of cloister the human guests were privileged to +spread their blankets in case of rain or an icy norther. Otherwise they +slept in the sky-vaulted court among the four-footed transients, for +what men on the torrid Gulf coast would allow his beast more fresh air +than himself? + +Don Anastasio's caravan filled the meson with an unflurried, hay-chewing +promise of bustle-to-be at some future date. Except for the camels and +costume lacking, the Mexican trader might have been a sheik in an oasis +khan. His bales littered the patio's stone pavement. They were of cotton +mostly, which he had bought in the Confederate States, in exchange for +necessities of warfare and life. Complacent burros and horses were +juggling into their mouths some final grains from the sacks over their +noses. Peon servants stolidly busied themselves around charcoal +braziers. + +An American leaned in the cavernous doorway. The tarnished insignia on +his collar indicated an officer of Confederate cavalry. He was smoking a +cob pipe, of which he seemed quite fond. And as a return for such +affection, the venerable Missouri meerschaum lent to its young master an +air that was comfortably domestic and peaceable. The trooper wore a +woolen shirt. His boots were rough and heavy. Hard wear and weather had +softened his gray hat into a disreputable slouch affair. A broad +black-leather belt sagged about his middle from the weight of +cartridges. Under his ribs on either side protruded the butt of a +navy-six, thrust in between shirt and trousers. He watched with dozing +interest the muleteers inside as they roped up straw, tightened straps, +and otherwise got ready for departure. Then Anastasio Murguia appeared +coming up the street, just from his lately recorded interview with Fra +Diavolo. The weazened little old Mexican was in a fretful humor, and his +glance at the lounging Southerner was anything but cordial. He would +have passed on into the meson, but the other stopped him. + +"Well, Murgie, are we projecting to start to-night?" the trooper +inquired in English. "Eh?--What say?" + +What Don Anastasio had said was nothing at all, but being thus urged, he +mumbled a negative. + +"Not starting to-night?" his questioner repeated. "Now, why don't +we?--What?--Lordsake, man, dive! Bring up that voice there for once!" + +Murguia sank to the chin in his black coat. Glancing apprehensively at +the cavalryman's long arm, he edged away to the farther side of the +doorway. Experience had accustomed the ancient trader to despots, but in +this cheery youngster of a Gringo the regal title was not clear, which +simply made tyranny the more irksome. The Gringo was the veriest +usurper. He did not justify his sway by the least ferocity. He never +uttered a threat. Where, then, was his right to the sceptre he wielded +so nonchalantly? Were there only some tangible jeopardy to his pelt, +Murguia would have been more resigned. But his latest autocrat was only +matter-of-fact, blithely and aggravatingly matter-of-fact. + +By every rule governing man's attitude toward man, the Senor Don should +have been the bully, and the youngster the cringing sycophant. For since +their very odd meeting two weeks before, the tyrant had been in the +power of the tyrannized. It began on Murguia's own boat, where Murguia +was absolute. Any time after leaving Mobile he had merely to follow his +inclinations and order the fellow thrown overboard. Yet it was the +soldier boy who had assumed the ascendancy, and it could not have been +more natural were the boat's owner a scullion and the intruder an +admiral. + +"And why _don't_ we start to-night?" the complacent usurper +demanded in that plaintive drawl which so irritated the other. "You went +for your passports, didn't you get 'em?" + +"Si--si, senor." + +"Good! Then to-night it is, eh?--Can't you speak out, _my_ +gracious!" + +"_You_ might go to-night," the trader suggested timidly. + +"Alone?--N-o, parting isn't the sweet sorrow it's cracked up to be. +Besides, I don't know the roads, but of course that's nothing to losing +a jovial old mate like you, Murgie." + +Don Anastasio smirked at the pleasantry. "But _I_ can't go +to-night, senor. I--I have to see--someone--first." + +The trooper betrayed the least impatience. "Now look here--usurer, +viper, blanketed thief, honorable sir, you _know_ I'm in a hurry!" + +That his haste could be any concern of Murguia's was preposterous, and +Murguia would have liked nothing better than to tell him so. But he did +not, and suffered inwardly because somehow he could not. He harbored a +dim but dreadful picture of what might happen should the amiable +cavalryman actually lose his temper. Loss of patience had menace enough, +though the Southerner had not stirred from his lazy posture in the +doorway nor overlooked a single contented puff from the Missouri +meerschaum. + +"I'm sorry," Don Anastasio paid out the hard-found words through his +teeth, "but possibly we can leave to-morrow. Will, will that suit Your +Mercy, Senor Coronel?" + +"Oh perhaps. Anyhow, don't go to forgetting, now, that I'm in a hurry." + +Don Anastasio breathed easier, and he even grew so bold as to recall a +certain suspicion he had entertained. "Your errand down here must be of +considerable importance, Senor Coronel?" he ventured. + +"There you are again--crawling again." It was evident that the trooper's +normal condition was a great, hearty, calm good humor. + +But the Mexican's shriveled features grew sharper and his moist eyes +more prying. His suspicion had tormented him ever since fate had thrown +the Confederate in his way. This had happened one stormy night at +Mobile. The night in question was pitch dark. The tide was favorable, +too, but a norther was blowing, the very same norther that had turned +the _Imperatrice Eugenie_ off her course. Murguia's skipper had +chosen the hour of midnight for running the Federal blockade outside, +and he had already given the order to cast off, when a horseman in a +cape overcoat rode to the edge of the wharf. + +"Wait there!" the horseman trumpeted through his hand. + +It was the first word Murguia had ever heard from his future tyrant, and +even then the cool tone of authority nettled him. But he reflected that +here might be a passenger, and a passenger through the blockade usually +meant five hundred dollars in gold. He ordered the plank held for a +moment. + +"They tell me--whoa, Demijohn!--you are going to Tampico?" hallooed the +same voice. + +"Yes," Murguia answered, and was going to name his price, when without +more ado the cavalier rode across, dismounted on the deck, and tossed +his bridle to the first sailor. + +"Ca-rai!" sneered the astonished Mexican, "one would think you'd just +reached your own barnyard, senor." + +"My own barnyard?" echoed the stranger bitterly. "I haven't seen my own +barnyard, or anything that is mine, during these four years past. But +you were about to start?" + +"Not so fast, senor. Fare in advance, seven hundred dollars." Murguia +looked for the haggling to come next, but somehow the sniff he heard was +not promising. + +"Usurer, viper, blanketed thief, benevolent old rascal," the trooper +enumerated as courteously as "Senor Don" or "Your Mercy," "you don't +surprise me a bit, not when you charge us three thousand dollars gold +for freight on a trunk of quinine!" + +"G-g-get back on your horse! G-get off this boat!" + +But the intruder calmly drew off his great coat, and Murguia saw the +butts of pistols at his waist. Yet they had no reference to the removal +of the cape. The latter was a simple act of making oneself at home. + +"I reckon," said the newcomer cheerily, "there's no question of fare. +Here, I've got a pass." + +By a lantern Murguia read the paper handed him. It was signed: +"Jefferson Davis, President C. S. A." Therein Mr. Anastasio Murguia or +any other blockade runner was required on demand of the bearer, Lieut. +Col. Jno. D. Driscoll, to transport the said Driscoll to that part +outside the Confederacy which might happen to be the blockade runner's +destination. + +The peevish old man scowled, hesitated. He read the order again, +hesitated again, and at last handed it back, his mind made up. + +"Have the goodness, senor, to remove yourself from my boat." + +But the lieutenant colonel placidly inquired, "Carry any government +cotton this trip? No, I know you don't. Then you're in debt to the +government? Correct. So I reckon you'll carry me in place of the +cotton." + +The demand was just. For their golden privileges the blockade runners +took a portion of their cargo on government account. But Murguia knew +that the army of Northern Virginia must surrender soon. The Confederacy +was really at an end, and this would be his last trip. Why, then, pay a +dying creditor? + +"The favor, senor! Or must I have you kicked off?" + +The senor, however, with his charger behind him, was foraging over the +deck to find a stall, and in a fury Murguia plucked at his sleeve. But +Driscoll wheeled of his own accord to inquire about horse +accommodations, and then the Mexican wondered in his timid soul at his +own boldness. It loomed before him as unutterably more preposterous than +the lone wanderer's preposterous act of taking possession single handed. +Yet the lone wanderer was only gazing down on him very benignly. But +what experience of violent life, of cool dealing in death, did poor Don +Anastasio behold on those youthful features! In a panic he realized +certain vital things. To evade his debt to a government that could never +claim it was very seductive and business-like. But there were the +Confederate batteries on the wharf, and a line of torpedoes across the +entrance to the bay. There were the Federal cannon of Fort Morgan, just +beyond. His passenger, if rejected, had only to give the word, and there +would be some right eager shooting. And as the Southerners shot, in +their present mood, they would remember various matters. They would +remember the treasure he had wrung from their distress; the cotton +bought for ten cents and sold abroad for a dollar; the nitre, the +gunpowder, the clothing and medicines, rated so mercilessly dear; the +profits boosted a thousand per cent., though an army was starving. + +And yet Murguia could not lift his soul from the few hundred dollars of +passage money. He almost had his man by the sleeve again. But no, there +were four hundred odd bales on board. There was _La Luz_, his fleet +L20,000 Clyde-built side-wheeler, bought out of the proceeds of a single +former trip. Even if torpedoes and cannon missed, the Fort and +blockaders outside would be thankful for the alarm, and make sure of +him. A few hundred dollars was an amount, but the benignity in +Driscoll's whimsical brown eyes meant a great deal more, such for +instance, as cotton and steamer and Don Anastasio plunging to the bottom +of the bay. + +"Oh I s'y, sir," interrupted a voice in vigorous cockney, "this 'ere +tide ain't in the 'abit o' waitin'. If we go to-night, we go this +minute, sir!" It was the skipper, and the skipper's ultimatum. + +"W'y yes," drawled the lieutenant colonel, "let's be marching. I forgot +to tell you, I'm in a hurry. Come on, Demijohn," and man and horse went +in search of beds. + +Murguia looked venomous, but the plank was drawn on board. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE STORM CENTRE + + + "God forbid I should be so bold as to press to heaven in my + young days." + --_Titus Andronicus._ + + +The feathering buckets of the paddle wheels began to turn; and _La +Luz_, long, low, narrow, and a racer, moved noiselessly out into the +bay. A few yards only, and the loungers on the wharf could neither see +nor hear her. Except for the muffled binnacle light, there was neither a +ray nor a spark. The anthracite gave almost no smoke. The hull, hardly +three feet above water amidships, was "Union color," and invisible at +night. The waves slipped over her like oil, without the sound of a +splash, almost without breaking. She glided along more and more swiftly. +The silent engines betrayed no hint of their power, though breathing a +force to drive a vessel five times as large. + +There were many entrances to the bay, and Murguia had had his steamer +built of light draft especially, to profit by any outlet offering least +danger from the vigilant patrol outside. The skipper had already chosen +his course. Because of the gale, he calculated that the blockaders would +get a considerable offing, lest they flounder mid the shoal waters +inshore. He knew too, even if it were not so dark, that a long, foamy +line of surf curtained the bay from any watchful eye on the open sea. By +the time she reached the beach channels, _La Luz_ had full speed +on. Then, knifing the higher and higher waves, she made a dash for it. + +For a slender steamer, and in such weather, the risk was desperate. The +skipper hoped that the blockaders would never credit him with quite the +insanity of it. He held the wheel himself, while beside him his +keenest-sighted quartermaster stood guard with a glass. The agitated +owner was there also, huddled in his black shawl, but the binoculars +glued to his eyes trembled so that he could hardly have seen a +full-rigged armada in broad daylight. + +Suddenly the quartermaster touched the skipper's arm under the shrouded +binnacle. "I s'y sir," he whispered excitedly, "they're--_there!_ +There, anchored at the inshore station, just off the bar! My eye, but +hain't they beastly idiots? They'll smash to pieces." + +The skipper looked and Murguia tried to look. But they saw nothing. +Except for the booming of the surf, they might have been on a landless +sea, alone in the black night. Don Anastasio was shaking at such a rate +that his two companions in the dark wheelhouse were conscious of it. He +cursed the quartermaster for a pessimist. The skipper, though, was brave +enough to believe. + +"We're expected, that's gospel," he muttered. But he did not change his +course, for he knew that on his other side there was a second fleet, +tugging at drift leads off the entrance to the main ship channel. It was +near hopeless, but he meant to dart between the two. + +"Now for a reception as 'ull touch us to the quick, as Loo-ee Sixteenth +said----" The skipper cut himself short. "Aye, aye, sir," he cried, +"they've spied us!" + +"They haven't!" groaned Murguia. "How could they?" + +"'T'aint important now, sir, how they could. There might be a gleam in +our wake. But any'ow they 'ave." + +They had indeed. Less than a mile to port there suddenly appeared two +red lights, two sullen eyeballs of fire. Then, a rocket cleft the +darkness, its slant proclaiming the fugitive's course. Hurriedly the +_Luz's_ quartermaster sent up a rocket also, but in the opposite +direction. It was useless. A third rocket from the signaling blockader +contradicted him. + +"We're bein' chased," announced the skipper. "One of 'em 'as slipped her +chain and got off." + +As _La Luz_ had gained the open, the skipper let his quartermaster +take the wheel. "'Old her to the wind, lad," he cautioned. "A beam sea +'ud swamp us." Next he whistled down to the engine room. They were to +stoke with turpentine and cotton. At once Murguia began to fidget. "It, +it will make smoke," he whined. + +"An' steam. We're seen a'ready, ain't we, sir?" + +"But it costs more." + +"Not if it clears us. Soft coal 'ud seem bloomin' expensive, sir, if we +got over'auled." + +The race was on. In smooth water it would scarcely have been one. But +the boiling fury cut knots from the steamer's speed, while the Federals +sent after her only their sailing vessels, which with all canvas spread +bent low to the chase. They had, however, used up time to unreef; and +with the terrific rolling they would not dare cast loose a gun. + +When morning dawned thickly behind the leaden sky, the three men in the +wheelhouse made out a top-gallant sail against the horizon. "By noon," +said the skipper, "the beggars 'ull 'ave us." + +He was a small pert man, was the skipper, with a sharp face, an edge to +his voice, and two little points of eyes that glowed. Salt water had not +drenched his dry cockney speech, and he was a gamin of the sea and as +keen to its gammon ways as in boyhood he had been to those of pubs +around the old Bow Bells. + +Don Anastasio heard the verdict with a shudder. Given the nature of the +man, his mortal fear was the dreadfullest torture that could be devised. +The game little cockney peered into his distorted face, and wondered. +Never was there a more pitiful coward, and yet the craven had passed +through the same agony full twenty times during the last few years. +Murguia knew nothing of the noble motives which make a man stronger than +terror, but he did know a miser's passion. He begrudged even the +costlier fuel that was their hope of safety. + +"Your non-payin' guest, sir," said the skipper, pointing downward. +"'Spose he wants to buy them 'ere smokestacks?" + +The trooper had appeared on deck. He was clinging to a cleat in the rail +with a landsman's awkwardness and with the cunning object of proving to +the ship that he wasn't to be surprised off his feet another time. He +swayed grandly, generously, for'ard and aft, like a metronome set at a +large, sweeping rhythm. Every billow shot a flood from stern to bow, and +swished past his boots, but he was heedless of that. His head was thrown +back, a head of stubborn black curling tufts, and he seemed absorbed in +the _Luz's_ two funnels. They gave out little smoke now, for with +daylight the skipper had changed to anthracite again, in the forlorn +hope of hiding their trail. But it had lessened their steam pressure, +and in a short time, the skipper feared, the pursuer would make them +out, hull and all. + +A moment later the passenger climbed into the wheelhouse. "Look +here--Mur--Murgie," he said, "for a seven-hundred-dollar rate that was +a toler'ble unsteady cabin I had last night; restless, sort of. It's +mighty curious, but something's been acting up inside of me, and I can't +seem to make out _what_ it is!" As he spoke, he glanced inquiringly +from owner to skipper. He might have been another Panurge envying the +planter of cabbages who had one foot on solid earth and the other not +far away. He looked pale. + +It afforded Don Anastasio little satisfaction to find a young man not +more than twenty-two or three. Without his great coat the Southerner +proved lithe rather than stocky. There was even an elusive angular +effect to him. Yet the night before he had looked as wide and imposing +as the general of an army. His cheeks were smooth, but they were tight +and hard and brown from the weathering of sun and blizzard. His features +had that decisive cleanliness of line which makes for strong beauty in a +man. Evidently nature had molded them boyishly soft and refined at +first, but in the hardening of life, of a life such as his, they had +become rugged. Most of all, the face was unmistakably American. The +large mouth had that dry, whimsical set, and that sensitiveness to +twitching at the corners, which foretells a smile. The brown eyes +sparkled quietly, and contour and expression generally were those which +one may find on a Missourian, or a Texan, or on a man from Montana, or +even on a New Yorker born; but never, anywhere, except on an American. +Whatever is said to the contrary, the new Western race in its fusing of +many old ones has certainly produced not one but several peculiarly +American types, and Driscoll's was American. It was most so because it +had humor, virility, and the optimism that drives back despair and holds +forth hope for all races of men. + +Murguia was right, his passenger seemed a boy. But war and four years of +hardest riding had meant more of age than lagging peace could ever hold. +Sometimes there flitted across the lad's face a vague melancholy, but +being all things rather than self-inspecting, he could never quite +locate the trouble, and would shake himself out of it with a sort of +comical wonder. Bitterness had even touched him the night before, as it +did many another Southerner on the eve of the Surrender. Yet the boy +part in him made such moods rare, and only passing at their worst. On +the other hand the same boy-part gave a vigor and a lustre to his +occupation, though that occupation was--fighting. He knew no other, and +in that the young animal worked off excess of animal life with a +refreshing gusto. Even his comrades, of desperado stripe that they were, +had dubbed him the Storm Centre. And so he was, in every tempest of +arms. The very joy of living--in killing, alas!--always flung him true +to the centre. But once there, he was like a calm and busy workman, and +had as little self consciousness of the thing--of the gallantry and the +heroism--as the prosiest blacksmith. He had grown into a man of +dangerous fibre, but he was less aware of it than of his muscles. + +[Illustration: "JOHN DINWIDDIE DRISCOLL--THE MISSOURIAN" +"His cheeks were smooth, but they were tight and hard and brown from +the weathering of sun and blizzard"] + + Various items on the _Luz_ struck the trooper as amusing. There +was the incongruity of his seven-hundred-dollar cabin, the secession of +his stomach from the tranquillity of the federal body organic, and +finally, this running away from somebody. But he quickly perceived that +the last was serious enough. The skipper lowered his glasses, and shook +his perky head a number of times. "_Who_ said life was all beer and +skittles?" he demanded defiantly, and glared at Driscoll as though +_he_ had. But getting no answer, he seemed mollified, as though +this proved that the man who _had_ said it was an imbecile. +Murguia, by the way, had come to hate no truth more soulfully than the +palpable shortcoming of life in the matter of beer and skittles. And now +it was borne in upon him again, for the skipper announced, definitely +and with an oath, that they'd have to begin throwing the cargo +overboard. + +Poor Don Anastasio behaved like a man insane. He wrung his hands. He +protested stoutly, then incoherently. He whined. He glared vengefully at +the dread sail on the horizon, and then he shrank from it, as from a +flaming sword. And as it grew larger, his eyeballs rounded and dried +into smaller discs. But at once he would remember his darling cotton +that must go to the waves, and the beady eyes swam again in moisture, +like greenish peas in a sickly broth. Avarice and terror in discord +played on the creature as the gale through the whimpering cordage. + +"No 'elp for it, sir," said the skipper, bridling like a bantam. "Didn't +I try to save _my_ cargo, off Savannah, and didn't I lose my sloop +to boot? Didn't I now, sir?--Poor old girl, mebby she's our chaser out +'ere this very minute." + +"Try--try more turpentine," said Murguia weakly. + +"Yes, or salt bacon, sir, or cognac, or the woodwork, or any blarsted +thing I see fit, sir!" The little skipper hit out each item with a step +downward to the deck, and five minutes later Murguia groaned, for bale +after bale came tumbling out of the hold. Then over they began to go, +the first, the second, the third, and another, and another, and after +each went a moan from Anastasio. He leaned through the window to see one +tossing in the waves, then suffered a next pang to see the next follow +after. It was an excruciating cumulus of grief. The trooper regarded him +quizzically. Destruction of merely worldly goods had become routine for +him. He returned to his contemplation of the two funnels. + +The skipper came back, dripping with pray. "The wind's changin'," he +said, "and that'll beat down the sea some." + +"Reckon they'll get us?" Driscoll asked. + +Murguia took the query as an aggravation of woe, and he turned +wrathfully on the trooper. "Don't you see we're busy?" + +"I see you're very damn sullen, _gra_-cious me!--Reckon they will, +captain?" + +"We'll be eatin' a United States of America supper, chained, sir." + +"Now look here," said Driscoll plaintively, "_I_ don't want to get +caught." + +"But I hope as you'll bide with us, sir?" + +"Still, I was just thinking--now that smoke----" + +"And I'm a thinkin' you don't see much smoke. We're keepin' out o' sight +as long as God'll let us." + +"But, Captain, why not smoke up--big? Just wait now--this ain't any of +my regiment, I know that--but listen a minute anyway. Well, once or +twice when we were in a fix, in camp, say, and we knew more visitors +were coming than was convenient, w'y, we'd just light the campfires so +they would smoke, and then--meantime--we'd light out too. Old Indian +trick, you know." + +The skipper was first impatient. But as that did no good, he cocked +himself for a laugh. Then his mouth puckered to a brisk attention, and +at the last word he jumped to his feet. "Damme!" he said, and went +thumping down the steps again. He splashed through the water on deck, +minding the stiff wind not at all, and dived into the engine-room. + +"Soft coal!" gasped Murguia with relief. + +It was pouring from the stacks in dense black clouds. + +The captain returned. "We'll try to save the rest o' that 'ere cotton, +sir," he said. + +He looked out at the trembling smoke that betrayed their course so +rashly, and from there back to the pursuer on the horizon. He waited a +little longer, carefully calculating; then sent an order down the tube +to the engineer. The dampers were shut off, and the fuel was changed to +anthracite. Soon the smoke went down, and a hazy invisible stream puffed +from the funnels instead. The _Luz_ swung at right angles to her +former course. The paddles threshed hopefully, and on she sped, leaving +no track. The skipper gazed back at the lowering line, which ended +abruptly on their port and trailed off toward the horizon with a +telegraphy of deceit for the distant sail. + +"You soldiers, colonel," he announced, "don't 'ave no monopoly on tricks +and gammon, _I'm_ a thinkin'. But I s'y, w'at if you and me go down +to my cabin and have a _noggin_?" + + * * * * * + +Thus _La Luz_ ran her last blockade, and came safely into port. She +reached Tampico some two days before the _Imperatrice Eugenie_. +Whereupon Din Driscoll, as he was called anywhere off the muster roll, +informed Don Anastasio that he would continue with him on into the +interior. And as seen already, Murguia humbly excused delay, though his +guest was not invited, not wanted, and cordially hated besides. That +meek smirk of Don Anastasio's was the absurdest thing in all psychology. + +Yet what perhaps aggravated the old man most was curiosity. He craved to +know the errand of his young despot. In the doorway of the Tampico meson +he still hovered near, and ventured more questions. + +"How was it that, that _you_ happened to be sent, senor?" he asked. + +"Well now," observed the trooper, "there you go figuring it out that I +was sent at all." + +"It must have been--uh, because you know Spanish. Are you a--a Texan, +Senor Coronel?" + +"They raised me in Missouri," said the colonel. "But I learned to talk +Pan-American some on the Santa Fe trail. We had wagon trains out of +Kansas City when I was a good sight younger." + +"I thought," said the old man suspiciously, "that perhaps you learned it +with Slaughter's army, along the Rio Grande. Slaughter, he's near +Brownsville yet, isn't he?" + +"Is he?" + +"With about twenty-five thousand men?" + +"Lord, I've clean forgot, not having counted 'em lately." + +"Where did you come from then, when you came to Mobile?" + +"W'y, as I remember, from Sand Spring, Missouri, near the Arkansas +line." + +A more obscure crossroads may not exist anywhere, but its bare mention +had a curious effect on the prying Don Anastasio. In the instant he +seemed to cringe before his late passenger. + +"Then you--Your Mercy," he exclaimed, "belongs to Shelby's Brigade?" + +The Missourian nodded curtly. His questioner was extraordinarily well +informed. + +"And, and how many men has Shelby at Sand Spring?" + +"Oh, millions. At least millions don't appear to stop 'em any." + +"But senor, how, how many Confederates are there altogether west of the +Mississippi?" + +Driscoll, though, had had enough. "Look here Murgie," he said, "if you +keep on crawling, you'll crawl up on a mongoose one of these days, and +_those_ things have teeth." + +He might have gone further into natural history, but a sudden commotion +down the street interrupted. "It's a race!" he cried. "No--Lordsake, if +they ain't fighting!" + +He drew off his coat, took the pipe from his mouth, and shoved it into +his hip pocket, all with the air of a man who has smoked enough and must +be getting to work. His brown eyes quickened. It was akin to the +satisfaction a merchant feels who scents an unexpected order. He was +ready to deliver the goods instantly. His heavy boots went clattering +and his great spurs jangling, and soon he was stooping over two men +rolling in the dust. But he straightened and thrust his hands into his +pockets. He was disappointed. The unexpected order was a hoax. The +combatants were one to one, and he could not fairly enter into +competition. Then an unaccustomed method for getting into the bidding +occurred to him. He might be peacemaker. He leaned over again, to +separate them. Each long-fingered hand reached for a collar. Yet even as +he caught hold one of his prizes went limp in his grasp. He pulled out +the survivor, who proved to be a ragged Mexican with a knife. The other +was a French sailor. Driscoll shook the native angrily, whereupon the +little demon swung the knife with vicious intent. But Driscoll held him +at arm's length, and the sweeps fell short, to the amazement and rage of +his captive. + +"You miserable little chocolate-hided galoot, why couldn't you wait for +me?" + +But the chocolate-hided only squirmed to get away. Driscoll glanced up +the street whence the two had come. At the next corner, before a cafe, +he saw things more promising. A ranchero with a drawn revolver was +holding off a young officer in sky-blue uniform, while around them a +swarm of natives and ten or eleven sailors were circling uneasily, as if +waiting for some sign to begin hostilities. The joy of battle dilated +the trooper's nostrils. + +"W'y, here I've been wasting time on a smaller edition." + +So saying, he flung aside his prisoner; and in another minute he was the +centre of the main affair, and having an excellent time. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A BRUISING OF ARMS FOR JACQUELINE + + + "Then John bent up his long bende-bowe, + And fetteled him to shoote." + --_Robin Hood._ + + +Into the crowd before the cafe, the Storm Centre pushed the argument of +shoulders, and quickly gained for himself the place which his pseudonym +indicated. Then he stopped, and looked puzzled. Which side to take? The +French, being outnumbered, offered the larger contract. + +"What's the row?" Driscoll inquired of Ney. But he was ignored. "Might +answer," he suggested insidiously, "for it's only a toss-up anyhow which +way I enlist. Look here, Sky-Blue, if you don't understand Spanish, just +say so, and tell me why you don't start the game." + +Ney shoved him aside impatiently, but he calmly stepped back again. + +"Come now," he argued plaintively, "let me in, don't be selfish? +But--goodness gracious, man, why don't you draw your gun?" + +"Because, my good fellow, I haven't any." + +The mystery cleared at once, for now Driscoll understood the strategic +outlay. Its key was Fra Diavolo, with a pistol at Ney's head, and quite +statuesque the romantic Mexican looked. But out of the tail of his eye +Fra Diavolo noted the American, at first with contemptuous amusement +only. Then, as though such had been the situation from the start, he +grew aware of an ugly black muzzle under his chin. For very safety he +froze rigid, and dared not turn his own weapon from Ney to his new +aggressor. But he wondered how the ugly black muzzle came there. He had +not seen the American move. But for those who did see, the action seemed +deliberate, with no hint of the actual panther-like turn of the wrist +from the waist outward. + +With his left hand Driscoll next drew forth the second of the brace, and +held it out to Ney in his palm. The Chasseur seized the weapon joyfully. +He straightened as the humiliation of a disarmed soldier fell from him. +But at once his face clouded, and with an oath he handed back the +navy-six. + +"W'y, what's the matter?" asked Driscoll. + +"You are trifling, man. That thing has no trigger." + +Much as an artisan would explain the peculiarities of a favorite tool, +Driscoll said, "Now look here, you strip it--this way--so." + +And as he explained, he illustrated. He raised the hammer under his +thumb, he released it on the cartridge, and Fra Diavolo's sombrero flew +off. + +Fra Diavolo threw up his hand involuntarily, and there was a second +report. Fra Diavolo's pistol twisted out of his grasp. The brace of +navies had not gone higher than the American's waist. + +"So," Driscoll concluded. + +At the same moment one of the sailors, a bullet-headed lad of Normandy, +was observed to do a very peculiar thing. Jumping in front of Fra +Diavolo he drew up one knee, for all the world like a dancer who meant +then and there to cut a pigeon's wing. His foot described a circle under +the knee, then the performer turned partly round, and as a lightning +bolt his leg straightened out full against Fra Diavolo's stomach. The +ranchero dropped like a bag of sand, except that he groaned. Ney +captured the fallen pistol. A musket blazed, and a sailor cursed. And +forthwith the maelstrom began. It went swirling round, with weird +contortions and murderous eddies, but always its seething vortex was the +lone trooper. + +Luckily, firearms were out of the question where both sides were so +mixed together. But Mexicans and sailors plied their knives instead, so +that there was much soppy red spreading over the yellowish white of +shirts, and over the blue of jackets. The pigeon-wing diversion, called +the savate, also played its bizarre role, for wherever a Frenchman found +space for the straightening out of a leg, in that instant a little +native shot from him as a cat from the toe of a boot. Fra Diavolo was +deposited flat on his back each time he tried to rise, till the sole of +a foot took on more terror than a cannon's mouth. As for Michel Ney, he +was beautiful and gallant, now that what he had to do came without +thinking. He achieved things splendidly with the butt of his enemy's +revolver, and exhorted his men the while to the old, brilliant daring of +Frenchmen. + +The Storm Centre, though, was merely workmanlike. He put away the +six-shooters, and strove barehanded with joy and vigor, which was +delightful; yet so systematic, that it was anything rather than romance. +It might have been geometry, in that a foe is safer horizontal than +perpendicular, and the theorem he applied industriously, with simple +faith and earnest fists. + +Yet, all told, it was a highly successful affair. Din Driscoll objected +to the brevity, but that could hardly be altered for his sake. The +little demons of Mexicans crawled from the outskirts of the mess, here +one, there two or three, and now many, limping and nursing heads, and +rubbing themselves dubiously, with hideous grimaces. + +Suddenly the cafe door opened, and Jacqueline emerged, tripping lightly. +Din Driscoll was filling his cob pipe, but he paused with a finger over +the bowl. "If there isn't a woman in it!" he muttered. He felt imposed +upon. The game was a man's game, and now its flavor was gone. + +Jacqueline had seen nothing of the fray, but now she saw Fra Diavolo's +Contra Guerrillas skulking away and the sardonic captain himself fuming +in ignoble soreness on his back. "Indeed," with fine scorn she demanded +of Ney, "and how did you manage it?" + +"Looks like the wrong side won out," mused Driscoll, feeling a little +uncomfortable. + +"Permit me to congratulate you--sergeant," she went on. "It's a good +beginning for promotion. If you only knew how hard Maximilian tries to +win over these natives, and here the very first thing you--Helas! poor +Prince Max!" + +Driscoll caught one word from her French. "What's that about +Maximilian?" he interrupted. He had to repeat, and then Jacqueline only +glanced at him over her shoulder. Some mule driver, she imagined, and +turned again to the abashed Chasseur. + +But the pseudo mule driver moved squarely in front of her. He was +embarrassed and respectful, but determined. Jacqueline lifted her brows. +"My good man, this is effrontery!" But her good man did not quail. She +noticed him a little then. He was ruddy and clean, with a stubble growth +on his jaw. Since the civilization of Mobile, Lieutenant Colonel Jno. D. +Driscoll had backslided into his old campaign ease. His first genuine +stiff beard had found him sabre in hand, so that his knowledge of +cutting instruments and of arched brows was limited. He said that he +would be much obliged to have his question answered. Whereat Jacqueline +thought, by her faith, "What a round, wholesome voice these rustics +sometimes have!" The one she heard possessed the full rich quality of an +Irishman's brogue, with the brogue worn off. + +"You know Spanish, do you not, senorita?" + +"Mais--why, better than I thought," she returned in English; and in +English that was piquant because it could not help being just the least +bit French as well. "Much better--because, I comprehend even yours, +sir." + +"Con-_grat_-ulate you," Driscoll returned. "But what's this about +Maximilian?" + +An eagerness in his manner caught her attention. But she answered with +her old irony. "His Imperial Majesty seems to concern you profoundly, +monsieur?" + +"H'm'm--oh no! Only it's curious how he gets mixed up in this shindy of +ours." + +"If--if you are asking about Maximilian, senor," a heavy voice began. +Fra Diavolo at least was not indifferent to the American's questioning, +and now he explained that the lady was the Marquesa d'Aumerle, and that +she was on her way from Paris to the Mexican court. But a storm having +brought her to Tampico, she wished to finish her journey overland. He, +the Capitan Morel of His Majesty's Contra Guerrillas, had offered her +escort for the trip. But the French caballero had presumed to force her +to continue by water. + +"By water?" Driscoll repeated, glaring at Ney. "That poor little +girl!--And make her sick again!" + +Jacqueline's chin tilted. "Ma foi, monsieur, I was not sick." + +Driscoll noted her fragile dainty person, and recalling his own +experience, had grave doubts about the consistency of Nature. But this +was apart. There was still the mystery of his having blundered into a +business that somehow concerned the Emperor of Mexico. And it was a +matter that must be set right. + +"You say you are an officer," he demanded of the ranchero, "but your +Greaser clothes, that's not a uniform?" + +Uniforms were not necessarily a part of the contra-guerrilla service, +said the Mexican; and besides, there might be reasons for a disguise. +But as to his own identity, he reproduced the order signed by Colonel +Dupin. + +"Correct," said Driscoll, and handed back the paper. + +"Now then," he added to Ney, "what do you say for yourself?" + +Unconsciously the French soldier replied as to a superior officer. "I've +just been transferred to the service of His Excellency, Marshal Bazaine, +in the City of Mexico, and am on my way there now." + +"You are in the French service?" + +"Of course I am." + +"Your rank?" + +"Sergeant." + +Here, in a caprice of kind heart, as well as of mischief, Jacqueline +interposed. "Your sergeant, Monsieur the American, is the Duke of +Elchingen." But she might have called Ney a genus homo, for all the +impression it made. + +"Too bad, sergeant," said Driscoll, "but a captain ranks first, you +know, and--well, I reckon I'll have to change sides. I know it's tough," +and his brow knitted with droll perplexity, "but I'm afraid we'll just +have to do this thing all over again, unless--well, unless you give in, +sergeant." + +Jacqueline had been waxing more and more agog, and her boot had tapped +impatiently. Now she gave way, and declared that it was too much. What, +she demanded, had monsieur to do with the matter in the first place? +Driscoll took off his slouch hat and ran his fingers through his hair to +grope for an answer. It had never been brought to him before that +fighting might be a private preserve. But his face cleared straightway. +In this second skirmish, due momentarily, he would be a legitimate +belligerent and not a trespasser, because since he had stumbled amuck of +Maximilian's authority, another joust was needed to correct the first. +It all depended on whether Miss--Miss--if the senorita--still wished to +go by land. + +"If monsieur will have the condescension," returned Jacqueline. + +Then out came the brace of navies once more, as naturally as the order +book of the grocer's clerk on your back porch. Involuntarily Ney reached +for his cap. + +"Now captain," said Driscoll. + +Fra Diavolo took the cue instantly. "A-i, mis muchachos!" he called, and +the little demons came hurrying back, like a damned host with a new hope +of heaven. + +If there were any police about, or had been, they were mysteriously +indifferent. But Jacqueline did just as well. No one had thought to put +her back in the cafe, and she promptly took a hand in the man's game. + +"Michel Ney," she commanded, "do you hear me; lower that pistol!" + +"You, you wish me to surrender, mademoiselle?" + +"You know I don't! If anyone even asks it, I will go back to the ship +with you, at once." + +"But I, I don't understand." + +"You understand that I want your escort overland. Is it gallant, then, +to disappoint me by getting yourself killed?" + +"But all your trunks are on the ship." + +Jacqueline turned to her Fra Diavolo. He could answer that? To be sure +he could, and he was honored. He suggested, with her permission, that +she spend the night on shore, she and her maid, since the cafe was also +a hotel. Meantime, the sailors could bring what she needed from the +boat. + +As he listened, Ney's slow thoughts came to a focus. And when Jacqueline +turned to him again, he gave way graciously, which brought on him a +sharp scrutiny from the ranchero. However, the truce between the two +antagonists was patched up with a readiness on both sides. Ney restored +to Fra Diavolo his pistol, and had his own weapons back in exchange. +Next he took the ship's steward aside, apparently to instruct him about +bringing the trunk. "And steward," he whispered, "don't forget to make +it urgent. The skipper must land all the troops on board at once." He +decided that meantime he would stroll up to the fort on his own account, +and bring down more aid from there. + +"Now then," reflected the beaming young Gaul, "our _spirituelle_ +little marquise will find that one may have wits, and not read her dense +old poets, either." + +He opened the cafe door for her and both joined the maid Berthe, who was +still clinging to sanctuary inside. + +The American lieutenant-colonel and the Mexican capitan looked at one +another. They felt deserted. Fra Diavolo's teeth bared. "Ai, que mal +educados," he observed. "They're ill-bred, I say. They kick a gentleman +in the stomach--in the stomach, senor!" + +Driscoll turned to go. It was enough of satisfaction to reflect that, if +any mention of the affair reached Maximilian, his own part therein would +not injure his errand to Mexico. As for the rest, Mexicans and French +could go their own ways--he had amused himself. "Well, adios, captain," +he said, and swung on his heel. + +"Wait! Which direction, senor?" + +"To this meson here, around the corner." + +"If Your Mercy is not in a hurry----" + +Driscoll nodded, and the capitan stopped to say a few words to two of +his vagabonds. One of these immediately hurried off in the direction of +the river. The other was still loafing outside the cafe when his chief +rejoined Driscoll. + +"Looks like you were interested in His Resplendent Majesty," Fra Diavolo +began with weighty lightsomeness. "Mustn't hurt his feelings, eh, +caballero?" + +Driscoll laughed easily, "It was all on the girl's account," he said. + +The ranchero glanced at him quickly, sideways, a dark look of suspicion. +"On her account, senor, not Maximilian's?" he repeated. "Dios mio, +caballero, I'll wager you have forgotten her already." Which, to tell +the truth, was fairly exact. + +At the meson Don Anastasio regarded the American with much more respect +to see him returning in such company. But to Fra Diavolo he addressed +himself in his thin obsequious voice, "You see I am waiting, as you +wished. But on my, my daughter's account, I----" + +"So, captain," Driscoll interrupted, "you're the one that's holding back +Murgie! Just tell him, Murgie, that I am in a rush." + +Fra Diavolo smiled and bade his American have patience, for he quite +believed that the Senor Murguia would be starting in the morning. + +"Si senor," he went on in a different tone, when Driscoll had left him +alone with the trader, "you set out to-morrow, and you are to have two +extra horses ready. But for whom, do you suppose? Bien, they are for La +Senorita Jacqueline and her maid." + +Murguia's countenance changed strangely, a most inexplicable contortion. +His little rat eyes focused on the ranchero, and he drew back in a sort +of fear. Convoy her whom people called Jacqueline through the lawless +Huasteca, at the bidding of this man! "No, no, no!" he cried, and +shuddered too. + +Trying to read a meaning behind the capitan's dark scowl, he knew only +too well the meaning that was there. He moaned at the thought. +Maximiliano would have him shot, or burned, or tortured. He would lose +his ranch, his cotton mill. He would be poor. It was vague, what would +happen, but it was horrible, horrible! + +"Hush, you fool!" growled Fra Diavolo. "The entire meson will hear you, +including that Gringo." + +"That Gringo? He, he is one of your friends?" + +"Friend! For Dios, he nearly ruined my little plans for Jacqueline. +Listen, he has business of some kind with Maximiliano." + +"Yes, yes. And there's a--a mystery in his business." + +"What do you mean?" + +"If I knew, would it be a mystery?" + +"Who is he?" + +"He won't tell. I only know that he is a Confederate officer." + +"A Confederate officer?" The capitan whistled low and softly. "Come to +the Plaza, there you can tell me what you think." + +And in the solitude of the Plaza they planned according to their +suspicions. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +SWORDSMANSHIP IN THE DARK + + + "Cry 'holla' to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets unseasonably." + --_As You Like It._ + + +"Strange there's no motion," thought Jacqueline the next morning, +rubbing her eyes. "Why, what ails the old boat, I wonder?" Then she +remembered. She was in the Tampico hotel which called itself a cafe, and +the landlord's wife was knocking on her door and calling "Nin-a, nin-a" +with a plaintive stress on the first syllable. The word means girl, and +oddly enough, is often used by a Mexican servant to address her +mistress. + +"I'm not a n-e-e-n-ya," Jacqueline assured her drowsily, "and if I were, +madame, why make a fete out of it this way in the middle of the night?" + +"Nin-a," the unctuous nasal rose higher, "if Your Mercy goes with Don +Anastasio, she must hurry. It is late. It is four o'clock, nina." + +"Four o'clock--late?" gasped the luxurious little marquise. "And how +much difference, exactly, would your four o'clocks make on the planet +Mars, my good woman?" + +"But nina, there is Don Anastasio, he is ready to start." + +"And who is Don Anastasio, pray?" + +"The trader, nina, at the meson. He is to take Your Mercy to Valles, as +Don--as the Capitan Morel told Your Mercy yesterday." + +"The Capitan Morel, _pardi!_ Faith, if any man had told me it meant +rising at any such unholy hour. Oh well, I suppose it is the hour for +larks, too." + +And sighing at the sacrifice of an age of slumber, Jacqueline reached +out for the matches. But there was no dainty limbed night table of a +Louis XV. beside her bed, which helped her again to remember where she +was, and if doubts still remained, they were gone when her bare feet +touched the fibrous, prickly native carpet instead of soft furs. + +She groped to the door, and opened it enough to take a greasily odorous +candle from a dusky hand outside. As the sickly glimmer awakened the +shadows, she called the woman back in sudden dismay. "My trunk, senora, +kindly have it sent up at once. No," she added, catching a fluffy +garment from a chair, "in five minutes." + +There was a brief silence, followed by positive lament. "Nina, it is not +here. I believe, nin-a, it is at the meson, with Don Anastasio." + +"F-flute!" cried Jacqueline. The word means nothing at all, but it may +express a lass's exasperation in a wardrobe crisis, and that is nothing +except a catastrophe. "Now just possibly," she soliloquized, "they +permit themselves to imagine that one can wear a white frock two days +together," whereupon she sat herself down despairingly among the crisp +things that had already had their poor little day. To mock her there was +the jaunty handsatchel packed for an hour's shore leave. She let +petulance have sway, and informed herself that she should not go a step, +when the voice in the hall pleaded insidiously that Her Mercy make +haste. + +"But I am, senora, I'm making fast haste," and she sat three minutes +longer, communing with her tragedy. "_Oh_, this bitten, biting +country," she cried, gazing ruefully at arms and shoulders, and fiery +blotches on the soft white skin. "Still, if there's a brigand for every +mosquito, it may yet be worth while." Hopefully she rose and called +Berthe from the next room to help her dress. + +When the two girls came downstairs, the landlord's wife took their +satchel, and led them over broken sidewalks to the meson, where the +street was filled with torches and laden burros and blanketed shadows. +Murguia's caravan was forming, making a weird, stealthy scene of +activity. Jacqueline picked up a lantern, and searched here and there. + +"Now where _can_ it be?" she cried. + +The rebosa about the shoulders of the Mexican woman rose. She knew +nothing. But the gesture was an unabridged philosophical system as to +the resignation and the indifference that is seemly when one knows +nothing. Jacqueline refrained from pinching her, and pursued the quest +of her trunk even into the meson. + +Hardly had she passed within when a greatly agitated little old man +tried to overtake her. But at the door he thought better of it and +vented his chagrin on the Mexican woman. + +"Why did you let her go in there?" he cried. "She will wake the Gringo, +she will wake the Gringo!" + +Jacqueline reappeared. "No trunk," she announced. "Do you know, Berthe, +I do not believe it came at all?" + +The old man's voice sounded at her elbow, faltering, placating. "With +permission, senorita, we must be starting." + +"And similarly with permission, senor, who are you?" + +"Anastasio Murguia, the servant of Your Mercy." + +"Ah, the poor little crow? Perhaps you will tell me, sir, why neither +the Senor Ney nor Fra--nor Captain Morel is here?" + +The young French caballero had visited the fort last evening, he +replied. Her Mercy knew that? Yes, precisamente. Yes, the caballero had +spent the night up there with his compatriots of the garrison. Her Mercy +did not know that? No? But it was quite exact, yes, because he, Don +Anastasio, had been so informed. But the Senor Ney would meet them out +of Tampico--yes, precisamente, with a detachment of cavalry from the +fort." + +"That poor Michel!" said Jacqueline. "He's determined that I am to have +a French escort. But Captain Morel, senor?" + +Murguia would not answer. He repeated the question to the Mexican woman, +who took up explanations with a glib readiness. "Si, nina, I saw the +capitan, not more than an hour ago. He was riding by the cafe, to meet +his--Contra Guerrillas. But he stopped and woke me. He said that I was +to bring Your Mercies here to the meson, and to say that he would meet +Your Mercies--yes, surely, before you had gone very far, nina." Her tone +was a sugared whine, and more than once she peered around at Murguia; +while he, for his part, stood by as though overseeing a task. But +Jacqueline only allowed herself a little inconsequential sniff, and went +back to the really serious business that did worry her. She demanded her +trunk. + +"How, the senorita does not know?" asked Murguia. + +"Know what?" + +"That the sailors did not come back from the ship?" + +"Not come back! Eh bien, I will not go a step." + +At first Don Anastasio's pinched face lighted with relief. But at once a +conflicting anxiety, lest she might _not_ go, seemed to possess +him. "But senorita," he protested, "what will Your Mercy do? The ship, +yes, senorita, the ship has sailed already. It left last night for Vera +Cruz." + +"And here am I," Jacqueline exclaimed, tapping her foot, "with only one +dress!" + +A long bubbling whistle sounded near a gendarme's lantern in the middle +of the street. A block away another sounded, then another, and another, +and others yet, each thinly shrill and distant. It was the challenge to +slumber and the answer of wakefulness from the watches of the night over +the silent city. + +"Another quarter gone by!" Murguia exclaimed nervously. "Come, +senoritas, if we are to reach the Valles stage by nightfall, we have no +time to lose. There are your horses, I will----" + +A tremor cut short his words. Someone had just emerged from the meson. + +"Gracious, Murgie, off so early?" the newcomer observed cheerily. + +Murguia scowled. He knew that tone. + +"If I'm late, I apologize," the other drawled gently, from behind the +flare of a match over his pipe. "Howsoever, all my eyes weren't shut, +and you wouldn't of left me. Pretty quiet about striking camp, though! +Didn't want to disturb me, maybe? Well, well, who made you so +thoughtful? Not Captain Morel? Now I wonder!" + +"I uh, why _should_ I wake you, Mis-ter Driscoll? Have I asked you +even to go?" + +"N-o, but you evidently asked old Demijohn there." And Driscoll pointed +to his horse, all saddled. "But cheer up, Convoluting Squirmer, of +course I know you aren't a horse thief. No, I just come out to say you +forgot the blanket. I was sleeping on it." + +Then he turned to the two girls. They were going also. But why try to +leave him behind, even without a horse? He knew, for all his whimsical +cheerfulness, that something serious was afoot. It was hardly likely +that the girls themselves had interfered. Still, he must make sure. To +provoke a reply elsewhere, he asked Murguia if it were the senoritas, +perhaps, and not Captain Morel, who preferred his absence? A surprised +"Ma foi!" from Jacqueline answered him. As he supposed, she had not +thought of him one way or another. + +But she deigned to say, that since the American _gentleman_--there +was a lingering on the word, which opened wide the Storm Centre's eyes +with anticipation of battle--that since the American gentleman had +broached the subject of his going (as no doubt interesting him, being +about himself), then she would permit herself to inquire why, indeed, he +should be going with them at all. She had not observed any cordiality in +the requests for his society. + +The light was not good, and she did not see his lips pucker as for a +long whistle. But he did not whistle. He replied very humbly; and so +sweetly that Murguia quailed for the little shrew. + +"W'y miss," he said, "it all comes of feeling my responsibility. I'm the +cause of your going, and that's why I'm going too." + +His very earnestness gave her to understand that he had forgotten her +entirely. The finesse of the Tuileries could not have struck home more +delicately, and more keenly. "I've often heard," she thought to herself, +"that an awkward swordsman is dangerous." But she made no cry of +"touchee!" Instead she caught at the point to turn the blade aside. +"Responsibility? Truly sir, you _are_ considerate. But permit +me--my safety on this trip, what concern can that have for Your Mercy?" + +"None at all," replied Driscoll, heartily. + +His brow, none the less, was crinkled, and he watched dubiously as +Murguia helped the two girls into great armchair-like saddles. There was +not a woman's saddle in Tampico, but Jeanne d'Aumerle did not mind that. +She, the marchioness, enjoyed the oddity of a pommel in lieu of horn. +And the lady's maid might have been on a dromedary, for all the +consciousness the poor child had of it. + +"Say," Driscoll interrupted with cool obstinacy, "where's our friend the +captain and that sky-blue Frenchman?" + +Murguia pretended not to heed him. Jacqueline really did not. But Berthe +spoke up eagerly. She said that the two gentlemen were to meet them +later in the day. At least she hoped so, but--no, no, there could be no +doubt of it! Yet her words faltered, and there was an appeal in them. +But if she placed any hope in the strange American, she was quickly +disappointed. + +"All right," he said, as if the matter were of no further consequence. +"Then I can make a nice comfortable report to Maximilian." + +"Report to Maximiliano?" exclaimed Murguia. + +Driscoll nodded indifferently. + +"But Senor Coronel, when you do, you--you will remember that I said +nothing to--that is, to persuade the senoritas to take this journey." + +"Nor not to take it, Wriggler." + +"Yet you will say to His Majesty that I did suggest--yes, I do now--that +they had better not----" + +His utterance drivelled to incoherency. The Mexican woman, she of the +cafe, stood before him. There was a warning on her stolid countenance. +Murguia wet his lips. "But," he stammered, "there--oh what danger can +there be in their going?" + +Driscoll shoved him aside and placed himself at the head of Jacqueline's +horse. "You had better risk the water, miss," he said quietly. + +"My good sir," she replied, clear and cold, "I commend your prudence, in +making certain, before you dared touch my bridle-rein, that neither of +the two gentlemen were here." + +Din Driscoll swung on his heel. "Damned!" he murmured, and he pronounced +the "n" and the "d" thoroughly, to make the word adequate if possible. +"Lord, I believe I feel like a closed incident! And to think, Demijohn," +he went on as he busied himself about his horse, "to think that it's the +first and only time we've ever seen trouble coming and tried to keep out +of it." + +But the trouble might appear now, he had done what he could. The thought +brightened him, and he patted his short ribs musingly. There was a +friendly protuberance there on either side. His belt sagged +comfortingly. He opened the pack which he was tying with his blanket +behind his saddle, and from it he filled with cartridges the pockets of +his rough cape coat. + +By now the caravan was passing him. The burros, like square-shelled +monstrosities with ears, were settling into a steady trot. Their +blanketed arrieros ran beside them and prodded, and were in turn prodded +by the fretful Murguia. Then Jacqueline rode by on an ambling little +mountain-climber. She had forgotten his presence. This was not a pose +with the Marquise d'Aumerle; she had, really. But her little Breton maid +coming behind timidly drew rein. Driscoll looked and saw in the moving +yellow torchlights that her face was white. A thing like that somehow +alters a man's attitude. "W'y, child," he exclaimed, "what's----" + +"Monsi--senor," she said hastily, in pathetic and pretty broken Spanish, +"you, oh, you will not leave us! In the mercy of heaven, tell me that +you will not! Ah, seigneur," she sobbed, "mademoiselle will yet lead us +to our death!" + +"Berthe," mademoiselle at that instant called, "oh you little ninny, are +you coming ever?" + +The maid obeyed. "Just the same," she sighed, "God bless her!" + +"And did I," Driscoll had begun angrily, but she was already gone, and +he finished it to himself, "did I once intend to leave you?" + +He leaped astride his buckskin horse, who trotted with him briskly to +the head of the caravan. Behind was Anastasio Murguia, a quaint +combination of silk hat, shawl, and ranchero saddle. The two Frenchwomen +followed, and behind came the straggling file of burros and pack horses. + +Yet the American was as a solitary traveller leaving a town for the +wilderness at the first touch of dawn. The road soon narrowed down to a +trail as it wound through the undergrowth of the Huasteca lowlands, then +westward toward a bluish line of mountains. At each cross trail the +American would turn in his saddle to force an indication of their course +from Murguia. Then on he would ride again, the while sinking deeper and +deeper into his thoughts; thoughts of why he had come, of how he might +succeed, and of the Surrender at that moment perhaps a fact. For him, +though, there was his sabre yet, dangling there under his leg. And there +were the sabres of comrades that likewise would not be given up, for to +save them that shame was he in Mexico. Riding there, so much alone, and +lonely, he was a rough, savage, military figure. But in his meditations, +so grave and unwonted in the wild, hard-riding trooper lad, there was +nothing to indicate a second nature in him, an instinct that was on the +alert against every leafy clump and cactus and mesh of vine. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE THOUGHTS OF YOUTH MAY BE PRODIGIOUSLY LONG THOUGHTS + + + "And many a Knot unravell'd by the Road; + But not the Master-Knot of Human Fate." + --_Omar._ + + +Another young person, Jacqueline herself, was also pondering rather +soberly this morning. And her thoughts fitted as oddly with her piquant, +lightsome, cynical youth as the gloomily patriotic ones of the Storm +Centre did with his youth, which was robust and boyish and +swashbuckling. To judge from the way their brains worked now, both young +people might have been grave wielders of state affairs, instead of the +lad and the lass so heartily and pettily scorning each other a short +hour before. + +Yes, the great rugged Missourian had his disdain too, and for none other +than the darling beauty of two imperial courts. The beauty would have +been vastly amused, no doubt, had she known of the phenomenon. But +knowing a little more, such as its source and the man himself, she must +have flushed and drooped, piteously hurt, as none in her own circle +could have wounded her. The shafts which flashed in that circle were +keenly barbed. They were the more merciless for being politely gilded. +But she understood, and despised, the point of view there. It was a dais +of velvet, of scarlet velvet. And a worldly little gentlewoman like the +Marquise Jeanne was not one to be unaware of the abyss beneath, of which +the flaming color was a symbol. But she rather enjoyed the darts, if +only to fling them back more dazzlingly tipped. + +The perspective of the Missouri boy was different. And his disdain was +different. A titled belle mattered little with him, and was apart, like +the girl in a spectacular chorus. Operettas and royal courts were shows, +which real men and women paid to see, and to support. He was a +deep-breathing, danger-nourished man of life and of things that count. +And his only cynicism, and even that unconscious, was the dry honest +sort which sheer unpolished naturalness bears to all things trivial and +vain and artificial. One can readily understand, then, the attitude of +such a man toward a playactor off the stage; toward a playactor, that +is, who thinks to impress the great, wide, live world with the +superficial mannerisms of his little playacting world. Here was Din +Driscoll, Jack Driscoll, Trooper Driscoll, here he was, traveling near a +handsome young woman who for the moment had been cut off from her +precious wee sphere. And he saw her outside of it, playing coquettishly, +and to her own mind, seriously; playing bewitchingly her shallow role +patterned after life, yet without once realizing the counterfeit. The +Western country boy, whatever his Cavalier stock, had a Puritanical +backbone in common with the whole American race. And without being aware +of it, his personal, private bearing toward the light and airy French +girl was a sneer, a tolerant, good-natured and indifferent sneer. + +However, Mademoiselle la Marquise was neither amused nor hurt, because, +quite simply, she rode in happy oblivion of the rustic and his standards +for the appraising of a girl. He looked very straight of neck and spine, +and she wondered if he had been cradled in a saddle, but that was all. + +Now if Lieutenant-Colonel Driscoll had had the slightest glimpse of what +was actually passing through the winsome and supposedly silly little +head behind him, there is no reliable telling into what change of +opinion he might have been jostled. But this is certain, that if he had +known, he could have saved himself some rare adventures afterward. + +In Jacqueline's musings there was poetry and there were politics. The +poetry justified the politics; moreover, was their inspiration. A +dilettante such as Jacqueline, aesthetic and delicately sensitive, was +naturally a lover of the beautiful in her search after emotions. A +sentiment for her surroundings came now as a matter of course. If she +turned, she beheld the chaparral plain stretching flatly back of her to +the sands and lagoons of the coast. If she flirted her whip overhead, +down hurtled a shower of bright yellow hail from the laden boughs. Her +nostrils told her of magnolias and orange blossoms; her eyes and ears, +of parrots and paroquets and every other conceit in fantastic plumage. +They were a restless kaleidoscope of colors blending with the foliage, +and from their turmoil they might have been quarreling myriads, and +never birds of a paradise. Little red monkeys grinned down at her as +they raced clutching among the branches, while a big bandy-legged sambo, +an exceedingly ill-tempered member of the same family, bawled his +reproaches in a tone gruesomely human. Now and then her horse reared +from an adder squirming underfoot, or she would see a torpid boa twined +sluggishly around a limb, as about a victim. Once in a jungle-like place +she experienced something akin to the prized ecstatic shudder as she +made out the sleek form of a jaguar slinking into the swamp. The ugliest +of the picturesque "properties" was a monstrous green iguana with his +prickly crest and horn and slimy eye, basking full five feet along a +rotten log. + +But the things of horror merely gave to those of beauty a needed +contrast, and did not hurt the poetry in the least. They were every one +on the same grand, wild scale. As the palms, for instance, rising like +slender columns a hundred feet without a single branch. As yet other +palms, which were plumed at the summit like an ostrich wing; or as the +smaller ones at their base, spreading out into fans of emerald green. +Again, as the forest giants which far overhead were the arches of a +watercourse, like the nave of a Gothic cathedral. And even the parasite +vines were of the same Titan designing, for they bound the girders of +the vault in a dense mat of leaves and woven twigs, while underfoot the +carpet was soft inches deep with fern and moss. As for the +flowers--Jacqueline wanted to pluck them all, to wreathe the wondering +fawns, as ladies with picture hats do in the old frivolous rococo +fantasies. And as to that, she might have been one of those Watteau +ladies herself, so rich was the coloring there, and she in the +foreground so white, so soft of skin, so sylvan and aristocratic a +shepherdess. + +And then it was a thing for wonderment, that beyond, where the mountains +were, all this world changed, yet changed to another as strange and +vast. And that still farther on there stretched yet other regions, and +each one different, and each no less marvelous and grand. A bewildering +prodigality of Nature, spelling the little word "romance"! Jacqueline's +lip quivered as she gazed and imagined, and as the poetry of it filled +her soul. But of a sudden the little woman sighed. It was a sigh of +rebellion. And just here the politics leaped forth, inspired of the wild +thrilling beauty of the world. + +"To think," she half cried, "that we are losing this--all this! And yet +we have won it! Mon Dieu, have we not won it? Yet for whom, alas? +Maximilian?--Faw, an ungrateful puppet such as that, to have, to take +from us, such as--this! Now suppose," her lips formed the unuttered +words, while her gray eyes closed to a narrowing cunning, "just suppose +that we--that someone--reminds His Majesty how ingratitude falls short +of courtesy between emperors." + +The boy's thoughts were of the country he had lost. Those of the +resplendent and wayward butterfly were of an empire she meant to gain. +But in her, who might suspect the consummate diplomat? Even then she was +speaking to Murguia, asking if it were not time that Fra Diavolo +remembered his engagements. Driscoll heard the query, and his comment +was a mental shrug of the shoulders. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +TOLL-TAKING IN THE HUASTECA + + + "And when he came bold Robin before, + Robin asked him courteously, + 'O, hast thou any money to spare, + For my merry men and me?'" + --_Robin Hood._ + + +For all his campaigner's instincts, the first of Driscoll's expected +troubles came and was gone before he knew that it was trouble. It +arrived so naturally, and was so well behaved! With a stop for a bowl of +coffee at a roadside fonda, they had been traveling for perhaps five +hours, when Driscoll saw the heads of two horses and their riders over +the brush, and at a turn in the trail he found that they were coming +leisurely toward him. He observed them suspiciously, and wistfully. The +wild tropics around him had quite won his heart as peculiarly adapted to +violent amusements of a desperate tinge, far more so really than his own +Missouri woodlands. Yet thus far the uneventful tameness had depressed +him as a shameful waste of environment. + +To boot all, here was this brace of villainous, well-armed Mexicans not +giving the least promise of entertainment. There was nothing to +distinguish them from the usual sun-baked rancheros of the Huasteca, +unless it were the first man's straw sombrero, the heavy silver mounting +of which must have been worth in bullion alone a fair pocketful of +pesos. There was a cord of silver hanging over the broad brim, and there +was a silver "T" on one side of the sugar loaf, an "M" on the other +side, and a Roman sword in front, and all three were linked together in +fanciful silver scrolls. But the rest of the man was wretched. His feet +were encased in the guaraches, or sandals, of a peon. One of his eyes +was so crossed that hardly more than a baleful crescent was ever +visible. The other vaquero, his companion, had no relieving trait at +all, either luxurious or strikingly evil. His breeches of raw leather +flapped loosely from the knee down, and at the sides they were slit, +revealing the dirty white of cotton calzoncillos beneath. Though the +April morning was hot, a crimson serape covered his shoulders. Both men +had pistols, and each also had a long machete two inches wide hanging +with a lariat from his saddle. + +They lifted their sombreros, and he of the gorgeous one inquired if that +were Don Anastasio's outfit coming up behind. A civil answer was merest +traveler's courtesy, and Driscoll reluctantly took his cob pipe from his +mouth to reckon that they were pretty nearly correct. He might have +loaned them a thousand dollars, to judge from their gratitude, and they +made way for him by drawing off the trail entirely. Here they halted +till all the burros and horses had gone by. The muleteers in passing +them, confusedly touched their hats. Murguia, who was then in the rear, +stopped when he saw the two strangers. Driscoll looked back, but judged +from the greetings that the three were old acquaintances. The +assiduously respectful bearing of the timorous old man was to be counted +as only habitual. And when he saw one of Don Anastasio's mozos bring a +bottle and glasses, he was completely reassured, and rested like the +others of the caravan some little distance ahead. + +Murguia dismissed the mozo, himself poured the cognac, and begged the +honor of drinking health and many pesetas to his two "friends." They +craved a like boon, and the clinking of the copitas followed +ceremoniously. + +"I counted three hundred and sixty-eight half-bales," said he of the +crossed eye, with a head cocked sideways and tilted. The evidence was +against it, but Murguia knew well enough that the sinister crescent was +fixed on himself. "Three-sixty-eight, at half a peso each, that makes +one hundred and eighty-four pesos which Your Mercy owes us, Don +Anastasio. Add on collection charges, ten per cent.--well, with your +permission, we'll call it two hundred flat." + +Don Anastasio manifested an itch for argument. + +"Oh leave all that," he of the crimson serape broke in. "Why go over it +again? We are loyal imperialists, and only our lasting friendship for +you holds us from informing His Majesty's Contras how you contribute to +that arch rebel, Rodrigo Galan." + +"But," weakly protested Murguia, "but who believes that Don Rodrigo +turns any of it over to the Liberal--to the rebel cause?" + +"A swollen-lunged patriot like your Don Rodrigo--of course he does, +every cent," and the cross-eye took on a jocular gleam. + +"Now, Senor Murguia," he of the same eye continued, "the favor of your +attention. See that 'T' on my sombrero? That's 'Tiburcio.' See that 'M'? +That's 'Maximiliano.' And that sword? That's 'Woe to the Conquered,' at +least the sombrero maker said so. Well, Don Anastasio----" and he ended +with a gesture that the poor trader saw even in his dreams, the unctuous +rubbing of fingers on the thumb. + +Sadly Don Anastasio unstrapped a belt under his black vest, and counted +out in French gold the equivalent of two hundred Mexican dollars. + +Don Tiburcio took the money, and observed, as in the nature of pleasant +gossip, that Don Anastasio had quite an unusual outfit this time. + +Murguia took alarm immediately. "Not so large as usual, Don Tiburcio. +The crops up there----" + +"Crops? No, I don't mean your cotton. I mean fine linen and muslin, and +silks, and laces--petticoats and stockings, Don Anastasio." + +"They--they are Don Rodrigo's affairs, not mine." + +"Enough yours for you to be anxious to deliver the goods safely, I +think. But the rate on that class of stuff is rather high. Now what do +you suppose, my esteemed compadre, Don Rodrigo would say if we had to +confiscate the consignment?" + +But Don Anastasio did not need to suppose. "How much?" he whimpered. + +"Well, with the American----" + +"Fires of hell consume the American! Collect your tolls from him +yourself. He's no affair of anybody's." + +The vaqueros laughed. "We'll throw in the American for nothing," said +Don Tiburcio generously. "Besides, to look at him, he may not be +very--tollable. But delicate dress goods now, there's a heavy duty on +them. I should say a hundred apiece." And without any seeming reference +to this revenue statement, the toll taker placed the tip of an index +finger under each ear, then pointed them lower down against his throat, +then lower again, and at the last the two fingers met in an acute angle, +significantly acute, under his chin, while the half-veiled black bead in +the outer corner of his eye had a sheen unutterably merry and malignant. + +The pantomime bore a money value, for Murguia stifled his wrath, again +drew out the belt, and more Napoleons changed hands. Murguia was then +for remounting, leaving the flask of brandy with the two imperialist +emissaries, as had become his custom. But the jovial Tiburcio stopped +him. "What must you think of us, Don Anastasio?" he exclaimed +contritely. "We haven't offered you a drink yet." Murguia dared not +refuse, and he paused for the return of hospitality from his own bottle. +At last he was on his horse, when Tiburcio again called. + +"I say, Don Anastasio, if you want a big return for your money"--Don +Anastasio halted instantly--"if you do, well, we ought not to say it, +being devoted to Maximiliano. But no matter, I will tell you this much, +poor old man--look after your daughter! Look after her, Don Anastasio! +We've just come from up there." + +A half cry escaped the father as he jerked back his horse. He demanded +what they meant. He pleaded. But they waved him to go on, and rode away +indifferently, taking a cross trail through a stretch of timber. + +Rigid, motionless, Murguia looked after them until they had disappeared. +But when they were gone, a frenzy possessed him. He turned and galloped +to his caravan, which was again moving. He did not stop till he reached +the American. "You owe me two hundred dollars," he cried. Thus his +decent emotion concerning his daughter found vent. "Two hundred, I tell +you!" + +"Will you," asked Driscoll, "take 'em now, or after you tell me what I +owe 'em for?" + +Murguia wavered. The simple question brought him to his senses. But he +had gone too far not to explain. Besides, his insane device for +reimbursing himself appealed to him as good. "Because--don't you know, +senor, that travelers here must pay toll? You don't? But it's true, +and--and I've just paid out two hundred pesos on Your Mercy's account." + +The trooper's brown eyes flashed. "Which way did those thieves go?" he +demanded. "Quick! Which way?" + +Murguia's avarice changed to trembling. He feared to tell. Driscoll +caught his bridle. "Which way, or by--by--Never mind, you'll pay toll to +me, too! I'll just learn this toll-taking trade myself." + +Murguia saw a six-shooter sliding out. "You also!" he cried. + +"Also?" laughed Driscoll. "There, I knew it, they were robbers." + +He wheeled and rode back with the fury of a cavalry charge, heedless of +Murguia's cries to stop by all the saints, heedless of the saints too. +Murguia did not care what happened to his guest, but he cared for what +might happen to himself, afterward, at the hands of Don Tiburcio and +partner. He frantically called out that he was jesting, that Driscoll +owed him nothing. But Driscoll had already turned into the side trail, +and was following the hoof prints there. Murguia could hear the furious +crackling of twigs as he raced through the timber. But in a little while +he heard and saw nothing. + +"He's a centaur, that country boy," observed Jacqueline critically. "The +identical break-neck Centaur himself. Really, Berthe, I think we shall +have to dub him Monsieur the Chevalier. Why Berthe, how pale you are!" + +"I? Oh, mademoiselle, is there any danger?" + +"Danger, child? Nonsense!" + +"But what made him do that, that way?" + +"Poor simple babe! That was a pose. Our mule driver knows he can ride, +but we did not. And there you are." + +"But the little monsieur, he looks like a ghost?" + +Jacqueline laughed. "That, I admit, is not a pose. With the little +monsieur, it's become--constitutional." + +A half-hour later they heard an easy canter behind them, and Din +Driscoll reappeared, flushed and happy as a boy pounding in first from a +foot race. His left hand covered the bowl of his cob pipe from the wind, +the other held his slouch hat doubled up by the brim. As for bridle +hand, old Demijohn needed none. Driscoll seized Murguia's silk tile and +poured into it from the slouch a shimmering stream of coin and a mass of +crumpled paper. + +"To be robbed while I'm along, now that makes me _mad_," he said. +"You won't tell anybody, will you, Murgie?" + +The old man did not hear. His palsied hands were dipping down, dipping +down, bathing themselves in the deep silk hat. The hat was heavy with +gold and silver pesos, and foaming with bills. + +"Greenbacks, Confederate notes," he mumbled. "Some I've paid +before--only, lately, the rascals won't take anything but coin." + +"Why's that, Murgie?" + +"Why, because these green things are not worth much now, while these +gray ones"--he fingered them contemptuously--"would not, would not buy a +drunkard's pardon from our cheapest magistrate." + +The slur on Mexican justice only emphasized his scorn of the Confederate +notes. + +"Give 'em here!" Driscoll snatched them from the yellow, desecrating +fingers. "These here are promises," he muttered, "and we've been +fighting for four years to make them good. For four years, even the +children and old men, and--yes, and the women folks back of us!" + +The impulsive mood carried him further. He counted and pocketed the +despised notes. Then from an humble tobacco pouch he sorted out a number +of British sovereigns, and flung them into Murguia's hat. + +"Prob'bly my last blow for them promises," he murmured to himself. + +Meantime a burro back of them had become possessed of an idea, which for +some reason necessitated his halting stock still directly across the +trail to think it over. The caravan behind stopped also, while the +arrieros snorted "Ar-re!" and "Bur-ro!" through their noses, and prodded +the beast. Jacqueline lost patience. She touched her horse, which +bounded out of the trail and galloped past the outfit almost to Driscoll +and Murguia. So she had seen the exchange of money and she had heard. +She looked thoughtfully at the trooper's straight line of back and +shoulder. + +"Monsieur the Chevalier," she murmured softly, as though trying the +sound of the words for the fast time. She would have supposed that none +but a Frenchman could have done that. + +As to Don Anastasio, the Quixotic redemption in specie was beyond him +entirely. He gave it up. The counting of discs was more tangible to his +philosophy. His rusty black tile, so wondrously become a cornucopia of +wealth, had by that same magic upset the old fellow into a kind of +hysterical gaiety, which was most elfish and uncanny. He motioned +Driscoll to ride faster. + +"Ai, ai, mi coronel," he cackled, when they were gone out of hearing, +"you talk of bandits! Ai, ai, Dios mio, _you_ have robbed +_them_!" + +"What the devil----" + +"Si senor, robbed _them_! A-di-o-dio-dios! here's more than they +took from me!" + +"N-o?" said Driscoll in dismay. "Gracious, I hadn't any time to count +money when I searched 'em!" + +"You!--searched Don Tiburcio?" + +"Why not? Isn't he a thief?" + +"But--he permitted----" + +"W'y yes, they both let me, I had the drop. But they got indignant and +called me a thief--I believe they'd of called a policeman if there'd +been one handy, or even---- Now what," he exclaimed, "what ails the old +bare-bones now?" + +The senile mirth had left the trader's face, and his olive skin was +ashen. "Next time," he moaned, "next time, Santa Maria, they will be in +force and they--they will take the very horse from under me!" + +"Tough luck," Driscoll observed. + +Murguia darted at him a look in which there was all the old hate, and +more added. But it disturbed the trooper as little as ever. "Come," he +said, "own up. You knew we were going to meet those fellows?" Murguia +said nothing. "Of course you knew. But why didn't you change your route, +seeing you're too high-minded to fight?--What's that?--Oh that voice! +Dive for it, man!" + +"I, I couldn't change on account of my passport." + +"What's that got to do with it?" + +"In the passport I declare the route I take." + +"I see, and you can't change it afterward?" + +"No." + +"Now look here, Murgie, have you got any more of these dates on?--Yes? +No?--Murgie, if you don't dive, by----" + +Murguia dove, and denied with eagerness that he had any further +toll-paying appointments. But Driscoll reckoned that he was lying. +"And," he added, "we are going to change our route, passport or no +passport. We'll take--let's see--yes, we'll take the very next +crosstrail going in the same general direction." + +Murguia's alarm at the proposal belied his former denial. The law +required him to follow the course laid down in his passport, but he +feared the law less than the disappointment of road agents. Don +Tiburcio's receipt protected him from those controlled by Don Tiburcio. +But Tiburcio was not powerful, except in blackmail. Murguia paid him +lest he inform the government of tribute also paid to Don Rodrigo. Now +Rodrigo Galan was powerful. His band infested the Huasteca. He called +himself a Liberal and a patriot, and he really believed it too. But he +also declared that the tolls he collected went to the revolutionary +cause, which declaration, however, even he could hardly have believed. + +Don Rodrigo gave receipts, and his receipts were alleged guarantee +against other molestation, since he controlled the highway more +thoroughly than ranger patrols had ever done. But lately a competitor +had appeared in the brush, and he was that humorous scoundrel, Don +Tiburcio of the crossed eye. Goaded near to apoplexy by the double +tolls, Murguia had once ventured to upbraid Don Rodrigo with breach of +contract. There was no longer immunity in the roadmaster's receipts, he +whined. Then the robber chief had scowled with the brow of Jove, and +hurled dreadful oaths. "You pay an Imperialista!" he stormed in lofty +indignation. "You give funds to put down your struggling, starving +compatriots! So, senor, this is the love you bear your country!" + +It was a touching harangue, and the remorse-stricken trader ever after +denied that he even saw Don Tiburcio, at which times a queer smile would +supplant Don Rodrigo's black frown. + +It was this same Don Rodrigo who had been reported as slain by +Jacqueline's Fra Diavolo. But Driscoll, not having heard of his death, +was quite ready to expect more brigands. He insisted, therefore, on +changing trails. + +"The Senor Coronel is most valiant," sneered Murguia. + +"So darned much so, Murgie, that I want to dodge 'em." + +But his struggle against temptation was evident. He glanced back at the +two women and again denounced the unfamiliar feminine element in men's +affairs. To avoid the brigandage encounter took more of manhood than Don +Anastasio might imagine in a lifetime. + +But they had not followed their new route five minutes before Murguia +was again at the trooper's side. An "I-told-you-so" smirk hovered on his +pinched visage. "Segundino has gone," he announced. + +"So Segundino has gone?" Driscoll repeated. "Well, and who's Segundino?" + +"He's one of my muleteers, but now I know he is a spy too. He will tell +the bri--if there are brigands--where to meet us." Murguia was thinking, +too, of their reproachful increase on collection charges for the extra +trouble. + +"Then," said Driscoll, "we'll go back to our old trail," which they did +at once. Soon after he was not surprised to hear from Murguia that "this +time it was Juan who had disappeared." + +"Didn't I tell you to set a close watch?" + +"Y-e-s, but what was the use? He slipped into the brush, and," the +trader complained, "I can't spare any more drivers." + +"Don't need to. We'll just keep this trail now." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE BRIGAND CHIEF + + + "Don Rodrigo de Vivar, + Rapaz, orgulloso, y vano." + --_El Cid._ + + +Imagine an abnormally virtuous urchin and an abnormally kindly farmer. +The urchin resolutely turns his back on the farmer's melon patch, though +there is no end of opportunity. But the farmer catches him, brings him +in by the ear, makes him choose a big one, and leaves him there, the +sole judge of his own capacity. Driscoll had tried to dodge a fight, but +Fate was his kindly farmer. + +"Better fall back a little, Murgie," he said. "You'd only scare 'em, you +know." + +He himself passed on ahead. But it was mid-afternoon before anything +happened. Jacqueline meantime had shown some pettish ill-humor. Those +who had fought to be her escort were now singularly indifferent. +Driscoll was idly curious and quietly contemptuous, but he detected no +fright in her manner. "Fretting for her silver-braided Greaser," he said +to himself. "A pretty scrape she's got herself into, too! Now I wonder +why a girl can't have any sense." But as the answer was going to take +too long to find, he swerved back to the simpler matter of a possible +fracas. + +"Well, well," he exclaimed at last, rising in his stirrups, "if there +isn't her nickel-plated hero now!" + +A quarter of a mile ahead, mounted, waiting stock-still across the +trail, was Fra Diavolo. The American put away his pipe and barely moved +his spurred boot, yet the good buckskin's ears pointed forward and he +trotted ahead briskly. From old guerrilla habit, the cavalryman noted +all things as he rode. To his left the blue of the mountain line, being +nearer now, had deepened to black, and the Sierra seemed to hang over +him, ominously. But the dark summits were still without detail, and +midway down, where the solid color broke into deep green verdure and was +mottled by patches of dry slabs of rock, there was yet that massive blur +which told of distance. Foothills had rolled from the towering slide, +and mounds had tumbled from the hills, and a tide of giant pebbles had +swept down from the mounds. These rugged boulders had turned the trail, +so that the American was riding beneath a kind of cliff. To his right, +on the east of the trail, the boulders were smaller and scattered, like +a handful of great marbles flung across the cactus plain. He may have +glanced toward this side especially, at the clumps of spiny growth over +the pradera, and caught glimpses behind the strewn rocks, but his look +was casual, unstartled. He breathed deeply, though. The old familiar +elation set him vaguely quivering and tingling, with nervous, subtle +desire. The young animal's excess of life surged into a pain, almost. +Even the buckskin, knowing him, took his mood, and held high his +nostrils. + +Fra Diavolo's peaked beaver, his jacket, his breeches, his high pommeled +saddle, his great box stirrups, the carabine case strapped behind, all +be-scrolled with silver, danced hazily to the magic of rays slanting +down from the lofty Sierra line. Like himself, his horse was a thing of +spirited flesh, for glorious display. The glossy mane flowed +luxuriantly. The tail curved to the ground. A mountain lion's skin +covered his flanks. He was large and sleek and black, with the metal and +pride of an English strain. He was a carved war-charger. The man astride +was rigid, stately. Man and horse had a heroic statue's promise of +instant, furious life. + +"Oh, la beaute d'un homme!" cried Jacqueline, perceiving the majestic +outline silhouetted against the rocks. "Why, why--it's Fra Diavolo!" + +"It--it is!" confessed Murguia. There was dread, not surprise, in his +exclamation. The waiting horseman, and a lonely hut there behind +him--none other than a brigand "toll-station"--these were but too +significant of an old and hated rendezvous. Don Anastasio got to his +feet and nervously hurried his caravan back a short distance. Then he +ran ahead again and overtook the two Frenchwomen. "Senoritas, wait! +Neither of you need go. But I will--I must, but I can go alone, while +you----" + +"Why, what ails the man?" + +"Back, senorita, back, before he sees you!" + +Jacqueline looked at the imploring eyes, at the palsied hand on her +bridle. "Berthe," she said, "here's your little monsieur getting +constitutional again." + +"You _will_ go, senorita?" + +"Parbleu!" said the girl, and lashed her mustang. + +"Dios, Dios," gasped the little monsieur, hurrying after them, "when +Maximiliano hears of this----" + +"You should see Maximilian when he is angry," Jacqueline called over her +shoulder. "It is very droll." + +Din Driscoll had vaulted to the ground in the instant of halting. +Immediately he led his horse behind the solitary hut, which was a +_jacal_ of bamboo and thatch built under the cliff, and left him +there. Demijohn was a seasoned campaigner, and he would not move until +his trooper came for him. When Driscoll emerged again, his coat was over +his left arm, and the pockets were bulging. Fra Diavolo had already +saluted him, but gazed down the trail at the two women approaching. + +"How are you, captain?" Driscoll began cordially. + +Fra Diavolo looked down from his mighty seat. "Ai, mi coronel, I was +expecting Your Mercy." + +"Honest, now? Or weren't you worrying lest I'd got left back in +Tampico?" + +One of the ranchero's hands rose, palm out, deprecatingly. + +"But someone might have told you I didn't get left at all," Driscoll +pursued. "Segundino maybe? Or was it Juan?" + +"Or Don Tiburcio?" suggested the captain. He dismounted and doffed his +big sombrero. "Good, I see you brought Her Ladyship safely." + +"Or I myself, rather," said Jacqueline, reining in her pony at the +moment, "Ah, the Senor Capitan as an escort knows how to make himself +prized by much anticipation." + +"Senorita!" The Mexican bent in heavy ceremony, the sombrero covering +his breast. "I am honored, even in Your Mercy's censure. Those who +deserve it could not appreciate it more." + +"Forward then, captain. On with the excuses, I promise to believe them." + +"Those sailors, my lady, who fight with kicks. Ugh!--they attacked some +of my men this morning in Tampico. I had to call at the fort for aid." + +"Oh, but Maximilian shall hear of this!" + +"I think he will," and Fra Diavolo bowed again, hiding the gleam of a +smile. "But I forget, your compatriot----" + +"Monsieur Ney?--Yes?" + +"He meant to help the sailors----" + +"But he was not hurt?" + +"Oh, no, no! But he had to be held in the fort." + +"That poor Michel!" + +"So," the syllable fell weightily, as if to crush Ney out of her +thoughts, "here I am at last, to claim the distinguished pleasure of +seeing Your Ladyship to the stage at Valles." + +Din Driscoll had been gazing far away at the mountains, his thumbs +tucked in his belt. He stood so that the Mexican was between him and the +scattered boulders on the right of the trail. Now he addressed the +mountains. "The stage at Valles? There is no stage at Valles---- And, +captain," he dropped Nature abruptly, and turned on the man, "who are +you, hombre? Come, tell us!" + +If Fra Diavolo were a humbug, he was not nearly so dismayed as one might +expect. For that matter, neither was Jacqueline. She inquired of +Driscoll how he knew more about stage lines than the natives themselves. +Because the natives themselves were not of one mind, he replied. For +instance, Murgie's muleteers had assured him fervidly that there was +such a stage, whereas passing wayfarers had told him quite simply that +there was not, nor ever had been. + +Jacqueline's gray eyes, wide open and full lashed, turned on Fra +Diavolo. "You are," she exclaimed, noiselessly clapping her hands as at +a play, "then you are--Oh, _who_ are you?" + +The Mexican straightened pompously. "Who?" he repeated deep in his +chest, "who, but one at Your Mercy's feet! Who, but--Rodrigo Galan +himself!" + +"The _terrible_ Rodrigo?" She wanted complete identification. + +He looked at her quickly. The first darkening of a frown creased his +brow. But still she was not alarmed. Berthe, however, proved more +satisfying. "Oh, my dear lady!" she cried, reining in her horse closer +to her mistress. + +"And who," drawled the American at a quizzical pitch of inquiry, "may +Don Rodrigo be?" + +"What, senor," thundered the robber, "you don't----" He stopped, +catching sight of the timorous Murguia hovering near. "Then, look at +that old man, for he at least knows that he is in the presence of Don +Rodrigo. He is trembling." + +But Jacqueline was--whistling. The bristling highwayman swung round full +of anger. Driscoll stared at her amazed. Then he laughed outright. +"Well, well, Honorable Mr. Buccaneer of the Sierras, now maybe---- Yes, +that's what I mean," he added approvingly as Fra Diavolo leaped astride +his charger and jerked forth two pistols from their holsters, "that's +it, get the game started!" + +Jacqueline's red lips were again pursed to whistle, but she changed and +hummed the refrain instead: + +"Mironton, mironton, mirontaine!" + +Driscoll stared at her harder. The words were strange and meant nothing. +But there was a familiarity to the tune. That at least needed no +interpreter. The old ballad of troubadours, the French war song of old, +the song of raillery, the song of Revolution, this that had been a folk +song of the Crusader, a Basque rhyme of fairy lore, the air known in the +desert tents of Happy Arabia, known to the Jews coming out of Egypt, +known to the tribes in the days without history or fifes--why, if this +wasn't the rollicking, the defiant paean of Americans! But how came she +by it, and by what right? + +"'And we won't go home till morning,'" he joined in, inquisitively. + +The girl paused, as explorers singing it have paused when savages never +before seen by white men joined in with barbarian words. But she went +on, letting the miracle be as it might. + + "'The news I bear, fair lady----'" + +she sang, and nodded at the bandit, to indicate that here was _his_ +line, + + "'The news I bear, fair lady, Will cause your eyes to weep.'" + +"'----Till daylight doth appear,'" Driscoll finished it with her. Then +both looked up like two children, to the awful presence on horseback. + +Don Rodrigo was at some pains to recover himself. A helpless girl and +one lone trooper were practising a duet under his very frown. Only a +glance toward the boulders and cacti reassured him. + +"Well, what next?" Jacqueline demanded sweetly. "Is it to be the--the +'game' at last?" + +"One word," said the Mexican solemnly. Straight in his saddle, he fixed +them with keen eyes, keen, black eyes under shaggy brows. The syllables +fell portentously. His voice deepened as far away thunder. "One word +first," growled the awakening lion. "You know now that I am Don Rodrigo +Galan. Yes, I am he, the capitan of guerrillas, the rebel, the brigand, +the hunted fugitive. Such names of ignominy a true patriot must bear +because he dares to defy his poor country's oppressors." Here Fra +Diavolo scowled; he was getting into form. "But to His Majesty in our +own Mexican capital, to His Glorious Resplendent Most Christian, Most +Catholic, priest-ridden, bloodthirsty, foppish, imbecile decree-making +fool of a canting majesty--to this Austrian archduke who drove forth the +incarnation of popular sovereignty by the brutal hand of the foreign +invader--to him I will yet make it known that the love of liberty, that +the loyalty to Liberal Reforms, to the Constitution, to Law and Order, +to--uh--are not yet dead in these swamps and mountains of our Patria. +And he will know it when he--when he hears my demand for your ransom, +Senorita Marquesa. He will know it, too, when he learns that Captain +Maurel--a Frenchman, senorita, not a Mexican--now lies stark in death in +the brush near Tampico, where he came to take and to hang the steadfast +patriot, Rodrigo Galan. But his Tender-Hearted Majesty will grieve less +for that than for the loss of you, Senorita--Jacqueline. For is it not +known that you, the first lady of honor to the Empress, that you are +also His Majesty's----" + +"My faith," said Jacqueline, "he speaks Spanish well!" + +Thus she stopped the insult. Also she stopped an unforeseen champion at +her side. Driscoll, with pistol half drawn, was willing to be checked. A +shot just then, placed as they were, would mean a bad ending to the +game. That he knew. So he was thankful for Jacqueline's hand on his +wrist. + +Forked eloquence was silenced by now. Yet the patriot had been in +earnest, under the spell of his own ardor. Don Anastasio, with head +bowed, had listened in sullen sympathy. But both Mexicans started as +though stung at Jacqueline's applauding comment. Don Rodrigo purpled +with rage. She only looked back at him, so provokingly demure, that +something besides the ransom got into his veins. He wet his lips, baring +the unpleasant gleam of teeth. + +"Come!" he said thickly. "You and your maid go with me." + +Driscoll's jaw dropped. "Diablos," he exclaimed, bewildered, "you don't +mean---- Look, Don Roddy, you're crazy! Such things----" + +"Come!" + +"But I tell you it's foolish. Such things do not happen, unless in +melodrama." + +For reply the guerrilla chief wheeled his charger and caught the bridles +of the two horses that the girls rode. He pulled, so as to leave exposed +the troublesome American behind them. + +"Grands dieux," exclaimed Jacqueline, "have the men in this country +nothing to do except catch my bridle! But really, sir, this situation is +forced. It is not artistic. As--as Monsieur the Chevalier says, it's +quite impossible." + +She looked around for Monsieur the Chevalier to make it so, but to her +dismay, to her disgust, he had taken to his heels. He was running away, +as fast as he could go. Then her horse reared, for musket firing had +suddenly, mysteriously begun on all sides of her. Many fierce pairs of +eyes were bobbing up from behind the boulders on the right of the trail; +yellow-brown faces, like a many-headed Hydra coiled in the cacti. They +were shooting, not at her, but at the fleeing American. She felt an +object in her hand, which Driscoll had thrust there, and she remembered +that he had whispered something, though she had forgotten what. + +Her captor was straining at the bridle. In his frenzy he leaned over, to +lift her from the saddle, and then she struck him across the face with +her whip. And then, with what the American had put in her other hand, +she struck again. The weapon was Driscoll's short hunting knife. The +blade grazed Rodrigo's shoulder. He loosed his hold, and before he could +prevent, both she and Berthe were in the shack under the cliff. The maid +sank to the floor. The mistress stood in the doorway. There was a glint +in the gray eyes not lovable in man or woman, but in her it was superb. + +Fifty feet back up the trail she saw Driscoll scaling the cliff. That +demon yelling, which is the first spasm of Mexican warfare, had not +ceased, and each demon was shooting as fast as he could reload. She saw +the white dust spurt out from the bullet peppered rock. But either the +sun slanting down from the mountain line was in their eyes, or they were +disconcerted at the American's change in their plans; at any rate their +laboriously ascending target did not drop. Up he climbed. Jacqueline +wondered why he still clung to the jacket over his arm, as people will +cling to absurd things in time of panic. + +"To go through that peril, and yet a coward!" she murmured. "It's a +waste----" + +The runaway gained the top of the embankment, and fell behind a rock. +And now a half dozen of the little demons were coming across the trail +to the shack--to take her. + +"Oh, the frisson, the ecstasy!" she cried. There was a certain poignant +sense of enjoyment in it. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE COSSACKS AND THEIR TIGER COLONEL + + + "Ah, Captain, here goes for a fine-drawn bead; + There's music around when my barrel's in tune." + --_Song of the Fallen Dragoon._ + + +Din Driscoll tumbled himself over among the rocks. "There, I'm fixed," +he grunted, as he squatted down behind his earthworks. "Plenty of +material here"--he meant the cartridges which he poured from his coat +pockets into his hat--"and plenty out there too"--indicating the Hydra +heads--"and my pipe--I'll have a nice time." He got to work busily. + +In the door of the shack Jacqueline saw the campaign for her possession +begin. Don Rodrigo had fled to the corner of the shack, taking his horse +with him. The hut of bamboo and thatch was no protection against +Driscoll's fire, but the two girls, though inside the hut, were between +and afforded a better screen. Jacqueline did not, however, hold that +against her Fra Diavolo. To save himself behind a woman was quite in +keeping with his sinister role. And she, as an artist, could not +reproach him, and as a woman she did not care. But the American's +running away--now that was out of character, and it disappointed her. + +She heard Rodrigo bellowing forth an order, and she saw five or six +guerrillas rise out of the cacti and spring toward her. But the constant +shadow of self-introspection haunted her even then. In her despair, and +worse, in her disgust, feeling already those filthy hands upon her, she +yet appraised this jewel among ecstatic shudders, and she knew in her +heart that she would not have had it otherwise. + +"Oh, am I ever to _live_!" she moaned in startled wonderment at +herself. "Always a spectator, always, even of myself!--God, dost thou +know? It is a robbery of living!" And the vagabonds were twenty paces +away! + +Something hurt her hand, she opened her clenched palm; it was the horn +handle of Driscoll's knife. Had she really thought to defend herself +with that inadequate thing? "Poof!" She tossed it from her, vexed at her +own unconscious heroics. Then two dark arms reached out, nearer and +nearer, and ten hooked fingers blurred her vision. But the arms shot +upward, the fingers stiffened, and a body splashed across the doorway at +her feet with the sound of a board dropped on water. + +"Ai, poor man!" + +She was on her knees, bending over him. But a second of the vermin +lurched against her, and he too lay still. A pistol report from the +cliff was simultaneous with each man's fall. Both were dead. A third +sank in the trail with a shattered hip, and another behind knew the +agony of a broken leg. The marksman's mercy was evidently tempered +according to distance. For, having the matter now under control, he +nonchalantly cracked only shin bones. Fra Diavolo from his shelter +roared commands and curses, but not another imp would show himself. +Crouched jealously, they chose rather to besiege their lone enemy on the +cliff. + +"Must have howitzers," muttered Driscoll. The soft lead, bigger than +marbles, went "Splut! Splut!" against the rock on all sides of him, +flattening with the windy puff of mud on a wall. But he was well +intrenched, and as the guerrillas were also, he lighted his pipe and +smoked reflectively. But after awhile he perceived a slight movement, +supplemented by a carabine. One of the besiegers was working from +boulder to boulder, parallel with the trail. He did it with infinite +craft. At first the fellow crawled; then, when out of pistol range, he +got to his feet and ran. Still running, he crossed the trail at a safe +distance beyond the hut, and began working back again, this time along +the cliff, and toward Driscoll. When about a hundred yards away, he +disappeared; which is to say, he lowered himself into a little ravine +that thousands of rainy seasons had worn through from the foothills. But +almost at once his head and shoulders rose from the nearer bank, and +Driscoll promptly fired. The shot fell short. A pistol would not carry +so far; which was a tremendously important little fact, since the other +fellow was aiming a rifle. The bullet from that rifle neatly clipped a +prickly pear over Driscoll's head. The strategist certainly knew his +business. There was a familiar shimmer of silver about his high peaked +hat. Yes surely, he was Don Tiburcio, the loyal Imperialist of the +baleful eye. No doubt the malignant twinkle gleamed in that eye now, +even as the blackmailer bit a cartridge for the next shot. A victim who +had only pistols, and at rifle range, and with not a pebble for shelter +from the flank bombardment--it was assuredly a situation to tickle Don +Tiburcio. + +Now Driscoll's point of view was less amusing. To change his position, +he must expose himself to a fusilade from across the way. And if he +tried to rush his friend of the gully, the brigands meantime would carry +off the two girls. A gentleman's part, therefore, was to stay where he +was and be made a target of. But he varied it a little. At Don +Tiburcio's second shot, he lunged partly to his feet and fell forward as +though mortally wounded. He lay quite still, and soon Don Tiburcio came +creeping toward him. Don Tiburcio was thinking of his lost toll-moneys +that should be on the corpse. Driscoll waited, his nerves alert, his +pistols ready. But just beyond range, the blackmailer paused. + +"Go for the women, you idiots," he yelled. "The Gringo's dead." + +The idiots verified the title straightway, for up they popped from +behind their boulders and started for the shack. + +"'Possuming's no use," Driscoll muttered, then fired. The guerrillas got +back to cover quickly enough, and so did Don Tiburcio, grinning over his +stratagem. In his arroyo again, he proposed to make the Gringo as a +sieve. Each bullet from his carabine twanged lower and lower. "Ouch!" +ejaculated Driscoll. One had furrowed his leg, and it hurt. He looked +anxiously, to see if the Mexican were lowering his aim yet more. An inch +meant such a great deal just then. But a tremendous surprise met him. +For Don Tiburcio had changed his mind. The rascal was firing in another +direction entirely, firing rapturously, firing at his very allies, at +the little imps themselves among the boulders and nettles. And the +little imps were positively leaping up to be shot. They ran frantically, +but straight toward the traitor, and on past him up the trail. The Storm +Centre could not shoot lunatics any more than he could babies. He only +stared at them open mouthed. + +"Los Cosacos!--El Tigre! Los Cosacos!" they yelled, scrambling out upon +the road, bleeding, falling, praying, and kissing whatever greasy amulet +or virgin's picture they owned. + +Then there beat into Driscoll's ears the furious clatter of hoofs. It +deafened him, the familiar, glorious din of it. The blood raged in his +veins like fiery needle points. To see them--the cavalry, the cavalry! +Then they were gone--a flashing streak of centaurs, a streamer of red in +a blur of dust, maniac oaths, and pistol shots, and sweeping sabres. +Hacked bodies were sucked beneath the swarm as saplings under an +avalanche. Driscoll sprang up and gazed. Through eddying swirls he still +could see red sleeved arms reach out, and lightning rays of steel, and +half-naked fleeting creatures go down, and never a jot of the curse's +speed abate. + +"Lordy, but Old Joe should 'a seen it!" he fairly shouted. He was +thinking of Shelby, of the Old Brigade back in Missouri; daredevils, +every one of them. + +Don Tiburcio had sighted the vengeful horde from afar, and had +recognized them, since he was, in fact, one of their scouts. They were +the Contra Guerrillas, the Cossacks, the scourge wielded by the French +Intervention and the Empire. And they were Don Tiburcio's cue to +loyalty. For seeing them, he began firing on his late friends, the +brigands. Yet he spared their Capitan. At the first alarm Fra Diavolo +had vaulted astride his black horse, and Tiburcio darting out, had +caught his bridle, and turned him into the dry bed of the arroyo. Others +of the fugitives tried to escape by this same route, but Tiburcio fought +them off with clubbed rifle, and in such occupation was observed by him +who led the Cossacks, who was a terrible old man, and a horseman to give +the eye joy. At the gully he swerved to one side, and let the hurricane +pass on by. + +"Sacred name of thunder," he cursed roundly, "a minute later and----" + +"Si, mi coronel," the faithful Tiburcio acknowledged gratefully, "Your +Excellency came just in time." + +The colonel of Contra Guerrillas frowned a grim approval for his scout's +handiwork of battered skulls. He was a man of frosted visage, a grisly +Woden. The hard features were more stern for being ruggedly venerable. +His beard was wiry, hoary gray, through whose billowy depth a long black +cigar struck from clenched teeth. If eyes are windows of the soul, his +were narrow, menacing slits, loopholes spiked by bristling brows. Two +deep creases between the eyes furrowed their way up and were lost under +an enormously wide sombrero. This sombrero was low crowned, like those +worn farther to the south, and ornately flowered in silver. His chest +was crossed with braid, cords of gold hung from the right shoulder to +the collar, and the sleeves were as glorious as a bugler's. His +brick-red jacket fell open from the neck, exposing the whitest of linen. +His boots were yellow, his spurs big Mexican discs. Altogether the blend +in him of the precise military and the easy ranchero was curiously +picturesque. But Colonel Dupin, the Tiger of the Tropics, was a curious +and picturesque man. His medals were more than he could wear, and each +was for splendid daring. But on a time they had been stripped from him. +It happened in China. He had made a gallant assault on the Imperial +Palace, but he had also satiated his barbarian soul in carnage and +loaded his shoulders with buccaneering loot. And though he wondered at +his own moderation, a court martial followed. However, Louis Napoleon +gave him back his medals, and sent him to Mexico to stamp out savagery +by counter savagery. + +"There were two accomplices in this business," the Tiger was saying, +"one a trader, Murguia----" + +"Killed him my very first shot," lied Tiburcio. He would save his golden +goose of the golden eggs. + +"And the other, an American?" + +"Got away with the others, senor." Again Tiburcio's reason was obvious. +The American, if taken, might tell things. + +"And"--Dupin gripped his cigar hungrily--"and Rodrigo?" + +For answer the scout waved a hand vaguely up the trail. + +"None went that way?" and the Colonel jerked his head toward the ravine. + +"No, none. Your Mercy saw me driving them back." + +"Quick, then, on your horse! We're losing time." + +Don Tiburcio was reluctant. He had not yet recovered his money +from the American. "But the women, mi coronel? They are there, in that +shack. Hadn't I better stay----?" + +"Jacqueline, you mean? Of course the little minx is in trouble, the +second she touches land. But you come with me. She shall have another +protector." + +Tiburcio knew the Cossack chief. He obeyed, and both men galloped away +after the chase. + +[Illustration: "COLONEL DUPIN" +"The Tiger of the Tropics ... the chief of Contra Guerrillas"] + + They had not gone far when they passed Michel Ney swiftly returning. He +was the protector Dupin had in mind. He had seen Jacqueline in the +doorway of the hut as he stormed past with the Contra Guerrillas, but he +had been too enthusiastic to stop just then. He was a Chasseur +d'Afrique, and to be a Chasseur d'Afrique was to ride in a halo of +mighty sabre sweeps. And Michel had fought Arabs too--but the good +simplicity of his countenance was woefully ruffled as he turned back +from that charge of the Cossacks. + +"Michel!" cried Jacqueline, stepping over the forms of men before the +hut, and forgetting them. The natty youth was torn, rumpled, grimy. The +sky-blue of his uniform was gray with dust. But to see him at all proved +that he had escaped Fra Diavolo's web in Tampico. And the relief! It +made her almost gay. "Ah, Michel--le beau sabreur!--and did you enjoy +it, mon ami?" + +He alighted at her feet, and raised her hand to his lips. + +"Monsieur," she demanded quick as thought, "my trunk?" + +"Mon Dieu, mademoiselle, I did well to bring myself." + +"You should have brought my trunk, sir, first of all. Deign to look at +this frock! No, no, don't, please don't. But tell me everything. What +could have happened to you last night? Why did you not meet me this +morning?" + +His story was brief. Of his contemplated strategy at Tampico, there had +been a most lugubrious botching. The night before, when he started to +the fort for aid, Fra Diavolo's little Mexicans had waylaid him, bound +him, and dragged him back to the cafe, where Jacqueline that very moment +reposed in slumber. And there, in a back room without a window, he had +gritted his teeth until morning. As for the sailors, who were to return +to the ship for her trunk; well, more little Mexicans had fired on them +from the river bank. The small boat, riddled with shot, had sunk, and +the sailors, splashing frantically to keep off the sharks, had gained +the shore opposite. But they could neither get word to the ship, nor +cross back to Tampico. + +"Yet," demanded Jacqueline, "how could you know all this, there in your +prison room?" + +"Am I saying I did, name of a name? Well, those poor sailors wandered +about all night in the swamps across the river, and this morning they +ran into Colonel Dupin and his Contras, and the colonel was frothing +mad. He had only just stumbled on the bodies of Captain Maurel and some +of his men, who had been ambushed and murdered. Poor Maurel was dangling +from a tree among the vultures. Others were mutilated. Some had even +been tortured. And all were stripped, and rotting naked. Mon Dieu, mon +dieu, but it's an inferno, this country!" + +"Yes, yes, but how did they find you?" + +"Colonel Dupin simply brought the sailors back to Tampico and searched +that cafe, and got me out. The proprietor wasn't thought to be any too +good an Imperialist, anyway. They shot him, and then we came right along +here." + +"Very nice of you, I am sure." + +"Not at all. Dupin isn't thinking of anybody but your Fra Diavolo, who +must have killed Captain Maurel.--Was he here?" + +"Who? Don Rodrigo?" + +"Don Rodrigo?" + +"Of course. He's the same as Fra Diavolo." + +"You mean that bandit," cried Ney, "that terrible Rodrigue? But he is +dead, don't you remember, Fra Diavolo said so?" + +"Stupid! Fra Diavolo is Don Rodrigo himself." + +"Not dead then? And I'll meet him yet! But," and his sudden hope as +suddenly collapsed, "Dupin will get him first." + +"I think not, because Rodrigo did not take the trail." + +"Then which way did he go? Quick, please, mademoiselle, which way?" + +"He turned off into that arroyo." + +"Oh, what chance, what luck!" But the boy stopped with his foot in the +stirrup. "No, mademoiselle, I can't leave you!" + +"Oh yes you can. I daresay there's another champion about." She glanced +up at the cliff. "And besides, all danger is past. The donkey caravan is +still here, and for company, I have Berthe, of course." + +"Really, mademoiselle?" + +"Yes, Michel, really." + +"Good, I'm off! But we will meet you at--Dupin just told me--at the next +village on this same trail. Now I'm off!" He was indeed. "I say, +mademoiselle," he called back, "I'm glad we left the ship, aren't you?" + +Jacqueline turned hastily her gaze from the cliff. He startled her, +expressing her own secret thought. + +Chasseur and steed vanished in the ravine, and she smiled. "The God of +pleasant fools go with him," she murmured. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +PASTIME PASSING EXCELLENT + + + "Il y a des offenses qui indignent les femmes sans les deplaire." + --_Emile Augier._ + + +Like another Black Douglas, Din Driscoll rose among the crags, the dark +tufts curling stubbornly on his bared head. He looked a sinewy, +toughened Ajax. But he only spoiled it. For, raising his arms, he +stretched himself, stretched long and luxuriously. His very animal +revelling in the huge elongation of cramped limbs was exasperating. Next +he clapped the slouch on his head, and clambered down. + +Jacqueline might have been surprised to see him. Her brows lifted. "Not +killed?" she exclaimed. "But no, of course not. You gave yourself air, +you ran away." + +Driscoll made no answer. He was thinking of what to do next. She knew +that he had run because of her, and she was piqued because he would not +admit it. "So," she went on tauntingly, "monsieur counts his enemy by +numbers then?" + +"Didn't count them at all," he murmured absently. + +"But," and she tapped her foot, "a Frenchman, he would have done it--not +that way." + +She was talking in English, and the quaintness of it began to create in +him a desire for more. "Done what, miss?" he asked. + +"He would not have run--a Frenchman." + +"Prob'bly not, 'less he was pretty quick about it." + +She looked up angrily. Of course he must know that he had been splendid, +up there behind the rocks. And now to be unconscious of it! But that was +only a pose, she decided. Yet what made him so stupidly commonplace, and +so dense? She hated to be robbed of her enthusiasm for an artistic +bric-a-brac of emotion; and here he was, like some sordid mechanic who +would not talk shop with a girl. + +"I wager one thing," she fretted, "and it is that when you bring men +down to earth you have not even at all--how do you say?--the martial +rage in your eyes?" + +"W'y, uh, not's I know of. It might spoil good shooting." + +"And your pipe"--her lip curled and smiled at the same time--"the pipe +does not, neither?" + +His mouth twitched at the corners. "N-o," he decided soberly, "not in +close range." + +She gave him up, he had no pose. Still, she was out of patience with +him. "Helas! monsieur, all may see you are Ameri-can. But there, you +have not to feel sorry. I forgive you, yes, because--it wasn't dull." + +"Hadn't we better be----" + +"Now what," she persisted, "kept you so long up there, for example?" + +Driscoll reddened. He had lingered behind the screen of rock to bandage +his furrowed leg. "S'pose you don't ask," he said abruptly, "there's +plenty other things to be doing." + +He turned and invited the little Breton maid to come from the shack. She +was white, and trembled a little yet. "I knew, I knew you would not +leave us, monsieur," she was trying to tell him. "But if you had--oh, +what would madame----" + +"Now then," the practical American interrupted, "where's Murgie?" + +Jacqueline pointed with the toe of her slipper. There were prostrate +bodies around them, with teeth bared, insolent, silent, horrible. One +couldn't be sorry they were dead, but one didn't like to see them. +Jacqueline's boot pointed to a man lying on his face. A silk hat was +near by in the dust. A rusty black wig was loosened from his head. The +girl invoked him solemnly. "Arise, Ancient Black Crow, and live another +thousand years." + +Driscoll lifted the shrunken bundle of a man, held him at arm's length, +looked him over, and stood him on his feet. The withered face was more +than ever like a death's head, and the eyes were glassy, senseless. But +as to hurt or scratch, there was none. The beady orbs started slowly in +their sockets, rolling from side to side. The lips opened, and formed +words. "Killed? yes, I am killed. But I want--my cotton, my burros, my +peons--I want them. I am dead, give them to me." + +"You're alive, you old maverick." + +The gaze focused slowly on Driscoll, and slowly wakened to a crafty +leer. Believe this Gringo?--not he! + +With an arm behind his shoulders Driscoll forced him down the trail to +his caravan. Most of the animals were lying down, dozing under their +packs. Murguia's eyes grew watery when he saw them, but he was still +dazed and his delusion was obstinate. The leer shot exultant gleams. "A +rich man _can_ enter heaven," he chuckled with unholy glee. + +"Oh wake up, and give me two donkeys for the girls. Their horses got +hit, you know." + +Then the stunned old miser began to perceive that he was not in heaven. +His tyrant's voice! "You get my horses killed," he whined, "and now you +take my burros." + +Driscoll said no more, but picked out two beasts and bound some +cushioned sacking on their backs for saddles. Then with a brisk hearty +word, he swept Berthe up on the first one. + +"Next," he said, turning to Jacqueline. + +But the marchioness drew back. Next--after her maid! It nettled her that +this country boy, or any other, could not recognize in her that +indefinable something which is supposed to distinguish quality. + +"What's the matter, now?" he asked. "Quick, please, I'm in a hurry." + +"It's too preposterous. I'll not!" + +"You will," he said quietly. + +Her gray eyes deepened to blue with amazement. She stood stock still, +haughtily daring him. She even lifted her arms a little, leaving the +girlish waist defenseless. Her slender figure was temptation, the pretty +ducal fury was only added zest. Up among the rocks Driscoll had found +himself whispering, "She's game, that little girl!" But at the same time +he had remembered Rodrigo's innuendo, the linking of her name with +Maximilian's. She was so brave, and so headstrong, so lovably +headstrong, and her beauty was so fresh and soft! Yet he could not but +think of that taint in what nature had made so pure. Of a sudden there +was a something wrong, something ugly and hideously wrong in life. And +the country boy, the trooper, the man of blood-letting, what you will, +was filled with helpless rage against it; and next against himself, +because the girlish waist could thrill him so. "A silly little +butterfly," he argued inwardly. Before, he had been unaware of his own +indifference. But now he angrily tried to summon it back. He set his +mind on their situation, on what it exacted. It exacted haste, simple, +impersonal haste. And keeping his mind on just that, he caught her up. + +"Oh, you boor!" she cried, pushing at him. + +His jaw hardened. His will was well nigh superhuman, for he battled +against two furious little hands, against the dimple and the patch so +near his lips, against the fragrance of her hair, against the subtle +warmth of his burden. + +"No, no!" she panted. "Monsieur, do you hear me? I am not to be +carried!" + +"Maybe not," said he, carrying her. + +A moment later she discovered herself planted squarely on the burro. + +"Bonte divine!" she gasped. But she took care not to fall off. + +He drew a long breath. + +"Now whip 'em up," he commanded. + + * * * * * + +The first village beyond, where Dupin had promised to meet Jacqueline, +was a squatting group of thatched cones in a dense forest of Cyprus and +eucalyptus. Its denizens were Huasteca Indians, living as they had +before the Conquest, among themselves still talking their native +dialect. The name of the hamlet was Culebra. + +The coy twilight waned quickly, and the caravan was still pushing on +through the thick darkness of the wood, when a high tensioned yelping +made the vast silence insignificant, ugly. But as the travelers filed +into the clearing where the village was, the curs slunk away with coyote +humility, their yellow points of eyes glowing back on the intruders. + +With a forager's direct method, Driscoll roused the early slumbering +village. He would not take alfafa, he declined rastrojo. It was human +food, corn, that he bought for his horse. He housed his dumb friend +under a human roof too. After which he prepared a habitation for the +women. He swept the likeliest hut clean of ashes, brazier, and bits of +pots and jars. He carpeted the earth floor in Spanish moss, as King +Arthur's knights once strewed their halls with rushes. It was luxury for +a coroneted lass, if one went back a dozen centuries. There were chinks +between the sooty saplings that formed the wall, but over these he hung +matting, and he drove a stake for a candle. + +Supper followed. The trooper chose to change Don Anastasio from host to +guest, and he exacted what he needed from the Inditos. They, for their +part, were alert before his commands. None of them had been overlooked +in his preliminary largesse of copper tlacos and they made the teaming +wilderness contribute to his spread. Kneeling, with sleeves rolled from +his hard forearms, he broiled a steak over hickory forks. The torches of +gum tree knots lighted his banquet, and the faces of the two girls, rosy +in the blaze and mysterious in the shadow, were piquant inspiration. +Even the sharp features of Don Anastasio stirred him into a phase of +whimsical benevolence. He knocked two chickens from their perch in a +tree and baked them in a mould of clay. There was an armadilla too, +which a Culebra boy and the dogs had run down during the day. Its dark +flesh was rich and luscious, and the Missourian fondly called it +'possum. Crisply toasted tortillas, or corn cakes, served for bread, and +for spoons as well. But to Driscoll's mind the real feast was +coffee--actual coffee, which he made black, so very good and black, a +riotous orgie of blackness and strength and fragrance. Here was a feast +indeed for the poor trooper. He thought of the chickory, of the parched +corn, of all those pitiful aggravations that Shelby's Brigade had tried +so hard to imagine into coffee during the late months of privation along +the Arkansas line. + +And the Marquise d'Aumerle? Learning to eat roasting ears, which somehow +just would leave a grain on her cheek with every bite, the dainty +Marquise thought how much finer was this than the tedious bumping ship. +How much more tempting than the ultra-belabored viands on white china +that had to be latticed down! Here was angel's bread in the wilderness. +And the appetite that drove her to ask for more, that was the only +sauce--an appetite that was a frisson. A new sensation, in itself! + +And later, sleep too became a passion, a passion new and sweet in its +incantation out of the lost cravings of childhood. When the nearer +freshness of the woods filled her nostrils, there from the live-oak moss +in her night's abode, she smiled on the grave young fellow who had left +her at the door. And both girls laughing together over the masculine +notions for their comfort, knew a certain happy tenderness in their +gaiety. + +"Eh, but it's deep, madame," said one. + +"It's the politeness of the heart," the other explained. + +Outside Driscoll spread his blanket across the doorway where his horse +was sheltered, and wrapped in his great cape-coat, he stretched himself +for a smoke. But Murguia came with cigars, of the Huasteca, gray and +musty. Driscoll accepted one, waving aside the old man's apologies. He +puffed and waited. Conviviality in Don Anastasio meant something. + +"Ah, amigo," the thin voice cracked in a spasm of forced heartiness, +"ah, it was a banquet! Si, si, a banquet! Only, if there were but a +liqueur, a liqueur to give the after-cigar that last added relish, +verdad, senor?" + +Driscoll tapped his "after-cigar" till the ashes fell. "Well? he asked. + +"Ai de mi, caballero, but I am heavy with regrets. I can offer nothing. +My poor cognac--no, not after such a feast. But whiskey--ah, whiskey is +magnifico. It is American." + +He stopped, with a genial rubbing of his bony hands. But his sad +good-fellowship was transparent enough, and in the darkness his eyes +were beads of malice. Driscoll half grunted. A long way round for a +drink, he thought. "Here," he said, getting out his flask, "have a pull +at this." + +Murguia took it greedily. He had seen the flask before. The covering of +leather was battered and peeled. "Perhaps a little--water?" he faltered. +Driscoll nodded, and off the old Mexican ambled with the flask. When he +returned, he had a glass, into which he had poured some of the liquor. +The canteen he handed back to the trooper, who without a word replaced +it in his pocket. Murguia lingered. He sipped his toddy absently. + +"I, I wonder why the friends of the senoritas do not come?" he ventured. + +"Want to get rid of them, eh, Murgie?" + +The old man shrugged his shoulders. "And why not? You may not believe +me, senor, but should I not feel easier if they were--well, out of the +reach of Don Rodrigo?" + +"Out of----Look here, where's the danger now?" + +"Ai, senor, don't be too sure. Colonel Dupin still does not come, and it +might be--because the guerrillas have stopped him." + +"Man alive, he had 'em running!" + +"H'm, yes, but there's plenty more. This very village breeds them, feeds +them, welcomes them home. Don Rodrigo can gather ten times what he had +to-day. And if he does, and if, if he is looking for the senoritas +again----" + +Driscoll shifted on his blanket. "I see," he drawled. "F'r instance, if +the senoritas vanish before he gets here, he won't blame you? Oh no, you +were asleep, you couldn't know that I had up and carried 'em off. +Anyhow, you'd rather risk Rodrigo than Colonel Dupin----Yes, I see." He +tucked his saddle under his head, and lay flat, blinking at the stars. +"This trail go on to Valles?" he inquired drowsily. + +Murguia's small eyes brightened over him. "Yes," he said, eagerly. + +"Correct," yawned the American, "I've already made sure." + +"And if----" But a snore floated up from the blanket. + +When Murguia was gone, the sleeper awoke. He carefully poured out all +the remaining whiskey. "It may be what they call 'fine Italian,'" he +muttered, with a disgusted shake of the head, but he neglected to throw +the flask away as well. Next he saddled Demijohn and two of the pack +horses, then lay down and slept in earnest, as an old campaigner +snatches at rest. + +The night was black, an hour before the dawn, when his eyes opened wide, +and he sat up, listening. He heard it again, faint and far away, a +feeble "pop-pop!" Then there were more, a sudden pigmy chorus of battle. +He got to his feet, and ran to call the two women. + +"So," said Jacqueline, appearing under the stars, "monsieur does not +wish to be relieved of us? He will not wait for his friends?" + +"Get on these horses! Here, I'll help you." + +Soon they three were riding through the forest, in the trail toward +Valles. Behind them the fairy popping swelled louder, yet louder, and +the man glanced resentfully at his two companions. He was missing the +game. + +Back in the village of Culebra a demon uproar hounded Don Anastasio out +of serape and slumber. All about him were fleeing feet. They were +shadows, bounding like frightened deer from the wood, across the +clearing, and into the wood again. Some turned and fired as they ran. +Screaming women and children hurried out of the _jacales_, and +darted here and there. Dogs howled everywhere. A storm of crashing brush +and a wild troop of horsemen, each among them a free lance of butchery, +burst on the village. A second crashing storm, and they were in the +forest again. They left quivering blots in their wake, and a moaning +gave a lower and dreadfuller note to the wailing of women. Only the +leader of the pursuers, with a few others, drew rein. + +"Death of an ox!" the French oath rang out, "We're in their very nest. +Quick, you loafers, the torch, the torch!" + +Flames began to crackle, and in the glare Murguia was seen frantically +driving burros and peons to safety. The leader of the troop leaned over +in his saddle and had him by the collar. + +"Who the name of a name are you?" + +Don Anastasio looked up. His captor was a great bearded man. "Colonel +Dupin!" he groaned. + +"Who are you?--But I should know. It's the trader, the accomplice of +Rodrigo. Sacre nom, tell me, where is she? We can't find her here. Where +is she?" + +"How can I know, senor? She--perhaps she is gone." + +"With Rodrigo--ha! But he'll have no ransom--no, not if it breaks +Maximilian's heart.--Now, Senor Trader----" + +He stopped and called to him his nearest men. Murguia sank limp. + +"But he hasn't got her! Rodrigo hasn't got her!" + +"Who has then?" + +"The other one, the American." + +"Which way did they go?" + +"If Your Mercy will not----" + +"Shoot him!" thundered the Tiger. + +"But if he will tell us?" someone interposed. + +It was Don Tiburcio, still the guardian angel of the golden goose. + +"Bien," growled the Tiger, "let him live then until we find the +American." + +"Which way did they go?" Tiburcio whispered in Murguia's ear. + +"To, to Valles," came the reply. + +The blazing huts revealed a ghoulish joy on the miser's face. The +Gringo, not he, would now have to explain to the Tiger. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +UNREGISTERED IN ANY STUDBOOK + + + "La belle chose que l'aristocratie quand on a le chance d'en etre." + --_Voltaire._ + + +That garish daub which was sopped up from the burning homes of men and +bespattered over the forest's dark crest was already mellowing under the +gentler touch of dawn, when the three travelers gained the open country. + +"Poor, dirty, little Inditos," Jacqueline mused aloud. Berthe struck her +pony in a tremor of fright. The American was riding ahead. "Fire and +sword," Jacqueline went on, and her voice lowered to intense scorn, +"they make the final tableau, but--it's gaudy, it's cheap." + +The trail had broadened into a high road, and now it wound among the +hills like a soiled white ribbon. Driscoll turned in his saddle. "I +shouldn't wonder," he observed in the full-toned drawl that was peculiar +to him, "but what we'd better be projecting a change of venue. This +route is too public, and publicity around here strikes me as sort of +prejudiced. S'pose we just stir up an alibi?" + +A certain stately old judge back in Missouri would have smiled thus to +hear the scion of his house. But the marchioness, confident in her +mastery of English, thought it was the veriest jargon. What was the boy +trying to say? His next words grew fairly intelligible. "We are now +headed for Valles. Well, we've decided not to go to Valles." + +Perhaps they had, but she at least had ceased deciding anything, since +the overruling of her veto in the matter of precedence when one is +hoisted upon a burro. + +A narrow pony path crossed the road. "First trail to the left, after +leaving the wood," Driscoll said aloud, "and this must be it." +Campaigner in an unfamiliar country, he had informed himself, and it was +with confidence that he led his little party into the bridlepath. But he +looked anxiously at the forest behind. He did not doubt but that +Rodrigo, if it were he back there, would terrify Murguia into betraying +their destination, or their supposed destination, which was Valles. + +"Can't you hurry 'em up a bit?" he called back. + +"We do try," protested Jacqueline, holding aloft a broken switch, "but +they only smile at us." + +Driscoll got down and undid the spurs from his boots. One of the immense +saw-like discs he adjusted to mademoiselle's high heel, passing the +strap twice around the silk-clad ankle. Jacqueline gazed down on the +short-cropped, curly head, and she saw that the back of his neck was +suddenly red. But the discovery awakened nothing of the coquette in her. +Quite the contrary, there was something grateful, even gravely maternal, +in the smile hovering on her lips for the rough trooper who took fright +like a girl over a revealed instep. Still, the interest was not +altogether maternal as she watched him doing the same service for +Berthe. Perhaps he was too far away, or perhaps practice brought +indifference, but at any rate, his neck was no longer tinged in that +fiery way. + +"Now dig 'em!" said he. "We want to make that clump of mesquite yonder, +now pretty quick." + +The trees he pointed to were two or three miles away, but the travelers +covered the distance at an easy lope. Driscoll kept an eye on the road +they had just left, and once hidden by the mesquite he called a halt. As +he expected, a number of horsemen appeared at a trot from the direction +of the forest. They did not pause at the cross trail, however, but kept +to the highway in the direction of Valles. The American and the two +girls could now safely continue their journey along the bridlepath. + +"Monsieur," Jacqueline questioned demurely, and in her most treacherous +way, "how much longer do we yet follow you up and down mountains?" + +"W'y, uh--_I'm_ going to the City of Mexico." + +"And we others, we may tag along, n'est-ce pas? But the city is far, +far. And, to-night?" + +"Of course," said Driscoll, "if you should happen to know of a good +hotel----" He paused and gazed inquiringly over hills covered with +banana and coffee to the frost line. He would not have tried a frailer +temper so, but to provoke hers was incense to his own. + +"You others, the Americans," she said tentatively, as though explaining +him to herself, "you are so greedy of this New World! You won't give us +of it, no, not even a poor little answer of information. Alas, +Monseigneur the American, I apologize for being on this side the ocean +at all--in a tattered frock." + +Driscoll looked, but he could see nothing wrong. She seemed as crisp and +dainty as ever. If there were any disarray, it was a fetching sort, with +a certain rakish effect. + +"Oh that's all right," he assured her heartily, "_you_ can stay." + +"Really, and after you've been writing us notes from Washington to--to +'get out'? We French people do not think that was polite." + +"I never wrote you any notes, and," he added in a lowered tone, "the +devil take Washington, since Lee didn't!" + +Jacqueline's lips pursed suddenly like a cherry. "Oh pardon me," she +exclaimed. "I did not know. And so you are a--a Confederate? But," and +the gray eyes fastened upon him. She rode, too, so that she could see +his face, just ahead of her, "but your faction, the--yes, the South--she +is already vanquis--no!--whipped? I--I heard." + +He did not reply, but his expression disturbed her unaccountably. She +could almost note the whimsical daredeviltry fade from his face, as +there came instead the grimmest and strangest locking of the jaws. She +tried to imagine the French beaten and her feelings then, but it was +difficult, for her countrymen were "the bravest of the world, the +unconquered." They had borne victory over four continents, into two +hemispheres. But this American, what must he feel? He was thinking, in +truth, of many things. Of his leave taking with his regiment, with those +lusty young savages of Missourians whom perhaps he was never to see +again. He was thinking of his ride through the South to Mobile, of the +misery in stubborn heroism, of the suffering everywhere, matching that +in the dreary fever camp of the Old Brigade. He was thinking of all the +beautiful Southland torn and ravaged and of the lowering cloud of +finality. Of the Army of Northern Virginia so hard pressed; of the doom +of Surrender, a knell already sounded, perhaps. Never had Jacqueline +seen such bitterness on a human face. It was a man's bitterness. And +almost a desperado's. At least there was the making of a desperado in +the youth of a moment before. She caught herself shuddering. There was +something so like a lurking death astride the yellow horse in front of +her. + +But over her also there came a change, and it grew as she saw and +appreciated the man in him. Her caprices fell from her, and she was the +shrewd woman of the world, a deft creature of courts, a cunning weaver +of the delicate skeins of intrigue and politics. A glint of craft and +purpose struck from the gray eyes, as in preparation for battle. Her +mischievous bantering had really been fraught with design, and by it she +had revealed to herself this man. But the change in her came when he +proved an antagonist, as she now supposed him to be. For in the +uncloaking he stood forth a Confederate. His cause was lost. He was in +Mexico. He was on a mission, no doubt. One question remained, what could +the mission be? + +Abrupt frankness, with its guileful calculation to surprise one into +betrayal, was the subtlest diplomacy. "Let us see," she mused aloud, +"you, your comrades, monsieur, you have no country now? Bien, that +accounts for your interest in Maximilian?" + +"And what is your interest, Miss--Jack-leen?" + +She staggered before the riposte. The "Jack-leen" was innocent +blundering, she knew that. He had heard Rodrigo address her so, and he +used it in all respect. But there was her own question turned on +herself. By "her interest" he of course meant the interest she was +showing in himself; he was not referring it to Maximilian. And yet the +double meaning was there, just the same. He had struck back, that was +certain, but because she could not tell where, nor even whether he had +wounded, she was afraid to parry, much more to venture another thrust. +Those who had sent the rustic evidently knew what they were about. He +could shoot well, which was exhilarating. To redeem one's country's +discredited bills, was quixotic. She rose to that, because she was +French. But to fence with herself--well, that was quality. Instinctive, +inbred, unconscious, and unregistered in any studbook of Burke or +Gotha--but quality. And she recognized it, for there was deference in +the silence which her baffled diplomacy now counseled. + +They passed many natives plodding on to Valles with market stuff, going +at the Inditos' tireless foxtrot, now a man in loincloth stooped under a +great bundle of straw or charcoal, or a family entire, including burro +and dog. Of a gray-bearded patriarch with a chicken coop strapped to his +back, Driscoll inquired the distance to an hacienda of the region which +had the name of Moctezuma. "Probablemente, it will be ten leagues +farther on, senor," the Huastecan replied. + +"We are going," Driscoll now informed his companions, "to drop in on +Murgie--the hospitable old anaconda." + +They acquired a pineapple by purchase, and stopped for their morning +coffee at a hut among numberless orange trees, and at another farther on +for their midday lunch, where they learned that the Hacienda de +Moctezuma was only just beyond the first hill, and only just beyond the +first hill they learned that they had six leagues more to go. They +covered three of these leagues, and were rewarded with the information +that it was fully seven leagues yet. Geography in Mexico was clearly an +elastic quantity. But towards three o'clock a young fellow on a towering +stack of fagots waved his arm over the landscape, and said, "Why, senor, +you are there now." Yes, it was the hacienda, but how far was it to the +hacienda house? Oh, that was still a few little leagues. + +In the end, after nightfall, they rode into a very wide valley, where +two broad, shallow rivers joined and flowed on as one through the +lowland. Here, on the brow of a slope, they perceived the walls and the +church tower of what seemed to be a small town. But after one last +inquiry, they learned that it was the seat of Anastasio Murguia's +baronial domain. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE HERALD OF THE FAIR GOD + + + "Les grenouilles se lassant + De l'etat democratique, + Par leur clameurs firent tant + Que Jupin les soumit au pouvoir monarchique." + --_La Fontaine._ + + +A wide country road swept up the slope of the hill, curved in toward the +low outer wall of the little town on the brow, then swept down again. +The portico of the hacienda house was set in the wall where the road +almost touched, so that the traveler could alight at the very threshold +of the venerable place. Mounting the half-dozen steps, Driscoll crossed +a vast porch whose bare cement columns stood as sentinels the entire +length of the high, one-storied facade, and on the heavy double doors he +found a knocker. Visitors were infrequent there, but at last a surprised +barefoot mozo answered the rapping, and in turn brought a short man of +burly girth and charro tightness of breeches. This chubby person bowed +many times and assured Their Mercies over and over again that here they +had their house. Driscoll replied with thanks that in that case he +thought that he and the other two Mercies would be taking possession, +for the night at least. + +The man was Murguia's administrador, or overseer. He took it for granted +that the French senor (in those days Mexico called all foreigners +French) and the French senoras were friends of his employer, and +Driscoll did not undeceive him. The trooper's habits were those of war, +and war admitted quartering yourself on an enemy. He brought the news, +too, that Murguia had come safely through his last blockade run, which +alone insured him a welcome without the fact that ranchero hospitality +may be almost Arabian and akin to a sacrament. + +Plunging into apologies for every conceivable thing that could or might +be amiss, Don Anastasio's steward led them into the sala, a long front +room, the hacendado's hall of state. To all appearances it had not been +so used in many years, but the old furnishing of some former Spanish +owner still told the tale of coaches before the colonnade outside and of +hidalgo guests within the great house. There was the stately sofa of +honor flanked by throne-like armchairs, with high-backed ones next in +line, all once of bright crimson satin and now frazzled and stained. The +inevitable mirror leaned from its inevitable place over the sofa, but it +was cracked and the gilt of the heavy frame had tarnished to red. At the +other end of the sala, a considerable journey, there hung a token of the +later and Mexican family in possession. The token was of course the +Virgin of Guadelupe in her flame of gold, as she had gaudily emblazoned +herself on the blanket, or serape, of a poor Indian. Murguia's print was +one of thousands of copies of that same revered serape. + +Urging them to be seated, clapping his hands for servants, giving +orders, ever apologizing, the overseer finally got the travelers +convinced that it was their house and that supper would be ready now +directly. With a glance at his two companions, Driscoll inquired for the +senoras of the family, whereupon a sudden embarrassment darkened the +administrador's fat amiable features. + +"Dona Luz, Your Mercy means? Ai, caballero, you are most kind. And you +tell me that her father will come to-morrow, that he will--surely come?" + +"Might we," Jacqueline interposed, "pay our respects to Senor Murguia's +daughter?" + +The poor fellow begged Their Mercies' indulgence, but Dona Matilde, the +senora aunt of Dona Luz, lay sick in the house. As for Dona Luz, yes, +Dona Luz had gone to the chapel, as she often did of an evening lately, +to pray for her aunt's recovery. Dona Luz had vowed to wear sackcloth +for six months if her dear patron saint, Maria de la Luz, would but hear +her petition. Out of compassion, Jacqueline said no more. + +Next morning Driscoll was astir early. He wandered through a +thick-walled labyrinth of corridors and patios, and came at last into a +rankly luxuriant tropical garden, where the soft perfume of china-tree +blossoms filled his nostrils. Keeping on he passed many of the hacienda +buildings, a sugar mill, a cotton factory, warehouses, stables with +corrals, and entered a tortuous street between adobes, where he found +the hacienda store. Here the administrador was watching the clerks who +sold and the peons who bought. The latter were mostly women, barefooted +and scantily clothed. Their main want was corn, weevil-eaten corn, which +they carried away in their aprons. They made tortillas of it for their +men laboring in the hacienda fields, or on the hacienda coffee hills. +The store was a curious epitome of thrift and improvidence. One wench +grumbled boldly of short measure. She dared, because she was comely and +buxom, and her chemise fell low on her full, olive breast. She counted +her purchase of frijoles to the last grain, using her fingers, and +glaring at the clerk half coaxingly, half resentfully. But an intensely +scarlet percale caught her barbarian eye, and she took enough of it for +a skirt. A dozen cigarettes followed, and by so much she increased her +man's debt to the hacienda. + +A shrunken and ancient laborer was expostulating earnestly with much +gesturing of skeleton arms, while the administrador listened as one +habituated and bored. The feeble peon protested that he could not work +that day. He parted the yellow rags over one leg and revealed decaying +flesh, sloughing away in the ravages of bone leprosy. He showed it +without emotion, as some argument in the abstract. And he was arguing +for a little corn, just a little, and he made his palm into a tiny cup +to demonstrate. The administrador opened a limp account book, held his +pudgy forefinger against a page for a second, then shut it decisively. +"No, no, Pedro, not while you owe these twelve reales. Think, man, if +you should die. You have no sons; we would lose." + +"But, mi patron, there's my nephew." + +"True, and he has his own father's debt waiting for him." + +"Just a wee little," begged the man. + +The overseer shook his head. "When you've worked to-day, yes. Then you +may have six cents' worth, and the other six cents of the day's wages +counted off your debt. There now, get along with you to the timber +cutting." + +The administrador brightened on perceiving Driscoll. "How was His Mercy? +How had His Mercy passed the night? How----" + +"Where," interposed Driscoll, "might one find the nearest stage to +Mexico?" + +Almost nowhere, was the reply. What with the French intervention and +guerrillas, the Compania de Diligencias had about suspended its service +altogether. "Then," said Driscoll, "could we hire some sort of a rig +from you?" The administrador believed so, though he regretted +continuously that Their Mercies must be leaving so soon. + +With a nod of thanks Driscoll turned curiously to the loaded shelves, +and gazed at the bolts of manta, calico, and red flannel. "Jiminy +crickets," he burst forth, "is there anybody on this ranch who can sew?" + +Yes, the wife of one of the clerks was a passable seamstress. She did +such work for the Donas at the House. + +"And can she do some to-day, and can you send it on to overtake me by +to-morrow?" + +Most certainly. + +Then Driscoll invested in a number of varas of calico print. It was the +best available. But the light blue flowering was modest enough, and +there was even a cheery freshness about it that called up mellowing +recollections of bright-eyed Missouri girls. Yet each time he thought of +the costumes he had ordered, he blushed until his hair roots tingled. + +Intent once more on departure, Din Driscoll hastened back to the House. +But he only learned that Jacqueline and Berthe were not up yet. He +mumbled at such looseness in discipline, until he remembered that they +were not troopers, but girls. And since girls are to be waited for, he +did it in his own room. From his saddlebags he laid out shaving +material. The Old Brigade had advised these things, while speculating +with dry concern on what was correct among emperors. After much sharp +snapping of eyes, for the razor pulled, the clean line of his jaw +emerged from lather and stubble. "Just in case any emperor should happen +in," he tried to explain it, taking a transparently jocose manner with +himself. + +Eight o'clock! Even civilized people do not stay abed that late! Yet he +found only Berthe in the dining room. She had come on a foraging +expedition. He watched the little Bretonne's deft arranging of a +battered tray, and offered droll suggestions until she began to suspect +that he really did not mean them. Berthe was a nice girl with soft brown +hair, and a serious, gentle way about her. + +The maid found mademoiselle not only still abed, but stretched on a rack +of torture as well, her helpless gaze fixed on a Mexican woman with a +hot iron. It was a flatiron, and it was being applied to Jacqueline's +poor rumpled frock. The dress was spread over a cloth on the floor, and +the woman strove tantalizingly, and Jacqueline was trying to direct her. + +"Madame is served," Berthe announced. + +Madame raised herself on an elbow and looked at the tray, at the sorry +chinaware, at the earthen supplements. "Served?" she repeated. "Berthe, +exaggeration is a very bad habit. But child, what are you about? This is +not a petit dejeuner!" + +"I know, madame, but he told me to bring it. He said we'd be traveling, +and there wouldn't be time for a second breakfast." + +"_He?_ Who in the world----" + +"Why, the, the American monsieur. He said just coffee wasn't enough, and +for me to bring along the entire contest of marksmanship--the, the whole +shooting match--and for madame to hurry." + +"Berthe! one would say you thought him a prince." + +"He--he is a kind of prince," said the little Bretonne doggedly. + +Madame whistled softly. Still, she ate a hearty breakfast. + +Meantime, outside two resplendent horsemen were galloping up the curving +sweep of the wide road. Their haste smacked of vast importance, and the +very dazzling flash of their brass helmets in the sunlight had a certain +arrogance. The foremost jerked his horse's bit with a cruel petulance +and drew up before the hacienda house. Several natives were basking on +the steps, and he cut at them sharply with his whip. + +"Wake, you r-rats!" A Teutonic thickness of speech clogged his +utterance, and he turned to his companion. "Tell this canaille," he +snarled in Flemish, "to go fetch their master here at once." + +The administrador came hurrying, and was overcome. His hospitable flow +gushed and choked at its source before the splendor of the two +cavaliers. They were Belgians. The first wore a long blue coat bedecked +with golden leaves and belted with a sash. Crosses and stars dangled on +his breast. His breeches were white doe, and his high glossy boots had +wrinkles like a mousquetaire's. Heavy tassels flapped from his sword +hilt. A brass eagle was perched on his helmet. Altogether, here was a +glittering bit of flotsam from the new Mexican Empire. But a narrowness +between the man's eyes affected one unpleasantly. It was a mean and a +sour scowl, of a fellow lately come into authority. The other man graced +the ornate uniform of an aide in Maximilian's imperial household. + +"Your Mercy is--is the Emperor?" stammered the poor fat administrador. + +He had, indeed, heard rumors of Maximilian on one of his ostentatious +voyages. The first Belgian, however, was in no way embarrassed at the +question. It was a natural mistake, in his opinion. + +"Explain to this imbecile," he ordered, "since there's no better here to +receive us." + +The aide explained. His Imperial Majesty, Maximiliano, was returning to +his capital. Fascinated by the beauty of the tropics, as well as ill of +a cough, he had lingered for a week past at the adjoining hacienda of +Las Palmas. He had also been deep in studies for the welfare of his +people. But now the business of the Empire demanded that he relieve the +Empress of her regency. Accordingly, His Majesty and His Majesty's +retinue had left Las Palmas that very morning, and would shortly pass by +the hacienda of Moctezuma. His Majesty, when en voyage, always took a +loving interest in his subjects, and a sincere ovation never failed to +touch his heart. So Monsieur Eloin--here the aide glanced with some +irony at the first Belgian--so Monsieur Eloin thought that the master of +La Moctezuma would be grateful to know of His Majesty's approach, in +order to gather the peons from the fields to welcome him. It would be as +well, perhaps, to reveal nothing to the Emperor of this thoughtful hint. + +"To make it quite plain," concluded the speaker, "can you assemble +enough men within an hour to do a seeming and convincing reverence to +your ruler?" + +"And tell him," interrupted Monsieur Eloin, "not to forget the green +boughs waving in their hands. Make him understand that there will be +consequences if it's not spontaneous." + +As they galloped back to rejoin Maximilian, the imperial aide was +thoughtful. "I can't help it," he said aloud, "I feel sorry for him. How +his blue eyes glisten--there are actually tears in them--when he talks +to these Indians of freedom and a higher life! He thinks they love him! +And all this elegance--no wonder they believe that the Fair God is come +at last to right their sorrows." + +"The loathsome beasts!" + +"But I do feel sorry. He really believes that he will verify the +tradition and be their savior. It's his sincere goodness of heart. Man, +how exalted he is!" + +"But where's the harm?" + +"Because, because the poor devils were fooled once before. And their new +Messiah may deceive them as bitterly with unwise meddling as Cortez did +with greed and cruelty." + +"Messiah for these pigs!" Eloin sneered. "What pleasure it gives him, +_I_ can't see." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE RITUAL + + + "... a bearded man, + Pamper'd with rank luxuriousness and ease." + --_Dante._ + + +The Emperor was coming--elaborately, by august degrees. + +First, and far in advance, arrived a haughty pack liveried in the royal +green of ancient Aztec dynasties. New tenants might have been moving on +this bright May day, for the flunkies attended a small caravan of +household stuff, which they crammed through the gaping doorway as nuts +into a goose's maw. The stuff was all royal, of royalty's absolute +necessities. There were soft rugs, and finely spun tapestries, and +portieres to smother a whisper. There was a high-backed chair, and a +velvet-covered dais for the high-backed chair. There were brushes, whose +stroke caressed gently and purringly the Hapsburg whisker. There was a +Roman poet, fastidiously bound, and then--there was the Ritual. + +The Ritual was a massive tome, of glazed, gilt-edged paper, of print as +big for the proclaiming of truth as the Family Bible, of weight to +burden a strong man, of contents to stagger a giant brain, unless the +giant brain had in it the convolution of a smile. Maximilian and +Charlotte had reigned a year, and so far the Ritual was the supreme +monument to the glory and usefulness of their Empire. It decreed, by +Imperial dictation and signature, the etiquette that must and should be +observed in the courtly circle. But alas, you can't codify +genuflections, nor yet a handshake. + +The next degree in the imperial advent was the imperial courier, who +proclaimed from a curveting steed what everybody suspected. "Our August +Sovereign" was approaching. + +Several hundred peons stared with open mouths. Gathered before the +house, they prattled to one another in childlike expectancy of the Senor +Emperador. Most of them were learning for the first time that they had +an emperor. Still, it sufficed to know this was an occasion for +auto-inspiring vivas, like once when the Ilustrisimo Bishop came. They +took new hold on the green boughs they were to wave. A handkerchief here +and there fluttered from a bamboo pole. Down in an adobe village by the +river junction, every gala scrap of calico print, whether shirt or +skirt, pended from cords stretched across the street; and cotton +curtains, some of crude drawn work, hung outside the windows. All the +poor finery of the Indians was on exhibition to do honor to a gorgeous +Old World court. But the fiesta air had already gotten into the +susceptible native lungs, and that alone, with only a trumpet's blare, +would make for a hurrah in genuine fervor. + +The roomy porch of the old mansion was crowded with the chief people of +the hacienda, clerks, foremen, house servants, besides the administrador +and the chaplain. Behind a remote column were the three wanderers in the +wilderness; the Storm Centre, the Marchioness, and the Maid. They were +to have been gone by now, and yet it was not the coming of the emperor +that had stopped them. The cause was nearer at hand. Smoking a long +black cigar, "grizzled and fierce, as ornate in braid and decorations as +a bullfighter," Colonel Dupin had delayed them. + +His Cossacks thronged the colonnade. The brick-red of their raw leather +jackets splotched every other color with rust. The Contra Guerrillas +were many things. They were Frenchmen and Mexicans. They were Americans, +Confederate deserters, Union deserters. They were Negroes and Arabs. +They were the ruined of fortune, now soldiers of fortune. They were +pirates and highwaymen. They were gold hunters, gamblers, swindlers. +They were fugitives from the noose, from the garrote, from the +guillotine. But they were all right willing desperadoes. And there was +not a softened feature on a man of the troop. Only a tigerish ferocity +could lead them, could hold them. + +They surrounded the Missourian on the hacienda portico. If only for his +debonnaire indifference, they knew him for a "bad man" such as none of +them might ever hope to be. And they watched him like lynxes, though he +was unarmed. Yet he did not look "bad." He merely looked bored. He was a +prisoner, but not the only one. Anastasio Murguia fidgetted among the +Cossacks on his own porch. His restless eyes roved incessantly over the +crowd, seeking his daughter, but they were steadily baffled. + +Down in the valley, where the Rio Moctezuma joined its course with the +Panuco, a dusty mist moved nearer along the old Spanish highway, and +faintly there came the sound of clarions. An eager murmuring arose from +the throng on the hillside. It swelled more confidently to a buzz as the +far-away dust lifted at the ford and revealed the beaded stringing of a +numerous company. The distant bugles rang clearer on the pure air. "Yes, +he comes," the people cried, "There! Seest thou, hombre?--_There!_ +Viva el Senor Emperador!" + +For Colonel Dupin the cloud of dust would shortly evolve into a staying +hand of mercy, into the exasperating stupidity of mercy. He had captured +the American not ten minutes before, and here was interference in a +gauzy haze of dust. He signed to one of his men to follow with Murguia, +and he himself placed a gauntleted hand on Driscoll's shoulder. "Now," +he said. + +But a white figure of Mexican rebosa and silken instep moved swiftly +from behind a column and touched the Tiger's arm. Both Jacqueline and +Berthe had been watching the Cossack chief rather than the spectacle in +the valley. And as he turned on his prisoner, Berthe half screamed and +clutched at the bosom of her dress. It was Jacqueline who gained his +side. She addressed him sharply as one who hates to reopen a tedious +argument. + +"Monsieur Dupin," she cried, "have I not already permitted myself to +tell you--yes, I repeat, you are mistaken. He is in no sense whatever an +accomplice of Rodrigo Galan." + +The Tiger heard, no doubt, but he did not stop. He kept on toward the +door, Driscoll beside him, and his men around him. He meant to pass +through the house. Some secluded corral in the back would do for the +execution. Driscoll seemed as indifferent as ever, though there was a +lithe, alert spring in his step. Behind him Murguia was moaning, praying +to see his daughter. Berthe followed, bewildered, and silently wringing +her hands. But the death march was so business-like, and every one else +was so intent on the approach of a royally born person, that the crowds +shoved aside by the little group never once suspected that they had just +brushed elbows with tragedy in the making. + +Jacqueline caught her breath, sucked it in rather, in a pang of angry +despair; and plucking up her skirts she ran ahead until she could oppose +her slender figure squarely in front of the burly Frenchman. If he were +to move on, he must trample her down. Her eyes, usually so big and round +and shading to a depth of blue with their lively mischief, were all but +closed, and through the narrowed lashes they gleamed like white steel. +Her voice, though, was clear and even, of a studied courtesy. + +"Yes, I know, Monsieur le Coronel, suspicion with you is quite enough. +But," she went on in contempt and feigned surprise at his dullness, +"this rage of yours at being outwitted by Rodrigo Galan blinds you to +something else.--Pardon, monsieur, a Frenchman does not jostle a +woman.--Thank you." + +"But the jostling by a woman's tongue, mademoiselle.--Well, what is it? +Have mercy, be brief, since I am not even to breathe while my lady +talks." + +"I was thinking, dear monsieur, of the feelings of an artist, to which +you are very, very blind." + +"Feelings, artist? Name of a name, mademoiselle!" + +"Precisely, Maximilian's feelings. You know how he abhors the sight of +blood. Ma foi, and I agree with him." + +"Go it, Miss Jack-leen!" Driscoll abetted her. Never a word of their +French did he understand, but he knew that she had a power of speech. +Dupin evidently knew it better yet, for though he laughed, he did not +laugh easily. + +"Never fear," he said, "His Majesty's delicate prejudices are safe. It +will be all underground before he comes, and no muss at all." + +"But you forget," Jacqueline cried testily, "you forget the imagination +of a poet." + +"And he will imagine----" + +"Yes, because I shall tell him." + +"Sacre----" + +"And possibly he would brace his feelings to a second aesthetic horror as +a rebuke for the first. In a word, my colonel, there will be one more +body to follow--underground. Now is this quite clear, or--do you require +my promise on it?" + +The savage old brow manifested the desire to make her a victim as well, +but in this extra blood-thirst she knew that Driscoll was safe. "I +understand, Mademoiselle la Marquise," he said, laying on heavily the +suave gallantry of a Frenchman. "Yes, I understand. Prince Max values +Your Ladyship's good taste so highly---- Pardi, I believe he would +certainly shoot me if you told him to." + +"Exactly," Jacqueline coldly assented. + +"And Monsieur l'Americain may congratulate himself on the influence of +mademoiselle, the arbiter elegantiarum--with His Majesty." + +"As Monsieur le Tigre may congratulate himself that the American does +not understand this insult, sir." + +Behind her rose a dry hysterical cackle of renewed hope. "The Little +Black Crow!" she exclaimed. "See, my colonel, he is not worth an +execution all to himself, so do we all go back to contemplate Prince +Max's loving ovation." + +"The Emperor arrives!" she cried gayly, returning to the porch. With the +others she was once more behind the remote column, an end of the rebosa +hanging over her arm ready to be flung across her face. "But +what--Helas, I haven't my Ritual with me."--The Ritual classified every +movement, every breath of the Court, as rigidly and with as little +consciousness of humor as Linnaeus did his flowers.--"It can't be a Minor +Palace Luncheon of the Third Class," she mused, "and it isn't Grand +Court Mourning of the First Degree. Ha, I have it, He--that 'H' is a +capital, please, not as a sacrilege, but to be Ritualistic--He is out on +a voyage of the Minor Class, Small Service of Honor, Lesser Cortege. Now +then, all's comfortable; no room for plebeian misconceptions." + +On they came, each rigidly after his kind, a Noah's procession of +Dignitaries with the August Sovereign first of all. To bring on the +majestic climax so early was illogical, of course, but dust having +happened to be created before precedence, the Cortege was changed the +other way round for a voyage, so that the First Category people breathed +what the August Sovereign kicked up and kicked up some additional for +the Second Category, and the Second did the same for the Third, and so +on down to the Ninth, or "And all others," who breathed the best they +could and paid the bill. + +Nothing preceded the royal coach except the royal escort, and that by +exactly two hundred paces, in which interval a canonical obligation was +laid on the dust to settle. It was a particularly gallant royal escort. +The Empress's Own, or the Dragoons, or Lancers, or Guardsmen, or +Hussars, or whatever they were, were picked Mexicans; and they were +frankly proud of their rich crimson tunics; also, perhaps, of their +heavily fringed standard worked by Carlota herself. A cavalry detachment +in fur caps with a feather completed the body guard. Mexico is a hot +country, but that was no reason why an Austrian regiment should +sacrifice its furry identity. + +"Belgians too!" exclaimed Jacqueline. "And the Mexican emigres! They +came back when we made it safe for them. But where, oh where, are the +French?" + +"Everywhere," growled the Tiger, "in mountains and swamps, dying +everywhere, fighting for this Austrian archduke. But he doesn't like to +be seen with them." + +Behind eight white mules of Spain, four abreast, rolled the coach of the +Emperor, solitary and marked as majesty itself. There were postilions +and outriders and footmen arrayed in the Imperial livery with the +Imperial crown. And on the coach door flashed Maximilian's escutcheon, +his archducal arms grafted on the torso of his new imperial estate. +There were the winged griffins with absurd scrolls for tails. They had +voracious claws, had these droll beasts of prey, and they clutched at an +oval frame ruthlessly, as though to shatter it and get at a certain bird +within. Poor bird, his shelter looked very fragile, and he about to be +smothered under an enormous diadem as under an extinguisher. He was none +other than the Mexican eagle perched on his own native cactus, and he +desired only peace and quiet while he throttled the snake of ignorance +in his talons, which snake had been his worry ever since the Aztec +hordes from the north had first caged him in. Beneath the Imperial arms +was the motto, "Equidad en la Justicia," but it seemed an idle promise. + +In the huge traveling coach, with a greyhound at his feet, sat one lone +man. He had a soft skin, rosy like a baby's, and blue eyes, and what +some called a beautiful golden beard. The huzzas swelled and surged from +all sides, and he smiled on the people. But he gazed beyond them, and +into the blue eyes came the light of exaltation such as is inspired by +music that starts a heartstring in vague trembling. + +The Cortege followed in carriages one hundred paces apart. The first +held the First Grand Dignitary, the only Dignitary of Third Category +rank, and hence the only one who could stand near the throne after +Highnesses, Grand Collars, and Ambassadors. He was the Grand Marshal of +the Court and Minister of the Imperial Household. His privileges +consisted of seeing "His Majesty when called for," and of "communicating +with Him in writing." But he could not see Him when not called for. In +reality the Grand Marshal was a quiet old Mexican gentleman who seemed +ill at ease. He was General Almonte, one of those conservatives who had +sought their country's tranquillity in foreign intervention. But +Maximilian had bespangled him into a Dignidad, and thus lost to himself +an able politician's usefulness. The real man of affairs was an obscure +Belgian who openly and insolently despised everything Mexican. He also +sang chansonettes. He was the sour-browed Monsieur Eloin already +mentioned. + +Dignidades enough to make up the Lesser Cortege were not lacking. Riding +alone was the Chief of the Military Household, who could return no +salutes when near His Majesty except from First and Second Category +personages. Under the circumstances, recognition of his own father would +have been rank heresy. Then there was the Grand Physician, the Grand +Chaplain, and Honorary Physicians and Chaplains, who could wear Grand +Uniforms and a Cordon and eat at the Grand Marshal's table; and there +were Chamberlains and Secretaries of Ceremony and Aides. Many +surreptitiously peeped into a monster volume as they rode. It was not a +mass book nor a materia medica. It was the Ritual. + +The Sixth Grand Dignitary of Cabellerizo Mayor helped His Majesty to +descend from His coach. He did it mid vociferous cheering and waving of +boughs and agitation of handkerchiefs on bamboo poles. Aides and Deputy +Dignitaries worked industriously driving back the simple Inditos. + +"'The General Aide de Camp,'" Jacqueline quoted reverently, "'will keep +the people from the Imperial coach, but without maiming them.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +HE OF THE DEBONAIR SCEPTRE + + + "And let us make a name."--_Genesis._ + + +The flame of lofty resolve burned with a high, present heat in +Maximilian's dreamy eyes. But the thing was not statesmanship. The +danger dial pointed to some latest darling phantasy. + +When the young prince--he was but thirty-three--descended from his +carriage, he signed that the Cortege should not form as yet. And instead +of mounting the colonnade steps, he turned and mingled with his humble +subjects. A pleased murmur arose among the Indians. "Que simpatico!" +they breathed in little gasps of admiring awe. + +The unusually tall and very fair young man, in the simplicity of black, +with only the grand cross of St. Stephen about his neck, moved about +among the ragged peons. Now and again he spoke to one and another, +questioning earnestly. Anxious orderlies were quick to brush aside the +touch of an elbow, but to those outside the circle, watching what he +would do, he seemed alone with his people. And in thought, he really +was. There was a great pity upon his face, and it was the more poignant +because these timorous children could not comprehend the wretchedness +which so appealed to him. + +"And thou?" he demanded of an aged man whose tatters hung heavy in +filth. + +A look of poor simple craft came into the Indian's face. "I, senor? +Maria purisima, I am cursed of heaven. But the rich senor wishes to +know--see!" and ere Monsieur Eloin could prevent, he bared a limb of +rotting flesh. "If it were not for my leg, Your Mercy----" + +"_Animal_," snarled Eloin in his ear, "can't you say 'Your +Majesty'?" + +"Your--Majesty, or if I had children, I could make my debt--oh, grande, +grande, twenty reales, maybe. And then, and then I should have a red and +purple scrape, with a green eagle, like my nephew Felipe has.--He owes," +the man added in a kind of pride, "thirty reales, my nephew Felipe +does." + +But his wiles failed. The rich senor turned toward the colonnade, his +sailor's easy swing giving way to a tread of determination. Also, the +pure flame burned consumingly. + +From the top of the steps, between files of dismounted Dragoons, +Maximilian looked over the people, beyond, in some far away gaze of the +spirit. + +Jacqueline hid the golden gleam of her hair under the rebosa. +"Silencium!" she whispered, laying a finger across her lips. "For now +we'll have the mountains to frisk, and the little hills to skip. In all +the Orient there blooms no flower of eloquence like unto his." + +The monarch's inspired look promised as much. "Mexicans," he began. The +peons huddled closer, their responsive natures quickened. His sonorous +voice was electrical, despite an accent, despite the German over-gush of +stammering when words could not keep pace with the vast idea. But the +one word of address gave the peons a dignity they had never suspected. + +"Mexicans: you have desired me. Acceding to the spontaneous expression +of your wishes, I have come to your noble country--our dear patria--to +watch over and direct your destinies. And with me came one who feels for +you all the tenderness of a mother, who is your Empress and my August +Spouse." + +"But not," murmured the sententious lady of the rebosa, "august enough +to appear before Him unless He sends for Her." + +Proceeding, the speaker solemnly told them of his divine right as a +Hapsburg, as one of the Caesars, and of his anointment by the Vicar of +God at Rome, so that to God alone was he responsible. As a Mexican he +gloried with them in their liberties, in the True Liberty he brought, +for had not the Holy Father said to him, "Great are the rights of a +people, but greater and more sacred are the rights of the Church?" Hence +he burned with Heaven-given fire to lift them, his subjects, into the +vanguard of Nineteenth Century Progress. + +Here Maximilian paused mid cheers, and thinking on his next words, his +delicate hand of a gentleman clenched. + +"Mexicans," he began again, now in the vibrant tone of an overpowering +emotion. "I pray to fulfil the mission for which God has placed me here. +There are six millions of you, a sober and industrious race. Cortez +found you so, and you astounded him with your civilization. But the +conditions that followed have enslaved you. Enslaved, I repeat, for you +are bound by debt. Your hacendado master contrives that you cannot pay +even his usurious interest. The food you eat, you must buy from him, at +his prices, of the quality he prescribes. And if your debt be not +sufficient, that is, if there seems a chance of your paying it off, then +you must increase it to obtain your daily bread. Your very children are +slaves at birth, since with their first birth they inherit your chains. +And if you or your children run away, you or they may be brought back as +runaway slaves. It is thus that I find you, Mexicans. And I find you +awaiting a liberator, waiting vainly through the centuries. But now, at +last, the reward of your suffering and your faith has come. In a word, +which shall be formally recorded in the Journal Official, We this day +decree----" + +"I knew it," exclaimed Jacqueline, "he always coins his inspirations." + +"----We this day decree your debts extinguished, and each and every peon +in all our beautiful country--a free man!" + +"Yet with not," said Jacqueline, "a foot of land to be free on. But you +know, messieurs, that Utopia is an asylum for the blind." + +"It's a spider on his ceiling," muttered Colonel Dupin, touching his own +head significantly. + +The emancipator's face was beatific. He heard the peons acclaim him, as +gradually they began to understand that there was to be no more +unhappiness. But it was curious how far, far away the sweet music +sounded, even when some belated "Viva el Senor Emperador!" cracked in +ludicrous falsetto. For the poet-prince these human chords might have +been the strings of a harp, softly touched. And as far away as +posterity. + +Jacqueline fell to clapping her hands noiselessly. "Oh, la-la," she +cried, "if we are not to have an epic flight from Monsieur Eloin!" + +It was true in a degree. Five minutes of stupendous history making had +just elapsed, and some graceful tribute was due. The royal favorite had +foreseen the need, and he was prepared; but whether by borrowing or +originating, it is impossible to say. + + "'Vous l'avez releve; votre main souveraine + L'a rendu d'un seul coup a la famille humaine. + De ce premier bienfait, Sire, soyez content: + L'Indien fera de vous MAXIMILIEN LE GRAND!'" + +"Parbleu, why not?" demanded Jacqueline. "If only he were as great as +his decrees, poor man!" + +Maximilian by this time remembered that he must be somebody's guest. +"Who receives Us here?" he asked. But none of his court knew. Even +Monsieur Eloin could only point to the administrador. "Why is your +master not present?" inquired General Almonte. The administrador opened +his mouth, and it stayed open. Colonel Dupin had promised to shoot him +if he breathed a word of Don Anastasio being a prisoner. + +[Illustration: THE EMPEROR MAXIMILIAN] + +But someone whispered something to a person on the outskirts of the +entourage, who passed it on to the very centre till it came to the ear +of Col. Miguel Lopez of Her Majesty's Dragoons. The someone who +initiated the message was Don Tiburcio, the watchful herder over one +golden goose. As a result, an aide rescued Murguia from the claws of the +Tiger. + +Maximilian looked the weazened old man over in disappointment. Here, +then, was the lord of Moctezuma, an hacendado, and hence one of the +heavy timbers for his empire building. Don Anastasio scraped awkwardly +and craved many pardons for not being on hand to welcome His Majesty. +Overcoming a curious aversion to the man, the emperor straightway +invested him with the newly created order of Civil Merit, and Don +Anastasio, without a peon to till his fields or to oil his machinery, +quaked under the honor of a copper medal. + +"And," pursued the monarch, "We find a need of stout officials, for We +have been grieved to learn of hacendados who secretly aid the prowling +rebellious outlaws that infest our country.--And as We must have a +prefect in this district of an integrity like your own, it pleases Us, +dear caballero, to name you jefe politico." + +The new jefe's greenish eyes contracted in terror. He thought of the +brigands whom magistrates were supposed to discourage, and he tried to +frame excuses. + +"Accept, you fool," someone whispered. "Mexicans can't refuse +office--that's decreed." It was Don Tiburcio, his sombrero against his +breast. To Murguia the Roman sword on the crown seemed more than ever +emblematic of "Woe to the conquered." In a veritable panic he accepted. + +As it was fitting that this day of a people's emancipation should be +commemorated by public praise to Almighty God, the Lesser Cortege +formed, and careful of precedence, went to worship their Maker. The +freedmen trooped after, waving jubilee branches. + +The little church of the hacienda stood on a barren knoll, mid chaparral +and graves. The curate's white adobe adjoining was the only near +habitation. A stone walk as wide as the church itself approached for a +hundred yards, sloping up from a pasture below. The one tower opened on +four sides for the better ease of the bell ringers. Its bright mosaic +peak rose peaceful and still in the clear air. + +The Emperor and suite arranged themselves within, and the Inditos gaped +stolidly outside, to hear the Te Deum for their broken shackles. At the +most solemn moment, the Grand Chaplain availed himself of his exclusive +privilege, which was to present the Gospel to the royal lips. Assisting +him in the general service was the hacienda curate. This curate, +obscurely found in the Huasteca wilds and yet not a Mexican, was a large +sleek man whose paunch bulged repulsively under the priestly surplice. +His flabby jowls hung down, and gave his head the shape of a pea, in the +top of which were the eyes set close together. They were restless +fawning little eyes and they roved constantly. But more than aught else, +they were adventurous; two bright, glowing beads of adventure. From the +folds of dull yellow flesh they peered forth at the august worshipers. +They hovered first over the Emperor before his cushioned +_prie-dieu_. Then, in hungry search, they began to roam. They +lingered with General Almonte for a moment, but darted on, unsatisfied. +They fluttered yet longer over Miguel Lopez, the gorgeously uniformed +colonel of Dragoons, and left him only reluctantly. But when they +lighted on Monsieur Eloin, they gleamed. There was no longer +uncertainty. They laid bare the man as the print of a mass-book, and +found him profitable reading. After that, the adventurous orbs returned +to their larger prey, the Emperor, and gorging themselves, scintillated +more adventurously than ever. + +And such a feast as the unconscious Hapsburg afforded the ghoul of a +priest! It was a loathsome surgery; greedy fingers trembling on the +knife, the victim's soul flayed, each nerve of a vanity, or tendon of an +ambition, or full-throbbing vein of hope, each and all lifted one by one +from the clotted mass and scrutinized exultantly. There was not a +feature but held a revelation as sure as vivisection. The high, broad +forehead of a gentle poet was often shaded by a dreamy melancholy, but +never once did it furrow in either craft or cruelty. In that the priest +knew his man for a devout mystic, knew him for a child confidingly +looking to a Destiny to inspire his every footstep. Then there was the +beard. It was too great a wealth of whisker, its satin, glossy flow of +too dandified a precision. The delicate finger tips stroked it softly, +affectionately, to the left; then softly, affectionately to the right; +and always dreamily. But the most shameless traitor of all was the lower +lip. It was the Hapsburg lower lip, heavy and thick and sensuous, and +ill-fated. Hanging partly open under the silken drooping moustache, it +revealed the spoiled child of royalty, who mistakes obstinacy for +decision, and changes whims with despotic petulance. Maximilian believed +in his star. But a lower lip is more potent than predestination. He need +only have leaned close to his mirror. Then he might have seen what the +priest saw so clearly. + +Maximilian paused on coming out. The freedmen were just rising from +their knees among the thorns and stones. Then it occurred to the +liberator that their participation in the rejoicing was not exactly, +ah--conspicuous. "Would you not think it well, father," said he to the +Grand Chaplain, "that these poor people partake of the holy communion on +this day that has been so eventful for them? If you approve, let it be +ordered that----" + +"But Sire----" + +Maximilian turned quickly, a pleased smile on his lips. The interruption +came in his own tongue, in German. And he who had spoken was a German. +It was the hacienda curate. His voice was soft, and purring with +deference. He wished to say, with permission, that the holy sacrament +for the Inditos was out of the question; scarcely one of them had been +baptized. + +"Not baptized!" Maximilian exclaimed. "And this, is this fulfilling your +sacred obligations?" + +The curate bowed his head. He had found them thus, when he first came, a +few weeks ago. + +"And you came----" + +"From Durango, sire, where as secretary I served His Senoria +Ilustrisimo, the Bishop of the state." But, as he meekly explained, he +had sought the Lord's service among the Huastecans. Pastors were said to +be needed, yet never had he imagined----He stopped short, in naive +embarrassment. + +Maximilian appreciated his delicacy in not wishing to reflect on the +Huasteca bishop. But from others he learned that neither baptism nor +other spiritual office had been performed in the community for years and +years, and that the bishop resided in the capitol, because among his +flock he had neither comforts nor a befitting state. + +"But why," Maximilian demanded sternly, "have you not put to use the few +weeks you have been here?" + +The curate's small eyes leaped to adventure. But he lowered them +hastily, and folded his hands over his rounded soutane. He had heard +that His Majesty might come, he said, and he had presumed so far as to +hope that His Majesty might deign to act as godfather for the poor +Indians, and so he had waited. + +Nothing could have pleased Maximilian more, and he looked at the good +priest with an awakening favor. "Then let it be this afternoon," he +commanded. "I will stand their sponsor." + +"----Before God, who will bless Your Majesty," murmured the priest. + +And to be brief, let it be recorded that they were baptized by the +hundred, with hurried pomp--"pompes a incendie," as the godfather +himself described it. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +RATHER A SMALL MAN + + + "Besides the queene, he dearly loved a fair and comely dame." + --_The Ballad of Fair Rosamond._ + + +Jacqueline was protesting to a worried personage in Grand Uniform. The +personage was the Cerberus of the Emperor's antechamber, and he barred +her way. He was newly a personage, and did not know Jacqueline. + +"But, Senor Oficial de Ordenes," she insisted, "don't you see that if I +put my name in your old register there, the man will be shot while your +Dignitaries are deciding to grant my audience!" + +"Shot?" vaguely repeated the monarchial flunkey. He was a Mexican, and +took his unfamiliar responsibilities seriously. He turned to the Book of +Court Etiquette on the centre table. + +"I tell you," exclaimed the impatient girl, "you won't find any +precedence for shooting in that thing. A doomed man hasn't any, take the +word of the Dama Mayor." + +"Dama Mayor?" This was more tangible, and the Grand Uniform seized on it +gratefully. "But," and he quoted from the Ritual in triumph, "no Dama +can present herself except on matters of service." + +Jacqueline hedged guilefully. "Of course not," she agreed, "and it's +precisely that why I must see His Majesty. It's about, about a piece of +valencienne he wished me to bring the Empress from Europe." + +The Oficial de Ordenes hesitated. "But the man to be shot?" + +"No matter, the lace is my business." + +With which assurance, the Grand Uniform presumed to announce la Senorita +Marquesa d'Aumerle. He reappeared at once from the inner apartment. The +Emperor's order to admit her that instant rather disturbed his faith in +the Ritual and the leisurely decorum it prescribed. + +Hardly had she stepped within the portieres than someone caught her +hand, and she saw Maximilian bending over it. There was an involuntary +warmth in his formal courtier grace. The only other occupant of the +hacienda sala was Bebello, the greyhound. He sprang up from a Hungarian +bear rug, and frisked about her joyfully. Her greeting to him was +equally sincere. Quietly releasing her hand, she patted him fondly, and +cooed endearing French. "My little Tou-Tou! Pauvre petite bete!" Then, +raising her head, she seemed to perceive His Majesty, "Isn't a bit +older, is he, sire?" + +"Mademoiselle!" the man exclaimed reproachfully. + +All the time he was staring at her. He stared at the tempestuous +ruffling of her petticoat, which had a wanton air that was most +disturbing, at the rebosa tossed rakishly over her shoulder, with the +waistline beneath as languorously suggested as though she were +Spanish-born to rebosas, and lastly, at a freckle on the very tip of the +creamy nose. He admired extravagantly, but he was no less amazed to see +her at all. A moment before he had supposed her demurely breaking hearts +at St. Cloud, and Paris under her feet. He knew how capable she was. It +had happened to him. How he had sought her, before she left! And how +maddening she was! He could recall nothing of encouragement, and yet, +blind, susceptible fool, he had never ceased to be encouraged. She was a +master craftsman, since her art was hidden. Then she had gone back to +France; some said because of a note from Napoleon. But he was of the +gloomy opinion that she had simply ceased to amuse herself. Yet for all +that, here she was again, and the astonished prince was eager to suffer +yet more, if it amused her still. + +She explained in a word, as though their meeting in the Huasteca were +nothing extraordinary. Away from Mexico, she had discovered that she +wanted to return to Mexico. The man left in Mexico would have augured +much from this, but at her matter-of-fact tone the glad light faded from +his eyes. Jacqueline, by the way, was a good manager. She reminded him +that she had no mother nor father nor other relative in France--which +disposed of France. Then, though he winced, she added that the +experiment of a New World court was a novel spectacle and she enjoyed it +more than the conventional affairs in Europe. Accordingly she would +resume her place as first lady of honor. At Tampico she had wearied of +ocean travel, and--well, that was all. + +Maximilian shuddered. He imagined the terrors she must have encountered. +"But, mademoiselle, the bandits? You did not come alone through that +terrible coast country?" + +"Of course not, sire. And that's why I reveal myself to Your Majesty. +You are to save the person that brought me." + +"Have mercy, mademoiselle. One must leap too far who hopes to understand +you." + +"But there's nothing to understand. Your Majesty has only to keep +Colonel Dupin from shooting him." + +Maximilian frowned heavily at the Frenchman's name. + +"On the porch just now," Jacqueline explained, "when you finished +speaking, he--the man I am speaking of--announced that he wanted to see +you, but the Tiger drew his pistols to shoot him if he moved." + +"Then naturally your friend did not move?" + +"Your Majesty does not know him. But he stopped for me." + +"Were you so afraid Dupin would lose his prisoner?" + +"I had no desire to see the prisoner commit suicide. But I had to +promise him that he should see Your Majesty later." + +"To beg----" + +"He is not one to whine for his life, sire. It is other business he +means. But Your Majesty need not hear his business. Your Majesty need +only _see_ him. Besides, it would hardly be court usage, granting +him an audience so informally, would it?" + +"N-o, but if I am not to hear him, why should I see him?" + +"To save his life, parbleu!" + +"And why, since he is not concerned about that?" + +"But I am, sire, and I count on Your Majesty to help me repay an +obligation." + +Maximilian was quick at clemency, but no one likes to have his +weaknesses played upon. + +"Mademoiselle, who is this man? What has he done?" + +"An American, sire." Maximilian frowned. "A Confederate, I believe." The +frown vanished. "And Colonel Dupin believes him to be an accomplice of +Rodrigo Galan. But he is not. He fought Rodrigo Galan, in--in my +behalf." + +Maximilian frowned again. "And so," he said, trying to do it lightly, "I +have this unknown American to thank for the pleasure of seeing you, +mademoiselle? Otherwise, I should not have known that you were here, +and----" + +He stopped. The gray eyes were laughing at him. Was his jealousy then so +apparent? And was it jealousy? Evidently, since she had discovered it. +And that vexed him, because he had supposed that he was hiding his pique +under a great self control. Angrily he stepped toward her, but the saucy +eyes only grew merrier. Then his mood changed. He resolved grimly on +open fighting. He meant to have either decisive honors or a decisive +repulse. For it was his tantalizing doubts of her that made her laugh at +him. Yet, when he spoke, he could not help the quaver of entreaty in his +voice. + +"Mademoiselle, tell me, _why_ have you returned?" + +The question was so abrupt and so stern, she thought in a flash that he +must have penetrated that Napoleonic intrigue which had flung her back +upon the Western shores. But Maximilian believed he knew another reason +for her pallor, and was encouraged. + +"You have already given one answer, mademoiselle," he hurried on, "and +in too great a humility to dare hope it otherwise, I took you at your +word. But now that you mock me--ah, you shall confess, you are back in +Mexico on _my_ account!" + +"And would that merit this august displeasure, sire?" + +Her words sprang from relief; he suspected nothing of her secret +mission. So the color might flood to her cheeks again, the mischief to +her eyes, and with it a most perilous daring. + +For the Hapsburg, it was coy surrender. + +"Mademoiselle--Jacqueline!" + +Her name! The old nickname fondly given her in childhood, when she was a +torment, and an anarchist to all law, and got innumerable scoldings, and +basked unperturbed in love and adoration! Her name, that only Mexico had +tainted! For the first time it passed his lips. But the sweet, quaint +syllables had long been in his thoughts, with something, too, of the +early worship in their bestowal. + +Curiously enough, a whimsical hardy figure in homespun gray took acute +shape in her mind's eye. The features were oddly sharp and clear. There +was even the rough trooper's disdain, which had been in his expression +when first he saw her, but which she had not noticed at the time. She +brushed the vision aside haughtily, as she would have done had the man +himself intruded. But she could not stem so easily the wave of self +disgust that swept her back from this other man, a prince of Europe. And +when she smothered that self-abasement, it was a matter of will. She +recalled her interview with the Sphinx in the Tuileries. She recalled +her country, and the empire she meant to win, a gift to France, worthy +of Napoleon, of the Great Napoleon. Then her will became as a master +outside of self, and horrid in its iron cruelty. She half lifted her +hand, and allowed the royal prince to possess it. + +The tapestry behind them parted and fell. A light step crossing the room +was suddenly arrested, and a low bewildered cry, half stifled in the +utterance, arrested them. + +"Fernando!" + +The Emperor straightened and wheeled. Turning round, Jacqueline placidly +surveyed a young girl, and her brows arched. She was not deceived. There +was recognition in the startled gaze of the newcomer, and of Maximilian +too. Only for Jacqueline did the situation hold aught that was amusing. + +She was Mexican, a beautiful Mexican. She might have been Spanish too, +or Moorish even, or perhaps to say that she seemed a gentle, drooping +Egyptian would give the better idea of her dark loveliness. Under her +skin, under a faintest tinge of brown, the rich blood drove its color +through, and blending with that other shade, made the cheeks a dusky +ruby, and seemingly softer and warmer. Her figure had prettily rounded +curves, and her wine-red dress and the filmy black shawl over her +shoulders deepened the tender, trusting depths of two large black eyes. +The long lashes were wet with tears. She looked once at the calm French +woman, as though afraid of her, and then at Maximilian, and at +Maximilian alone. Her gaze was vacant, groping, non-comprehending, yet +with a something of heartbreak in the beginning of comprehension. + +To the Hapsburg came the dignity of proud generations, exalted above +mere human scrutiny. He turned to Jacqueline, "As you see, +mademoiselle," he said coldly, "the stupid lackeys outside have admitted +a second visitor. If you will excuse us----" + +"But Fernando----" + +This time the girl's moan throbbed with questioning. She was as far from +understanding as before. But she noted unconsciously his princely +bearing, his European dress, and the luxury about him in the transformed +hacienda sala. Her eyes, in spite of grief and doubts, shone with timid, +admiring love. "Que elegante!" she breathed. "Oh, is he not, truly, a +caballero!" + +"Fernando?" murmured Jacqueline. "Bonte divine, this _is_ bucolic!" + +"But Fernando," the girl persisted, "who is there to--to admit me? I +only come from my room." With a tremulous gesture she indicated a door +which the imperial scene shifters had covered with portieres. +Maximilian's surprise at the existence of such a door was genuine. "And +I find," she cried, "I find you here, you, Fernando?" + +"There, there, senorita," said Jacqueline kindly, "His Majesty, I +imagine, can explain----" + +"Majesty?" exclaimed the girl. "Don Fernando--Majesty?" Yet a third time +she repeated it, as by rote; and, very slowly, understanding grew into +the words, and with understanding, terror. The dark innocent eyes went +appealingly from one to the other, and the lids began to flutter wildly +in a kind of spasm. "Majesty? Majesty?" Then, suddenly, she flung both +hands to her face, and a piteous shivering racked her body. + +"Catch her, stupid!" cried Jacqueline. "Don't you see, the child is +fainting!" + +But it was into Jacqueline's readier arms that she fell, and it was +Jacqueline who let her slip gently into the high-back chair that was the +imperial throne en voyage, under the claws of the oaken Hapsburg +griffins. + +"Get water! quick--Majesty, you--your cologne flasks!" + +[Illustration: "MARIA DE LA LUZ" +"The tapestry behind them parted and fell"] + +A mist was in the prince's eyes. "Pobrecita, pobrecita," he muttered +helplessly. + +On Jacqueline depended what was next to be done. She ran to the door by +which the girl had entered. "See, there's a corridor here," she cried, +"and that must be her room, there at the end, where the door is open. +Help me carry her--unless," and she deliberately punctuated her scorn, +"unless Your Majesty desires to call for aid?" + +But His Majesty was so far from desiring anything of the kind that he +nodded gratefully, impatiently. So to her own room they bore her between +them, and laid her on the bed there. A pewter waiter with napkin and +coffee service was on a little table. But the tiny loaf of pan de huevo +lay untouched. Her thoughts rather than appetite had possessed the girl +when she awoke that morning, and they had kept her until she emerged to +stumble upon an emperor in her father's house. + +"Out of here," ordered Jacqueline. "I am going to call the servants." +She had no sympathy for his wistful, forlorn gazing. + +"It's the end, the end of my idyl," he murmured. + +"_Are_ you going?" + +He came nearer instead, and looked in profound melancholy at the girl. +The ruby flush was no longer there, and the face was olive and waxen. +The lips were parted, baring teeth that were marvelously white. The +shawl had fallen to the floor, and an ivory cross on a chain about her +neck caught his eye. He turned it over in his hand, and on the gold, +where the chain was attached, he saw an inscription. + +"Maria de la Luz," he read. "So, that is her name. But I never asked it. +Identity would have blighted the idyl." + +"Sire," Jacqueline protested angrily, "this poor child needs help. I +shall----" + +"One moment, mademoiselle, I wish to say that I still do not know who +she is." + +Then, with a last sorrowful look, he turned back to his apartment of +state. + +Jacqueline's lip curled as she watched him go. + +"And you wish me to find out who she is?" she apostrophized his back. +"But I shall not tell you. And she--no, she is not the kind that would, +knowing who _you_ are." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +LITTLE MONARCHS, BIG MISTAKES + + + "How now, good fellow? wouldst thou speak with us?" + "Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be emperial." + --_Titus Andronicus._ + + +For the moment, Colonel Dupin had established headquarters in the +granary, which was a long, low adobe among the stables, with a pasture +between it and the House. The pasture opened on the highway through a +wide gap in the hacienda wall, and the coaches and steeds of the +imperial party which had passed in that morning gave the old cow lot a +gala air. The colonel was seated before a box, improvised into a desk, +and his rusty jacketed Cossacks lounged everywhere. Tiburcio and other +scouts were reporting on the dead and wounded of yesterday's raid. A +maimed enemy brought a chuckle deep in the Tiger's throat, but any +mishap to one of his own darlings got the recognition of a low-growled +oath. He was busy over this inventory of profit and loss when Jacqueline +appeared with the Emperor. + +Dupin arose and saluted after the grim manner of an old soldier. The +half-dozen of obsequious courtiers he did not see at all, but to +Jacqueline he bent from the waist with a duellist's punctilio. His +countrywoman was the one adversary whom he never thought of cursing. + +There was an opening innuendo. "No, Colonel Dupin," Maximilian reproved +him sternly, "I have not come to interfere with justice. I merely desire +to see what prisoners you have here." + +Driscoll and Murguia were brought in. Maximilian stared dumfounded at +his new magistrate in the role of criminal. Don Anastasio looked +apologetic. They had locked him up in his own stable, bronze medal and +all. Dupin explained. This Murguia, like many another hacendado, had +long been suspected of aiding the guerrillas, and yesterday morning he +had actually set him, Dupin, on a false trail. The Contras were tracking +one of Rodrigo Galan's accomplices in the abduction of Mademoiselle +d'Aumerle. The accomplice was the other prisoner, the American, whom +they had found at last taking refuge at Murguia's own hacienda. Here he +had had the effrontery to welcome them as mademoiselle's rightful +escort, had even seemed surprised when a dozen Contras pounced upon him +from behind and disarmed him. Dupin added that mademoiselle herself was +deceived by the American's cunning, and he did not doubt but that she +still persisted in his innocence. He might speak further of the fellow's +part in the ambush and murder of Captain Maurel near Tampico, but he +confessed that that required further investigation. + +No one could say that Maximilian had so much as listened. Such tangles +had long since become irksome, though he never ceased plunging into the +mesh. To unravel details, and incidentally confuse them more, was a +notorious mania with the poet-prince. But his thoughts now were all for +a girl who had fainted. Murguia he would leave to a court martial. If +guilty, the medal should be torn from his breast. Don Anastasio's +terrors, however, ran on the other penalties of court martial. + +"Now you," Maximilian turned to the American, "I understand that you +wish to see me. But you must know that law prevails in Mexico at last, +and that even the Emperor may not keep a man from trial." + +Driscoll's chin lifted eagerly. "Certainly not, but my business with +you, sir----" + +"Not 'sir,'" whispered Jacqueline. "You must call him 'sire.'" Little +she cared for etiquette, but she did not propose that Driscoll should +broach his errand. + +Maximilian overheard and smiled. "Yes," he said, "one tiny letter added, +and you change a man into a sovereign." + +Now Jacqueline, for her purposes, had thought to disconcert the man +unused to courts. But it struck her at once that nothing of the kind +would happen. His easy naturalness was too much a part of him, was the +man himself. And she was glad of it. She was glad of the something +distinguished which his earnestness gave to the clean-cut stamp of jaw +and forehead. He had stopped and looked at them inquiringly, as an eager +speaker will when interrupted. Then his brown eyes deepened, and there +was a tugging at the corners of his mouth. He seemed to comprehend. If +this was their humor, he would play to it. A diplomat must be all things +to the people he is after. + +"'Sire?' W'y," and his drawl was exquisite, "that's what we call the +daddy of a horse." + +Jacqueline turned quickly, clapping her hand over her mouth. Maximilian +was always uneasy when Jacqueline did that. + +"To be sure," he observed affably, "our American friend is not so far +wrong. Listen, am I not the father of my people?" + +The entourage buzzed admiringly at the imperial cleverness; all except +Jacqueline, who now that she should laugh and relieve the situation, +obstinately pulled a long, blank face. + +Maximilian's tone changed. He meant to wound now, and did. "So," he +added, with chilling stress, "it's 'sire,' if you will be so good as to +remember." + +Driscoll flushed as though struck. He became aware that it was all some +patronizing rebuke. + +"There is one," he answered gently, "who taught me manners at her knee, +or tried to, and _she_ never hurt a mortal human being by a word in +her life, but that, that, sir, seems to be where _you_ have missed +it. Now look here," he went on, kindling in spite of himself, "I respect +any man who has grounds--discoverable grounds--for respecting himself, +and if you are a man, then 'sir' won't overtop you any." + +Colonel Lopez of the Dragoons nudged him anxiously. "Don't say 'you'; +say 'Your Majesty.'" + +"Better let him alone," Maximilian interposed wearily. "He recognizes in +me a man, and--it's not unpleasant. But which," he added, "gives me +leave to hope that as a man himself he will not cringe before the +drum-head." + +"May I," said Driscoll quietly, "have one minute with you alone? It's +not about myself, I promise you that. But for you, sir, it's of the very +greatest importance." + +Instantly all stirred with curiosity, except Maximilian. All there were +keenly affected by the stranger's mysterious business with the Emperor, +except the Emperor himself. And each man's wits were straightway alert, +according to the hates and ambitions of each. Even Miguel Lopez, dense +of understanding, had his suspicions. Murguia's yellow features darkened +malevolently. The hacienda priest whispered to M. Eloin, and M. Eloin, +brushing the man of God aside as though he had been thinking of the very +same thing himself, tried to get a word with Maximilian. But Jacqueline +spoke first to the Emperor. She knew the susceptibility of the royal +ear. Maximilian nodded at what she said, and Eloin bit his lip. +Maximilian glanced at the American's clothes. Homespun did not +correspond with pressing business of state, to his mind. + +"My good man," he said, caressing his beard, "it's not regular, you +know. Another time, perhaps, when you can have yourself inscribed by Our +Grand Chamberlain and when your application for an audience----" + +"But if these senores shoot me before then?" + +Maximilian shrugged his shoulders. In any case, the Ritual would suffer +no outrage. + +"But I tell you," cried the exasperated Missourian, "this thing is +serious. And it can't wait either, not if it's to help you any. I may be +too late now. I don't know what's happened since I started down here +three weeks ago. Richmond was in danger then. And the Army of Northern +Virginia--General Lee----" + +"Have surrendered," calmly interposed the Emperor. + +Driscoll stiffened as he stood, his lips parted as his last word had +left them. He wondered why these foreign, unsympathetic beings of +Austria and France and Belgium and Germany and Mexico looked so blurred +to him. He never imagined that there were tears in his eyes. + +"It is really true," continued Maximilian, addressing them all. "A +courier brought me the news this morning. Yes, my friends, the North is +free at last to attack our Empire. But," he added blandly, "let us not +fear, not while we are sustained by the unconquered legions of France." + +"How he remembers us now!" thought Jacqueline. + +She thought too of him who had sent the legions. The entire fabric of +Napoleon's dream of Mexican empire was builded on the dismemberment of +the American Union. But, as the Southerners began so well by themselves, +Napoleon had left them to do his work alone. He just failed of genius. + +"Oh, mon petit, _bien_ petit Napoleon," she cried in her soul, "how +terribly you have miscalculated!" + +The room had filled with murmurs, with awed whispering, with frightened +questioning looks at one's neighbor, with ambitions and hates gone +panic-stricken. Driscoll came forward. The fellow of homespun held the +Empire in his hand, if they but knew it. "Now let me deliver my +message," he said earnestly. "And, afterward, on with the drum-head, +I'll not complain." + +"There, there," spoke the unseeing monarch, though affected by the +dignity of sorrow, "you shall have no cause. I came here, meaning to +pardon." + +"Pardon?" came the Tiger's growl. "Your Majesty saves so many enemies, +does he fear that soon he will have none left?" + +"Perhaps, Colonel Dupin, since my imperial brother, Napoleon, sends me +so efficient a bloodhound. But I thought the prisoners were already +tried and condemned. That must come first, of course. Yet We are +constrained to find another judge, one without preconceived notions of +guilt, to hold the court martial. Ah yes, as Monsieur Eloin here +suggests, I name Colonel Lopez.--Colonel Lopez, you will stay behind +with a company of your own men. Finish the trial to-night, if you can, +and overtake me before I reach the city.--Colonel Dupin, I have to +request yourself and men as escort, to replace the Dragoons left with +Colonel Lopez. And you, Mademoiselle d'Aumerle, shall have a carriage. +We start this afternoon. You will be ready, mademoiselle?" + +"Is Your Majesty quite resolved," Jacqueline asked in French, "that the +American must be tried? He can easily be found guilty, I warn Your +Majesty." + +"And is that not reason enough?" + +"Reason enough that he should not be tried, since he is not guilty. But +perhaps Your Majesty has thought of sending him under guard to the +frontier, back to his own country, where he would not longer be an +annoyance?" + +"My dear young lady," returned the Emperor, "it seems that you expect me +to blot out the processes of law simply because even I cannot make them +infallible. But you do not answer my question. I offer you protection to +the City?" + +"He must stand trial then?" + +"Yes--but will you be ready to start this afternoon?" + +"Your Majesty should know that I cannot accept." + +"Does this trial interest you so much, mademoiselle?" + +"Thanking Your Majesty," said Jacqueline coldly, "I should rather not +accompany him." + +Maximilian swung on his heel and called Lopez aside. "Mi coronel," he +said, "when you follow to-morrow, you will offer to bring the Senorita +d'Aumerle, if she desires it.--And Lopez, you remember the young Mexican +girl we used to meet near here, during the last few evenings?" + +"When you and I, sire, would ride over from Las Palmas incognito?" + +"Yes. She was able to--to tell me much about the peon life, and I should +like to reward her in--in some way. Do you know, Miguel, I suspect she +lives on this very ranch. It was at the church here that we would meet +her, you know? And now, since I must leave, I wish you to find her. +Induce her to come with mademoiselle to the City under your escort. +Assure her that she shall have an honored place at court.--Jove, there's +my new order of San Carlos for women! She shall have that for--for +aiding my researches among the peons. Now, Miguel mio, do your best!" + +With which words Maximilian turned back alone, and as he went, he +thought how as a simple man he had won a maiden's heart. He had been +learning that a prince may miss one or two very dear things in life. +"It's ended, the little ranchero idyl," he murmured. "But there's been +no harm. She shall not regret it." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A TARTAR _AND_ A TARTAR + + + "But all's brave that youth mounts and folly guides." + --_As You Like It._ + + +As Maximilian crossed the pasture, he suddenly had to jump aside with +considerable sprightliness. A brace of horsemen came swerving through +the gateway from the highroad and tore down upon him as though the Day +of Judgment galloped behind. They were abreast, ten feet apart, but the +oddest thing was a lariat that dangled between them, from saddle-horn to +saddle-horn. + +The thunder of hoofs brought Dragoons and Cossacks and Dignitaries, and +emptied the granary. Even insane horsemen could see that the Empire was +encamped over that cow lot. And as nearer they rushed, the two maniacs +seemed to recognize the fact. One was straightway more anxious to +arrive; a directly opposite effect was apparent in the other. And there +was the rope between them, from saddle-horn to saddle-horn. Their +opinions on destination, unexpectedly diverging, promised something. And +since one wanted to stop and the other to hasten, the something was not +long in happening. + +One of the horsemen--he wore a sombrero--leaned back frantically. The +other--who wore a battered soldier cap--passed ahead like the wind. The +lariat twanged, but held. Sombrero's horse got its feet planted. The +horse of Soldier Cap slowed to a standstill, and panted. Sombrero flung +out his pistol, Soldier Cap his. They aimed at each other, the triggers +snapped, no report. They looked amazed, embarrassed; and tried again. +Same result. "Por Dios!" "Sacre nom!" They hurled the pistols, each at +the other's head. Both ducked. Sombrero wheeled, drove home the spurs, +and headed for retreat. Soldier Cap and horse braced themselves against +the shock. The spectators, running nearer, now perceived that the lariat +was tied round each man's waist as well as wrapped over his pommel. +Soldier Cap weathered the jolt, next plunged suddenly closer, and in the +instant of the slack, unwound the rope from his saddle and leaped to the +ground. In two leaps more he had Sombrero about the neck. They fell +together, rolling and fighting, while Sombrero's horse reared and plowed +the soil with them. Dragoons and Cossacks heaped themselves on all +three. It was quite an energetic mystery altogether. + +Under the soldier cap, under dust and blood and scratches, Jacqueline +caught glimpses of a happy face. + +"Oh la-la, it's--it's Michel!" + +"Rodrigo Galan!" roared the Tiger, in his turn recognizing Sombrero. +"Here, up with him! Six of you, quick there, in line, shoot him!" + +It was near the sweetest moment of the old warrior's life. + +"One moment, colonel!" someone spoke quietly. "Is it a Huastecan custom, +by the way, to shoot a cavalier the instant he--ah--dismounts?" + +"But this scoundrel is Rodrigo Galan, Your Majesty. And that black +horse, sacre tonnerre, that is Maurel's horse. Captain Maurel, sire, +whom he murdered!" + +Don Rodrigo straightened pompously. "Your Most Opportune Majesty--" he +began. + +"Also, Colonel Dupin," Maximilian continued, "he waylaid the Belgian +ambassador, sent by Leopold, brother to Our August Spouse." + +"The more reason to shoot him, pardi!" + +"Without doubt, monsieur. But his execution must have eclat. Europe must +know that Mexican outlaws do not go unpunished.--Colonel Lopez, you will +take charge of Our prisoner. Guard him well, and bring him with you to +the City. He shall be tried there, with every ceremony." + +Colonel Dupin, that policeman of the backwoods forced upon Mexico by +Napoleon, could only grind his teeth, which he did. + +"Now then," said His Majesty, "let Us see this brigand-catcher who +excels the redoubtable Contra Guerrillas.--As I live, the young man is a +Chasseur d'Afrique! Step nearer, sir, and tell Us who you are." + +"Michel Ney, at Your Majesty's service." + +"The Prince of Moskowa!" exclaimed the Emperor. In his court, he was +grateful for even a Napoleonic prince. + +"Sergeant, Your Majesty." It looked as though Ney were hinting to be +made something else. + +"I see," said Maximilian. "And so Our Empire of romance is to hold a +baton for another of the family of Ney. But to start more modestly, how +would a lieutenancy suit, do you think?" + +"Your pardon, sire, but I report to His Excellency, Marshal Bazaine." + +Maximilian's white brow clouded. The French occupation was ever a thorn +in his side. He could never quite be Emperor in fact. He could not even +promote a likely young man. He had to "recommend" to one Bazaine, who +had carried a knapsack. + +"Quite so," he answered coldly. "I shall inform Our dear Marshal how +well you deserve." + +"The fact is, Your Majesty," said Ney in some confusion, "I did +not--exactly--capture him. It was, uh, sort of mutual." + +Everybody stared curiously. There was the rope, the unloaded pistols. It +was a queer puzzle. How did it happen? Ney began with an apology. Would +Mademoiselle d'Aumerle forgive him? But he had worried though! He should +not have left her, day before yesterday! + +"Because of a greater attraction?" the young woman suggested. + +Ney demurred so earnestly that Jacqueline laughed outright. "Don't make +it worse, Michel," said she. "I know how you regretted the death of the +terrible Rodrigo. Then you learned that he was alive. Oh no, I couldn't +have held you.--But go on. Did he prove interesting?" + +The Frenchman told his story. It appeared that, on deserting +mademoiselle two days before, he went at the best speed of his horse up +the ravine she had so graciously indicated. He hoped to overtake the +fugitive bandit, and after an hour, at a turn in the arroyo, did meet +him, face to face. Both were equally astounded. Rodrigo was retracing +his steps, having been blocked by a dried waterfall. Either man drew and +covered the other. The Mexican did not fire. Seeing Ney, he supposed the +Contras at no great distance, and a shot would bring them on his heels. +But after a time the thing commenced to grow ridiculous, and Ney +laughed. + +"Monsieur Rodrigue," he said, "I hope you will come along quietly." + +Fra Diavolo mistook the Gallic humor for an assurance of armed backing +near at hand. "Where to?" he asked. + +"The devil take me if _I_ know! Where would you suggest?" + +It dawned then on the puzzled brigand that the other knew nothing of the +country, and accordingly they struck up an armistice; which, for the +rest, the alert revolver of each made imperative. Their protocol's chief +clause required the prisoner to conduct his captor to some neutral +point. Rodrigo suggested Anastasio Murguia's ranch, and Ney agreed. But +as to what might happen on arriving, they left in blank. Michel had a +duel in mind, if honest seconds were to be had. The craftier Rodrigo +hoped to find some of his own men lurking about the hacienda. + +A cessation of hostile moves was further stipulated, though treachery of +course warranted the instant drawing of weapons. Should the prisoner try +to betray the captor to guerrillas, this was to constitute treachery. +Ney for his part insisted on his rights as captor. That is, he could +call for help if he got the chance. Rodrigo assented willingly. He knew +the neighborhood. He would avoid the Cossacks, and the Frenchman might +shout to his heart's ease. To do him justice, the outlaw had no desire +to kill Ney, even if Ney gave him leave. A duke and prince in one was +too valuable. A pretty ransom loomed brightly. Ney suspected as much, +but not being ingenuous enough to obviate the risks, took a huge delight +in them. + +Conforming to the terms of the truce, each man, simultaneously, put his +gun in his holster. Then, good company enough one for the other, though +with eyes ever on the watch, they proceeded along tortuous bridle paths +until twilight, meeting no one. They camped in the same forest which +that same moment held Murguia, Driscoll, and the two girls. They +tethered their horses together and made a bed of leaves for themselves. +Each laid his pistol a comfortable distance away, so that if either +tried to arm himself while the other slept, there would be much snapping +of twigs under his feet. Again simultaneously, they sat down and talked, +and smoked cigarettes in lieu of supper. Ney progressed in his Spanish +that evening. Fra Diavolo wished to impress on the companionable +Frenchman that he, Rodrigo Galan, was a more terrible person than +Colonel Dupin. He seemed envious, even of the compliment implied in the +Tiger's nickname. + +During a pause the brigand said, "Now don't jump, caballero, because I'm +only getting out my flask." + +"The beautiful idea!" returned Ney. "I'll do the same." + +But each stopped with the liquor at his mouth. It was consolation for +lack of food, but if one refrained and the other partook--well, there +would be a light sleeper and a heavy sleeper. With the tempting fumes in +their nostrils, they waited, each for the other, to quaff first. And +neither did. Finally Rodrigo proposed that they equalize the perils of +indulgence. Accordingly each lowered the contents of his flask by three +swallows, after which they compared the extent of the ebb tide in either +bottle. + +"But, voyons," Ney objected, "you haven't taken as much as I have!" + +Rodrigo admitted the impeachment, and amiably took another draught. But +the swallow proved too large, and Ney in his turn tried to balance that +one, only to fail likewise. This entailed another effort from Rodrigo, +which resulted in still another exaggeration. + +"Now you've had _more_ than I have," Michel complained, growing +vague on the real point at issue. + +"Bien, senor, suppose you try a little of this. It's catalan, genuine, +too, smuggled at Tampico." + +"Mine's cognac," said Ney. "Have some?" + +They exchanged flasks, and that night in the forest their snores were +discordant and loud. Ney half awoke once, and remembered that he seemed +to have heard the tramp of many horses. Toward morning, when it was not +yet light, he was aroused for good by a savage tightening around his +waist and a tremendous pull. He sat up, and heard his prisoner scuffling +and swearing near him. + +"You've tied me, you sneaking animal without shame!" + +"It's you that's tied me, tete de voleur!" + +But as Rodrigo wrested in the dark, Ney found that the brigand's +stumblings corresponded with the tightening about himself. He clutched +at his waist, and discovered a rope. + +Both men groped vengefully forward with the line, and lurched into one +another's arms. Each had thought to come on a tree, only to discover +himself tied to the other. In the first start of suspicion, and in no +good humor from splitting headaches, one reached for his knife, the +other for his sabre. But the knife was gone, the sabre was gone. +Forthwith they grappled and strained and breathed by jerks and tumbled +and rolled and wound themselves in the lariat, until at last they lay +exhausted on their backs and blinked up at the beautiful innocent morn +peeping through the trees. + +"Now don't you untie yourself till I get untied," ordered Ney. + +"Or you yourself," retorted the other. + +"Let us both untie at the same time." + +"But one might finish first," objected Rodrigo. The brigand had grown +amiable again. He saw advantages in the rope. It was well to have his +prospective ransom never more than a few feet away. + +They discussed the problem at length, but were not equal to it. So the +modus vivendi was stretched a rope's length, and the treachery clause +expanded to include any untying or attempted untying before their +arrival at Murguia's. Scrupulously simultaneous, they arose, found their +pistols, and mounted their horses. To guard against any sudden varying +in rapidity of travel and its consequences, each wrapped the lariat once +about his saddle-horn. Where necessary, the brigand rode in front, since +Ney insisted that the other way would reverse their roles of prisoner +and captor. Rodrigo got some tortillas from a charcoal burner, and they +lunched and rested within the forest's edge till dark. But they traveled +all that night in the open country, and approached Murguia's before noon +of the next day. Hoping to find friends about the hacienda's stables, +Rodrigo suggested that they race up the highway into the pasture. He was +thinking that then the Frenchmen might be overpowered the more easily. +Ney fell into the trap. He accepted the challenge and was keen for the +sport. Thus it happened that they all but ran down the Emperor of Mexico +himself, and instead of guerrillas, Rodrigo saw Cossacks and Dragoons. +But the mystery of the rope, added to that of the unloaded pistols, +rested unexplained. + +Jacqueline was delighted. "If it were just conventional heroism," she +exclaimed, "one might talk of lieutenancies. But sire, this----" + +"Never fear," replied Maximilian. "I cannot make him captain, but he +shall have his reward.--Monsieur le Prince, I will leave you a half +company of my Austrians, if, though a Chasseur, you will deign to +command them. In a word, I desire you to have the honor of escorting +mademoiselle to the City." + +"And I thank you, sire. Parbleu, the sergeant is happier with such an +order than--than the captain without it." + +"Michel," cried Jacqueline, "and where in the world now did you get +that?" + +"Why--out of my own head. Really, mademoiselle." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +IN THE WAKE OF PRINCELY CAVALCADES + + + "... Now swell out, and with stiff necks + Pass on, ye sons of Eve! vale not your looks, + Lest they descry the evil of your path." + --_Dante_. + + +The Grand Equerry was again the Dignitary of the hour. He held the +Emperor's stirrup, while the Emperor, fittingly attired, swung +gracefully astride a curvetting charger. Behind was his coach, ready for +him when he should tire of the saddle. It was already late in the +afternoon, and he meant to travel all night. Flatterers begged him to +consider the importance of his health, which but made him unyielding. +Some slight martyrdom for his country appealed to Maximilian. No, he +said, grave affairs might be afoot since the Confederacy's surrender. +The capital needed his presence, and he reminded them that the State +came first, as always. + +The retinue climbed into carriages. The escort, Dragoons, Austrians and +Contra Guerrillas, formed in hollow square about their prince. Colonel +Dupin scowled because he was going. Colonel Lopez, when unobserved, +scowled because he was left behind. And Monsieur Eloin, at the Emperor's +side, thought well of himself in substituting for a rival favorite one +so distant from favoritism as the Tiger. The Dragoons and Austrians who +were to remain presented arms on the hacienda porch, and Lopez gave them +the cue for a parting viva. The emancipated peons, still wet from +spiritual grace, swelled the din gratefully and stridently, lured to it +by their thoughtful pastor, the hacienda curate. + +But Maximilian still lingered. He looked from window to window under the +colonnade, and seemed expectant. But Lopez signaled to the buglers, and +the trumpet call and the redoubled huzzas of a people thrilled him out +of his melancholy. With a sigh he gave over his private loves and poesy. +He breathed deep and his eyes flashed. And as the grand monarch and +good, he departed with the acclaim of posterity in his ears, conscious +that the superb figure he made was for History's contemplation. + +At this time the Marquise d'Aumerle was half way up a ladder in the +garden. She was picking the fragrant china blossoms, tossing them down +to Berthe's apron, and humming "Mironton, mironton, mirontaine" in +blissful indifference to many things, to princes among them. + +Nor was the other girl behind the hacienda shutters. Yet she, at least, +saw him ride away. High up in the chapel tower, between the bell and the +masonry, crouched a sobbing little figure. She gazed and gazed, with +straining eyes. Over there below, in front of her father's house, were +glittering swords and dazzling helmets, and the sheen of gilded +escutcheons on coach doors. And as the beautiful pageant wound its way +along the highroad, she watched in fawn-like curiosity. The sobs were +only involuntary. She was not thinking, then, that this was matter for +grief. Her dark eyes, that had been weeping, and were now so dry, held +to a certain one among the cavaliers, to the very tall and splendid one +with the slender waist, and they kept him jealously fixed among the +others, and were ever more impatient of the blurring distance. But when +finally he was lost for an instant in the general bright haze of the +company, and she could not be quite sure after that which was he, then +indeed the eyelids fluttered in a kind of despair. Yet only after the +last carriage had vanished under the giant banana leaves of the hill +beyond, did the tears come and tremble upon her lashes. + +"He is married, the Emperor," she told herself, as though the fact were +that second written across the burning sky. At last, full, grim +comprehension was hers. + +The stones of the tower glowed like a brazier in the sun, but the girl, +with her head on her arm against the parapet, shivered as with cold; and +a numbness at her heart grew heavier and heavier, like weighted ice. + +Below her the barren knoll, where an hour before swarthy stolid hundreds +had crowded awaiting baptism, was lonely as the grave. The peons were +dispersing to their village down by the river junction, or to their huts +near the hacienda store, and on the air floated the falsetto nasal of +their holiday songs, breaking ludicrously above the mumbling bass of +loosely strung harps. Nearer by, the only life was an old man with a +fife and a boy with a drum, who marched round and round the chapel, +playing monotonously, while a second urchin every five minutes touched +off a small cannon at the door. They did these things with solemn +earnestness. It was to achieve an end, for San Felipe's day would come +soon, and meantime each and every lurking devil had to be driven off the +sacred precincts. But there was one hideous fiend who grinned, and +pinched, and shrieked. His abode was the girl's heart, and he shrieked +to her gleefully, that she could never, never in life, wed the man she +loved. The fife and drum and the stupid little cannon simply made him +the merrier. + + * * * * * + +The imps were left in peace for the night, and all about the chapel was +dark and silent and desolate. But a man was working stealthily at one of +the rear windows. It was a square, barred window, near the ground. The +man chipped away at the granite sill with short, quick blows. The butt +of his chisel was padded in flannel, so that even a chuckling that +escaped him now and again made more sound than the steel. Soon he +dropped his tools, and wrapping either hand around a window bar, he +braced both feet together against the wall, and pulled. The two bars +scraped slowly toward him across the stone. Then, with a sharp, downward +jerk he tore them out. Quickly he climbed inside and cut the ropes of a +man who lay bound on the floor. Both men emerged noiselessly through the +window. + +"Have a care how you step," whispered the rescuer. "Your faithful guards +are busy sleeping and don't want any disturbance." + +"That candle-stinking sacristy!" grumbled the rescued. + +"But it's the only stone calaboose on the ranch. In fact, _I_ +suggested it, since Don Rodrigo should be kept tight and safe. That's +why Dupin left me behind." The rescuer chuckled as before. "Careful, +hombre, there's a guard there, lying right in front of you!" + +Rodrigo made out the prostrate form, and lifted a boot heel over the +upturned face. But his liberator jerked him aside. + +"Fool, you'll wake the fat padre, and he doesn't like my jests, says +they're inspired of the Evil One." + +"Thinking of the Bishop of Sonora's waiting maid, was he?" + +"Well, what of it? Didn't he elope here with her?" + +"And you, Don Tiburcio?" + +"Of course; she naturally wanted to correct her first bad taste." + +"By running away with you? If you call that good taste----" + +"I call that a good joke on the padrecito." + +Having by this time come safely to the front of the church, Rodrigo was +for making certain his escape at once. But Tiburcio interposed. "There's +some talk still due between you and me," he said. "Sit down, here in the +doorway." + +"Well?" said the brigand uneasily. + +"Well?" repeated his jocular friend. + +"Well, there isn't even a moon and we can't deal monte, as if that +weren't the same as giving you what you want, anyway." + +"I risk my hide saving you for money, then?" Don Tiburcio's tone was +aggrieved. + +"Oh no, for friendship," the sardonic Rodrigo corrected himself, "and I +think as much of you in my turn, amigo mio. Not half an hour ago I was +wrapped in anxiety, imagining you trying to collect blackmail, and I not +near to keep my patriots from your throat. Oh, the sorrow of it!" + +"God be praised that a dear friend came and eased your worries! But you +are not an ingrate. Since the Confederate Gringo took all my money the +other morning----" + +"Tiburcio, on oath, I haven't had money either, not since our last game +at cards. There was Murguia, I know, but I let him off for bringing me +that French girl. She was good for a big ransom, only your same +Gringo--curse the intruder! If ever the Imperialists catch him, and +Murguia is there to testify against him----" + +Tiburcio moved nearer on the church step. "And then?" + +"That's our secret, Murguia's and mine." + +"But Rodrigo, he _is_ caught. They are trying him and Murguia both +this very minute. And do you know what for? For being your accomplices." + +The outlaw started exultantly. "Then, if you want him shot----" + +"Well?--Oh don't be afraid, maybe I can help." + +"Were you with Captain Maurel when we ambushed them near Tampico?" + +"I can't remember," said Tiburcio tentatively. + +"If you will hurry down to this court martial, perhaps you will remember +better. Go, and I'll leave you." + +"Not quite so fast, Rodrigo. You forget that your devoted rescuer is +penniless." + +"So am I, I tell you. We'll both have to go to work, Don Tiburcio." + +"What's the lay? Tell me." The humorist's tone was unmistakable. + +Rodrigo looked about him in the dark. "Listen," he whispered, "there's a +bullion convoy out of San Luis before long, but--you shall hear no more +unless it is agreed that I am to meet them first." + +"Of course, hombre! How else could I threaten to expose them for +contributing to the rebels?" + +"Bien, it's next week. You will meet them this side of Valles, some time +Thursday or Friday.--Now I'm off. Adios." + +"Stay. You'll find your horse down by the river. The administrator is +waiting with it. And Rodrigo, don't you want your pistol? Be more +careful another time, and keep it loaded." + +Something in his tone nettled the brigand. "What do you mean? Give me my +pistol." + +Tiburcio pointed it at him instead. "When you cool a little, yes. +But it takes a good marksman to hit a Frenchman with an empty +pistol--especially when one wakes up and finds himself tied." + +Rodrigo stiffened. This was menacing to his dignity. + +"Both lassoed," Tiburcio went on, "and no telling which was heifer and +which vaquero, stampeding down on poor Max.--Ai de mi, I never thought +it could be so funny!" + +"Give me my pistol!" + +"Slumbering like two babes in the wood, and your sweet innocent breaths +perfuming the woody forest. I'd have covered you with leaves, like the +little robins, only----" + +"Was it you tied us, you----" + +"Just like two babes, but," and Tiburcio pointed his thumb to his mouth +and shook his head sorrowfully, "that's bad, very bad. Why didn't you +leave me some? Of the cognac, especially?" + +"If you don't explain----" + +"Softly there, amigo. Yes, I tied you." + +"Another of your jokes----" + +"Inspired of the Evil One? Oh no, it was--precaution. Yes, that was it, +come to think; just precaution. You see, I and Dupin had scattered your +guerrillas, and I was scouting ahead, to stir up any ambush waiting for +us--which I did later, when we chased them, and burned Culebra. But +going along, I heard snoring, and found you two, like two----Now sit +still!" + +"Why didn't you wake me? Then we could have roped the Frenchman." + +"And have him identify me after we'd gotten the ransom? Oh, no, I'm a +loyal Imperialist. Now listen a minute, will you?--Our Contras were +following me not a half mile behind. That meant I had to work quick. You +see, I wanted to find you both there when I could come back alone. And +meantime, I didn't want you to hurt each other. If either got killed, +there'd be no ransom. So I took your knife and his sabre. Then I tied +you both with my lariat. I was going to get your lariat too, and tether +the pair of you to a tree, hoping you'd hold each other there till I got +back. _You_ would do it, for I meant to pin a note on your sleeve, +explaining. But just that minute the Frenchman stirred, for the Cossacks +were getting into his ears, so I had to run back and turn them into +another path." + +"So long as it wasn't any of your infernal farces?" + +"Well, it _was_ worth a ransom, the way it turned out.--Sit still, +will you? You _know_ I take you too seriously ever to think of any +joke with _you_! Here's your artillery and cutlery. Quick now, +clear out!" + +Both rose to go, each to his respective deviltry, but not six steps +ahead in the black night Tiburcio stumbled over a soft, inert mass. He +recovered himself, half cursing, half laughing. + +"One of your guards, Rodrigo," he muttered. "He must have got this far +before the drug worked into his vitals." + +"Your mescal probably killed him," said Rodrigo indifferently. "But a +little knife slit will look more plausible in the morning, for you it +will." + +Getting to his knees on the stone walk the outlaw groped over the body +for a place to strike, holding his knife ready. But all at once he +stopped and got up hastily, without a word. He only rubbed his left hand +mechanically on his jacket. + +"Well, what ails you?" asked Tiburcio. + +Rodrigo gave a short, apologetic laugh. "It--it's a woman!" He quit +rubbing his hand, seeming to realize. "There's blood," he added. + +"Here," said Tiburcio, "you keep back, and run if anybody comes. I'm +going to strike a match." + +By the flare they saw that it was a girl and that her head was crushed. +Kneeling on either side, they peered questioningly, horrified, at each +other. Their great sombreros almost touched. Their hard faces were +yellow in the flickering light between, and the face looking up with its +quiet eyes and dark purplish cleft in the brow was white, white like +milk. With one accord the two men turned and gazed upward at the tower, +whose black outline lost itself far above in the blacker shadows of the +universe. They understood. + +Tiburcio shrugged his shoulders, a silent comment on the tragedy from +its beginning to this, its end. He threw the match away and arose, but +Rodrigo still knelt, leaning over her, holding the poor battered head in +his hands, half lifting it, and trying to look again into those eyes +through the darkness. He would touch the matted hair, as if to caress, +not knowing what he did, and each time he would jerk back his hand at +the uncanny, sticky feeling. Roving thus, his fingers touched an ivory +cross, and closed over it. With no present consciousness of his act, he +placed the symbol in his jacket, over his breast. + +Tiburcio touched him on the shoulder. "I'll go now, and bring her +father," he said. + +"Yes," returned the other vaguely, stumbling to his feet. + +"It's going to kill the old man," murmured Tiburcio, "or--God, if it +should _not_ kill him! He is a coward, but once he slapped you, +Rodrigo, for so much as looking at her. And now, the Virgin help--may +the Virgin help whoever's concerned in this!--But here, you must go, do +you hear?" + +"Yes." + +"Then go, go!" + +"Yes," said Rodrigo again, moving slowly away. + +"By the river, remember. You'll find your horse there." + +"Captain Maurel's, the fine black one?" + +"Yes, I slipped it out of the stables for you." + +"The fine black one?" + +"Yes, yes, hombre!" + +"And--and she never--she never saw--how magnifico I look on--on that +fine black horse." + +He was still muttering as he reeled and staggered down the hill. + +When he was gone, and no alarm of sentinels rang out, Tiburcio took off +his serape and laid it over the dark blot on the stones. Then he too +stole away, to tell her father. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE RED MONGREL + + + "Be this the whetstone of your sword; let grief + Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it." + --_Macbeth_. + + +"Where," inquired Din Driscoll, with a benevolent interest in their +doing the thing right, "is the judge advocate?" + +Colonel Miguel Lopez resented what he took for a patronizing concern. It +festered his complacency, for his was the code of the bowed neck to +those above and the boot-tip for those below. Luckily for him, he did +not strike the helpless prisoner. He turned to his judge's bench +instead, which was none other than the frayed and stately sofa of honor +from the hacienda sala, deemed requisite to his dignity. The satin +upholstery contrasted grotesquely with the adobe walls. Pungent tallow +dips lighted the granary to a dull yellow, and mid the sluggish tobacco +clouds were a shrinking prisoner in clerical black, and the mildly +interested prisoner in gray, and red uniforms surrounding. + +Lopez flung his sword across the empty box that was to serve as desk, +and filled the crimson seat with pompous menace. Lopez was a Mexican, +but did not look it. He had red hair and a florid skin, and he was +large, with great feet and coarse hands. Yet the high cheek bones of an +Indian were his. The contrast of coloring and features unpleasantly +suggested a mongrel breed. The eyes had red lids, out of which the +lashes struck like rusted needles, and the eyes themselves, of a faded +blue, seemed to fawn an excuse for Nature's maladjusting. But he had a +goodly frame on which to hang the livery of a king's guardsman. And as +the cross of the Legion of Honor ticketed his breast, he must have been +a goodly man too, and his Maker's insignia only a libel. Once Maximilian +had said, "What, Bebello, and art thou a better judge of men than I, thy +master and the master of men?" For it seemed that Bebello, the simple +hound, had read Nature's voucher instead of Napoleon's, and being thus +deceived, would ever snarl at the Colonel of Dragoons. Maximilian of +course knew better. What looked like toadying was only profound +deference for himself. The royal favorite could discriminate. He could +also be the thick-headed, intolerable martinet. The sandy lashes +bristled as the American inquired a second time if he were to have +counsel. + +"Being president of this court," Lopez announced, "I am judge advocate." + +In the tone of congratulation Driscoll blandly said, "Well, then, I +challenge the president." + +"Challenge?" + +"Certainly, Your Honor. It's my right, either on the ground of +inexperience, malice, or--but I reckon the first two will do." + +"This is insolence!" cried the president, and glaring angrily, he +maintained that it was a regular court martial for the field, and that +as he was the ranking officer at hand, there could be no appeal beyond +himself. + +"A regular drum-head," Driscoll observed. "Well, let it go at that. I'm +in a hurry." + +Lopez called a lieutenant of Austrian cavalry to his right upon the +sofa, and the Dragoon color sergeant to his left, and the three of them +sat thenceforth in judgment. The charges were read, and next a +deposition, gathered that day from Michel Ney. Therein appeared the +American, reinforcing Rodrigo Galan at Tampico, and in so far aiding the +abduction of Mademoiselle d'Aumerle. + +"The complicity is evident," stated Lopez, and his colleagues, blinking +at the candles on the box, nodded wisely. + +"It's straight so far," Driscoll agreed, "but the story goes a little +further. Does the ma'am'selle herself happen to have left any +deposition?" + +She had, admitted the president, but it merely corroborated the +foregoing. Driscoll, in sole charge of his own defence, insisted that +her deposition be read, but Lopez would permit no such waste of time. He +was brooding on Monsieur Eloin usurping his own place near the Emperor, +and he wanted to finish the present business so as to overtake them +both. + +Dupin's written evidence provided the rest of the abduction story, +seemingly, and there remained only the other charge, that of assisting +at the ambush of the murdered Captain Maurel. For this there was no +evidence, and the accused himself was examined. + +"Your name?" asked the court. + +"Driscoll." + +"Your full name, hombre?" + +"John Dinwiddie Driscoll, Your Honor." + +"Din--whatever it is--that's not a Christian name?" + +"It was, when I got it. Maybe I've paganized it since." + +"Devil take you, this is solemn!" + +"Yes, this is solemn." + +Lopez cracked his long nails irritably against each other. + +"You came here via Tampico," he began anew. "What days were you in +Tampico?" + +"From about the twenty-third or twenty-fourth, till we left a few days +ago." + +All three judges bent over a memorandum which the president pointed out +among his notes. Captain Maurel was killed about April 26th. + +"How did you occupy yourself while in Tampico?" + +"Mostly trying to persuade Murgie here that it was his move." + +"But your horse needed exercise. Did you at any time ride across the +river?" + +"I didn't notice. Have you anyone who saw me cross?" + +"Goot!" blurted out the Austrian who was one of the judges, so suddenly +that everybody half jumped. "Ya, das iss die cosa, sabe! Who has him +seen cross?" + +The court floundered. The witness demanded by the accused was lacking. +Murguia, a restless, huddled form on a straw-bottomed chair, was +watching hungrily every step in the examination. Now he shifted +excitedly, and his sharp jaws worked with a grinding motion. Then his +voice came, a raucous outburst. + +"Search him, Your Mercy!" + +Lopez browbeat the meddler, and--took his advice. Driscoll submitted +tolerantly to their fumbling over him, and all the while Murguia looked +on as a famished dog, especially when they pulled out the whiskey flask. +But when they tossed the thing aside, he sank deep into his black coat +and gave vent to mumblings. + +"Of course we find nothing," Lopez complained, "since his accomplice +recommended the search." + +It seemed, too, that the state's case must fall. + +"The Captain Maurel charge cannot hold," announced the court. + +"Ya, goot--mucha bueno!" exclaimed the Austrian with enthusiasm, while +the color sergeant, who had a red nose, wet his lips hopefully. He +believed that an acquitted outlaw, if a gentleman, would stand a bottle. + +"And as to the first charge," continued the president, "here is the +deposition of the Senorita d'Aumerle, which I have held till now for +this purpose. Read it, and you will note that though the marquesa bears +out the Senor Ney, she further testifies to the prisoner having later +saved her from this very Rodrigo Galan at peril to himself. Bien, +senores, have you any further questions?" + +The Austrian crinkled his brow, and after a momentous pause, shook his +head till his cheeks rattled. The Dragoon promptly replied, "No, mi +coronel." Then the three withdrew, and when they came back, the Dragoon +wiping his lips, they informed the accused that he was not guilty. + +"Which isn't news," said Driscoll as he thanked them. + +Murguia's turn came next. The proof of the old man's guilt blossomed +almost of itself. Jacqueline, to clear her protector, had been forced to +depose how Murguia had willingly betrayed her into Rodrigo's hands. But +she described the old man's reluctance. He would have saved her, except +for his terror of the outlaw. The sole case for the defence was +Murguia's character for stinginess; such a miser could not be accused of +aiding the guerrillas. But this very point seemed to heighten Lopez's +prejudice against him. Driscoll, being held to testify, only talked +sociably, and told nothing, and when under the quizzing he finally lost +patience, he said, "Oh, let him go! What's the use?" + +But they were so far from any such thing that they condemned him to be +shot. + +Then a voice was heard at the door. The sentinel there stumbled back, +and Don Tiburcio brushed by him into the room. + +"Old man," he called, "come with me! Your daughter----" + +Murguia started up, weakly swaying. The senile eyeballs, so lately +parched by fear, swam in a moisture not of avarice. Someone was speaking +to him of his daughter. He had not seen her yet. They would not let him. +And now he must think of her in this new connection, which was his +death. And her misery to learn it, and her misery, afterward! On the +morrow they would be taking him to the capital, his sentence would be +confirmed, he would be shot. Nothing of this he doubted. And he would +never see her again. + +Murguia stretched out his arms toward the president of the court, "You +will let me go to her, senor? Your Mercy will let me go to her?" He +murmured her name over and over, "Maria de la Luz! Maria--Luzita mia!" +until the words became a kind of crooning. Then he would break forth +again, entreating, commanding, "Your Mercy will let me see her? Senor, +you _will_ let me see her!" + +At the first note of intrusion Lopez had brought the pommel of his sword +down upon the box in front of him. But the syllables of the girl's name +seemed to get into his memory, and he began to stare with a puzzled +frown at the half-crazed old man. Lifting his eyes, he met Tiburcio's, +and Tiburcio himself nodded in some deep hidden significance. Lopez +straightened abruptly, as at an astounding revelation. + +"Tell me, Senor Murguia," he said, "your daughter--Yes, yes, man, you +shall see her!--But listen, what is she like? Has she large black eyes? +Does she wear red sometimes? Come, senor, answer!" + +The father gazed, wonderingly, jealously. How should an elegant officer +from the City and the Court know aught of Maria de la Luz? + +Tiburcio crept behind the sofa, and bending to Lopez's ear, he +whispered, "Si, si, mi coronel, she is the one you have in mind, and she +is his daughter." + +Lopez swung round and searched the blackmailer's face. "And now----" + +"You will let him come," said Tiburcio. "But bring two guards. And have +four others with--well, with a stretcher." + +Again Lopez searched the dark crescent that was Tiburcio's eye, and +again Tiburcio nodded with deep significance. "Bring him," he repeated, +"but tell him nothing. Seeing will be enough." + +Murguia went, unknowing. He would see her, thanks to some freakish +kindness in Don Tiburcio. He was torn between the joy of the meeting and +the sharp grief of the parting that must follow. At the time he never +noticed that they led him up the chapel walk instead of toward the +hacienda house. Tiburcio was ahead with a lantern, but when near the top +of the hill he turned back to them, yet not before the expectant Lopez +had seen a black something on the pavement under the swinging light. + +"You first, mi coronel," said Tiburcio. + +"I, you mean!" cried Murguia, "I, senor!" + +"But we wish to see first if she is here," said Lopez. "Don Tiburcio +thought she might be at vespers." + +"Vespers? There are no vespers to-night. Yet we come here! Why? Why do +we come here?" + +Tiburcio motioned to the guards. "Hold him until we return," he ordered. + +A Dragoon reached out a hand indifferently to Murguia's collar, and that +second the old man's ten fingers were at his throat. They overpowered +him at last, but they would have fared better with a wildcat. + +Tiburcio and Lopez went alone. They stopped before the covered thing +near the church door. + +"So," mused the colonel, "she ended it _this_ way." + +"From the tower," Tiburcio grimly added. + +"His----" + +"Well, say it. You mean His Majesty?" + +"His Majesty need know nothing of the--of the finale." + +"Who is there to tell him, por Dios? I won't. You won't." + +"But you forget a third, Don Tiburcio. I mean the man who was with you +several evenings ago, when you----" + +"When I was carrying off the padre's sweetheart?" + +"When somehow you two happened in this desolate neighborhood. Since you +took his name out of my mouth just now, you must have recognized that it +was His Majesty whom you saw talking to her almost where she now lies. I +was near by, guarding his privacy, but you both escaped before I could +stop you. Now then, who was that other intruder?" + +The other was Rodrigo Galan, but Tiburcio replied, "The other will not +have much to say. Poor Captain Maurel!" + +"Bueno, bueno!" + +"Not yet, mi coronel. Only we two know of Maximilian's part in this, but +we must keep it from her father above all others. I am a loyal +Imperialist, Don Miguel." + +"What difference does that make?" + +"The Empire faces a crisis." + +The royal favorite started guiltily. Since the news of the Confederacy's +surrender, Lopez's ambitions were clouded by a growing fear of the +fugitive Mexican republic. The Republic would have a good memory for +royal favorites, and he had been thinking on it. "Will Lee's surrender +make such--such a difference?" he faltered. + +"So much," retorted Tiburcio, "that to-morrow we will have more rebels +yet. So much, that what with freeing peons and confiscating nationalized +church lands and giving them back to the church--well, a very little +more might decide between Empire and Republic." + +"A little more? What do you mean?" + +"I mean money for the rebels. Luz's father is rich. If he knew that +Maximilian----" + +"Hombre, hombre, he's a miser!" + +"Just the same, I'm a loyal Imperialist, and if you are, too, you will +take good care to tell nothing to Don Anastasio." + +"You forget, senor, that I am the one to say that to you." + +"Then don't forget, Colonel Lopez. Do not forget that she fell, that it +was a simple accident." + +"Yes, a simple accident. Wait here, I am going to bring her father." + +On returning Lopez sent the guards away, and he and Murguia were alone +together. The old man stood dazed, unresisting. + +"One minute more," said Lopez. "First, I must tell you something. And +afterward, you will remember. Yes, you will remember--afterward. You +know who I am, that I command the Dragoons of the Empress.--Are you +listening? But do you know that, in a way, I am Maximilian's confidant? +Whenever he walks or rides, incognito, dressed as a ranchero, I alone go +with him, as I did during the past ten days while we stopped at Las +Palmas, three leagues from here. The very first evening there, we two +rode out, with our cloaks about us. He likes to commune with nature, and +gather curious flowers which he pastes in a book and labels with Latin +names. But this time he was interested in peons, yet as he had a +delicacy about prying into his host's business, we rode until we left +Las Palmas behind us. His Majesty would gaze on the hills and look at +the sunset, and he talked to me of a poetic calm about them which made +him long for he knew not what. And Murguia----" + +Here the speaker paused abruptly, and his faded eyes shifted and +hardened. + +"And Murguia, we came here, and--he met your child. He met her here, at +this chapel, where she had been to pray for her aunt. Old man, do you +hear me, the Emperor met your daughter! Then, next day, instead of going +on with his journey, he complained of a cough, and stayed at Las Palmas. +But every evening he rode here, he and I. Once I found a chance to ask +her her name, but she would only tell her given name.--There, you will +remember? Yes, you will--after you have seen her. Come, she is not far +away." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +EQUIDAD EN LA JUSTICIA + + + "... and I think I shall begin to take pleasure in being at home + and minding my business. I pray God I may, for I finde a great + need thereof." --_Pepys's Diary_. + + +An hour later the candles were still guttering in the court room, and +here Colonel Lopez assembled his minions of justice a second time. In +his manner now there was nothing of the uncertainty, nor the feigning of +penetration, which had before marked his handling of the trials. He +pounded the box with his sword. + +"In the light of new evidence," he announced shortly, "the two cases of +a while ago are reopened." + +Din Driscoll strolled in. "I've come for my belt and pistols. Dupin took +them," he said. + +Lopez signed to the Dragoons to close round him. Then he gave vent. Did +the Senor Gringo laugh so much at Mexican justice, since instead of +escaping while he had the chance, he came back, coolly demanding his +property? It was insolence! + +"_Gra_-cious," exclaimed Driscoll in his counterfeit of a startled +old lady, "what's the matter?" + +But Lopez put on a mien of dark cunning, and replied that he would find +out later. + +Murguia's case came first. The stricken father was there, dragged from +his dead by the petty concerns of this world which cannot bide for +grief. He was as a sleep-walker. He had come into another universe. The +hacienda sala, where his child lay mid tapers, where mumbled prayers +arose, or this adobe, where uniformed men fouled the air with cigarettes +and looked after the Empire's business--the one or the other, both +places were of that other universe, dark and silent, in which his dazed +being groped alone. + +The new element in the court martial was Tiburcio, and Tiburcio had in +mind one golden goose to save and one meddling Gringo to lose. He +riddled the foregoing evidence with refreshing originality. He testified +to the brigand attack for possession of the marquise. Had he not found +Don Anastasio stretched upon the ground? Had not the dauntless anciano, +the self-same Don Anastasio, fallen in defence of the two French +senoritas? And yet, did he not keep Rodrigo at bay? Si, senores, he had +indeed, until Colonel Dupin and the Contras arrived. He, the witness, +was with them. He had seen these things. Now, let anyone say that the +loyal Senor Murguia was an accomplice of that cut-throat without shame, +Rodrigo Galan; whom he, the witness, loathed from the innermost recesses +of his being; whom he, the witness, should be greatly pleased to strike +dead. But let anyone again besmirch the character of Don Anastasio! + +"No, no," vociferously growled the Austrian. + +Lopez opposed nothing. He had a clear notion this time as to what he +wanted. Driscoll marveled, and enjoyed it. Pigheadedness had made Don +Anastasio guilty, why shouldn't perjury make him innocent? And it did. +The mountain of suspicion and some few pebbles of evidence melted away +as lard in a skillet. The verdict was acquittal. + +Driscoll knew well enough that the presence of the loyal Imperialist +with the baleful eye meant a reversal in his own case too. But the +recent and very definite animus of Lopez against him he could in no way +fathom. The blackmailer testified again. The prisoner, this Americano, +had waylaid him in the wood two days before, and had robbed him of his +last cent. + +"Which you stole from Murgie," suggested the prisoner. + +"I? I steal from Murguia?" cried Tiburcio indignantly. "Ask him! Ask +him!" + +Murguia was asked. Had the witness ever, on any occasion, robbed him? +They repeated the question several times, and at last the rusty black +wig, which was bowed over a chair, slowly shook in the negative. Perhaps +he had settled a debt with the witness? The wig changed to an +affirmative. + +Tiburcio gleamed triumphantly. "An audacious defence!" he exclaimed. +"But luckily for me, Don Anastasio is here." + +"Oh, hurry up!" protested Driscoll. + +Asked if he knew anything more of the prisoner, witness could not swear +for certain, except that he recognized in the American one of the +guerrillas who had ambushed and slain Captain Maurel near Tampico. Yes, +witness was scouting for the murdered captain at the time. Naturally, +witness was present. + +"You wanted proof, Senor Americano, that you crossed the river?" said +Lopez. "Well, are you content now?" + +"Go on," Driscoll returned. He was bored. "Some people on earth are +alive yet, but while Tibby is on the stand maybe I killed them too. I +wouldn't swear I didn't." + +Murguia was called next, but he did not seem to hear. His body was bent +over his knees, silently trembling. A Dragoon pressed a hand on his +shoulder, but a sobbing groan racked his frame, as of a very sick man +who will not be awakened to his pain. The pause that followed was +uncanny--a syncope in the affairs of men like a gaping grave under +midnight clouds. Lopez spoke again. He regretted that they must intrude +on a fresh and poignant sorrow, but the case in hand was a matter of +state, before which the individual had to give way. It was very logical +and convincing. But the feeble old shoulders made no sign. + +Tiburcio leaned over and shook him gently, and whispered in his ear. +Still Murguia did not move. Tiburcio gripped his arm. "You and Rodrigo," +he said, so low that none could hear, "there was something arranged +between you. What was it? Tell me! Tell me, I say, if you want the +Gringo shot!" + +He bent nearer, and against his ear came a muffled sound of lips. When +he straightened, it was to address the court. + +If he might ask a question, had they searched the prisoner? They had. +But thoroughly? Thoroughly. But not enough to find anything? No. Then he +would suggest that they had not searched thoroughly. The court seemed +impressed, and Driscoll was fumbled over again. Still they found +nothing. + +"Whose flask is that?" Tiburcio demanded, pointing to where it had been +tossed and forgotten. The prisoner's. "Look that over again," Tiburcio +insisted. A guard handed it to Lopez, who squinted inside. "There is +nothing," he said. It was only an old canteen whose leather covering was +dropping apart from rot. + +Murguia's head raised, and his eyes fixed themselves on the judge, and +in their intense fixity glittered a quick, keen lust. It was hideous, +loathsome, fascinating. The eyes were swimming in tears, but their +hungered, metal-like sheen made the sorrow monstrous, and was the more +foul and ghastly because it distorted so pure a thing as sorrow. +Driscoll felt queerly that he must, must remove from the world this +decrepit old man who bemoaned a dead child. The itch for murder +terrified him, and he turned away angrily from the horrid face that +aroused it. But Murguia's stare never relaxed while Lopez toyed with the +canteen. And when Lopez, as though accidentally, thrust a finger under +the torn leather and brought out a folded paper, the bright points of +Murguia's eyes leaped to flame. But the head went down again, as once +more his grief swept over him, and another sob caught at the +heartstrings of every man there. + +Lopez spread out the paper, and as he read, he started violently. He +passed it on to the Austrian and the color sergeant, and they also +started. But the most amazed was Driscoll, when he too had a chance to +read. + +"Ha, you recognize it?" exclaimed the president. + +"Sure I do. It's an order from Colonel Dupin to Captain Maurel. Rodrigo +had it in Tampico, making people think that _he_ was Captain +Maurel." + +But the court was not so simple. "How came you by it?" demanded Lopez. +"Have occasion to be Maurel yourself sometime, eh?" + +With wrath, with admiration, Driscoll faced round on Don Anastasio. "Oh +you pesky, shriveled-up gorilla!" he breathed. He was no longer amazed. +This accounted for Murguia's borrowing his flask the night they were in +the forest. It accounted for Murguia and Rodrigo plotting together in +Tampico. But why tell such things to the court? The Missourian was not a +fool like King Canute, who ordered back the waves. "Hurry up," he said +wearily to the waves instead. Since he could not hold the tide, +anticipation chilled more than the drowning bath itself. + +The tide assuredly did not wait. It rolled right on, nearer and nearer. +Murguia was lifted to his feet. He was remembering already what Lopez +had told him, about his daughter and Maximilian, as Lopez had said he +would. The American's easy, stalwart form in gray filled his blurred +eyes. Here was a Confederate emissary come with an offer of aid for that +same Maximilian. Such had been Murguia's suspicion from the first, and +now it moved him with venomous hate. Yes, he would testify. Yes, yes, +the prisoner had ridden out alone at Tampico. Yes, yes, yes, the +prisoner was with Rodrigo there. + +"But why, Don Anastasio," asked Tiburcio purely in fantastic mischief, +"did you bring such a disturbing man to our happy country?" + +"That will do," Lopez interposed. "The Senor Murguia could not know at +the time that this fellow was Rodrigo's agent." + +"And," Murguia added eagerly, "I was helpless, there at Mobile. The +Confederates could have sunk my boat, and he held an order from +Jefferson Davis." + +"What's that?" cried Tiburcio, his humor suddenly vanished. "What's +that, an order from Jefferson Davis?" + +Tiburcio's was a new interest, now. He possessed a mind as crooked as +his vision, and being crooked, it followed unerringly the devious paths +of other minds. So, they had made a tool of him! Rodrigo and Murguia +wanted the Gringo shot to help the rebel cause. And he, Tiburcio of the +cunning wits, had just sworn away, not only the Gringo's life, but the +possible salvation of the Empire. Coming from Jefferson Davis, the +Gringo with his mission could mean nothing else. Then there was Lopez. +Tiburcio did not love this changeling Mexican who had red hair. But what +could be the mongrel's game? Why had he freed Murguia, if not to unleash +a small terrier at Maximilian's heel? Why was he trying the American +over again, if not to poison a friendly mastiff? And why either, if Don +Miguel Lopez were not seeking to make friends with the Republic? Or +perhaps he was at heart a Republican. Thus Don Tiburcio, a loyal +Imperialist, read the finger posts as he ambled down the crooked path. + +Yes, and here was Lopez putting on the final touch. Here he was, the +traitor, pronouncing the death sentence, and poor impotent Don Tiburcio +gnawing his baffled rage, as one would say of a villain. The execution +was to take place the very next morning. His Majesty the Emperor would +be asked to approve, afterward. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A CURIOUS PAGAN RITE + + + "E un peccato che se ne va con l'acqua benedetta." + --_Machiavelli_. + + +The Storm Centre looked round, about and above. He was as a fly in a +bottle. A massive rough-hewn door, jammed tight, sealed him within adobe +walls two feet thick. There was one window, cross-barred, as high as his +chin, and only large enough to frame his head. They had brought him to +the carcel, or dungeon, of the hacienda, where peons were constrained to +docility. A wide masonry bench against the wall approximated a couch, +but it was as blocked ice. By the flickering of a lone tallow dip, Din +Driscoll noted these things with every sense delicately attuned to +strategy. But his verdict was unpromising. + +"Tough luck!" he observed. + +The adobe was built among the stables that bordered on the pasture, and +when not needed as a calabozo, it served snugly for the administrador's +best horse. From the one stall came a tentative whinny. Driscoll jumped +with delight. "Demijohn! W'y, you good old scoundrel, you!" The night +before, he remembered, he had seen the horse bedded here. "Say howdy as +loud as you want," he cried, slapping him fondly on the flank, "you'll +not betray us. _That's_ been done already." + +Driscoll was cavalryman to the bone, and it heartened him unaccountably +to find his horse. If, only, he could have his pistols too! Ever since +the Federals had cut him off from his furloughs home, those black ugly +navies were next to the nearest in his affections. The nearest was the +buckskin charger. And now, only the buckskin was left, which simply made +the dilemma more poignant. The condemned man gazed critically at the +walls, the rafters, the ground, and shook his head. Supposing a chance +for escape, could he bring himself to leave Demijohn behind? He got his +pipe to going, sat down, and frowned ruefully at the candle. + +"I don't want to be shot!" he burst out suddenly, with a plaintive +twang. Then he grinned. The boy still in him had prompted the absurdity. +And the rough warrior had laughed at it. Boy and warrior faced each +other, either surprised that the other existed. The boy flushed +resentfully at the veteran's contemptuous grunt. His eyes still had the +boy's naively inquisitive greeting to the world before him. Next, quite +abruptly, the warrior knew a bitterness against himself. If he could, +but once, whimper as the lad about to be soundly strapped! He took no +pride in his irony, nor in his hardened indifference to the visage of +death. How far, how very far, had the few past years of strife carried +him from the youngster who used to gaze so eagerly, so expectantly, out +on life! + +First, he was home from the University, from the pretty, shady little +Missouri town of Columbia. But the vacation following he spent in +bloodily helping to drive the Jayhawkers back across the Kansas line. +And soon after, when the fighting opened up officially, and his State, +at the start, had more of it than any other battle ground, how many +hundreds of times did his life bide by the next throw of Fate? During +one cruel winter month he had lain with other wounded in a hospital +dug-out in the river's cliff, and there, wanting both quinine and food, +he would peep through the reeds, only to see the merciless Red Legs +prying about in search of his hiding place. + +And then there was the wild, busily dangerous life with Old Joe's +Brigade, with that brigade of Missouri's young firebrands. Once, +stretched on the prairie, where he had dropped from exhaustion and +hunger and loss of blood, the Storm Centre awoke to find a Pin Indian +stooping over him for his scalp. On that occasion, the deft turning of +the wrist from the waist outward, with the stripping of the pistol's +hammer simultaneously, had enabled him later to restore to relatives +certain other scalps already dangling from the savage's girdle. + +And now here he was in an adobe with walls two feet thick, and numerous +saddle-colored Greasers proposing to shoot him first thing in the +morning! + +"I'll be blessedly damned," he drawled querulously, "I object!" + +It was the warrior who spoke now, and with him the boy joined hands. +They became as one and the same person. The common foe was without. They +would see this through together, with grim stoicism, with young-blooded +daredeviltry. + +The door opened, and one of the common foe, bearing a tray, came within. + +"Well, Don Erastus, how goes it?" With a pang of homesickness the +Missourian thought of darkies who carried trays. + +"Juan Bautista, at Y'r Mercy's orders," the Dragoon corrected him. + +"Don John the Baptist then, como le whack?" + +"Bien, senor, bien." + +"Any theory as to what you've got there?" + +"Y'r Mercy's supper. The Senor Coronel Lopez does not desire that Y'r +Mercy should have any complaint." + +"Oh, none whatever, Johnny, except what I'm to die of. Set it down, here +on the feather bed." + +There were a few native dishes, with a botellon of water and a jar of +wine. Driscoll tipped the botellon to his lips. His whiskey flask had +contained poison, though the poison of ink, and as he drank, he pondered +on why water should not be an antidote for the poisons that lurk in +whiskey flasks. Then he wondered why such foolish conceits at such times +persist in shouldering death itself out of a man's thoughts. And +meanwhile, there stood the precursor of his end, in the emblematic +person of a very brown John the Baptist. The fellow's gorgeous red +jacket was unbuttoned, revealing a sordid dirty shirt. He was officer of +the guard, and had a curiosity as to how a Gringo about to be shot would +act. He waited clumsily, lantern in hand. But he was disappointed. There +seemed to be nothing out of the commonplace. Some condemned Mexican, +though a monotonously familiar spectacle, would yet have been more +entertaining. + +Driscoll looked at him over the botellon. That earthen bottle had not +left the prisoner's lips. It had stopped there, poised aloft by an idea. + +"See here," Driscoll complained, "where's the rest of the water I'm to +have?" + +"Of what water, senor?" + +"For my bath, of course. Don't I die to-morrow?" + +"Yes, but----" + +"Here, this wine is too new for me. Drink it yourself, if you want." + +"Many thanks, senor, with pleasure. But a bath? I don't understand." + +"No? Don't you Mexicans ever bathe before you die?" + +"We send for the padre." + +"Oh, that's it! And he spiritually washes your sins away? But suppose +you couldn't get your padre?" + +The Indian shuddered. "Ai, Maria purisima, one's soul would go to +everlasting torment!" + +"There! Now you can understand why I count so much on ablution. It's +absolution." + +The native readily believed. Like others of his class, he thought all +Protestants pagans, and none Catholic but a Mexican. "Must be something +like John the Baptist's day, verdad, senor?" he said. "On that holy day, +once a year, we must all take a bath." + +"Quite right too," Driscoll returned soberly. "A man should go through +most anything for his religion.--Haven't noticed my horse there, have +you, Johnny?" The guard pricked up his ears. "Of course not," Driscoll +went on, "you're worrying about my soul instead. Well, so am I. We +Americans, you know, save our yearly baths for one big solemn final one, +just before we die. And if I don't get mine to-night, I'll be +associating with you unshrived Mexicans hereafter, and that would be +pretty bad, wouldn't it? It's what made me think of my horse there. That +horse, Johnny, is heavy on my soul. He's most too heavy to wash away. +Now, I'm not going to tell you that I actually stole him; but just the +same, if a good man like you would take him, after I'm gone--why, I'd +feel that he was washed off pretty well." + +The Mexican's sympathy grew more keen. + +"But the other sins," Driscoll added, "they'll need water, and a great +plenty, too." + +Juan Bautista was feeling the buckskin's knees. Driscoll longed to choke +him, but instead, he drove again at the wedge. "Another thing, I'll have +to leave my money behind." He mentioned it casually, but his breath +stopped while he waited for the effect. The guard straightened. +Demijohn's knees seemed to be all right. He took up the tray, and opened +the door, yet without a word. Driscoll's fist doubled, to strike and run +for it. Then the fellow spoke. + +"Does Y'r Mercy want soap too?" + +The fist unclenched. "No," came the reply, almost in a joyful gasp, +"this is for, for godliness only." + +"One jar, senor?" + +"Bless me, no! Two big ones, bigger'n a barrel." + +With a parting glance at Demijohn, the guard stole forth to gratify the +heathen's whim. + +"I'll give him enough to _buy_ a horse," Driscoll resolved. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE MAN WHO DID NOT WANT TO BE SHOT + + + "A horse and a man + Is more than one, + And yet not many." + --_Taming of the Shrew_. + + +"Now Berthe--why, what in the world----" Jacqueline began. + +It was her second morning to awake in the hacienda house, and the little +Bretonne tripped into her room under a starchy mountain heaped high. +"Clothes, madame," she replied. + +"He mais----" + +"They were made yesterday by some of the ranchero women. Madame will +look?" + +"Calico! Grands dieux!" + +There were two dresses, one for each girl. The native seamstresses had +slyly taken stock of mademoiselle the day before, only to discover that +a "simple" frock from Paris was a formidable thing to duplicate. The +marchioness smiled, and the maid also. + +"But, for example, Berthe, who inspired this?" + +"He did." + +"He?" + +"The American monsieur, of course." + +"Oh, the American monsieur, of course! So, monsieur permits himself to +observe that I need a wardrobe? But you, Berthe, you surely did not----" + +"Oh, no, madame! I knew nothing, till just now, when the woman brought +them. The monsieur ordered them yesterday, she said. And naturally, +madame, if he could have found better material, I do not doubt----" + +"There, child, I'll not be reproached by your even thinking it necessary +to defend----" + +"And madame will see, too, that they will do nicely." She spread the +frocks on the bed, and began snipping here and there with the scissors +and taking stitches everywhere. "By letting it out this way--voila, if +madame will kindly slip it on?" + +"Berthe, you can't mean--Oh nonsense!" + +None the less the skirt passed over her head, and the maid's deft +fingers kept on busily. "And why not?" she talked as she worked, "unless +one likes rags better. And who will see? Only men. Poof, those citizens +do not know percale from a Parisian toilette." + +Jacqueline began to wax angry with the quiet tyranny of it. She looked +at the horror and shuddered, then with both hands pushed the calico to +the floor, gathering up her own lawn skirt instead. It was rather a +woebegone lawn skirt. She gazed ruefully at the garment, then down at +the blue flowering heaped about her ankles. Berthe, kneeling over the +dress, raised her eyes. The puckered brow of her mistress spelled fury, +and the maid tried not to laugh, at which Jacqueline stamped her foot. +"Berthe," she cried, "shall I slap you?" + +"Mais oui, madame. And madame, I was thinking, what will he say if you +do not wear it?" + +Jacqueline gave her a keen look. "Child, child," she exclaimed, "you +seem to imagine that whatever _he_ wants----" + +"Oui, madame.--I think you can try it on again now." + +And madame submitted petulantly. But to herself she had to confess the +magic in Berthe's fingers. Though she pouted over the fresh, rustic +effect, yet on her slender figure there was witchery in it. + +An orderly knocked. He was one of her Austrian escorts come to say that +everything was ready for departure. She gladly hailed the chance to +escape this house of mourning. All night long old women in the death +chamber had mumbled incantations, and the droning was in her ears as she +slept. It was not nice. Because she could not blot out the inartistic +shock of ugly mortality, in very self-hate she yearned to get away. The +evening before, even while she loaned common sense to the crazed +household, even while she pressed down the icy eyelids, she +wondered--obstinately wondered, despite herself, what the dead girl +could have thought, what she could have felt, during that one horrid, +thrilling second of flight downward, and what, in anticipation of the +second after. It was gruesome, this being always and always the +spectator. Yet Jacqueline knew that, had it been she herself plunging +from the tower, she still would have been that spectator. Too well she +knew that she would have analyzed what she thought and felt. She would +have rated even the second before eternity in its degree as a frisson; +and, no doubt, would have been aware of a voluptuous satiety, while +anticipating the second after. She hated herself, and she hated too the +smart, ultra-refined life that had brought her to it. How many of those +past years, or of the years to come would she not give to shed a few +tears without interrogating them! + +Ney met the two girls under the colonnade. At the steps was the coach +and eight mules left by Maximilian for their use, and drawn up in +stately line were Messieurs the Feathers and Furs, as Jacqueline called +His Majesty's Austrian Imperial Guards. When she appeared, out flashed +their curved blades. The queenly little lady in blue-flowered calico and +a rakish Leghorn hat returned the salute with a smile. + +"Where are the Dragoons, Michel?" she asked. + +Ney did not know. But a Mexican with a crossed eye approached, doffing a +silver-lettered sombrero. He had been waiting for her, he said. There +was time. Otherwise he would have forced his way to wherever she was. + +"Indeed, Seigneur Farceur?" said Jacqueline. + +She recognized that most sinister of jokers, Don Tiburcio. He was eyeing +her narrowly, and there was a vigilance in the baleful gleam, as though +of late he might have been deceived by his fellowmen. + +"But," he coolly proceeded, "only a few minutes are left now." + +"My good man, whatever are you talking about?" + +"And after the few minutes, we'll have the shooting. I came to invite +Your Mercy." + +"Shoot whom?" + +"There is but one prisoner." + +"You mean Senor Murguia? The American was acquitted, I believe." + +"It's the other way, senorita. They were both tried over again, and +then, the American was condemned." + +"Mademoiselle," ejaculated Ney, "you are deathly----" + +"I am not!" Jacqueline protested furiously. "It's the powder." + +But Berthe knew better. Her mistress used it not, for all the roguish +freckle on her nose-tip. Tiburcio, too, was satisfied as to her sudden +pallor. She would save him the American, he decided. "Your Mercy had +best hasten," he urged her frankly. + +Jacqueline ran to the end of the portico, from were she could see the +pasture. Within, a platoon of red jackets were filing toward the carcel. + +"That scoundrel Lopez!" exclaimed Tiburcio, "he has advanced the time on +us!" + +Only for an instant did Jacqueline wring her hands. + +"Michel, your horse!" she cried. "Quick, quick! Now hold the stirrup!" + +But Tiburcio was the quicker. He bent his knee, on it she stepped, and +up she jumped, and kicked her heel as a spur. The charger leaped, and +down the road clattered girl and horse, she swaying perilously. + +It was a hundred yards to the pasture gate, and as much again to the +adobe inside. When her horse rose in his gallop, she caught glimpses +over the wall. The Dragoons were drawing up before the carcel. Sentinels +tugged at the huge wooden door, and Lopez goaded them on. He saw her +coming, and would have it over with before she could interfere. He +bellowed an order, and the shooting squad threw up their guns at aim. +They would not wait. They would fire on their victim the second the door +opened. The heavy oak began to give. But that moment swinging in through +the gate, Jacqueline could see only the carcel's blank adobe wall. Yet +she pictured the man just behind. She pictured the door opening. +And--too late! Dieu, the muskets had volleyed already! + +But--what made the shots scatter so? Scattered and flurried, they +sounded. And no wonder! She saw a miracle in the doing. It was the most +astounding sight of all her life long. Straight through the blank adobe +wall, for all its two feet of thickness, she beheld a man on a +great-boned yellow horse, both man and horse plunge mid a sudden cloud +of dust, plunge squarely into the light of day. + +The dumfounded shooting squad had blazed crazily against the half-open +door; and for the critical quarter minute following, their weapons were +harmless. Other Dragoons ran wildly out into the pasture, and as wildly +fired at the horseman. Only one of the sentinels had happened to be on +the side of the magic exit, but as the solid wall dissolved into a +powdered cloud and the apparition hurtled past him, down upon his head +crashed a gigantic water jar filled with earth. He who had sympathized +with pagan ablutions the night before stood now with mouth agape. Some +heathen god was having a hand in this, he knew. + +Jacqueline wheeled to Driscoll's side as he dashed toward her. He was +coatless. His woolen shirt was open at the neck, the sleeves were rolled +to the elbows. His slouch hat sat upon the back of his head. The short +cropped curls, gray with dust, fluttered against the brim. She had never +seen a face so buoyantly happy. + +"Morning, Miss Jack-leen! Race you to the river?" + +They galloped through the gate together. He was for turning down the +road, but she blocked his horse with her own. During a second the flight +was stopped. + +"I'm in a hurry just now," he panted, but made no effort to get by her. + +"Up that way!" she cried. "Up that way, past the House!" + +"But those pretty boys----" + +"The Austrians? They'll not stop you, I promise." + +"Then it's our move. Careful, little girl, don't fall!" + +Jacqueline, waving her arm, signaled the Feathers and Furs to make room, +and Tiburcio and Ney saw to it that they did. Man and girl raced through +them. + +"Wait here, Michel!" called Jacqueline, leaving Ney still with thumb to +cap at salute. Tiburcio gazed after them. + +Lopez ran across the pasture to the colonnade. His red face was redder +than ever before. Tiburcio sardonically regarded him. Lopez glared at +Ney. + +"Why aren't you in pursuit?" he demanded hotly. + +"And you, monsieur?" + +"And I, and I! Who are you to question me, senor? Every girth has been +cut!" + +"Caramba, mi coronel," cried Tiburcio in dismay, "you don't say so!" + +"And it will take ten minutes to tie up the cords, while you, you, Senor +Frenchman, you stand there, your men mounted and ready! Obey me, I tell +you!" + +"Can't," said Ney doggedly. "Against orders." + +"Orders? Whose orders?" + +"Of Mademoiselle la Marquise, monsieur." + +"Who runs away with a convict. A fit commander, por Dios!" + +Off came the Frenchman's gauntlet, but he paused in the gesture of +striking. Too quick at this, and not enough at wits, he might ruin her +plans. + +"As fit," he retorted instead, "as another who lets prisoners escape. I +advise Monsieur the Colonel to look to his girths." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE PERSON ON THE OTHER HORSE + + + "Yet am I sure of one pleasure, + And shortly, it is this: + That, where ye be, me seemeth, parde, + I could not fare amiss." + --_Ballad of the Nut Brown Maid._ + + +Din Driscoll had never remotely imagined that there could be such +intoxication in a horseback ride. The person on the other horse made for +the difference. How the joy of her filled him that instant of his +bursting through the black prison wall into the bright morning of the +world! She, the splendid first thing to gladden his eyes! Could liberty +be really so glorious? Ravishing horsewoman, she was coming to save him. +He had supposed her on her way to Mexico, and 'twas she whom he saw +first of all. + +And now, she rode beside him. They two, they were riding together, +alone. The smell of the wild free air of the universe thrilled them both +with an exquisite recklessness. Vague, limitless, subtle in mystery, the +seduction of it was ineffable. Out of the corner of his eye he peeped at +her. But wasn't she perched entrancingly on that dragoon saddle, wasn't +she, though? The richly heavy coils of burnished copper had loosened, +and they were very disconcerting in their suggestion of flowing wealth. +If they _would_ but fall about her shoulders! And the lace from the +slanting hat brim, and the velvet patch near the dimple--the velvet +patch called an assassin. And--what dress was that? Flowered calico? +Yes, and light blue. His cheeks burned as of one surprised in crime, but +the self-possessed young woman herself was oblivious. So was it this, a +blue flowered gown, that made her so suddenly tangible, so tangible and +maddening? The haughty Parisienne of imperial courts was gone. In fact, +she had become so distractingly tangible that--well, he didn't know. But +a lump got into his throat. She might be a Missouri girl, this moment. +And there came to him the vision of one, of a Missouri girl molding +biscuits, patting them, and her arms were bared, in a simple piquancy +just like Jacqueline's now. He even saw the pickaninnies in the shade of +the porch outside, worshiping the real Missouri girl from the very +whites of their eyes. How he had loved to tease her! He could not help +it; she was so daintily prim. That he should thus think of his sister, +the while gazing on the one-time gilded butterfly--to say the least, it +was a pertinent comment on the transmuting magic that lurks in blue +flowered percale. + +They slowed to a trot. + +"Monsieur is my prisoner, yes," said she in her wonderful English. + +He took the other meaning. "I don't know--_yet_," he returned +soberly. + +She laughed, and he realized that he had spoken aloud. + +He turned on himself in dismay. "What's the matter with me?" he +muttered. + +"I think, monsieur," said Jacqueline demurely, "that I have the guess." + +"You haven't--you can't guess either! I don't know myself." + +"Just the same, I wish I knew so well my chances for heaven." + +"But you're mistaken, I tell you. I'm not!" + +"Not what, monsieur?" + +"In, in--w'y, in love." + +Jacqueline's laughter was the merriest peal. In the end he half grinned. +Little use trying to convince the little witch! He had much to do +convincing himself. + +On the farther slope of a hill where coffee grew and the giant +sheltering banana hid the road, they paused at a trail that crossed the +highway and wound on down toward the Panuco river, where tropical stuff +for Tampico was transferred from burros to dugout barges. Jacqueline +listened. There were no sounds of pursuit as yet, nor was there any one +in sight. Making up her mind, she changed to the path. Driscoll +followed, with a delight in this new leadership over him. + +When they gained the river, she stopped again, and he did too. + +"But you must go, on, on!" she protested. "They may not be deceived, no. +They may have you to overtake here." She held out her hand. "There, this +path, you follow it to Tampico. Good bye. Yes, yes, you have not one +minute!" + +Driscoll took the little gauntleted hand readily enough. He saw that the +lines of her face were drawn, but her manner was inexorable. + +"How do you like your dress?" he inquired. + +Had she been on her feet, she would have stamped one of them. +"Monsieur," she cried, "here is no time to observe the replenishment of +a lady's wardrobe. Do you go? I insist. I wish you bon voyage to your +own country, monsieur." + +"But it's so far away. I reckon I'd better rest a spell first. A month +or so, prob'bly." + +She watched him clamber down and tie Demijohn to the low branch of a +live oak on the river's bank. + +"There you are, getting stubborn again," she said. But the lines in her +face had vanished. + +"Of course I mean to see you back to your friends," he explained. + +"Merci bien. But you will not. You will have this river straight to +Tampico. I say yes!" + +She turned her horse as she spoke, whereat he started to remount his +own. + +"I think, sir----" she began haughtily. + +"The road is free." + +"Oh, why have you to be so, so quarrelsome?" + +"The temptation, I reckon." + +"You really will go back with me?" + +"I might be going back along about the same time. It's a public trail." + +"Then _I_ will stay, and you _must_! I will not permit you to +go back there now. I will see that you do wait here so long until Lopez +has the time to start to Mexico after you. Then you will be behind him. +Have the goodness to hold my bridle. I think I shall take me a rest a +little also." + +Together they sat on a huge live-oak root and watched the sluggish +Panuco flow by. + +"No hurry now," Driscoll observed comfortably. "Our scarlet upholstered +colonel won't get away for years yet." + +Years, at least, were in his wishes, years in which to provoke her +quaintly inflected English, and its quaint little slips. She had learned +it in London long before, playing with wee Honorable toddlers while her +father played France's diplomacy with grown-ups. That accent of hers, +then, was as broad as Mayfair, and to the Missourian doubly foreign, and +doubly alluring. + +"I cannot understand," she said, "why it is the Dragoons have not +followed you immediately?" + +"Tibby's the reason, I reckon. That Tibby is a deep one." + +She made him explain, and he told her. The blackmailing humorist, +Tiburcio, had paid him a visit at his dungeon window during the night. +Being chief witness for the prosecution, Tiburcio could pass the sentry +unchallenged. + +"Come for your money?" Driscoll had inquired, and Tiburcio seemed hurt. + +"What is the matter," Tiburcio demanded, "with pointing a revolver at +the Senor Americano right now, and making him deliver?" + +Driscoll had not figured out what the objections might be, but he +reckoned some would materialize. + +"But," said Tiburcio, "I'm not doing it, and why? Simply because I want +to know if you care to escape?" + +"W'y," returned Driscoll, "I'll think it over, and let you know in the +morning," at which lack of confidence Tiburcio was more hurt than ever. + +"What's the use," Driscoll objected, "they'd catch me again?" + +"Not if I fixed their horses, and if I do, will you promise to get out?" + +And thus the bargain had stood, and thus it was fulfilled, though at the +last the anxious Tiburcio had called in Jacqueline to help. + +"Now," said the marchioness, settling herself for a treat, "I +_must_ know. Tame for me the miracle, explain it. I cannot longer +hold my curiosity. But it was fine--exquis--however you have done it!" + +"Weren't they a surprised lot, though?" + +"But the miracle, monsieur! The miracle!" + +"Well, it was this way. Being on the yawning brink--as old Meagre +Shanks, friend of mine, would say--I figured it out that lacking in +godliness, I'd try to get the next best thing." + +"Please, monsieur!" + +"That I'd try to get a bath." + +"Of dust and mud, for example?" + +At that Driscoll ceased all miracle taming and brushed himself off. But, +putting him back into his dungeon, one will recall how he plotted to +obtain two jars of water. This water he used simply to soften the hard, +sun-baked adobes. First he hung his coat over the window. A suspicious +guard naturally wanted to know why, and Driscoll appeared at the bars +stripped to the waist. To keep out the cold air while he bathed, he +said, and his teeth chattered. Then he went back to work. He handled his +precious water with desperate economy. He began at the exposed end of +one adobe brick, soaking it as needed and digging it out with a chip of +earthenware knocked off one of the jars. The wall was two adobe lengths +in thickness, but after he had gotten out his first brick, it was easy, +by tugging and kicking, to tear out the others of the inside tier, since +luckily they did not dovetail in with the outer ones. Soon he had an +arch-shaped niche in the wall almost as high as his head when mounted on +Demijohn. The really tedious part remained, and it was an all night job. + +To deepen the niche without breaking through, he had to scrape it out +piecemeal, wetting the dried mud as he toiled. He measured carefully +just how much of the thickness to leave, because the weed stalks in the +adobe could not be trusted to hold too thin a crust, and also he had to +take care that the water did not soak entirely through and make a +tell-tale blot on the outside when daylight should come. It was an +infinitely laborious task, and even with completion at last, there was +yet the question--which would break first, bone or masonry? + +But he would learn when he should dash his horse's skull and his own +against the shell that remained. He saddled Demijohn, filled an empty +jar with the soft earth of his excavations, and waited. His dramatic +appearance at the instant of the door's opening was not a coincidence. +It was minute calculation. Already mounted, he faced the wall, with the +heavy jar poised over his head in both hands, his spurs drawn back to +strike. He waited until sentinels and shooting squad had gathered at the +door. He waited to draw their fire, to empty their muskets. But he did +not wait until the door should open enough to give them unimpeded aim. +In the second of its opening he drove back the spurs, hurled the jar +against the wall, and--crashed through his dungeon as easily as breaking +a sucked egg. + +"But," demanded Jacqueline eagerly, "how is it you did feel?" She was +disappointed that the personal equation had had so little prominence. + +"I don't recollect," said Driscoll, puzzled, "there was nothing hurting +especially." + +"No, no! Your sensations facing death, then escaping?" + +He brightened. "W'y yes," he replied, happy to catch her meaning. "I +felt toler'ble busy." + +She sighed despairingly. Yet there was plenty left her for wonderment, +and in it she revelled. + +"Ingenuity!" she mused. "I declare, I believe the first human being to +stand up on his hind legs must have been an American. It simply occurred +to him one day that he didn't need all fours for walking, and that he +might as well use his before-feet for something else." + +"And a Frenchman, Miss Jack-leen?" + +She flung up her hands. + +"_He!_" she exclaimed. "If ever a compatriot of mine had gotten +that idea into his--how you say?--pate, would he not carry it out to the +idiotic limit, yes? He? _He_ would try to walk without any feet +whatever, and use _all_ of them for other things. Already you have +seen him doing the, the pugilat--the box--with every one of his fours. +Voila!" + +But time was passing. Lopez had certainly repaired his girths by this +time. Driscoll arose. "There's a shorter way back," he announced. "The +river junction can't be far down stream, and I'll wait for you there, +Miss Jack-leen, while you scout on ahead to the hacienda house. If all's +clear, you signal and I will advance with the heavy cavalry." + +"C'est bien, mon colonel." + +"Whatever that means, I hope it ain't mutiny." + +At best it was only mock compliance. Jacqueline also knew that time was +passing, but she had not mentioned the fact. Now the reason transpired. +She harked back on their separation, with a grave earnestness and a +saddened air of finality. He was to leave her here, she said. He was to +go back to his own country. How badly had his reception fared so far? +Why not, then, leave Mexico to ingratitude, and have done? The romantic +land of roses was notoriously a blight to hopes. Why should he seek to +thrive despite the mysterious curse that seemed to hover over all things +like a deadly miasma? + +Driscoll shook his head. "You know I have come to see Maximilian." + +"But you are under sentence. You will lose your life." + +"Miss Jack-leen, you said a while back that I was your prisoner. You +have the Austrian escort. All right. You will deliver me to the +Emperor," and he waved his hand as though the matter was arranged. + +"But monsieur," she cried, "may not others have plans as vital as yours? +And, perhaps--yes, you interfere." + +He did interfere, in grimmest truth. Leaving the Sphinx of the +Tuileries, she had come with her mission, and with an idea, too, of the +obstacles that must be vanquished. But here, almost at landing, she +encountered a barrier left out of her calculations, and which alone, +unaided, she had to surmount. It was the surrender of the Confederacy, +and what this upsetting complication meant against her own errand was +embodied in the man before her. For in him lay the results of the +Surrender as affecting the Mexican empire. In a word, he brought aid for +Maximilian at the moment when Maximilian might be discouraged enough to +give way to France; when the forgetful prince might gladly leave all to +the generous nation which had placed him on his throne and which by him +was cheated of the reward of its costly empire building. Should the +French threaten to withdraw, should they in reality withdraw, still he +would not abdicate, not with Confederate veterans to replace the +pantalons rouges. Like the dog of the fable, Maximilian would cling to +the manger. + +"Oui, oui, monsieur," she repeated sharply, "you interfere!" + +"In that case," said Driscoll quietly, "I will leave you at the river +junction. When I see that you are safely at the hacienda----" + +"You will go back to America?" + +"That need not worry you." + +"Then you are _not_ going back, back to your own country?" He would +keep on to the City alone. She would have no chance to intercept him. +After all Fate had been good to her--no, cruel!--to cast him in her +path. "You might find the Austrian escort safer than going alone," she +said enticingly. + +He hesitated. What all this was about, he could not imagine. He knew +nothing, naturally, of the dark intrigues of an enigmatical adventurer +far away in the Tuileries, nor how they could affect him. And so he put +away as absurd the fancy that she in her turn might interfere with him. +Besides, he was tempted. + +"It's a go!" he said. + +She for her part was thinking, hoping, rather, that perhaps she was +mistaken. Perhaps he only bore the offer of a paltry few hundred, a +handful of homeseekers from his regiment. She hoped so. She would have +prayed for it, had praying occurred to her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE STRANGEST AVOWAL OF LOVE + + + "Nae living man I'll love again, + Since that my lovely knight is slain." + --_Lament of the Border Widow._ + + +Back once more at the hacienda, Driscoll recovered his coat still +hanging over the dungeon window. Lopez would have called it insolence, +had he been there instead of scouring the country toward Mexico. +Jacqueline and Berthe settled themselves in the traveling coach left for +their comfort by Maximilian. Driscoll's effects, including his gray +cape-coat and the bundle he had carried behind his saddle, were found in +his room at the House. Jacqueline took them into the carriage with her, +along with that absurd little valise that she had brought from the ship +for an hour's jaunt on shore. Driscoll rode with Ney and the Austrians, +and was once again headed toward the capital, still sixty fair Mexican +leagues southward. + +For six days it was an uneventful journey, seemingly. By day there were +sierras, and valleys, and wayside crosses marking violent deaths. By +night they accepted either ranchero hospitality or put up at some +village meson. But within himself, adventures were continuous and +varying for the Storm Centre. He could not account for the strange, +curious elation that possessed him, especially when Jacqueline would +take Ney's horse and ride at his side, perhaps for an hour, when the sun +was not too hot. Driscoll never knew how long these occasions lasted. He +did not know that they were long at all. As a matter of fact, he had +ceased using ordinary standards of measurement. The universe, and sordid +accessories such as time, radiated entirely about one little velvet +patch near a dimple satellite. + +There came to be long silences between them as they rode, either boy or +girl content to have it so, and neither the least bit lonesome. And they +talked too, naturally, though this was not so significant. She would +slyly provoke him. To her mind, there was never anyone quite so +satisfying at a quarrel. She would pause in delighted expectancy to see +his eyes grow big when she thrust, and then to see his mouth twitch at +the corners as he caught her blade on his own keen wit. She had +forgotten that he was rustic, except for the added zest it gave. Nor was +there a false note in him, so happily and totally unconscious was he of +self. And as for a certain gaucherie, that was the spice to his whole +manner. + +They talked of many things; rather, she made him talk. She learned that +his name was John, as hers was Jeanne, and she wanted to know why the +horse was Demijohn. + +"Because, Miss Jack-leen," he answered, "he's my other half, and +sometimes the better one, too." He remembered that once, when he had +drooped limp over the saddle, the buckskin had carried him out of the +fighting to the rear. "You see," he added, "we were both colts when our +little shindy up there broke loose." + +"And you both went? Ah, Monsieur the Patriot, you did go, you did +affront the tyrant? Yes!" She had the explorer's eagerness. Perhaps she +might discover in him her own especial demon of self-introspection. + +"N-o," he replied, "I reckon we went mostly for the fun of the thing." + +"Fi donc!" she cried. "But wait till you are old. Oh yes, we have them +too, those blessed, over-petted veterans of the Grande Armee. They are +in the Hotel des Invalides, with medals to diagnose their glory. Oh, la, +la, but there's a pleasant fashion! The people, the politicians, they +forget the hot blood that fought simply because there were pretty blows +to strike. They see only the gray hairs. 'Honneur aux patriotes!' You +wait, monsieur. You, too, will be made into the hero, ex post facto, and +you will believe it yourself. Yes, with the wolves, one learns to howl." + +"N-o," said the young Confederate, "we--we got licked." + +They talked--he rather--of Missouri. He was not reluctant to have +stirred the memories of his home, not with one who could listen as she +did. In his heart settled a warmth that was good, and the glow of it +shone on his face. He became aware that the gray eyes were upon him, +taking conscious note of his hair, his mouth, his chin, as though she +were really seeing him for the first time. What made a girl do that way? +He felt queerly, it being thus brought to him that he had awakened +interest in a woman, but the tribute she paid him was ennobling, and a +deep thankfulness, though to whom or for what he had not the least idea, +made more kindly and good the cheery warmth around his heart. The gray +eyes had never sparkled on him in coquetry as they sometimes did on +other men, and now they were grave and sweet. It was a phase of +Jacqueline that only her maid had known. + +The marquise gathered that Missour-_i_, as she called it, was an +exceedingly strange and fascinating region. She learned that it was a +state, like a department in France, like her own Bourbonnais for +instance. But there the comparison ended. The rest was all startling +versatility. For the inhabitants had not only taken both sides during +the Civil War, but through their governor had proclaimed themselves an +independent republic into the bargain. They must be unusual citizens, +those Missourians. + +But they were strangest because they did not seem to be actors. They did +not refine living into a cult, with every pleasure and pain classified +and weighed out and valued. No, they actually lived. It was hard to +realize this, but in the end she did, and with ever increasing wonder, +with also a beginning of envy and hunger. But there was still another +thing even more indefinable. It centered in the word "home," which she +knew neither in French nor Spanish, but which she came to know now, as +its meaning grew upon her. It was more than a "maison" or a "casa," or a +"chez nous." It was a manner of temple. And the high priest there was a +grim lord. How very grim, indeed! There was no compromise, no blinking, +no midway gilded dais between the marriage altar and the basest filth. +As grim, this was, as that original Puritanism which has become a +synonym of American backbone. Grim, yes; but the woman there, where the +high priest blinked not, was a divinity. She was a divinity in the +tenderest and most devoted sense of the word. And the Puritanism was +purity enshrined, as a simple matter of course. The longing, if only to +know more of this odd country, rose in her mysteriously, and stronger +and stronger. + +When on one occasion she went back to the coach, she found that Berthe +also was enjoying the change to horseback. Jacqueline was glad of it. +Now she could be alone, and she believed that she wanted to think. But +she could not pin down what she wanted to think about; because, no +doubt, there was so very much. Instead, she looked vacantly at the Storm +Centre's cartridge belt and pistols on the seat in front of her. They +were grim, too, these playthings of a boy. + +Dupin had left the weapons with Ney, back at the hacienda, and Ney had +turned them over to Jacqueline as to the real strategic chief of the +expedition. And Jacqueline had kept them, perhaps to look at, perhaps +because of a whim that a prisoner should not be armed. She liked to hear +Driscoll mourn for them, not knowing where they were, and she held back +the surprise as one lingers before an anticipated pleasure. She picked +up the great, black revolvers with a woman's fascinated respect for the +harsh, eternal male of her species, who is primeval and barbaric yet, +and ever will be, to hold his mate his very own. Her touch was gingerly, +but there was a caress in her fingers on the ugly things. + +She lifted the belt. How heavy of metal it was! Idly, she thought she +would count the leaden missiles. When finally she laid the belt aside, a +bullet remained in her lap. It had fallen there out of its shell. +Starting to fit the bullet in again, she suddenly dropped both bullet +and cartridge. Her hands trembled. This particular shell contained no +powder. But it contained a tightly rolled slip of oiled paper. The +cartridge was a dummy, a wee strong box for some vital document. + +It was not for scruples against looking that she paused. On the +contrary, it was that she must look, absolutely, in sacred, patriotic +duty bound, that finally decided--nay, compelled her to look. Still she +hesitated before drawing out the paper. She dreaded what it might tell +her. Concealed thus, and revealed only by a hazard, the paper held, she +felt certain, the secret and the significance of the American's errand +to Mexico. And she did not want to know. She reviled bitterly the cruel +chance that had thrust it on her. + +She read. The paper was a communication addressed to the Emperor +Maximilian by the Confederate generals of the Trans-Mississippi +department. Foreseeing Lee's surrender, they had gathered from +Louisiana, Arkansas, and Texas, at a place in the latter state named +Marshall, and there they had decided that they would not surrender. They +would seek homes and a country elsewhere, swords in hand. At this +meeting, which had been inspired by Gen. Joe Shelby, they had deposed +the cautious general commanding, Kirby Smith, and they had put in his +stead Simon Bolivar Buckner. The Trans-Mississippi department numbered +fifty thousand men. There would also be fugitives from Lee's and +Johnson's corps, besides Jefferson Davis in person, should he contrive +to pass the Federal lines. Many thousands of veterans would shortly be +marching across the Rio Grande. In Texas, at the Confederate arsenals +and depositories, they would seize what they needed: guns, ammunition, +horses, provisions, money. In Mexico they would become citizens, and +they would defend their new homes against outlawry, rebellion, or +invasion. The signatory generals prayed the Emperor Maximilian to +consider this, and "to do it quick." + +Jacqueline put the letter back in the cartridge, and everything looked +as before. But no genii, once out, can ever quite be bottled up again. +That stray bullet had wounded her to the heart. + +"As bad as fifty thousand!" she cried half aloud. "And they will become +citizens, too--Mon Dieu, _that_ is a nation!" + +With them Maximilian would have a people behind him, and his throne +would be as a rock. He could, and most certainly would, disdain the +French army of occupation with its thirty thousand bayonets. The French +might go back home. He would speed them cheerfully, and henceforth be +Emperor in fact. + +"But our treasure and our dead," sighed Jacqueline bitterly, "we cannot +take _them_ back. No, nor our hopes, though they weigh little +enough now, for that matter. Oh dear, and _I_ am one of those +hopes!--Help me Heaven, else I shall hate my own country. Oh, I must be +true!--Now, _why_ couldn't those Missourians have sent--someone +else?" + +That evening she held a pen, but it would not move, not while her +thoughts were upon it. So, by sheer will, she nerved herself not to +think, and wrote mechanically. She wrote a message to Lopez, and another +to Dupin, and yet a third. The third brought the tears long before it +was finished. An Austrian took the first two, and rode all that night. +She kept the other one herself. + +This was the fifth day of their journey since leaving Murguia's +hacienda. They had taken pains to keep behind Lopez. Their pursuer, +ahead of them, had not made twenty miles the first day, for he had +delayed in order to search here and there. But the second day, he had +evidently accepted failure, and hastened on to overtake the Emperor. The +Emperor himself, after traveling constantly for a night and a day, had +rested a night and half a day to reflect on his late energy, and +thereafter he was proceeding as roadside ovations would permit. +Accordingly on this, the fifth night, Lopez was close behind the +Emperor, and both were within a day of the capital, and less than a day +ahead of Driscoll, Jacqueline and Ney. + +All the next day Jacqueline kept to her coach. She was cross or +nervously excited or melancholy, and by erratic turns in every mood that +was hopelessly downcast, until her maid became well nigh frantic. At +first Ney would hover near in helpless concern, but she ordered him away +angrily. However, the storm broke at last when Driscoll reined in and +waited at the roadside. She could see him through the little front pane +of glass as the carriage drew nearer, and she watched with a fierce +hunger in her eyes. All the time she stirred in greater agitation, and +her breath came more and more quickly. At the very last moment, when a +second later he might have seen her, she sprang to the window, looked +once again, then in a fury snatched at the shade and jerked it down. +Driscoll paused uncertain, but wheeled and galloped back to the head of +the column. Berthe turned to her mistress. She was lying weakly against +the cushions, staring at nothing and panting for air. + +Toward dusk they reached Tuxtla, a little pueblo on the highroad set mid +maguey farms that made the rolling hill slopes of Anahuac look like a +giant's cabbage patch. In the distance, under two snow-capped peaks +beyond, the mosaic domes and sandstone towers and painted walls of the +capital glittered in the setting sun like some picture of an Arabian +city vaguely known to memory. The travelers were not a dozen miles from +their destination, but Berthe announced that madame her mistress would +rest at Tuxtla for the night. + +The Austrians were quartered in the village, and Ney and Driscoll found +accommodations for the two girls and themselves farther down the road, +at the house of a maguey grower whom they persuaded to vacate. While it +was still light Driscoll amused himself strolling alone between the rows +of the great century plants. Under their leaves, curving high above his +head, he watched peons with gourds suck out the honey water from the +onion-like bulbs into goatskin bags. After a time he wandered through +the hacendado's primitive distillery and on back to the house, with a +feeling for supper. + +As he entered, he heard the clanking of a sabre in the dark room. He +thought nothing of it, but almost at once something cut through the air +and a noose fell over him. He swung round, but the rope jerked tight +about his knees, and he lurched and swayed as an oak before the axe. He +struck with his fist and had a groan for reward, but a second lariat +circled his shoulders and bound his arms to his body. As he went down +under the weight of men, the shutters were thrown open, and he looked up +into the red-lidded eyes of Colonel Lopez. A troop of cavalry was +passing on the road outside, and he caught the sound of wheels +departing. + +"You hear?" said Lopez. "The marquesa is going to the City, having +decided not to wait for you. But she leaves a note, pour prendre conge, +eh? You will perhaps have time to read it before the shooting." + +Once more Driscoll found himself in an adobe with a sputtering candle +for company. But he also had her note. It was the third of the messages +which she had written the night before. + +"Monsieur," it began, "I cannot let you die without telling you that it +was I who betrayed----" + +He jumped to his feet. "Oh--the pythoness!" he breathed fervently. + +"----who betrayed you," the letter read. "That you know this, monsieur, +that your last thought shall be a curse at me, such will be my +punishment. It is a self inflicted one, because you need not have known +what I have done. The telling of this to you is my scourge, but it is +not penitence. Worse and more unbearable is my sorrow that the penitence +will never come, that I can feel no remorse, no more than if some +inevitable thing, like the fever, had taken you. I would always do again +what I have just done; as pitiless as I must be for you, Fate is for me. +Your life, monsieur, is but added to the hundreds already snuffed out in +this country for France's sake. Those hundreds are my countrymen, and +you, if you lived till to-morrow, would make _their_ offering +useless. I have tried to save you, monsieur, but you would not permit. +You would not return to your own country, and--there was no other way. +But do not think there will come emissaries in your place. Do not +believe that I would so send you to death needlessly. There will be no +emissaries after you. Your Confederates shall know that Maximilian's +court martial executed you, and is it that your compatriotes will then +desire to help Maximilian? Believe--only believe, monsieur--that it is a +cruel duty not permitting that I shall listen to my heart. If you but +knew, if you but knew--and you shall know. Monsieur Driscoll--oh, mon +chevalier, it is that I love you. There, know then, dear heart cheri, +the enormity of my sacrifice. Know the necessity of it. Know that I envy +you, for you are going, and I must stay, all alone, without you. Mon +bien aime, _without you_, through all my long life!" + +She had signed it simply, "Jacqueline." + +Again Driscoll was on his feet. He paced up and down the room. "There's +one thing," he muttered, "and that is, there's nothing between her and +Maximilian, not when she's keeping help from him." And on he paced, his +fists opening and clenching. Suddenly he came to a dead halt. + +"By God," he cried, "I'm not going to be shot, no sir, not now, not +after--not after this letter!" + +Here was neither boy nor warrior. It was very much in the way of a +lover. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +BERTHE + + + "Il y a deux etres en nous: l'acteur et le spectateur." + --_Sienkiewicz._ + + +The same evening, though two hours later, a public hack entered an +outlying quarter of the City of Mexico called San Cosme, and drew up +before a white mansion with beautiful gardens. A young girl with soft +brown hair and gentle eyes got out, ran to the door, and brought down +the ponderous knocker so terrifically that it abashed her, for all her +present agitation. To the flunkey, who noted the public hack and was +reproachful, she said, "I must see His Excellency. Here, I have written +my name on Mademoiselle d'Aumerle's card. I am her maid. Say to Monsieur +le Marechal that he will regret it, if I do not see him at once. Quick +now, you!" + +If possessed of guile, Berthe could not have done better. With +Jacqueline's card, used only because it had a blank side, her admittance +was certain and immediate. + +She passed the lackey into a luxurious apartment, Marshal Bazaine's +private cabinet. At one end there was a Japanese screen with a lamp +behind, and at intervals came the sound of someone turning the leaves of +a book. But Berthe thought solely of her errand. The marshal, thick +necked, heavy cheeked and stocky, was standing, waiting for her. + +"So," he exclaimed, "milady is arrived, eh, and you bring me her +commands?" + +"No, Your Excellency, my mistress does not know that I am here. When she +learns, she will dismiss me. I----" + +The marshal of France grew cold. "It was a decoy then, the card you +used?" he interrupted. "And was that one also, young woman, when you +threatened that I should regret----" + +"You will indeed regret, monsieur, if you do not let me speak. There's a +mistake to correct if--if it's not too late." + +The chief of the Army of Occupation shrugged his shoulders until the +back of his neck folded over itself. He had been correcting mistakes +ever since Maximilian's landing. But he was a child of the people +himself, and the distress in her eyes made him patient. "Well, what is +it?" he asked. + +"It is an American. They will shoot him, monsieur!" + +"Ah, one who interests the young person now before me, eh?" + +"And I want you to stop them, monsieur! I want----" + +"Child, child, whom am I to stop?" + +"Colonel Lopez, monsieur. The American escaped once, but mademoiselle +gave him up again. He'd saved mademoiselle's life, too. And mine." + +The veteran soldier rubbed his finger tips on his bald, bullet-like +head. "He saves her, and she gives him to Lopez. He must be an important +species of American!" + +"Yes, yes, monsieur." + +"There, don't worry. His Majesty will pardon your friend to-morrow--if," +he added to himself, "only from habit." + +"But Lopez will shoot him before the Emperor knows." + +The marshal had shrewd eyes, and now they opened wide. "Getting more +important, our American!" he grumbled uneasily. "Berthe, did your +mistress know that Lopez would shoot him before he could be pardoned?" + +"Oh yes, monsieur." + +[Illustration: "BERTHE" +"... Brought down the ponderous knocker so terrifically that +it abashed her, for all her present agitation"] + +"Name of a name, what does she want him killed for? Why is this drole +of a Lopez in such a hurry?--See here, child, you know something more. +What did you mean by my regretting----" + +"Because, because everybody seemed to think that the poor brave American +had come with an offer of aid for Maximilian, and as you need more +troops, I thought----" + +"Who, in all mercy, is this American?" + +"A Confederate officer, monsieur." + +Not one man, but two, paced the floor because of Jacqueline that +evening. The second was the marshal of France, and he went at it now, on +hearing of the first man. "A Confederate officer?" There were twin +creases over his straight nose, furrows of vexed and intense thinking. +The lone Southerner was linked intimately in his reflections with the +parliament of a great nation. The people of France had never warmed to +the Mexican dream, and the Chambers already were clamoring for the +return of the troops. And now, for every Confederate enlisted, a +pantalon rouge could be sent back home. But why--name of a name--should +Jacqueline try to prevent? + +"Did she," he asked, but not very hopefully, "did she have any cause to +dislike this American?" + +"Oh, monsieur!" The cry was pained surprise. That her mistress could or +would pay a grudge! "On the contrary," she protested vehemently, "I have +never seen her so moved, never, and if _you_ had seen her, +monsieur, as we left Tuxtla! I thought she must surely lose her mind. +One cannot imagine her terror. She cried to the driver, to the +outriders, to lash the mules, harder, faster, till it's a miracle we did +not crash over a cliff. And all the time she would look back, and at +every sound she would clap her hands over her ears and cry out to know +if that was shooting. And then she would pound at the window to them to +go faster. She wanted to get out of hearing, monsieur. It was only when +we were really here in the City that she quieted, but that was worse. +She lay and moaned. I cried, I could not help it, hearing her. She would +mutter things, too. 'France, France!' she said once, and it made me +shudder. One almost thought she had a dagger in her hand----" + +"Never mind, what else did she say?" + +"She said, 'Oh, I hate thee, my country!' but she wasn't in her mind, oh +no, monsieur. Then she grew very still, and that frightened me more yet. +Once I even thought she was dead, and I put my arm about her. But her +heart was beating, and her eyes were open, wide open and dry. I could +see, for we were passing between the Paseo lights. I laid her head on my +breast, and after a while I heard her lips move. 'God bless him! +God--Oh, I hope there _is_ a God, just for this, to bless him, and +keep him!'" + +"H'm'm," said the marshal, and went back and forth again, more perplexed +than ever. + +Berthe watched him anxiously, jealous of each moment lost. Once she +started to speak, but his gesture for silence was such that she did not +dare a second time. There was no other sound in the room except the +tramp, tramp on the soft carpet. Even the occasional turning of a leaf +behind the screen had ceased. Bazaine was groping cautiously in the +mystery. A state reason, and no personal one, had compelled Jacqueline; +that much was certain. Direct from the Tuileries, she was weighted under +some grievous responsibility, and this night, back there at Tuxtla, she +had been true to it. And whatever it was, it exacted imperatively that +no Confederate aid should reach Maximilian. Such was Napoleon's wish, +however contradictory to official instructions. But the marshal was +sufficiently a disciple of the little Napoleonic statecraft to beware of +meddling. He fretted under methods whereby the whisper of the Sphinx +reached him through private and unofficial agents, but it was a great +deal to catch the Sphinx's whisper at all. Besides, he owed his +elevation to this enigma of Europe, and he meant to be loyal. + +"Berthe," he said at last, "there's just one man who can interfere where +Mademoiselle d'Aumerle disposes, but he is rather far away. I mean the +Emperor of France." + +The little Bretonne looked, comprehended, and burst into tears. "My dear +mistress!" she sobbed. + +There was the sound of a book dropped on a table, and the screen was +brushed aside. + +"Perhaps," came a softly ironical voice, "a woman might so much as veto +our mighty Jacqueline. At any rate, suppose we try it, Don Pancho." + +Bazaine had forgotten his wife, his bride, who, to be near him, often +retired behind the screen when he was busy with others. Hers was the +loving ambition of a Lady Macbeth, in that a husband's secret was never +one for her. + +"Step into this little room," she said to Berthe, opening a door. "It +will not take long," she added, an assured light in her dark Spanish +eyes. + +"You will save him, madame? You----" + +"Against all the marshals of France, child. Go, wait in there." + +The marshal of France present smiled on his bride indulgently, +admiringly, as she closed the door and faced him. + +She was less than half his age, the girl wife of a gray-haired veteran, +and as his wife she was second lady of the land. A Mexican aristocrat, +small and slender, of a subtle, winsome beauty, with the prettiest mouth +and the most pyramidal of crinolines, she had reminded Bazaine of his +first wife, and he had courted her. At the wedding Maximilian had stood +padrino for the groom, and Charlotte madrina for the bride. The imperial +gift to groom and bride was Buena Vista, as the white mansion and +gardens in San Cosme were called. Naturally, then, Madame la Marechale +approved of Napoleon's _official_ instructions, which directed that +Monsieur le Marechal was to establish the Mexican empire solidly and for +all time. + +Now her manner of calling the marshal Pancho was considerable of an +argument, especially when, archly formal, she made it Don Pancho. What +if this Confederate aid were to go to the Mexican rebels, as it surely +would if the emissary at Tuxtla were shot? And, without either French or +Confederates, the Empire would fall, the rebels would win; and then, she +wanted to know, what would become of their beautiful home, of their high +position? Moreover, the United States was threatening to drive the +French from Mexico, and Madame la Marechale believed it a very good +thing for the French to have at their side some of the very men who had +held those Yankees back for four long years. + +Bazaine wavered. Then he smiled. This Mexican bride of his was Mexican +all the time; and French, sometimes not at all. She had not the big +trust in the pantalons rouges when it came to those Yankees. + +"But, Pancho mio," she went on softly, "now for the real reason, the one +that holds you back. It is your Emperor Napoleon, verdad? You think that +he does not want this offer to reach Maximilian. Bien, have you had any +intimation of what he wants? Any orders? Of course you haven't. Then +save this American. Look at me--Don Pancho, I say-if----" + +"Sapristi, call the girl in! No, first I must have----" + +When madame could free herself from what he must have, she opened the +door and triumphantly called to Jacqueline's maid. + +A half-hour later, in one of the marshal's own carriages, Berthe +returned to the castle of Chapultepec. At once she hastened to her +mistress's apartments, and confessed what she had done. Still in the +blue flowered calico, with the dust of their frantic ride still on her, +Jacqueline was seated before a little desk. Her head was buried in her +arms, and her loosened hair fell like a shower of copper over her +shoulders. She did not move as Berthe entered, nor give any sign. But +when in a word the story was told, she got to her feet and stared +blankly at the girl. Berthe expected dismissal, but the next instant two +arms were about her, and lips were pressed to hers, and hot tears, not +her own, wetted her cheek. + +"Berthe, you little addle-pated goose! You--oh you little ninny, you, +you----" Her phrases were broken by laughter, then by an uncontrollable +peal that was near a shriek, "Little, little fool, dost thou know, thou +hast this night lost to France fifteen thousand leagues of empire? +Thou--thou----" Yet kisses were again the portion of the thief of +fifteen thousand leagues. + +"But do you think they will be in time, Berthe? Yes, yes, you've +answered that once. And Michel leads them, you say?" + +"Oui, madame, Monsieur Ney was most eager to go, above all when His +Excellency gave him Frenchmen to command. They are the cuirassiers. They +will surely save the American monsieur." + +"But will they be in time? Yes, yes, I think I've asked that already." + +Her hysteric glee, changing to anxiety, now changed as quickly to +something else. Her face went deathly white, the pretty jaws set hard, +and there was the glint of resolution in the gray eyes. She seized a +cloak and threw it about her. + +"Come," she said to the maid. + +"Madame is going----" + +"Yes, to _undo_ your mischief. Bazaine must send to overtake Ney, +must command him _not_ to interfere with the execution. Bazaine +will do this, when I see him." + +"But you will not find His Excellency to-night. Madame la Marechale +ordered the carriage for them both, as I was leaving there." + +"Indeed? Then she knew you were coming here to me? Then she did not +mention where they were going?" + +"No, madame." + +"Of course not. Oh, she is cunning, your Madame la Marechale!" + +Alas for Jacqueline! She might conquer herself, but add to herself a +second woman against her, and she was beaten. She confessed defeat by +throwing off the cloak. + +"Tuxtla is far, you think they will--will----" + +"Oh I think they will, madame!" + +"Say you _know_ they will! Say it, Berthe, say it!" + +"Oh, I hope so, madame. Monsieur the American is lucky." + +The American? Somehow the blood swept hotly into Jacqueline's cheeks. +"Say they will _not_ save him, Berthe. Say no, no, no!" she +commanded, and imperiously stamped her foot, but stamp as she would, her +furious shame was there still, flaunting its glorious color. She was +thinking of her letter, of her avowal to a doomed man. After that, +_any_ man was under obligations to get himself shot. Only, this one +was of a contrary fibre. + +In such an April mood, Jacqueline was capable of yet another caprice. +"Berthe," she cried, even as the whim came, "one is tired after playing +the goose, n'est-ce pas? Do you, then, rest--yes, yes, while I comb your +hair." + +"Madame!" Berthe protested with what breath astonishment left her. + +"Do ye call me chief?" demanded the mistress. "Then, de grace, sit +still! And why shouldn't I, parbleu? If it took our big French +Revolution to throw me up an ancestor out of the common kettle, there +has just now been another revolution here"--she pressed a hand against +her breast--"to stir me back among the people again. Do you know, dear, +that your hair is beautiful!" + +And so they were two girls, girl-like, passing the evening together. + +Of a sudden Jacqueline stopped, the braiding arrested by a most +startling thought. + +"Grands dieux," she told herself slowly, for it had to be believed, +however improbable, "until this very moment I've never once stopped to +think of all the emotions I have been having this day. I've never once +examined them, and such emotions--Oh, la, la, they're a collection, a +veritable museum of creeps! And here I've hurried through that museum, +till I've even forgotten my umbrella at the check stand!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +MIKE + + + "Quand on est aime d'une belle femme, on se tire toujours d'affaire." + --_Zoroaster, vide Voltaire_ + + +The Storm Centre chafed under a mad desire to verify his name, which was +not unusual. But it was the first time he had ever craved active danger +as an antidote for his thoughts. The sound of bars lifting came as a +relief, and he shook off the dark mood and was himself. Before the door +opened, he thrust her letter into the candle flame. He had kept it till +the last minute, but now he burned it, as she knew he would. + +Instead of executioners, he beheld a tray, gripped by chocolate hands. +Involuntarily he looked up to the face above the tray. + +"Johnny the Baptist!" he exclaimed. "Well, well, how goes it itself to +Your Mercy this evening?" + +"Pues bien, senor," returned the Baptist, grinning sheepishly. "Would, +would Y'r Mercy like another bath?" The grimace was not unamiable. It +betokened that this time he, and not the prisoner, might have a game to +play. + +"A thousand thanks," replied Driscoll, "but I'll try to make that other +bath answer." + +"But senor, you wasted it." + +"Well, perhaps so. You see, Johnny, it was this way. I had only one bath +coming, and on the other hand there were two things to save. Do you +know, Johnny, I've been mortified ever since, to think how I squandered +my one bath in saving just my life, and how I left my soul to bustle +along for itself." + +The Baptist drew nearer. "But suppose, senor," he whispered, "suppose +the need of absolution was again postponed, even now?" + +Driscoll's fork stopped half way to his mouth. There was no superstition +in the affair this time. The once gullible Dragoon, moreover, was +playing all the leads. "Of course," Driscoll agreed heartily, "I'd +certainly like it right well," and he went on eating. But his wits were +in a receptive state, alert for the meaning when it should come. The +opening innuendoes exasperated him, for the guard was a clumsy agent. +The man must needs feign a great dread of discovery, and tremble lest +his colonel, Don Miguel Lopez, should find him out. As though supper, +instead of a shooting squad, did not belie it all? + +"Still your move, Johnny," Driscoll had to remind him. + +In the end it was to be gathered that Don Benito Juarez, the fugitive +Senor Presidente of the fugitive Republic, might welcome an offer of +Confederate aid, and 'twas a pity that the condemned senor should have +no chance to escape. But if he did escape, he might find his way to the +Senor Presidente far off in the state of Chihuahua. + +So, the cards were dealt at last. Driscoll looked over his hand. He +recognized a crooked game, a game of treachery and dark dealing; but +even so he perceived that a trump or two had fallen to him, perhaps +unwittingly, and he decided to "sit in for a spell." + +He began, with coy hesitancy, to beat his scruples around the bush, +which was not a bad lead. Supposing he turned his offer from Maximilian +to President Juarez, wouldn't it, well, look as though he did so to save +his hide? Brown Johnny opened his eyes as at something unfamiliar. +Driscoll went on. If he were shot, how was he to go to Juarez? But if +he, uh, happened to get loose, he might just possibly be influenced to +think of the Juarez proposal. But actually buying his way out would look +dishonorable. "Now," he concluded abruptly, "run along, and put it that +way to whoever sent you." + +The man protested, and in some genuine alarm, that he had no employers. + +"Oh all right," said Driscoll easily, "then you're bound to help me. +Because if you don't, I'll sure tell Lopez what you've just been trying +to hatch up here." + +The trap worked beautifully, for the guard tried hard to quake. But his +fright was not spontaneous enough. Driscoll smiled. Now he knew the real +player in the game. + +"Cheer up, Johnny," he spoke soothingly, "I'd not tell on you. But +hadn't you better go and think it over by yourself a little?" + +The Baptist would hasten straight to Lopez, and Lopez, Driscoll foresaw, +would interpret his scruples into a disguised acceptance. The +crookedness of the game left the American no other trump, and he played +it--against immediate death. Lopez, of course, would send him under +guard to Juarez, but Driscoll thought he could trust that staunch old +Roman, when once informed, to call for a new deck and an honest deal. + +Juan Bautista "thought it over" outside, and directly returned with an +answer. But when he again left Driscoll, he did not bar the door behind +him. Within ten minutes thereafter Driscoll was creeping past a sleeping +sentinel, on between rows of maguey, toward the road. Around him hovered +five or six shadows. They were to be his escort and take him to Juarez. +They would join him openly a safe distance away, at a place where their +horses waited. But as he emerged upon the road, for the moment alone, a +voice in French challenged sharply. "Halte-la!" + +The shadows hesitated an instant, then showed themselves with energy. +They sprang out and closed on their "escaped" prisoner. They handled him +more roughly than did the Contra Guerrillas, who had first cried "Halt," +and who were now appearing as by magic. The blended anger and +gratification of the shadows over the escape and recapture was +vociferously sincere. + +"Take them all, mes enfants," a huge tone of command filled the +darkness. It was Colonel Dupin. He had that moment arrived. Jacqueline's +message had reached him in the City not an hour before. The American had +escaped, it said; he was at Tuxtla. The Tiger, knowing nothing of Lopez +lying in wait for the same American at the same place, had dismounted +his men, surrounded town and farms, and was closing in, when Driscoll +himself fell among them. + +The interview between Dupin and Lopez brewed stormy at first. The latter +turned gray under his ruddy skin when Dupin walked in upon him in the +front room of the farmhouse. But seeing that his own men were holding +Driscoll, he nervously congratulated them upon the capture. + +"How did he escape this second time?" demanded the Frenchman. "It seems +to me, mon colonel, that the question would occur to you too." + +Lopez was sufficiently alive to his peril. He quickly sent two Dragoons +to the temporary guard house to investigate. Dupin curtly ordered two +Cossacks to accompany them. Soon they brought back the sentinel who had +been conveniently asleep when Driscoll slipped past. The sentinel rubbed +his eyes as he faced Lopez. So far everything had passed according to +arrangement, and he looked for a severe mock examination. But the Tiger +had been left out of the calculations, and the Tiger forthwith +shouldered himself into the inquisition. + +"Do you understand, Colonel Lopez, that your guard here was asleep? Si, +senor, asleep! What now, mon colonel, is the little custom as to guards +who sleep?" + +Lopez glared at the sentinel. It was a fine simulation of outraged +discipline, and so life-like that when he spoke of a court martial, the +culprit weakened. He opened his mouth. At that Lopez's stern anger +became real. He feared the sentinel would tell all he knew. + +"Si senor," cried Lopez, "we don't have to be taught, we Mexicans. We +shoot them. Here, six of you, out with him! Quick, before he can whine!" + +"Go with them," added Dupin quietly to six of his Cossacks. + +The sentinel was dragged out. His cries, whether for mercy or not, were +smothered first by a sabre belt, and then for all time by musketry. The +Cossacks returned and assured their chief that the execution was bona +fide. This allayed Dupin's suspicions. + +"Permit me to suggest, Colonel Lopez," he said courteously, "that you +likewise honor our friend the American. I came from the City to do it +myself, but it is a pleasure to give way before your superior +vigilance." + +It had already occurred to Lopez that Driscoll also might talk. "You are +very amiable, Senor Dupin," he replied. "My court martial found him +guilty, and as a matter of fact, he would have paid the penalty by now +had Your Mercy not arrived. Between us, Colonel Dupin, he will hardly +escape a third time." + +At his command six of the crack Dragoons stood forth. They were brown, +and Mexicans. Lopez bowed to Dupin, who called forth as many Contras. +The Contras were of variously hued races, but they were all the Tiger's +whelps. The file of Dragoons was jaunty crimson, the other corroded red. +Driscoll fell in meekly between them. + +"Sacred name of a dog, you are honored, senor!" Dupin exclaimed +reprovingly. It angered him when a victim quailed. The present one ought +to appreciate, too, that he was answering for two besides himself, for +Murguia and Rodrigo, whose escape had wrenched the old warrior's bowels. + +The Storm Centre glanced at the picked hussars, at the famously infamous +Cossacks, and assented modestly. So plain in gray, he did indeed look +colorless among them. The Contra at his elbow was an American, whose +brutish, swaggering scowl meant the world to know what a bad man he was. +The type gives the decent citizen a mad desire to be bad himself just +once, only long enough to prove the tough a contemptible sham. +Driscoll's neighbor leered ferociously, that the prisoner flanked by +sabres and muskets might respect him and be cowed. Driscoll kept him in +mind, and in the tail of his eye. + +There was one anxiety for the Storm Centre. If they should bind him! But +they had not, he was so docile. And as they marched out the door, he +exulted, and could hardly wait. Wouldn't it be a lovely row, though! +Just one good, last good time! He did not feel hard toward them, not +when they had left off the ropes. He felt that he was to have value +received, and all the while he figured out his desperate campaign. + +As they passed outside beyond the window's sphere of light, docility +changed to whirlwind. A blow with his left, a jerk with his right, and +he had the tough's carbine. He swung it between the two files, a grazing +circle. He got blows in return, but not a man fired. That was because of +the darkness, and a first shot would inspire a wild, general fusillade, +endangering them all. As it was, the blows were impartial, except one, +which came down with pointed favoritism on the tough's cranium. After +that Driscoll helped one side or another, and when they were nicely +mixed, he ran. He got as far as the road, but to find a troop of cavalry +charging down upon him. Changing ends with the carbine, he fired from +the waist at the leader of the new arrivals. This leader dropped his +sabre, plunged heavily, and was dragged by the stirrup. Driscoll had not +the time to change back to club musket, he used the barrel as such. But +being for the instant alone, he was marked out, and Cossacks and +Dragoons threw themselves upon him and brought him down. + +"It _was_ lovely," he muttered under the heap. + +They brought him back to the house, swathed in a mesh of lariats. Lopez +awaited them, frothing oaths. Dupin was there too, and he looked an +epicure's satisfaction as they stood his victim against the wall. He did +not regret the incident, since it had turned porridge into so choice a +morsel. + +"'Tis you, monsieur," he confessed with rugged grace, "who have honored +us." + +"Oh, your grandmother!" said Driscoll. + +"Well, be patient. It will be all over in a minute more." + +The Tiger was, in fact, ordering the shooting squad, when through the +open door glittering helmets and excited French and clanking sabres +flooded the room. It was still another wondrous uniform for Driscoll, +this of the cuirassiers, with so much of brass, and a queue of horse's +hair, and loose pantaloons that merged into gigantic black boots. In +they strode, an agitated host of bristling moustaches, while outside was +the restless sound of many hard breathed horses. The cuirassiers bore +their wounded leader, and laid him on the iron bed in the room. But the +man struggled to his feet. He called loudly for "Monsieur le Colonel," +and only by force, though gentle, could they hold him quiet. + +"What is it?" responded both Dupin and Lopez. + +"I, I mean the American Colonel. He--he----" + +"Hello, Mike!" cried Driscoll. + +He could not see for the others, nor move, but he recognized the voice +of Michel Ney. He knew, too, that Michel must be the cavalry leader he +had just shot. "Darn it, Mike!" he exclaimed, "I'm sorry! But weren't +there enough of 'em without you?" + +"Monsieur Ney," the Tiger interrupted, "let your men tend you here, and +we will be back at once to see what can be done for your hurt. But just +now----" + +He signed to Lopez, and Cossacks and Dragoons caught up the prisoner and +started for the door. + +"Wait!" Ney moaned feebly. + +"Tonnerre, mon prince, your wound must be paid for, first. Hurry there, +Messieurs les Imbeciles!" + +"Wait!" Ney gasped. He half raised himself, but sank back with closing +eyes. He made a gesture to his breast. All halted as in the presence of +death. + +"Help him, you there!" cried Driscoll. "Open his coat!" + +The cuirassiers, eager, awkward nurses, fluttered round the bed, and +tore away the sky-blue jacket, thinking to find the wound beneath. +Instead, they drew out a paper. One of them read the address on it. + +"Al Senor Coronel Don Miguel Lopez." + +Lopez broke the seal, frowned, and put the message in his pocket. +"Nothing--oh, nothing important," he volunteered. "Now, once for all, +let us finish our work." + +"Wait!" a faint whisper came from the bed. + +"He says to wait," doggedly repeated a cuirassier. + +"Yes, wait," Driscoll pleaded suddenly. "Just a minute, before I go, +before we both go, perhaps,"--he thought in a flash that it might be a +last word from Jacqueline--"perhaps, gentlemen, he, he has something to +tell me." + +But Ney's head, moving weakly on the pillow, was a negative. + +The prisoner's voice grew firm again. + +"Then hurry up!" he ordered in the old querulous drawl. "Don't you know +I'm in a hurry?" + +Ney opened his eyes as he heard the shuffling of feet. Men were carrying +out the prisoner. With feeble anger he brushed aside the hand of a +cuirassier who was trying to staunch the blood at his groin. + +"I--I----" His lips barely moved. + +The cuirassier sprang to his feet. He looked to his fellows, spoke to +them. Puzzled, mystified, they rushed to the door and barred the way. + +"We don't know why we came," stammered one, "and he can't speak. But his +signs are enough for us. It's, it's----" + +"It's something to do with the American," declared a second cuirassier. + +Dupin pounded back his half unsheathed blade. Brusquely he wheeled and +faced the colonel of Dragoons. "Lopez," he roared, "what was that +message?" + +"N-nothing, mi coronel, absolutely." + +"If it was from Maximilian, I'd know it to be a pardon, and not blame +you. But I recognized the marshal's seal, and that's different." + +Lopez blanched, yet insisted again that the message was nothing. +"Besides, senor," he added, "I do not take orders from His Excellency, +the marshal." + +"But _I_ do," thundered Dupin. "And I see them obeyed too. Oh, you +can protest to your Emperor afterwards, my royal guardsman, if you want +to, but a marshal of France is the law when I am near." + +Grunting contemptuously, Dupin turned to the bedside. The cuirassiers +had gathered cobwebs from the rafters, and were dressing the wound. +Michel tossed and groaned in the beginning of delirium. Dupin muttered +with vexation, but he took hold of the lad's wrist, and firmly closed +his hand over it. + +"Listen," he said, very distinctly, putting into his tones every timbre +of quiet, compelling will. "Listen, hear me!" + +Slowly the feverish man grew still. + +"Hear me," said Dupin. "There are two questions--two, only two. You are +to answer them.--You will shake your head, 'Yes,' or 'No'--do you hear +me?" + +The Chasseur's eyes opened wide, and they were calm. + +"Good, that's the brave gentleman! Now then, steady. The first question: +Shall we shoot this American?" + +Slowly, painfully, the head rocked on the pillow, from one side to the +other. + +"It's 'No'!" cried a score of men. + +"Silence!" roared the Tiger. "Now, the second question: Does this order +come from Marshal Bazaine?" + +Michel's chin sank to his breast. He groaned, he could not lift it +again. + +"Yes, thank----" Ney himself, his voice! + +Dupin swung round. "Colonel Lopez," he ordered savagely, "you will turn +your prisoner over to Sergeant Ney, at once, sir! Open your mouth, you +dog, and every Dragooning dandy of a Mexican among you----" + +The Tiger's pistols were drawn. His whelps looked hopeful. The +cuirassiers bristled in sympathy. + +Cracking his finger nails, fawning to the marrow, Lopez agreed. + +"Unbind the prisoner," ordered Dupin. + +"Thank God!" came faintly from the bed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE WHISPER OF THE SPHINX + + + "La politique, premiere des sciences inexactes." + --_Emile Augier._ + + +Jacqueline had divined in Bazaine another obstacle to her mission. And +yet it seemed preposterous that he should not be her staunchest ally, +since Napoleon had found a marshal's baton for him in his knapsack, just +as he had transformed his own policeman's club into a sceptre. +Nevertheless Jacqueline had her doubts, and they were homage to her sex. +In other words, she returned to Mexico to find that His Excellency had +married again. + +The very day after her arrival she called to see her dear friend, now +Madame la Marechale. The two women were hardly more than girls, but who +shall fathom the depth of their guile? They kissed each other +affectionately on the cheek, and while the marshal was in the other +room, reading the packet Jacqueline had brought him from Napoleon, they +expressed earnestly their joy at meeting again. + +When Bazaine returned, madame rose to leave them to their "stupid state +affairs." The marshal smiled, knowing how ravenous was his bride for the +same stupid affairs of state, but Jacqueline agreed that indeed they +were wearisome. Of course she might tell His Excellency much about +Paris, but as to politics--and her little shrug bespoke a Sahara of +ignorance. + +In the packet delivered by Jacqueline, the Sphinx had by no means turned +oracle, and Bazaine wished to know what his crafty master would have +said between the lines. But the first topic of their conference was +Driscoll. + +"Your prisoner is incommunicado then?" said she. + +"Have no fears, he is comfortable, here in this very house?" + +"He has sent no word to Maximilian of his arrival?" + +"Not as yet, mademoiselle." + +"And why not, pray?" + +"Because I anticipated the honor of seeing you before permitting him so +much. I must know the campaign better. A plain soldier is dense at +guessing, mademoiselle, while you--you have talked with Napoleon. +If----" + +"Oh, don't be tedious. You alone hold the knight that means royalty +triumphant or checkmated, and you know that you do." + +"But you who are inspired, tell me how I shall play." + +"You forget that I left this man to be shot?" + +"Then I am to destroy him?" + +Jacqueline shuddered. "That was my only way, but you, monsieur, you can +lift him off the board entirely." + +Bazaine rose from his chair and stood before her. "I am no poet," he +said, "and these flowers of speech hide the trenches. My American means +that I may have thousands more like him, and he is a good one to be +multiplied even tenfold. Mademoiselle, _what_ am I to understand?" + +"Does Napoleon's letter satisfy none of your doubts?" + +Without a word he handed her the packet. It was from Napoleon's minister +of finance, and it exuded woe. The French loans were exhausted by +Maximilian's luxury and mismanagement, and therefore Bazaine was +instructed not to advance a cent further. He was, moreover, to take +charge of the Mexican ports, and administer the customs. Here, then, was +the annihilation of Maximilian's sway. Here was the whispering of the +Sphinx. France herself would take over the Empire. + +"Hardly," returned the marshal, "but we will frighten His Majesty into +bettering his finances," and he handed her a confidential missive that +had accompanied the other. Bazaine was therein authorized, when the +security of the Mexican Empire absolutely demanded it, to advance ten +millions of francs. + +Jacqueline sank back disheartened. Not even Napoleon would help her. The +Sphinx had not the courage of his own designs, and she contemptuously +flung him out of her way. She would strive alone, and against him, +Napoleon, among the rest. First of all, there was his captain general, +the man before her. + +"Monsieur le Marechal," she began, as impersonally as though quoting a +dry paragraph of history, "there is a party among the Mexicans who fear +the republicans and what the Republic would do. Yet their hope for the +Empire is gone, and they want no more of it. These, monsieur, are the +moderate liberals, and strange to say, they are the clericals too; in a +word, the great landowners. They are for what is good in Mexico. They +demand order. But they would not take it from the United States. They +look to France--to France, which is Catholic, and liberal." + +"I know," said the marshal. "They have already hinted at annexation." + +"Annexation to France, of course. Now then, monsieur, if we stay at all, +we shall have to fight the United States. But do you imagine that we +would undertake such a fight for Maximilian? Parbleu, the French people +would mob Napoleon over night. But, supposing we were to do it for +ourselves, and not for an impecunious archduke----" + +His Excellency's eyes blazed. "Ah, it would be a fight superb!" + +"And you commanding, Monsieur le Marechal. And behind you, with our own +pantalons rouges, those Confederates against their old enemies. +_Then_ would be the moment to set your knight on the chess board. +And," she added insidiously, "France would need a viceroy over here." + +The plain soldier started as though shot. + +"Mademoiselle," he gasped, "you--_you_ are Napoleon! The +_great_ Napoleon, I salute you, mademoiselle!" + +"Helas, monsieur, that I am not in a position to credit Napoleon III. +with what I have said!" + +"Yet you wish me to believe that you are only inspired by him? Pardon +me, mademoiselle, but _he_ is the inspired one, and--mon Dieu, I do +not blame him!" + +"But it's very simple," said Jacqueline, "and honorable too. +Maximilian's bad faith nullifies our treaty with him. Tres bien, we are +free, free to withdraw our troops. At least we may threaten as much. +Then he will, he must abdicate, unless--well, unless he first sees Your +Excellency's prisoner." + +She arose, feeling that she was leaving a good Frenchman behind her. But +Madame la Marechale appeared to bid her adieu, and Madame la Marechale +looked sharply from one to another, noting especially Bazaine's flush of +enthusiasm. The good Frenchman straightway became uneasy. And +Jacqueline, riding back to Chapultepec in her carriage with its coronet +and arms and footmen, did not know that Driscoll had not been +incommunicado against Madame la Marechale. Who could be? And Madame la +Marechale betimes had paid her respects to a third woman, who also was +but little more than a girl. She and the Empress Charlotte had discussed +both the prisoner and Jacqueline. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE AMBASSADOR + + + "Receive then this young hero with all becoming state; + 'Twere ill advis'd to merit so fierce a champion's hate." + --_Nibelungenlied._ + + +In his bedroom at Buena Vista, the marshal's residence, Driscoll the +next day received a personage, and offered him a cigar. Declined, with +bow from shoulder. Hoped he would have a nip of peach brandy? Declined, +with sweep from hips. He _was_ a personage. Driscoll noted regalia, +medals, cordon; and apologized for the temerity of Missouri hospitality. + +"Especially," he said, "as you're a Grand Divinity." + +"Dignity, senor," the hidalgo corrected him, "Grand Dignity." + +"You'll have to pardon me again," said Driscoll, "but I really didn't +intend any short measure at all." + +It was the Imperial Grand Chamberlain himself. There were no +incomunicado doors before _him_; he came from the Emperor. The +Empress had spoken to His Majesty, having just had her discussion +aforementioned with Madame la Marechale, so that Monsieur le Marechal +had had to lift from his prisoner the ban of the incomunicado. But +monsieur had been extremely reluctant about it. + +The Chamberlain's name went well with his exalted fourth degree of +proximity to the throne. It was Velasquez de Leon, a very bristling of +Castilian pride. He looked over the battered American in homespun gray, +and wondered where the mistake was. For, as arbiter of precedence, +appraiser of inequality between men, and supervisor over court functions +generally, he had been sent in the way of business. Driscoll felt sorry +for him. + +"Just tell them to let me out of here," said the prisoner, "then I'll +call in on the Emperor whenever it's convenient for him." + +"But, senor," the don objected testily, "with what status, pray? Has +your country a representative here? You must obtain a letter from your +ambassador, or have him present you." + +Driscoll shook his head. "Can't," he said, "haven't any country." + +The minion of etiquette despaired. + +"But," Driscoll added, "I've got as good as credentials from what used +to be my country." + +Velasquez de Leon grasped at the straw. "Then," he cried, "we can +register you as an ambassador." + +"Bringing my country with me," Driscoll suggested. + +So it was all straightened out pleasantly, and quite in the orthodox +manner, too. The American's status was defined. His reception would fall +under the rubric: "Private Audience." There remained only one grave +drawback. The protocol allowed no hints as to the un-protocol aspect of +an ambassador's wardrobe. The hidalgo could only finger nervously the +Imperial Crown in his Grand Uniform, and with stiff dignity take his +leave. + +The ambassador who was his own country rode in the marshal's landau to +court, with a retinue of Lancers that was also his guard. Soon they +entered the Paseo, which Maximilian was making beautiful at inordinate +cost as a link between the City and his summer palace, the alcazar of +Chapultepec. Turning into the wide, stately boulevard, Driscoll was that +moment plunged into an eddying splendor of Europe transplanted, and he +blinked his eyes, half humorously. There were mettlesome steeds, and +coaches with a high polish, and silver weighted harness, and the +insolence of livery, and armorial bearings, and the gilt of coronets on +carriage panels. There were silk hats and peaked sombreros, lace +mantillas and Parisian bonnets. A lavish use of French money was doing +these things, and the Mexicans, believing in their aristocracy since the +revival of titles never heard of in Gotha, believed also that such +brilliancy of display made their capital the peer of Vienna, or of the +Quartier St. Germain. The Mexicans were very happy and arrogant over it. + +"I wonder how they can fight and yet keep their clothes so pretty," +thought the Missourian. + +The gallant carpet-knighthood of uniforms was bothering him again. They +were dashing, militant, these paladins, a bal masque of luxurious oddity +and color. They twisted waxed moustaches, and their coursers cantered to +and fro in the gay parade, and among them only the charro cavaliers with +a glitter of spangle let one guess that this could be Mexico. There was +the Austrian dragoon with his Tyrolean feather, and the Polish uhlan, +fur fringed, and the Hungarian hussar, whose pelisse dangled +romantically, and there were some fellows in low boots and tights and +high busbies, who were cross-braided on the chest and scroll-embroidered +on the front of the leg, and looked exactly like Tzigane bandmasters or +lion tamers. The Slav, the Magyar, the Czech, and yet others of the +Emperor's score of native races, all were here out of the nearer Orient, +with curved swords and ferocious bearing. There were the countrymen of +the Empress, too; the Belgians, who were as bedecked of sleeve as a drum +corps. And as to the French, there they were in green and silver, in sky +blue, in cuirassier helmets, in the zouave fez, or in any of the other +ways in which they bore _their_ chips on the shoulder. + +Shelby's ragged Missourians had tossed on straw for the lack of quinine, +and yet were presuming to save this gorgeous empire of golden spurred +gentlemen. The thought of his mission gave Driscoll an ironic twinge. + +But there was the pantalon rouge, the little soldier boy of France who +did the work, and the sight of him put the American into a friendly +humor. He was everywhere, the little pantalon rouge, streaming the +walks, dotting the cafes with red, and every wee piou-piou under the +great big epaulettes of a great big comic opera generalissimo. His huge +military coat fitted him awkwardly, and the crimson pompon cocked on his +little fighting kepi was more often awry, and he could not by any effort +achieve a strut. He was only bon enfant, this unconquered soldier lad; +so he gave over trying to be martial, and left to his officers the role +of the Gallic rooster, taking it all as a droll joke on himself, while +his vivacious eyes danced with fun. + +The ambassador's coach passed under the cypresses and wound round the +Aztec hill of the Grasshopper, and came at last to the castle on the +summit. And as Guatemotzin had once ventured to this place to plead with +Moctezuma to save his empire, and to show him how to do it, so Driscoll +now entered the portals of Chapultepec on a very similar errand. + +The superb Indian lord was never so hedged in with barbaric ceremony as +was his Teuton successor of three centuries later. But Driscoll was +patient. He advanced as the red tape gave way, humming under his breath +"Green Grows the Grass," a schottische which the American invaders of +'48 had sung in taking this same fortress, which also had given all +Americans the name of "Gringo." + +Guardias Palatinas saluted the Missourian at the entrance. Two +Secretaries of Ceremony, Grand Uniform, with cordon and the Imperial +eagle, bowed before him in the Gran Patio. One stepped to his right, the +other to his left, with all the ceremony of which they were secretaries, +and the three walked abreast the length of the Galeria de Iturbide, +where they were joined by the Lesser Service of Honor. Thus, swelling by +cumulative degrees of impressiveness, Trooper Driscoll came at last into +the Sala de Audiencias, and gazed with admiration at its beautiful +Gobelin suite. + +The Emperor was there, tall, white browed, refined. He bowed. Driscoll +bowed, and started toward him, for they were scarcely in speaking +distance. But His Imperial Highness bowed again. He was absent-minded, +evidently, but Driscoll bowed also, and pretended not to notice. Then +yet a third time the monarch bowed. And with true courtesy the American +overlooked what was growing ridiculous, and did likewise. Thus the +ritualistic three obeisances were accomplished. + +Maximilian dismissed the Lesser Service, and he and his guest were +alone. Now Driscoll supposed, considering the discommoding interest his +mission had awakened in everybody except in the Emperor, that the +Emperor himself would this time be concerned enough to "get down to +business." But not so. There were yet the formalities. + +"I understand, Senor Embajador," Maximilian began in the language of his +court, "that Your Excellency----" + +"Thank you, sir, but my name is Driscoll." + +"That Your Excellency comes accredited from a government that no longer +exists. But We will waive that, since the said power existed at the +moment of Your Excellency's departure." + +This was to harmonize the absurdity with the Ritual. Maximilian liked to +play at receiving an American representative. It grieved him sorely that +the United States had never recognized his dignity, but that it had +consistently rated him as merely "the Prince Maximilian." + +Driscoll's first words cut short the make-believe. + +"You'd hardly call them credentials," he said. "Our president, it is +true, helped me on my way, but I have nothing from him to you. And yet I +bring more than Mr. Jefferson Davis could send. Here," and he produced +the memorandum from the Confederate generals of the Trans-Mississippi +department, which in his belt Jacqueline had had restored to him with +his other effects. + +Maximilian took the note handed him, but stared at the emissary. +Charlotte had induced the monarch to grant the audience. She had hinted +at its importance, but not until now did Maximilian recognize his guest. +Driscoll was attired in the full uniform of a lieutenant colonel of +cavalry, which, by the way, was what he had carried so jealously in the +bundle behind his saddle. From the dignified young officer in gray back +to the desperado young giant in homespun proved considerable of a reach +for the Hapsburg; but at last, by virtue of much caressing of his silky +beard with delicate finger tips, he arrived. + +"So, it was you the marshal saved!" he exclaimed. "Yes, yes, I should +have remembered sooner. Colonel Lopez told me. A capable, faithful +officer, is Lopez! I could not but approve the finding of his court +martial. And yet, against his urgent advice, I have decided to pardon +you." + +"To apologize, you mean?" + +The Emperor looked hurt. As a foil for his royal clemency, there should +be humble gratitude. Maximilian often mistook fawning for such. + +"Isn't it a bit odd," Driscoll queried whimsically, "that an ambassador +should be arrested?" + +"Jove, that's a fact! I hadn't thought." + +"Certainly. But if it don't occur again, we'll just let the apology go." + +"No, no," protested the monarch. "You must have your apology. You will +receive it from the Grand Chamberlain to-morrow, and it will appear in +the Journal Officiel." + +"Oh, all right," said Driscoll, "anything to clear the way." Whereupon +he plunged and stated his business. + +With debonair Prince Max it was not a question of even who talked best. +It was who talked last. And Driscoll, being for the moment an exhorter +of both descriptions, drove home conviction as a sabre point. He spoke +bluntly, earnestly; and, at the scent of opposition, he spoke fiercely. +The South was defeated, he said, and the North would now make good its +threat to drive out the French. And the French would go, too. Suppose +they were even willing to undertake a great war for Maximilian, yet they +would go just the same. And why? Because they had fought the Russians. +They had fought the Austrians. And they were keeping the Italians out of +Rome to help the Pope. So they had not a friend left, not one, to help +them against the enemy they must soon fight, which was Prussia. +Consequently they would draw every bayonet out of Mexico, and Maximilian +would be left alone to face his rebels. But Maximilian could not face +the rebels alone. They had been dominant before the French came. To +replace thirty thousand French, Driscoll offered fifty thousand +Southerners, fifty thousand well-equipped, splendid veterans. +Twenty-five thousand were already on the frontier, he meaning those +under General Slaughter at Brownsville, and Shelby and the others were +not far behind. + +"But," said Maximilian, smiling bitterly, "you forget that the United +States would still object to my poor Empire." + +"Not when the French leave, they wouldn't. We would become citizens. We +would not be a foreign intervention. You would be backed up by Mexicans +against Mexicans, and the North could not interfere. But, suppose that +the French remain, wouldn't they have to fight? And they would need our +aid to do it, too. Don't you see, sir, that in any case you should make +us very welcome?" + +"There is assuredly no other way to look at it!" admitted the prince +uneasily. + +Dreaming himself a monarch of chivalry days, Maximilian was subtly +enthralled by the idea of a band of heroes flocking to his standard, +their swords on high. Stouter than those warriors who had helped +Siegfried to his bride, they would hold for him a treasure greater than +that under the Rhine. Themselves and their children forever, they would +be the real mainstay of the dynasty founded by Maximilian the Great. +They were Anglo-Saxons, Germanic, his own kindred, and to him they came +for new homes and a new country. They would be his landed gentry, his +barons, his hidalgos. It was a prospect for an emperor; above all, for a +poet emperor. As he looked now on the young Confederate officer, on him +who had seemed a desperado, Maximilian thought that here stood one who +was the instrument of Destiny. + +"Can--can they really come?" he demanded breathlessly. + +Driscoll smiled. "Of course, there's no time to lose," he replied. "For +instance, if I'd had your answer there at Murguia's ranch, I'd have +gotten back in time to head off whole regiments who've probably given up +their arms since then. But you can still count on an army west of the +Mississippi that hasn't surrendered yet. At least _my_ general +hasn't, not Old Joe, and he won't either. But you must say 'yes' pretty +quick. We're restless, and might conclude to run the French out of here. +We haven't forgotten how Napoleon forgot to help us." + +It was a cunning stroke. Maximilian would have asked nothing better than +independence from his "dear imperial brother," and just this was the +bribe so temptingly held out by the instrument of Destiny. But the +Hapsburg of the heavy, trembling underlip credited wavering as +statesmanlike prudence. + +"To-morrow," he said, "no, the day after, you shall have my decision." + +Jacqueline witnessed the ambassador's departure. Hidden among the roses +of the fortress rock, where she sat with a book, she peeped out as he +came down the steps to the marshal's landau. The glacial Secretaries of +Ceremony flanked him on either side, and the statuesque Palatine Guards +saluted. She could not be mistaken, the corners of his mouth were +twitching. It was such an inimitable commentary on the Ritual that she +had much to do not to dart out and laugh with him in gleeful mischief. + +Then, she noted his uniform. After the ornate regimentals of all Europe, +what a relief was the simple gray! There was the long coat, the belt, +the dragoon sabre, the unobtrusive insignia on the collar, and she +murmured her verdict advisedly. It was beautiful! Next she noted the +man--as though she had not in the first place. His easy frame still had +that charm of gaucherie, and the rollicking daredeviltry lurked +quiescent in the brown eyes, but enough to recall the rider of fury, her +chevalier de Missour-_i_, plunging through a wall and cloud of dust +on a big-boned yellow charger. And though now he was in this beautiful +simplicity of gray, she looked in vain for some hint of martial stride +or pompous chest. + +She wondered for a moment why he had worn the uniform. It signified +nothing, since the Confederacy had fallen. Then she understood. +_He_ had not surrendered. Nor had those he represented. The gray, +for him, still had its reason, and was a power yet; the power to decide +an empire's fate. It was the grave dignity of a lost cause; striving, +before being doffed forever, to leave behind a new cause. Or, if +failing, to accept the lot of surrender. In either case, her chevalier +de Missour-_i_ was wearing the dear uniform for the last time. With +her keenness for intuition and sympathy, Jacqueline _knew_. She +knew what it must mean. And he looked so strong, so splendid! Her eyes +unexpectedly dimmed in tenderness for him. + +Driscoll, being now a free man, established himself at a hotel near the +diligencia office in the busy Plateros street. He drilled through the +following day with tedious waiting for the day after, when he was to +have the promised reply. Used to men who knew their own minds, he hoped +for strength in this emperor fellow. Then, his mission successful, he +would be in the saddle by the next night, perhaps by noon, and hastening +toward the border with tidings of homes and more fighting for his +comrades of the Old Brigade. But the next morning, even as he was +mounting Demijohn to go to Chapultepec, a thin man in riding breeches +entered the hotel patio and accosted him. + +"I am Monsieur Eloin," the stranger announced in English that could be +understood, "of Her Majesty's household. Also aide and secretary in +private to the Emperor. I see, you go to horse. It is well, sir. Mine is +outside." + +"What's the answer?" asked Driscoll. "I'm not up on conundrums." + +"It is that we go to Cuernavaca." + +"You don't say! Now where's that, and what for?" + +"Cuernavaca is His Majesty's country sit-down, about a douzaine of +leagues from here. You have not read of this morning the Journal +Officiel? Here it is. The court went there yesterday. His Majesty has to +need rest." + +"But he was to see me to-day! What's the matter with him?" + +M. Eloin's brow contracted narrowly, and he shrugged his shoulders. "His +Imperial Highness is much worked. He is worse of good health. Her +Majesty sought at having him stay, to give you that same-self answer he +had promised already. And the Marshal Bazaine, sensible this once, did +talk yesterday night before last, after you were there, and beseeched +him to accept your offer. And they all beseeched, Her Majesty and Madame +la Marechale, and I.--But, what would you?" + +"I'm sure I don't know. What the devil----" + +"No, not him! But her, sir, her!" + +"Her, who?" + +"Why, her. We all talk, argue, beseech; and she, in one little whisper, +she only tell His Majesty he has to need that rest--and, poof! off they +all go to Cuernavaca, and I know nothing. Her Majesty leave me a note. I +bring you it here." + +"But who is the 'she?' You don't mean----" + +"Yes, we others call her Jacqueline. She did it, against everybody who +beseech. But we--how you say?--we fool her, you and me. Come, we are +there to-night, at Cuernavaca." + +"Just that little girl----" Driscoll murmured wonderingly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +CARLOTA + + + "Der sicherste Weg nicht sehr ungluecklich zu sein ist das Glueck nicht + erwarten."--_Schopenhauer._ + + +Everybody he met seemed to twist Driscoll's business into a vital +personal issue, and it did not take him long to place M. Eloin. The +supercilious Belgian of the rancid brow, as Driscoll mentally described +him, wanted the perpetuation of the empire, and he wanted it for the +very simple reason that the favorite of a realmless prince does not +amount to much. Hence he intrigued for the acceptance of Driscoll's +offer and for the confusion of Jacqueline. + +A small escort of Belgians joined him and Driscoll at the garita, or +little customs house, on the edge of the City. Accompanying them was a +burly priest with a head shaped like a pear. The padre had very small +eyes for so large a man, but they were exceedingly bright and roved +adventurously. They would settle with crafty calculation on Eloin time +and again, though his manner toward the favorite was always a thing of +humble deference. + +"His Dutch Holiness from Murgie's!" Driscoll observed to himself. + +But there might be an ecclesiastical college along, for all the +Missourian cared. His own thoughts were battalions. "When it's over, one +way or another," he kept deciding, "I'll speak to her, yes I will! +What's there to be afraid of? W'y, she's--only a girl." It might be an +unfair advantage, his not dying after the confession in her farewell +letter to him, but he would have her, he would have her! The Lord be +good to him, he _had_ to have her! + +Late in the afternoon they arrived at the quaint old Aztec village of +Cuernavaca, which had been the country seat of Cortez, and was now that +of a second fair god and a second Hernando. After dismounting at the +hotel near the conquistador's palace, Eloin hurried Driscoll across the +plaza into the beautiful Italian gardens where Maximilian made his home. +At the villa, Charlotte's own residence in the gardens, Eloin had +himself announced to Her Majesty. The American reflected that women +seemed to have a great deal to do with the reigning business. In the +drawing room, the Empress received them. + +She was a slender young woman whose lips were thin and proud, whose eyes +were dark and lustrous. Her hair was black and very heavy, coiled in the +old fashioned style away from a high forehead that was beautifully +white. She could not be older than twenty-five, and there was even a +girlishness in her bearing. But she had a steadiness of gaze--one eye +seemed the least heavy lidded--and there was a firmness to the slightly +large mouth, which gave an impression of strong lines to what was really +a soft, oval face. Yet the temperament could not be mistaken. She was a +woman of acute nerves. She was tensely strung, inordinately sensitive. + +Driscoll believed now what he had heard, that the Empire fared better +when Charlotte was regent and her lord on a journey. Maximilian dreamed, +while she realized. The Hapsburg cadet, gazing over the Adriatic from +the marble steps of Miramar, had brooded fondly on what Destiny must +hold for him. He would be king of a Poland born again among the nations. +Then Louis Napoleon whispered of another throne in the building. +Whereupon _she_ began the study of Spanish; _she_ decided her +half hesitating spouse to accept, however loftily they both scorned the +adventurer who helped them to it. + +Carlota, for so the natives called her, amiably greeted the Missourian. +She was a woman of tact, and though one Din Driscoll was for her as +impersonal a thing as some opportune event, yet events must be neatly +turned to account. + +"His Majesty and I have discussed your presence in our country, sir," +she began in English, "and feeling that he desires to see you again, I +requested M. Eloin to bring you to Cuernavaca." + +"Why, thank you, ma'am," said Driscoll. + +She all but reproved the form of address. But, for her at least, common +sense was beginning to prevail. The rigid court punctilio, largely of +her own enthusiastic designing, had gone hard with her. Her husband had +proved no more than consistent to the medieval revival. He was but true +to that old chivalry which distinguished between the divinely fair +damsel to be won and the mere woman won already. He was the monarch, she +his consort. Classifying others, the Empress found herself classified. +He was her liege, and she might not even enter his presence unannounced. +But how much happier was she in the blithe sailor prince who came +a-wooing, who wooed for love, in accordance with that same ancient +chivalry! + +A princess of the Blood, of the House of Orleans, Charlotte had had that +nicest poise of good breeding, the kind that is unconscious. But here +among the Mexicans, she had to proclaim a superiority not taken for +granted, and the nice poise was gone. In her the generations--Henry IV., +the Grand Monarch, and all of that stately line--in her they stooped. +And an element of sheerest vulgarity, as plebeian as a Jew's diamond, +crept in perforce. Poor tarnished escutcheon of Orleans! Poor princess +of the Blood, become menial with scouring it! She was weary. Over this +New World there floated too much of obscuring democratic dust. So she +allowed "ma'am," like a homely fleck, to settle unreproved on the +ancestral doorplate. + +Driven to expediency for her very Empire's sake, she herself trampled on +the Ritual. Waiving all formalities, they would go and seek out His +Majesty. He must be somewhere in the gardens, perhaps beside the pond +with its fringe of deep shadows from the trees. There they expected to +find him, breathing the air of orange blossoms, gazing enraptured into +the water, and on the gold fish and the swans and the fountains. He +would be teasing Nature for a sonnet's inspiration. + +Driscoll went ahead, since Carlota and Eloin talked earnestly in French, +intent on their plot for the persuasion of the Emperor. But as the +American parted a clump of oleanders and laden rosebushes that hid the +little lake, he stopped, his eyes wide on something just beyond. In the +instant he fell back, and confronted the other two with such a look on +his face that both started in vague alarm. They saw the sickened look of +one who turns from a revolting sight. A wretch stricken suddenly blind +may know at once the fact of a terrible grief, yet he cannot quite at +first gather to himself the fullness of the horror. He is only aware +that, afterward, the meaning will slowly take shape, like a gradually +darkening despair. + +Driscoll gazed uncertainly at the Empress, as though she had somehow +arrested his thoughts. Then, as a strong man rushing from danger, he +comprehended that here was a frail woman near the same peril. + +"You will not go, ma'am," he ordered in a kind of terror for her. + +Eloin had already hastened on to the screen of roses. Being a fellow of +the arras and closets, he scented a royal secret. The Empress lifted her +shoulders and would have followed, but Driscoll did not hesitate. He +took her by the elbow and gently turned her the other way. + +"You must not!" he said again, with that same scared manner on him. + +She bridled indignantly, but when she saw how white he was, and how +earnest, something there awed her. In a flash she understood. Her lip +curled, baring teeth of the purest pearl, and a sneer quivered on the +highbred nostrils. But suddenly, in piteous tumult, her breast heaved +once, and betrayed the wound. It gave him to know the knighthood which +covets blows in a woman's behalf. But she, with a will that held him in +admiration and reverence for her, spoke to him, and her tone was even, +was unbroken. + +"I dare say you are right," she said, and turned to retrace her steps. +But, as if to drink deeper of the bitter cup, she paused, and forced +herself to a last word. + +"I suppose I should thank you," she went on, and her eyes, still dry of +tears, were lustrous as they lifted to his, "but a gentleman--and I have +never known one more than you, sir, this minute past--will understand +that I cannot--There, I am going now. And after--after this that you +have just beheld, I shall never see you again, sir. Alas, it's the more +pity. Such as you are rare, even in--in my world." + +Driscoll watched her blankly as she left him, her head poised high, her +step as slow as dignity itself. His own face was cruelly drawn, with the +first sickened ghastliness still on him. He stumbled to a bench, and sat +down. But there was nothing to think about, nothing he could think +about, just then. Yet his brain was full to throbbing, and he had no +consciousness of where he was, nor of the passage of time. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +THE WOMAN WHO DID NOT HESITATE + + + "The soul of man is infinite in what it covets."--_Ben Jonson._ + + +Stealthily Eloin drew aside the bushes, and peered through. The tiny +pond with its crystal surface sunk deep in foliage, its flowering island +in the centre, looked not unlike a mirror on a dining table luxuriantly +wreathed by garlands. The Belgian stared greedily. He did not see quite +what Driscoll had seen, yet he saw enough to draw his brow to a +narrowing fold of keenest interest. Jacqueline was seated on the raised +edge of the basin, pensively dipping a hand into the water. Her plump +wrist showed rosy, like coral, and glancing sideways now and again at a +poor agitated prince striding up and down, she looked as she did that +day in the small boat, while tempting a shark. As she leaned over, the +line of her waist and neck was stately and beautiful; and there were the +maddening baby tendrils of soft, glowing copper. Maximilian had +evidently found her there, in a reverie perhaps, and was at sight of her +lured to some act bold and desirous; for just as evidently, if his +flushed face and the way he bit his lip were tokens, he had that moment +been repelled. Eloin watched them avidly, the tall archduke pacing up +and down, the demure lady seated on the basin's edge. + +"It was but the lowly homage of a prince," Maximilian cried out +peevishly. Such was his apology. + +"Homage of a play-king," she corrected him with exasperating sweetness. + +He turned on her angrily. "Why do you say that--a play-king?" + +"Whose embassies," she proceeded calmly, "cringe for recognition. Like +beggars they prowl about that White House at Washington, yet never cross +the threshold." + +Maximilian was too amazed for denial. "How do you know?" he exclaimed. + +"While at the same time," she went on, "the same neighbor receives the +minister of the Mexican republic, and sends one in turn. But no matter. +The marionettes of empire can dance, so long as Napoleon holds the +strings. Was the princely homage a make-believe, too?" + +"But--but, if I should convince you, mademoiselle, that the majesty +which only asks to kneel is genuine?" + +Her eyelids narrowed, and she looked at him with the oddest smile. + +"You know--sire--that I only ask to be convinced. Where will Your +Imperial Highness begin?" + +"Know then that the American peasant named Lincoln, who would not +recognize a Hapsburg, is dead. He has been assassinated. He will no +longer encourage our rebels in Mexico." + +"That poor gentleman whom you call a peasant," she returned with galling +frankness, "was greater than any Hapsburg. He was fifty million people, +and one million are still under arms. Your rebels know it. They still +cry, 'Viva la Intervencion del Norte!' But go on, _sire_." + +He chafed under her mockery in the title. But sitting there, goading an +imaginary shark, she was no less inciting than when he had ventured his +caress. + +"They are of no consequence," he burst forth, "neither the Americans, +nor the dissidents. Your own countrymen, mademoiselle, will, and must, +assure my empire." + +"H'm'n," she ejaculated, with a quick shrug. "Even the marshal, greatly +against his will, has had to inform Your Majesty that we will shortly +withdraw." + +"Then I shall depend on my subjects alone!" + +She contented herself with repeating, "Viva la Intervencion del Norte!" +That too, was ample comment as to the loyalty of his subjects. The +Emperor paused in his walk. "Alas," he sighed wearily, "a Hapsburg +sacrifices himself to regenerate a people, and--they do not appreciate +it." + +Jacqueline bent her head to hide a smile. She dreamily made rings in the +water, and seemed to fall into his mood of poetic melancholy. "A +comedietta of an empire," she mused sympathetically, "a harlequinade, +nothing more. Grands dieux, I do not wonder that Your Highness finds it +unworthy!" + +There is no such incense to a man as when he imagines himself understood +by a pretty woman. + +Yet the temptress now found herself the harder to master. It was the +thought of what she must yet do. But she gave her head an impatient +toss, and the tears that had come were gone. The lines of her mouth +tightened, and the dangerous glint shone in her eyes. "So," she added, +almost in a whisper, "you did not mean it, sire, when you offered only a +play-empire--to me." + +She knew that he started violently, and was looking down at her. But she +kept her gaze averted, that he might not see the hard expression there +that was merciless for them both. He did see, though, the long lashes, +and the warm pink of her forearm, so tantalizing for shark or man. + +"These imperial gardens, they are beautiful," she went on softly, "but, +helas, they are not the Schoenbrunn. Nor is Chapultepec more than a +feeble miniature of the Hofburg. Oh, the wretched farce! The wretched +farce, sire, in your pretension to--to honor me! A wooer from the +throne, indeed? A straw throne--no, no, I do not like it!" + +Then she let him see her eyes. Half raised, half veiled; they held the +daring suggestion hidden in her words. + +"And if," he cried, "and if we _were_ in the Schoenbrunn----" + +"Yes, yes," and she clapped her hands with delight, "yes, where the +heroic figures on the crest of the hill are silhouetted against the sky, +where----" + +"Never mind the heroic figures! But where I shall be really an emperor, +_the_ Emperor over Austria, over Hungary. Then, what then? +Jeanne--Jacqueline, tell me!" + +She had brought him to it. Yet her face clouded pitifully, as that day +in the small boat, when she told Ney that a woman might only give. Such +a woman too, would be lost for the reason that she would _not_ +hesitate. Here was the errand of the Sphinx, and achievement at her +hand. Dainty flower of France, yes! But in truth, what was she? + +"And then?" she repeated, and the maddening promise in her voice +thrilled him. "Why, sire, I suppose that I could not help but listen to +you. Yet first," she hastened to add with subtle emphasis, "first, you +would have to give up your play kingdom here." + +His blue eyes flashed. "I will!" he cried. "It shall be mine, the Roman +empire of Charles V. They are tired of my brother Franz. Already they +cry out for me. Our mother made an uncle abdicate for him, I will do as +much for myself. I will, Jeanne, I will!" + +Eloin behind his screen moved uneasily. + +"The devil go with her!" the eavesdropper muttered. "She'll have him +abdicating himself in another minute. She must be stopped, she must!" + +He tiptoed back, and once out of hearing, he ran. He found Driscoll on a +bench, slowly passing his fingers through his hair, and staring fixedly +at the ground. + +"Coom," said Eloin, "coom quick! He is alone. You find your chance. He +is that happy, he say yes to anything." + +Driscoll got heavily to his feet. There was his mission. For the sake of +that, for the sake of comrades depending on him, he would go and once +more offer succor to this libertine princelet. + +"No, not that way," the Belgian directed. "The path here, it leads the +more direct at the pond, so. Quick!" He knew that foliage would hide the +couple until Driscoll should turn the corner of the hedge and burst on +them squarely. The American hastened down the walk. "A nice surprise, +mutual." Eloin chuckled to himself. + +Jacqueline did not falter before her victory. She knew that Maximilian +rated the Mexican throne as a stepping-stone to another in Europe. She +knew of a certain family pact among the Hapsburgs and how it rankled in +Maximilian's breast. Therein he had, on accepting the Mexican throne, +solemnly renounced all right of inheritance to that of Austro-Hungary. +But she knew also that he considered his oath as void, since Franz Josef +had forced it on him. Craftily she pictured the Mexican enterprise, how +instead of enhancing his prestige at home, it but turned him into a +sorry and ridiculous figure. And so she won the child of Destiny. Yet, +when in a sudden fervent outburst he came and sat beside her, and would +have taken her hand, she still did not falter. Napoleon would have the +glory, and she a shame unexplained, but for all that her country would +have Mexico. Her country would have Mexico! Would have a vast expanse of +empire, greater and more enduring than any won for her by Bonaparte +himself. + +Nevertheless, she brushed away the gallant's arm with more vigor than +her coy role demanded. "No, no," she moaned faintly, "not yet!" + +"But, _cruelle_----" + +"Not yet, not until I know that you will try to win in Austria, not +until--you abdicate here!" + +"But, I shall sail this very month, I----" + +"And never return, never to Mexico?" + +"Never!" + +Frankly, then, she placed her hands in his. + +That moment Driscoll turned the corner of the hedge, and was before +them. He fell back, and reddened as though himself caught in wrongdoing. +It was strange how he noted, at such a time, that she was clothed in +light blue, in the very dress he had given her. But no, he perceived at +once that it was of some delicate silk from Japan. Yet the pattern was +so nearly the same. She must have selected it--she had selected +it!--with him in mind. And now, against a girl's love so quaintly, shyly +revealed, to behold this contrast, her hands there, wantonly +surrendered! + +Instantly she tore herself free and confronted him. + +"Oh, why, _why_," she cried fiercely, "did you not let them kill +you?" + +Suddenly her hands flew up to her hot face. "Then," she moaned, "then +you would not have lived to see!" + +The Emperor stepped between them. Tall, severe, he was cold in anger. + +"It's the intrusion of a rowdy, mademoiselle." To Driscoll he said, +"Now, go!" + +Utterly confused, the trooper turned to obey. But at the first step he +swung round, looking as he had never looked in the bloodiest of cavalry +charges. + +"I am here for your answer, sir," he said. + +"Answer? What answer, fellow?" + +Driscoll breathed once, he breathed twice, and yet again. It may be he +counted them. Then he spoke. + +"You understand, of course, that I might call you a puppy? Or break you +over my knee? But I've got something harder on hand. It's to make you +honor your promise. I've ridden forty miles for what you were to give me +six hours ago at Chapultepec. Now then, shall I bring the men to save +your empire? Think well. You need not take the question from me. Take it +from them, from an army of fifty thousand men. Now, answer! And +remember, you can save your empire." + +"Save my empire?" Maximilian repeated the words. + +There was a reluctant note in the query. Jacqueline heard. And the +bravest act of her life was when she raised her head and faced her +shame, with _him_ to see. She must begin her fight all over again. + +"Yes, your play empire, sire," she said, wielding two weapons, the +mockery in her voice, the seduction of her eyes. + +Driscoll saw his cause forlorn against eyes like those. + +"It's unfair!" he protested involuntarily. + +She turned on him in defiance. "It is _not_ unfair! And you, +monsieur, of all men, know that it is not. You, and you alone, know what +I, what I would give--what I tried to give--that I might win in this!" + +He could not help a thrill of admiration. She was battling against all +men and women to change the destinies of two continents. + +"W'y, I take it back then," he said. + +She stared at him in wonder, and drew farther away. It was his tone, +altered as she could never have thought possible, nor had she known that +aught on earth might hurt her so. She heard a decent man addressing some +unavoidable word to a strumpet. All vestige of respect was gone, gone +unconsciously, except that respect for himself which would not allow +that the word be coarse or an insult. She looked in vain, too, for a +trace of anger. Once she had sought to kill him, but that had not +changed his big heart. While now! How much--oh, how much easier--was +that other sacrifice of hers than this! + +"Perhaps, sir," she found the strength to say, "perhaps I have even, in +my humble opinion, favored the acceptance of your offer. But His Majesty +knows far better than I under what conditions he might accept." + +Driscoll turned to Maximilian direct. "Name them." + +"There is but one. We cannot give refuge to the enemies of the United +States----" + +"The conditions?" + +"Therefore, to avoid complications, your men must lay down their arms on +entering Mexico. Then we would deliver the arms to the United States on +their recognizing Our Empire----" + +"Trade us off, you mean?" + +"Or, in case the United States still held aloof, then, as citizens of +Mexico, you could take up your arms again." + +Driscoll looked at Jacqueline. She, the inspiration of such a condition, +knew quite well beforehand that he would not submit. + +"This is final, is it?" he demanded. + +"It is, because We cannot provoke war with the United States, but," +Maximilian urged querulously, "you have only to surrender your swords." + +"After refusing them to the Federals, to the men who _fought_ for +them? And now we are to give them up to a pack of----" Driscoll stopped +short and took another breath. "By God, sir, no sir!" he cried. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +A SPONSOR FOR THE FAT PADRE + + + "Every man is as heaven made him, and sometimes a great deal worse." + --_Cervantes._ + + +When Driscoll had gone, Jacqueline would not linger. Maximilian sought +to detain her, but something had happened that he could not fathom. She +was no more the same person. + +"Not even a token to bid me be brave so far away in Austria?" he +pleaded. + +"There have been tokens enough," she returned shortly. "I ask Your +Majesty's leave. Good-night." + +She gained her room, and worked till late on a cipher dispatch to +Napoleon. Its purport was, that now, if ever, Maximilian must be +discouraged absolutely. Following on what she herself had done, such +would bring his abdication. She implored, above all things, that Bazaine +be kept from meddling, from extending false hopes. Poor girl, after what +it had cost, she was passionately bent on success. A courier took her +packet to the City the next day, whence the message was to be sped to +Paris. + +"That foolish Prince Max," she thought, "if he does give it up and go, I +am really saving him from terrible sorrow. But, who will save me from +mine, I wonder? Mine, that is come already! God in Heaven cannot." + +Maximilian had watched her as she left him, till her stately girlish +figure was lost in the dusk under the trees. Then with a sigh he turned +away. At the villa he found his wife. She was seated apart from her +maids, and Eloin was talking to her, in tones low and swift. Charlotte +only half listened. Her agitation was nearly hysterical. Her eyes +gleamed wildly, and sometimes they would close, as though they ached for +the soothing that tears might bring. + +"Who," demanded Maximilian, "has had the presumption to introduce a spy +on these grounds?" + +Eloin glanced quickly at the Empress. "A spy, sire?" he said uneasily. + +"I mean that American, sir. But shall I ask the sentinels at the gate?" + +"That, Ferdinand," Charlotte interposed icily, "is not necessary. +Monsieur Eloin, at my command, brought the American here. You should +know why." + +"To save my play-empire, I suppose?" + +"An empire," she cried, catching up the word the more hotly because she +knew it to be Jacqueline's own gage of battle, "an empire, August Sire, +to be gained by fighting, as your forefathers, as mine, won theirs. And +that is nobler, _I_ suppose, than puny inheritance. I do not know +what the Hapsburg may be fallen to, but a daughter of Orleans still has +the right to expect a crown from her husband. If not, she is unworthily +mated." + +Maximilian thought of that other empire, which that other temptress +exacted of him. It seemed that he had many realms to conquer. But the +grimmest humor of all was that he blithely imagined himself capable of +satisfying the whims, not of one woman, but of two. Deluded Prince Max! + +But the Emperor was not there to discuss empire building, much less to +face the tigerish light in his lady's eyes. + +"Monsieur Eloin," he said, "this is my first personal complaint against +you, but there have been others, long, insistent ones, from French and +Mexicans alike. You lose me my friends, sir, however I assure them that +you have not the slightest influence over my policy. So, after the +awkward intrusion of to-day, I am resolved that you had best leave us." + +"Your Majesty desires----" + +"That you leave the country at once, Monsieur Eloin." + +"But," protested Charlotte, "that is open disgrace. At least cover it +with the pretext of some mission." + +The downcast courtier took heart. Watching his master with narrowed +sycophant eyes, he said, "But it need not be a pretext, sire. Since I +must leave Your Highness, permit me, then, to find my mission, and one +in which I can still serve my sovereign, though in spite of himself." + +Imperceptibly Maximilian fell under the spell of the old fawning. + +"And what mission could that be, my good friend?" + +"To feel the Austrian pulse, sire. To know when the time is ripe, to +hasten the time----" + +"The time for what?" + +"For Your Majesty's return. Even now the unpopularity of His Imperial +Highness, Franz----" + +"Eloin!" Maximilian stopped him sharply. But he could not hide the flash +of his own blue eyes. + +"What would Your Majesty? In Vienna, in Budapest, in your own Venetia, +sire, they long for you; at least as regent till the crown prince shall +come of age. Would you rebuke them also, as you do me?" + +Charlotte stared at the Belgian in amazement and distrust. He had only +just warned her how Jacqueline had kindled Maximilian's Austrian hopes +in order to get him out of Mexico, and here he was borrowing that +woman's guile. And here was Maximilian, too, softening under the +enervating blandishment, softening behind his frowns for the officious +meddler. + +"There, there, Eloin," he said, "you know that I must be inexorable. But +in the Journal Officiel it will appear that you are gone on a secret +mission, though you have no mission at all. None at all, do you +understand, sir?" + +Eloin protested that he understood. + +"None," repeated the Emperor, "except to win back my confidence. When +you have taken leave of Her Majesty, you may come to my cabinet to bid +me farewell." + +As Maximilian left them, Charlotte turned on the favorite. "Indeed, +Monsieur Eloin?" she said in utter scorn. + +"But, Your Majesty----" + +"Is Napoleon, then, so liberal a paymaster?" + +"Your Majesty!" and in genuine distress the courtier hurried on. "If you +would listen, Madame! 'Tis true that Jeanne d'Aumerle has found the +surest lever to pry His Highness out of Mexico----" + +"So good a lever, that you would use it too, to topple over my throne." + +"Not so, Madame. It's a cunning lever, yes; but _I_ shall use +another fulcrum." + +"Really, monsieur, if I were in the mood for riddles and such pretty +trifles, I'd ask you to favor Us with a chansonnette." + +"But this is as plain as day. First, our little intrigante knows that if +His Majesty tries for the Austrian throne, he must leave Mexico. +_That_ is her lever to move him. But suppose we shift it to my +fulcrum. Then, whatever encourages his hopes for Austria, will make him +but the more determined to cling to Mexico. For to succeed in Austria, +he must triumph first in Mexico. He must prove to Europe that he can +reign brilliantly. But if he abandons Mexico, as Jacqueline would +persuade him, what of his prestige then? What of his glory to dazzle the +Austrians? If Your Majesty would suggest to him this phase----" + +"And you, meanwhile in Europe?" + +"Oh, I shall find his chances good over there, but conditional on his +success here." + +"Monsieur Eloin, I find that I must congratulate you. More, I even +regret that you are going, for I dread that some other will replace you +in favor with the Emperor who----" + +"Who may not be in accord with our views, Your Majesty would say? But if +you will permit, Madame, I believe I know quite a different man. +Moreover, he has already made an impression on His Highness, during our +brief stay at an hacienda in the Huasteca. Now he is here. I brought him +to commend as a future loyal follower." + +"Pray, who is the paragon?" + +"A priest, Madame, a German priest, who perhaps would not refuse the +Bishopric of Durango. The hope of that rich see would insure his +devotion. His name is Fischer. He is a clerical, he is an imperialist, +he is resourceful. Our Jacqueline will have much to do to outwit him. +This corpulent padre, Madame, would wheedle the sulky pope himself into +a good humor with us. If I might venture so far as to present him +before----" + +"Oh, I suppose so," said Charlotte wearily. + + + + +PART SECOND + + +THE ROSE THAT WAS A THORN IN THE LAND OF ROSES + + "The rugged battle of fate, where strength is born." + --Emerson. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +MEAGRE SHANKS + + + "... and should a man full of talk be justified?"--_Book of Job_. + + +At the hotel in the City of Mexico where Driscoll stopped, the entrance +was big enough for a stage coach to drive through. But as to height, it +did not seem any too great for the attenuation of Mr. Daniel Boone, who +therein had propped himself at his ease, delightfully suggesting a +tropical gentleman lounging on a veranda under the live oaks. One +shoulder was impinged on the casing of the archway, from which contact +his spare frame drifted out and downward, to the supporting base of one +boot sole. The other boot crossed it over, and the edge of the toe +rested on the pavement of the Calle de los Plateros, familiarly +so-called. + +Mr. Boone hailed from Boonville, but in Missouri, with Kentucky for +ancestral State, such was not a strained coincidence by any means. An +individual there of the name of Boone, and a bit of geography likewise +distinguished, are bound to fall together occasionally. For instance, a +flea's hop over the map, and Mr. Boone and Boonville both might have +claimed the county of Boone. Under the circumstances, Daniel's Christian +name was the most obviously Christian thing his parents could do, and +followed (to precede thereafter) as a matter of course. + +Now, Missouri, in the beginning of the Civil War, was a very Flanders +for battles, and this sort of thing had ended by disturbing Mr. Boone +considerably in the manipulation of an old hand-press, dubbed his +Gutenberg, which worked with a lever and required some dozen processes +for each impression of the _Boonville Semi-Weekly Javelin_. +Finally, when Joe Shelby and his pack of fire-eaters were raiding +Missouri for the second time, Daniel plaintively laid down his stick in +the middle of an editorial on Black Republicans, and what should be done +to them. The shooting outside had gotten on his nerves at last. That +blazing away of Missourians back home made him homesick. He was like the +repressed boy called out by the gang to go coasting. And he went. An +editorial by example, he went to do unto the Black Republicans somewhat +personally. The Javelinier was a young man yet. + +"There's been rumors hitherto about the pen and the sword," he mused, +"but type, now--that's _hot_!" Wherewith he emptied his cases into +a sack, took down a squirrel rifle, chased off his devil, locked in the +Gutenberg, and joined the raiders. Flinging his burden of metal at +General Shelby's feet, he said, "There sir, is _The Javelin_ in +embryo for months to come. Now it's pi, which we'll sho'ly feed out by +the bullet weight, sir." + +From then on the newspaper man followed his proclivities and turned +scout, and it was a vigilant foe that could scoop him on the least of +their movements, whether in the field or in their very stronghold, St. +Louis itself. + +At the present moment Mr. Boone was retrieving a lost familiarity with +good cigars. There was a black one of the Valle Nacional in his mouth, +and also in his mouth there was a wisp of straw. The steel-blue smoke +floated out lazily, which his steel-blue eyes regarded with +appreciation. It was an Elysium of indolence. The cigar, the not having +to kill anybody for a few minutes, and a place to lean against, these +were content. Troubadour phrases droned soothingly in his brain. Of +course he had to apostrophize the snow-clads: + +"Popo, out there, grand, towering, whose frosty nose sniffs the vault of +heaven, whose mantle of fleecy cloud wraps him as the hoary locks of a +giant, whose--Sho', if I had some copy paper now, I'd get you fixed +_right_, you slippery old codger!" + +The wisp of straw hardly tallied with poesy of soul, nor did the lank +figure and lean face, nor the cavalry uniform, badly worn, though lately +new, nor yet the sagging belt with dragoon pistols. But the eyes did. +Those eyes held the eloquence of the youth of a race. They were gentle, +or they flashed, according to what passed within. It did not matter +necessarily what might be going on without. They would as likely dart +sparks during prayer meeting, or soften as a lover's mid the charge on a +battery. Shaggy moustached Daniel, not yet thirty, was a scholar too, of +the true old school, where dead languages lived to consort familiarly +with men, and neither had to be buried out of the world because of the +comradeship. Once, in Pompeii, Daniel blundered suddenly on that mosaic +doormat which bears the warning, "Cave canem"; and before he thought, he +glanced anxiously around, half expecting a dog that could have barked at +Saint Peter himself. From which it appears that the editor had traveled, +and it would not be long in also appearing that he had gathered enough +of polite and variegated learning to fill a warehouse, in which +junk-shop he was constantly rummaging, and bringing forth queer +specimens of speech wherewith to flower his inspirations. + +Streaming back and forth before the shops in lively Plateros street were +elegance and fashion and display, the languishing beauty of Spain, the +brilliancy of the Second Empire, the Teuton's martial strutting, the +Mexican's elation that Europe had come to him and with the money to pay +for it. The toughened Boone gazed on the bright morning parade of +ravishing shoppers and ogling cavaliers with the unterrified innocence +of a child, or of an American. He had the air of doing nothing, such as +only a newspaper man can have when really at work. He did not look as +though he were waiting for some one. But only a half-hour before he had +gotten from the saddle. He had just ridden four hundred and fifty miles +for the express purpose of waiting for someone now. + +Finally the keen, lazy eyes singled out an immense yellow horse and +rider from among the luxurious turnouts. "Jack!" he exclaimed gladly. +"The Storm Centre," he improvised, as the new comer approached, +"straight as Tecumseh, a great bronzed Ajax, mighty thewed, as strong of +hand as of digestion--w'y, bless my soul, the boy looks pow'ful +dejected, knocked plum' galley-west! I never saw him look like that +before." + +Man and horse had come all night from Cuernavaca. But Din Driscoll never +tired, wherefore Boone knew that _something_ was the matter. At the +doorway Driscoll flung himself from the saddle, gave the bridle to a +porter of the hotel, and was following, his face the picture of gloom, +when he heard the words, "How' yuh, Jack?" His brow cleared in the +instant. "Shanks!" he cried, gripping the other's hand. + +Mr. Boone untwined his boots and for the first time during a half-hour +stood in them. As he shook Driscoll's hand, he shook his own head, and +at last observed, in the way of continuing a conversation, "It was the +almightiest soaking rain, Din, for the land's sake!" And he shook his +head again, quite mournfully. + +Driscoll had not seen Mr. Boone since leaving Shelby's camp back in +Arkansas. He naturally wished to know what was being talked about. But +his woeful friend only kept on, "It wet all Texas, heavier'n a sponge, +and," he added, "they ain't coming." + +"Shanks! You don't mean----" + +"Don't I? But I do. They're a surrendered army. The whole +Trans-Mississippi Department of 'em, pretty near. But not quite, bear +that in----" + +"But the rain? What in----" + +"What did you come down here for, I'd like to know? To say how the +Trans-Mississippi wouldn't surrender, didn't you? Well?" + +"Oh, go on!" + +"Well, it rained, I tell you. Didn't it rain before Waterloo? Didn't it +now?" + +Mr. Boone believed in trouble as an antidote for trouble. When he had +stirred Driscoll out of his dejection enough to make him want to fight, +he deigned to clear the atmosphere of that befogging downpour in Texas. + +"You rec'lect, Din, that there war god we put up in Kirby Smith's place, +who so dashingly would lead us on to Mexico?" + +"Buckner, yes." + +"Him, Simon Bolivar B., whose gold lace glittered as though washed by +the dew and wiped with the sunshine----" + +"Now, Shanks, drop it!" Driscoll was referring to the editorial pen +which Mr. Boone would clutch and get firmly in hand with the least rise +of emotion. Against his other conversation, the clutching always became +at once apparent. + +"Anyhow," said Daniel meekly, "he wilted, did our Simon of B. B. +calibre, and he gave back the command to Smith. And Smith's first order, +his very first order, sir, was that the Department, the whole fifty +thousand, should march into Shrevepoht and--and _surrender_, by +thunder!" + +"Dan, you're not going to tell me----" + +"That _we_ surrendered, we, the Missourians, the flower of 'em all? +Now s'pose you just wait till Joe Shelby gets back to us in Arkansas, +after that conference with the other generals? Then you'll see what +_he_ does. He proclaims things, on wall paper. The Missouri Cavalry +Division will march to Shrevepoht, will depose Smith for good, will head +off the surrender, will lead the other divisions on to Mexico. And we +started to do it too. And then, and then--it rained. Rained, sir, till +our trains and guns were mired, and we couldn't budge! And all the time +we knew that regiment after regiment was stacking arms off there at +Shrevepoht. Did Little Joe rave? Opened Job his mouth? He did. His +fluency gave the rain pointers. I sho'ly absorbed some myself, me, that +have language tanks of my own. Well, I reckon all our hearts pretty near +broke. But we had our Missouri general and our Missouri governor, and +the Old Brigade just decided to come along anyhow. And we're a coming, +Din, we're a coming!" + +Driscoll's face went blank. He thought of the scant welcome his homeless +comrades would get. But Mr. Boone did not notice. He had only stretched +his canvas, a big one, and there was a picture to paint. His long body +began to straighten out, and his eyes glowed. From Xenophon to Irving's +Astoria, from Hannibal crossing the Alps to Marching Through Georgia, he +ransacked both romance and the classics for adequate tints, but in vain. +The colors would have to be of his own mixing. + +"Din Driscoll," he began solemnly, "_you_ know that devil breed? Of +coh'se, you're one of 'em. You're a chunk of brimstone, yourself. And +you'll maybe rec'lect they did some fighting off and on. There was that +raw company, f'r instance--boys, hardly a one broke in his yoke of oxen +yet--and they hadn't even gotten their firearms, but they took a battery +with their naked hands, and got themselves all tangled up in the fiery +woof of death. But you'll not be rec'lecting that that there Brigade +ever _lost_ a gun. And those raids, Din, back into Missouri, a +handful back into the Federal country, when men dozed and dropped from +their saddles and still did not wake up, and some went clean daft for +want of sleep, and fighting steady all around the clock too, fair and +square over into Kansas! And there was the night they buried eight +hundred!" + +In all this Daniel might have said "We," but reportorial modesty +forbade. + +"And," he went on, gaining momentum, "I don't reckon you'll be +forgetting Arkansas, and the ague and rattlesnakes? And how the +small-pox swooped down on that camp of cane shacks? And how the quinine +gave out, and--and the _tobacco_? Lawd!--And how those boys forgot +how to sew patches, their rags being so far gone! And how they made +bridles out of bark, and coffee out of corn! And how they kneaded dough +in old rubber blankets and cooked it on rocks! Well, Jack, there they +were, in Arkansas like that, and the War was over at last, and Missouri +was just a waiting for 'em. And then, to think that they had to face +square around another way entirely! Din, you'll just try to imagine that +there devil breed facing any other way except to'ds home!" + +"Don't, Shanks, you----" + +"Devils? They were the wildest things that are. It's a mighty good thing +they didn't go back. Think of their neighbors across the Kansas line, +getting ready for 'em with every sort of legal persecution under the +sun, and carpet-bag judges to help! Outlaw decrees? Well, I reckon those +decrees will make a few outlaws, all right, and there'll be +unsurrendered Johnny Rebs ten years from now. Shelby's boys had the look +of it. Your own Jackson county regiment would have flared into +desperadoes at sight of a United States marshal. They were all in just +that sort o' mood, as they turned their backs on Missouri. And after +four years, too! But there, it's a stiff wind that has no turning, so +cheer up! _They_ did, as soon as that deluge got done with and they +were headed for Mexico, one thousand of 'em. Soldiers mus'n't repine, +you know. For them, Fate arrays herself in April's capricious sunshine." + +Driscoll had to smile. "Careful, there, Dan, don't stampede." + +"I ain't, but if now 'I hold my tongue I shall give up the ghost,' and I +want to tell you first that Texas is a handsome state. We--they--were +considerable interested all the way through it." + +"But, Meagre Shanks, where'd you leave 'em?" + +"Back in Monterey, drinking champagne with Fat Jenny. Alas, 'who can +stay the bottles of heaven?'" + +"Fat--who's she?" + +"Now you wait. They've got heaps to do in Texas yet, before they get to +Fat Jenny. First, they helped themselves out of their own commissary +departments, horses, provisions trains, cannon, everything. Decently +uniformed for the first time, and the War over! You should of seen 'em, +a forest of Sharpe's carbines, a regular circulating library of Beecher +Bibles. There were four Colts and a dragoon sabre and thousands of +rounds of ammunition to each man. They had fighting tools to spare, and +they cached a lot of the stuff up in the state of Coahuila. And they +fed, and got sleek. This ain't editorial, my boy. It's God's own truth. +Adventures every step of the way only did 'em good. They saved whole +towns from renegade looters by just mentioning Shelby's name. They +fought all day and danced all night. San Antone was the best. There they +gathered in generals, governors, senators, and even Kirby Smith, all +yearning to join Old Joe--our Old Joe, who ain't thirty-four yet." + +The speaker paused, and when he began again, there was a light ominous +of inspiration in his eyes. + +"At the Rio Grande," he said, solemnly, "they crossed out of the +Confederacy forever, so it was meet and right that there, in midstream, +they should consign their old battle-flag to the past. They had not +surrendered it, but as a standard it existed for those gallant hearts no +more. Woman's loyal hand had bestowed it. Coy victory had caressed its +folds mid the powder pall and horror of ten score desperate fields. And +now it floated over the last of its followers, ere the waves should +close over it forevermore. With bowed heads, they gathered sadly +about----" + +"Lay it down, Shanks, lay it down," Driscoll pleaded. He was referring +again to the pen in hand. + +"All right, Din," Boone answered hastily. "Yes, I know, we all got kind +of weepy too. No wonder Colonel Slayback wrote some verses. Reckon you +can stand just one? This one? + + 'And that group of Missouri's valiant throng, + Who had fought for the weak against the strong-- + Who had charged and bled + Where Shelby led, + Were the last who held above the wave + The glorious flag of the vanquished brave, + No more to rise from its watery grave!' + +"And," he added savagely, "just let any parlor critic smile at the +sacred feet of those same lines!" + +"Let him once!" said Driscoll. His eyes were moist. + +Mr. Boone faithfully traversed the rest of the way with the "Iron +Brigade," and no company of errant knights, perhaps, ever had such a +junketing as those same lusty troopers. No sooner did they set foot in +the enchanted land of roses than a damsel in distress, the Republica +Mexicana herself, came to them for succor. Or more literally, a +dissident governor, backed by the authority of President Juarez, offered +Shelby military control of the three northern states and grants in the +fabulously rich Sonora mines, if he would hang high his shield and +recruit his countrymen in the republican cause. There is little doubt +that General Shelby could have raised an army and become henceforth a +power in Mexico, for Washington would have smiled on the undertaking and +all Texas would have afforded a base of supplies. But the Missourian's +Round Table voted it down. They awaited Maximilian's reply which +Driscoll was to bring. Perhaps, too, they would have a chance to wage +war against the United States again, and that was better than being +smiled on. + +Henceforth they fought the forlorn damsel herself, fought every foot of +the way through desert mesquite thick enough to daunt a tarantula. There +were guerrillas, robbers, spies, deserters, and Indian tribes. It was +one eternal ambush, incessantly a skirmish, often a pitched battle. They +saved a French garrison. They rescued a real maiden by a night attack on +an hacienda stronghold, and did it with strictly de rigueur dash and +chivalry. Once or twice they were even stung, by some "langourous +dusky-eyed scorpion of a saynorita" to fight among themselves, +cavalryman's code. Daniel was never one to spoil a romance by mentioning +that a tropical maid was faced like a waffle-iron, though more than +likely she was. Finally, as a last stroke, Fat Jenny promised to shoot +Shelby and hang the rest. + +"You've been derogatory about this lady before," Driscoll interposed, +"and I want to know who she is." + +"She is the English for Jeanningros, the French general at Monterey, +who'd heard about those negotiations with the Republica. But Shelby +formed in battle line, to storm his old city, and at the same time sent +word explaining that he hadn't accepted any offer from the Republica. +So, instead of shooting and hanging, Jenny asked us around for supper. +That's where I left 'em." + +"What for?" + +"W'y," said Boone in surprise, "to see if you'd gotten here, and to take +back Maximilian's answer." + +"But what's the use? The Trans-Mississippi went and surrendered." + +"Gra-cious, but you're in a vicious humor! Now, here's the use. Instead +of fifty thousand, we're only one thousand, I know. But there are +hundreds and hundreds of Americans down here like us, and all of 'em +wanting service. There's that colony just starting at Cordova near Vera +Cruz. But they'd fight, if there was an American to lead them, and more +yet 'ud come from the States. Quicker'n that, Old Joe will have a +division." + +Driscoll ruefully shook his head. "Maximilian wants us," he said, "if +we'll give up our arms first." + +"If we----" + +"If we will surrender, Dan." + +Mr. Boone's jaw fell. The phrase that would measure the depth of the +proposed ignominy would not come. Finally, he dug from his pocket a +bright new gold coin, twenty pesos, and contemplated reflectively the +side that bore Maximilian's effigy. + +"I've got the cub repohter's superstition," he said at last. "You get +your cards printed," here he tapped the coin significantly, "and you're +sure to lose your job--still we might of helped him." + +There was nothing, though, for Daniel but to turn back and meet the +Brigade. Learning Maximilian's decision, the Missourians would probably +join the Cordova colony. Boone reckoned that _he_ would. He +discovered that he was tired of fighting. Perhaps the new citizens at +Cordova would want an organ, a weekly at least; and already his nostrils +were sniffing the pungent, fascinating aroma of printer's ink. Then he +asked Driscoll what he thought of doing, now that he was free. + +"Don't know," came the reply lonesomely. "Stir around, I guess. There's +a flying column leaving this week to capture Juarez. Maybe that'll do +me." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE BLACK DECREE + + + "So may heaven's grace clear whatso'er of foam + Floats turbid on the conscience."--_Dante._ + + +That unleashed hawk which was the flying column failed to clutch its +prey. From the City of Mexico across the far northwestern desert the +Chasseurs and cuirassiers rode their swift Arabian steeds, and into the +town of Chihuahua at last. But the old Indian for whom they came was not +there. Benito Juarez had fled. He must have known. Yet how, no one might +conjecture. It was as though some watchful Republican fairy had marked +the sturdy, squat patriot as the one hope of the Empire's overthrow, and +did not propose to have him taken. Scouts, spies, the entire French +secret service, delved, gestured, and sweated. But they laid bare next +to nothing. At the Palacio Municipal a number of functionaries told of a +peon in breech clout, a wretch coated with alkali dust till the muscles +of his legs looked like grayish ropes, who had emerged from the cacti +plain ten days before and come running into Chihuahua. The peon had made +direct for the Palacio, where, in some way, he had contrived a secret +word with Don Benito; and that very day Don Benito with his one +minister, Lerdo, had set out toward the north. + +Afterward the functionaries had questioned the messenger, but he knew +next to nothing. A senor chaparro had sent him, was all he said. It was +a ridiculous anti-climax. A senor chaparro, "El Chaparrito," "Shorty," +such a one to be the omniscient guardian of the Republic! But for all +that "El Chaparrito" was to be heard of again and many times, and always +as an enigma to both sides alike, until the absurd word became freighted +on the lips of men with superstitious awe. There was an inscrutable, +long-fingered providence at work in the blood-strife of the nation. The +warning to Juarez at Chihuahua was its first manifestation. + +Their quarry had escaped, but Driscoll was not sorry. More than once he +had felt a vague shame for the unsportsmanlike chase after one lone, +indomitable old man. Driscoll held a commission, which Michel Ney, +happily recovering, had procured for him from the marshal. But as the +American's healthy spirits, like cleansing by vigorous blood, swept the +gloom from his mind, he began to wonder at the craving for bustle and +forgetfulness which had made him snatch at such an offer. The corners of +his mouth twisted in whimsical self-scorn. He, one of your drooping, +unrequited lovers! "Shucks!" that is what he thought. And he persuaded +himself that it was all over. Quite, quite persuaded himself. But as a +matter of fact, he hoped that he might never have to see her again. + +It was not until October of the same year that Driscoll saw actual +battle in his new service. With the Fifth Lancers under Colonel Mendez, +the best of the few native regiments in the field, he had been assisting +at a manner of pacification. That is, they marched from town to town, +and received allegiance. Guerrillas of course punished the towns later, +but Maximilian would not be induced to organize a native army, and +thirty thousand French could not garrison fifteen thousand leagues. They +could only promenade, through sand storms, through cacti. Then the +battle took place. It was the last vestige of Liberal resistance to the +Empire. A few hundred men near Uruapan in Michoacan flaunted their +defiance. Driscoll noticed an expectant and wolfish look in his +colonel's eyes. Mendez was a strikingly handsome and gallant Indian, but +his expectancy now was not for battle. It was for the battle's sequel. +Michel Ney and a squad of Chasseurs had just brought him an Imperial +packet from the City, and the packet contained general orders very much +to his Indian taste. + +The fight was a rousing one, and Driscoll enjoyed himself for the first +time in many days. His Mexicans behaved as he could have wished, better +than he had hoped. At the start in the familiar uproarious hell, he +missed the hard set, exultant faces of his old Jackson county troop, and +seeing only tawny visages through the smoke and hearing only foreign +yells, he felt a queer twinge of homesickness. But he was at once +ashamed, for the humble little chocolate centaurs whom he had been set +to train were dying about him with lethargic cynicism, just as they were +bidden. Wearing a charm, either the Virgin's picture in a tin frame, or +the cross, they might have worn the crescent. They were as effective as +Moslems. They were ruthless fatalists. + +Michel Ney also spent a diverting half-hour. He had lingered for the +fray. Waving a broken sabre snapped off at the hilt, he charged with +Gallic verve and got himself knocked under his kicking and wounded +horse, and pummeled by Liberal muskets on every side. Driscoll saw, and +straightened out matters. Handing the Frenchman a whole sabre, he +reproved him soberly, as a carpenter might an apprentice caught using a +plane for a ripsaw. + +After it was over, the living of the enemy were prisoners. The victors +marched them to Uruapan near by, because it was charged that at this +place two of the captured Liberals, Generals Arteaga and Salazar, had +lately shot two Imperialists. Here, in their turn, they were promptly +executed. + +Driscoll heard the volleys, ran to the spot, and saw the last horrid +spasms. + +"What--what----" + +Ney turned on him a sickened look. + +"Don't you know, it's the new decree." + +"What new decree? These dead men were prisoners of war. If murderers, +they weren't tried." + +"It's the decree I brought from Maximilian, the decree of general +amnesty." + +Driscoll glared fiercely at such a jest, but to his utter amazement Ney +was quite in earnest. + +He who had commanded the shooting squad stooped over the corpses, a +smoking pistol in his hand. Now he glanced up at Driscoll. "Pues, si +senores," he said, "of amnesty, yes," and chuckling, he indicated the +bodies with his pistol. "But wait----" He thought he saw a form quiver, +one he had overlooked. Remedying this with a belated coup de grace +through the brain, he shoved back his white gold-bordered sombrero and +mopped his forehead as a laborer whose labor is done. + +"Under which general amnesty, caballeros," he went on merrily, "you have +just witnessed the first act. My loyalty to the Emperor grows. His +Majesty has a sense of humor." + +It was Don Tiburcio. He had deserted the Contras to waylay the rich +bullion convoy of which Rodrigo Galan had told him. But the convoy never +came. Rodrigo, the "sin vergueenza," had not levied toll at all. He had +swallowed it whole, a luscious morsel of several millions in silver and +gold. The coup was of a humor the less appreciated by Don Tiburcio +because he had figured on doing the very same thing himself. At present +he was chief of scouts under Mendez, and commanded the Exploradores, +audacious barbarians who were invaluable for their knowledge of the +country. + +From Tiburcio and Ney Driscoll finally gathered the meaning of the +decree. It was the keynote to the Imperialist hopes. Its cause was the +flight of Juarez across the border. Maximilian was surcharged anew with +enthusiasm. Even the United States must now recognize his empire, he +believed. And confounding flurry with activity, as usual, he fervently +proclaimed the courage and constancy of Don Benito Juarez, but added +that the Republican hegira finally and definitely stamped all further +resistance to the Empire as useless. Then, august and Caesar-like, he +allowed amnesty for those who submitted immediately; he prescribed death +for all others. Rebels taken in battle were not even to have trial. +Maximilian believed that ink, thus sagaciously besmeared by a +statesman's fingers, would blot out further revolution. But it was so +fatuous, so stupidly unnecessary! The court martials, or French gardens +of acclimatization, as the dissidents called them, were already doing +the work of the decree. The poet prince merely lifted the odium of it to +his own shoulders. His amnesty became infamy, and was called the Bando +Negro, a nefast Decree to blacken his gentleness and well-meaning for +all time. + +Driscoll left his informants, and walked up and down, up and down, +alone. It did not occur to him to fill the cob pipe between his teeth. A +scowl settled between his eyes, and it deepened and grew ugly. The +desperado was forming in the man--desperado, as contrast to polite +conventions. Desperado, as primitive man, who hews straight, cutting +whom or what he might, cutting first of all through the veneered bark of +civilization. For this reason, in this sense, he might be termed outlaw. +And walking up and down, up and down, he hewed till he had laid bare the +core of the matter. And he saw it naked, without the polish. Thereupon +he knew what he was going to do. + +He saddled Demijohn, and Demijohn followed at his shoulder to the +jefetura. Here, at the entrance, under the brick-red portales, Driscoll +left the horse, untied, and opened the door and passed within. + +The jefetura, or prefecture, was at present the headquarters of the +command, and in the long front room were assembled a number of officers, +including Ney and Tiburcio, besides the jefe of the place and several +town magistrates, all chatting with Colonel Mendez about the recent +victory. They greeted the American cordially, and poured out tequila for +him. He had done as much as any to win the fight. Michel laid a hand on +his shoulder. + +"Monsieur," he said with mock formality, "to-day, when you permitted +yourself to save my skin, you called me a fool. But I would have you +observe, monsieur, that only my patron divinity, the god of fools, is +permitted to know so much." + +Driscoll loosed himself from the affectionate grip, and turned to +Mendez. + +"Colonel," he said, "I'm going to get out of this." + +"_What?_ Oh come, mi capitan, find a better one!" + +"It's not a joke, sir. Profiting by a commission that does not bind me, +I am here to tell you good-bye." + +"Jean, mon ami!" Ney cried in protest. + +Don Tiburcio waited with keen appreciation, as he always did when the +unexpectedness of this Gringo was unfolding. The others stared agape at +the man between them and the door. Mendez saw too that he was in +earnest, and he began to argue, almost to entreat. The Mexican leader +had lost the quality of mercy in civil wars that had touched him +cruelly, that had exacted many near to him, but there was sincerity in +the man, and men were won by the stirring sound of his voice. + +"You would retire now," he exclaimed, "now, when every soul here may +look for promotion, and none of them more than you, Senor Dreescol?" + +But he did not stop there. He conjured up a tempting vista of long and +honored life under an empire that was now supreme. Even the scum of +rebellion yet left on the calm surface was that day swept away, and +naught remained but to enjoy the favors of his grateful Majesty. + +"Which only makes it," said Driscoll, "a good time to quit. I should +mention, too, that I intend to join the Republic, that is," he added, +"if there's any of the Republic left." + +Don Tiburcio was not disappointed. + +Mendez sprang to his feet and his voice was stentorian, as when he +rallied his men by the magnet of fury and hatred. + +"It's desertion!" he roared. + +"Or simple honesty," Driscoll corrected him. "But it doesn't matter. The +penalty is no worse for a deserter, if you catch him." + +Mendez curbed his rage. He did not wish to lose this man. That is, he +would regret deeply having to kill him. + +"_Why_ do you mean to change?" he demanded. + +"Because I can't feel _right_! It's like--somehow it's like being +an accomplice of murderers." + +"Dios mio, I suppose Your Mercy and his tender heart refers to the +Decree?" + +"Partly. That thing is a blanket warrant of death. Just because your +enemy can't fight any longer----" + +"But you forget, senor, the mines that exploded in the highways. You +forget the poisoned springs, the ambuscades, the massacres. Would they +not shoot prisoners too, your new friends?" + +"Si senor, as you and others may some day experience personally." + +"Then, mighty judge, condemn them also." + +"Don't I? But I can't blame them. They are punishing crime." + +"But not of murder, as we did to-day." + +"That too, for that was murder to-day. But I was thinking of a worse +crime. I was thinking of theft, sir." + +"Theft? How can that be worse?" + +"Theft of their country, I mean, and as your accomplice I owe +restitution. Leaving after a victory ain't so bad, but if I'd known that +I was fighting for that Black Decree, I'd of dropped out before the +fight. But look at it anyway you please. _How_ it looks be damned!" + +"Senor, lay down your pistols and sabre, there, on that table, because, +by Heaven, I shall stop you! But if you are armed, I--I shall have to +shoot you, too." + +"Hang it, Mendez, you're a good fellow! But--I can't help it." + +"Lay them down, you renegade!" + +Driscoll removed his sabre and gravely placed it on the table. + +"The guns are my own," he said. "Dupin had them returned to me. +_He_ took them. Suppose _you_ take them, Colonel Mendez!" + +He was in the doorway, and from there he faced them. The day was hot, +and Mendez had taken off his belt with his weapons. But the others were +armed. Yet they hesitated. They were brave enough for death, but before +the certainty of death for at least one among them and the uncertainty +of which one, they paused. Driscoll had not touched the black +six-shooters under his ribs. That would have snapped the psychological +fetter. As he expected, Mendez sprang first. This put an unarmed man +between himself and the others. In the instant he wheeled, was in the +saddle, and clattering down the street. + +Back in the room Mendez saw his blunder and made way. Ney passed him +first, reached the door, aimed and fired. But someone behind him touched +his arm, and the ball sped high. Ney turned, and saw Tiburcio filling +the door against the others, and regarding him with evil challenge in +his eye. + +"Oh, don't think that I hold it against you," Ney cried gratefully. + +Tiburcio half laughed. + +"A man who don't want prisoners shot is better with the enemy than +dead," he said. + +Tiburcio's chuckle was prophetic. The enemy invariably executed +Exploradores, and would certainly do as much for Don Tiburcio if they +caught him. + +Ney heard the hoof beats, already far away. + +"May the god of fools look after him too," he murmured heavily. + +The fugitive swept round the first corner of the street and on through +the town. None thought to stop him. Soldiers and townsmen supposed him +on the Empire's urgent business, and when they knew better, there was no +longer hope for their ponies against the great Missouri buckskin, now a +diminishing dusty speck mid cacti and maguey. + +"The devil of it is," Driscoll muttered ruefully, "I don't know where +there's anybody to desert _to_!" + +However, he was feeling much better. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +AS BETWEEN WOMEN + + + "A laugh is worth a hundred groans in any market."--_Lamb._ + + +Jacqueline had wrought close to success during that May twilight on the +edge of the Cuernavaca pond. She had won a promise of abdication. Yet in +the end it was not the Emperor that left Mexico, but the Empress. And +Jacqueline was to accompany her, to leave despite herself the scene of +her labors. Such was the case precisely, and it all came to pass in this +wise. + +Maddened by the distance which his temptress kept, also goaded to it by +the sorry state of his empire, Maximilian thought only of abdication. +Napoleon responded to Jacqueline's cipher dispatch with orders to +Bazaine. But Bazaine, urged thereto by Empress and marechale, ignored +the orders, and advanced Maximilian more money. And Maximilian, having +no longer his excuse to quit, stayed on to spend the money. Jacqueline +sighed, and--began all over again. Consequently Bazaine, hearing once +more from Napoleon, found himself a defaulter, and virtually recalled. +Consequently, Napoleon set dates for evacuation. Consequently the +rebellion sprang into new life, and the Empire lost armies and cities, +and thousands of men by desertion. But the darkest cloud was formed by +one hundred thousand Yankees massed along the Rio Grande. Napoleon took +heed. He ordered that the French troops should leave at once, unless +half the Mexican customs were turned over to the French administrator. +This was during the summer of 1866, only six months after the bright +hopes embodied in the Black Decree of general amnesty. Utterly appalled, +Maximilian took up his pen again to sign his abdication. + +But there was Charlotte. Even yet she pettishly clung to her crown. The +Mexican agents in Paris had availed nothing with Napoleon. Bien, she +would herself go to Paris. She would get the ultimatum recalled, and +Bazaine as well, because Bazaine no longer advanced money. The imperial +favorites, among them the sleek-jowled padre recommended by Eloin, +seconded her intention. And as they all talked so well, Maximilian +quaffed of hope. With a spite hardly noble though entirely royal, he +predicted that soon the marshal would find himself in a sadder fix than +himself, the Emperor. + +Suddenly, secretly, a little after midnight, Charlotte left the capital. +Maximilian bade her good-bye with a solemn promise to rejoin her in +Europe if she failed. Three days later Dupin and his Contra Guerrillas +met her in the Tierra Caliente, and offered to join her French cavalry +escort. The Empress took his presence as an affront. Of late small +things excited her to a feverish agitation which she was unable to +control. The Tiger bowed over his saddle, and kept his gray hair bared +to a torrential downpour while her carriage passed on. It was the +tropical rainy season. The clouds hung low around the mountain base and +truncated the more distant peaks, while the valley below was a bright +contrast in wet, tender green. The wheels sank deep, and mired in the +black, soggy earth. Men tugged constantly at the spokes, and the +steaming mules reared and plunged under the angry crack of whips. + +The Tiger of the Tropics waited as carriage after carriage toiled past +him and creaked and was forced on its way. Behind the dripping +windowpane of the very last he saw a face he knew, a beautiful, saddened +face, puckered just now by some immediate ill-humor. She frowned on +recognizing the French barbarian, but unlike Charlotte, she did not jerk +down the shutter. Instead, she lowered the glass by the length of her +pretty nose. + +"Is it dotage already, monsieur? Then put on your hat!" + +"Name of a name, yet another petulant grande dame!" But the Frenchman +turned his horse and rode beside her coach. + +"Did Her Majesty pout, then?" inquired the lady within. + +"Almost as superbly as Mademoiselle la Marquise." + +"Thank you well, but I have a superb reason for it." + +"Because you return to Paris, surely not? Yet, if that is the reason, +you need not quite despair." + +"Why, what--what do you mean?" + +"Only brigands, mademoiselle. When everyone is looking for abdication, a +cortege mysteriously leaving the City must be the Emperor who goes back +to Austria. The news travels like wildfire. The Indito runners go as +fast as when they brought Moctezuma fresh fish from the Gulf. I rather +think they have carried the news to an old friend of ours. It's my +chance to catch him." + +"Not my Fra Diavolo--Rodrigo Galan?" + +"None other. But Rodrigo is stirred by more than patriotism these days. +Upon it he has grafted a deep wrong, and he swears lofty vengeance by a +little ivory cross such as these Mexican girls wear. The conceited +cut-throat imagines there is a blood feud between himself and His +Majesty. So if he hears that Prince Max comes this way----" + +"He will find Charlotte instead? But he must not detain her." + +"Tonnerre!" exclaimed the Cossack chief. "Why not? She goes to Europe to +sustain the Empire, while we French----" + +"All the same, let her go. She will gain nothing there. Listen to me, +monsieur. She leaves that he may _not_ abdicate, while if I stay, +she fears that----" + +"He _will_ abdicate?" + +"Your wits, mon colonel, are entirely satisfactory. And so she invited +me to go with her, and as first lady of her household, I could not +refuse. I wonder, now, if Fra Diavolo would deign to capture just me, +alone!" + +The sharp look which Dupin gave her from behind the streams tumbling off +his sombrero was the sixth of a half-dozen. But it was this last one +that seemed to satisfy him. + +"Put up the window, mademoiselle," he said, "you're getting wet." + +Ten minutes later Jacqueline felt the coach lurch heavily and sink to +the hub on one side. + +"Go on with your nap, Berthe," she said to her one companion. "They'll +pull us out, as usual." + +The customary yelling and straining began, and men grunted as they +heaved against an axle. After a long seance of such effort there came a +sharp exclamation, like an oath, and the confusion fell to a murmur of +dismay. Someone jerked open the door, and Dupin's grizzled head +appeared. + +"Mademoiselle, I regret to have to announce that a wheel is dished in." + +Jacqueline's gray eyes regarded him quizzically. The sardonic old face +spread to a grin, but deftly readjusted itself to the requisite despair. + +Not a carriage except the wrecked one was in sight. Only the Tiger's +whelps, by the hundred, surrounded her. + +"And the others? Her Majesty?" + +"The others did the sensible thing. They know that you will catch up +with them when they themselves are mired. Her Majesty, being ahead, is +probably still in ignorance of your accident." + +"But the wheel?" + +"If mademoiselle wishes it mended?" + +"Is it so bad?" + +Dupin caught her expression. "It will take six hours," he said +mercilessly. + +"Oh dear!" said Jacqueline. + +"There's a settler's cabin a mile from here. If you will accept my +horse, and Mademoiselle Berthe can mount behind----" + +"Poor Berthe," sighed Jacqueline. But she nodded eagerly. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE LACKING COINCIDENCE + + + "Achilles absent was Achilles still."--_The Iliad._ + + +Colonel Dupin helped first one and then the other of his charges upon +the same horse and wrapped them about in the same gaudy serape till only +two pair of pretty eyes peeped forth at the rain. The Vera Cruz highway +clung to the mountain side, but the Contra Guerrillas took a venturesome +little bridle path which dropped abruptly down into the rich valley of a +thousand or more feet below. Emerging from the dense tropical growth of +the highland, they beheld a vast emerald checkerboard of cultivation, +field after field of sugar cane, and set in each bright square a little +house of bamboo with a roof of red piping. After the dreary black gorges +behind them, the light of the sun seemed boxed in here under a leaden +cover of cloud. Coming suddenly out of the chill and mist, the two girls +felt the very rain gratefully warm and the fragrant smells of the wet +earth a thing of comfort. As the beauty and the cheer of it subtly +gladdened her mood, Jacqueline thought that here at any rate was an +adequate mise-en-scene for whatever tremors might befall. + +There was one circumstance that already seemed a portent, and got on a +person's nerves like the stillness of nature just before a Kansas +cyclone. This was the curious absence of all human life. Except for the +grimly expectant troop around her, and the clanking of metal as the +Contras rode, she had no token of a fellow creature. The first of the +plantations was deserted, and likewise the next. But the house doors +were open. Nothing showed preparation for departure. The riddle was +uncanny. At the third Jacqueline stated that she would go no farther. +She hated to tramp down a man's field when the man himself was not about +to express an opinion, and the ruthless swath made by her escort through +the cane gave her shame. Besides, it was too much like wading, the way +her skirts brushed the long leaves and knocked off glistening drops by +myriads. + +The third cabin was abandoned too, but there were inducements within for +any houseless creature. A hammock was hanging from corner to corner in +the front room, probably to thwart the fauna of tropical stingers, and +there was that comfort unfamiliar to French women, a rocking chair, +before a most inviting fireplace, itself a luxury rare in Mexico. The +two girls removed their cloaks, and settled themselves to dry their +shoes before a roaring fire which the men lighted for them. Then the +Cossacks, including their colonel, left on some stealthy business +without, and Jacqueline and Berthe were alone. + +Jacqueline tried the rocker, found it good, and smoothed her skirts over +her knees to the warmth of the blaze. "We've only to yawn at the flies, +eh, ma cherie?" said she. + +"Not a thing else, madame," came a cheery voice from the hammock. + +Jacqueline was at once suspicious. "You absurd little mouse," she cried, +"don't I understand that gaiety of yours! And all the while you are +really trembling in fear of terrible bandits. For months now you grieve +because you imagine that I--well, that I am sad. But you'll not make me +hilarious, you won't, Berthe, as long as it's 'madame.' Child, child, +will you not let me have my friend in you, I who have none, nor a mother +or sister! There now, if I'm not to be--ah--pensive--remember there's no +'madame' between thee and me, dear!" + +The Bretonne's gentle eyes filled suddenly. Jacqueline had before sought +to change their relations, ever since Berthe's part in Driscoll's rescue +from execution, but she had always tried to bring it about by playful +bantering. Now, however, Berthe was given to see the utter loneliness of +an orphaned girl in one who for all the rest of the world was the +disdainfully independent little aristocrat, who had met the proffered +intimacy of the French empress with a sneer, who was the cold princess +when among princesses of the Blood. The loyal child of simple Breton +folk sprang impulsively to the arm of the rocker, and was herself +clasped no less impulsively. + +"But there," said Jacqueline, laughing rather brokenly, "we're +forgetting the flies." + +A belt over the fireplace caught her eye, and she unexpectedly +discovered that her breath had quickened. She stared fascinated at the +letters on the buckle. "C. S. A.," she murmured. Then her startled gaze +roved hurriedly over the walls. It became even frightened before a faded +gray cape-coat of the Confederate cavalry and a battered white gauntlet +sticking from the pocket. Involuntarily, trembling foolishly, she looked +to see if there might not be an old cob pipe also. There was not, but +the other familiar objects made her imagination leap fearfully to what +might be. Both hope and dread will always override common sense, and +convoy imagination perforce. If _he_ did live here--if they should +meet! Could such a coincidence happen, could it, outside the neat +ordering of a book or play? + +She sprang to her feet and began investigating. She went awesomely as +one would tiptoe over a haunted house. In the next room she came upon +what was an odd treasure trove for an isolated bamboo cabin tucked far +away under the Tropic of Cancer. It was a printer's shop, after a +fashion. The case was a block of stone, in whose surface the little +compartments had been chiseled. They were sparsely accoutred with type +and plentifully with cigar ashes. As for a press, there was none. But a +form had been made up on a slab of marble, and near by were a tiny +hillock of ink, a roller and a mallet. The mysterious printer could at +least take proofs. There was one now on a file. Jacqueline pulled it +off, and contemplated a miniature American newspaper, of one sheet, +printed on one side only, and no larger than a magazine cover. At the +top she read the legend, in German caps: "_The Cordova +Colonist_--_Weekly Independent_." + +"Is that a pun?" she wondered. + +But now at least she could identify the ghostly company of the valley, +though not its scribe. That word "Cordova" gave the clue. A year ago one +thousand hardy men had ridden into the capital from the north. Their +leader was a fiery, black-whiskered little man with a plume in his hat +and the buff sash of a brigadier general around his waist. They were the +Missourians, defamed as "Shelby's horse thieves and judges of whiskey," +honored as "The Old Brigade," and so feared and respected under any name +that the City fairly buzzed and stared goggle-eyed. But Maximilian again +refused their offers to enlist under his standard, and they could only +disband. Some took ship to hunt for Kidd's treasure in the Pacific, +others went to Japan and the Sandwich Islands, and a number joined a +congenial regiment of veterans, the Zouaves. But the majority, she +remembered now, had been settlers, persuaded thereto by their +countryman, Commodore Maury, who was Imperial Commissioner of +Immigration. Maury had secured a grant of land near the town of Cordova, +within a hundred miles of Vera Cruz. There were one-half million acres +of rich land, suitable for the three Big C's of southern countries, +cotton, cane and coffee. But until now the strip had not been +cultivated. The Church had held it fallow. Then the Republic had +nationalized it; and the Empire was selling it to the Americans at $1.25 +an acre. The hopeful settlement bore the name of Carlota. + +So the cape-coat and those other things were explained. She was denied +her coincidence. But as there was so much of a plot forward anyway, she +ought to have been satisfied--as an artist, she ought. She craved an +ecstasy of peril or of terror, not as the former dilettante of emotions, +but as the lotus eater who exacts forgetfulness. + +Meantime she read editorials, and got interested. The _Colonist_ +never advanced beyond the proof-sheet stage, but as such it circulated +with avidity over the valley. Eloquence flowed serene under mashed type +and variegated fonts. The editor persisted in viewing the Empire and +Republic as political parties, and the horrors of civil warfare as +incidents of an electoral campaign. He had congenial scope for his +unpartisan and independent pen, advising with owl-like sagacity or +abusing with peppery virulence, and either, for either side, with blithe +impartiality. At times, though, the strained analogy between ballots and +bullets evidently cracked, and rather floored the editor. For instance, +in a pot-pourri of long primer and pica with a dash of Old English +lower-case was the following: + + As we wen[t] to press last week we paused to entertain a torchlight + procession of the Young Imperialists' Flambeau [C]lub, which was + collecting a campaign contribution in the semblance of our alfalfa + stack. The spectacle of citizens taking an active [p]art in the issues + before their country ne'er fails to rouse in us a spirit of + collaboration, so [w]hat could we do but join heartily in the + celebration, so that a most excellent time was had. Later our + editorial staff, a score who in our canefields teach the tender + sprouts [h]ow to shoot, knowing t[h]e same so well themselves, gently + laid to rest a score and one Cossacks, past members of the [F]lambeau + Club, wh[o] had lingered behind for the reason that they _were_ past. + But, we ask, _ad quod damnum_?--i.e., isn't it as futile as + cauterizing a wooden leg? How much longer, O Jove, must we let our + public-opinion moulds cool off while we chase enthusiastic young + patriots away from our alfal[f]a!!!... In conclusion, with a cool + brow, we are constrained to say that if the party in power cannot + discourage the depredations above ci[t]ed, we shall have to fortify + ourselves to the contemplation of a c[h]ange of administration. + +[Transcriber's note: characters in brackets were originally printed +as bold Old English lower-case as explained above.] + +"Why," cried Jacqueline, "what an _animal disputans_ it is!" She +perceived an ink bottle, and exclaimed, "Ah, more milk from the black +cow!" Taking up a wad of copy paper, on which a future editorial was +already begun, she read, and quickly her amusement changed to a livelier +interest. + +"Rumor goes," she read under the caption, _Ardentia Verba_, "that +Father Augustine, political manager for the administration, vice Eloin, +is soon to leave for Europe. He goes to have a pourparler with the Pope. +He will concede everything, since the Empire no longer hopes to win over +the moderate Mexicans. But the obstinate though Holy Father will +negotiate a concordat on one basis only, and that is the return to the +Mexican church of all nationalized church lands. + +"Men of the colony, attention now! We each own something like three +hundred acres apiece of these lands. And we are paying for them, we are +cultivating them, and we have to defend them against both guerrillas and +contra-guerrillas. And now they are to be confiscated! Our new homes are +to be taken from us!! Alas, we who are peaceful settlers, to think that +we were Trojans on a time!!! Fellow citizens, with us it's a severe case +of _e pluribus unum_. Oh, for a leader! But our incomparable chief +of yore will not stir. Yet there _was_ one, gallant cavalier of the +South, peerless captain, just the dauntless heart for any forlorn hope +under the starry vault of heaven, if he were only here! If he, John D. +Driscoll, were only----" + +The matter stopped abruptly. More than that, by force of habit the +scribe had ringed the figures "30" underneath. They meant "finis." The +editor had known, then, that he would not return to end his harangue. + +"A flea bite," mused Jacqueline, "would interrupt the penning of an +Alexandrian line. Now, I wonder who or what the flea could have been, +and what----" + +But there, she would ask herself no question concerning the editorially +mentioned "John D. Driscoll." + +It was mid afternoon when Colonel Dupin, like a shaggy, dripping bear, +returned to the house and begged leave to dry himself. Standing before +the fire, he reloaded his holster pistols. They were tremendous, elegant +utensils of French make, with a nine-chambered cylinder, and a second +barrel underneath that carried a rifle ball. Where no prisoners were +taken on either side, the owner of such a weapon usually reserved the +murderous slug for himself, and the loading of that lower barrel became +a sort of ghastly rite. Jacqueline shuddered as she watched him fix on +the cap. + +"How do you explain your desertion of Her Majesty?" she asked. "Our Fra +Diavolo should thank me for drawing you off." + +The Tiger adjusted the double hammer so that it would play on the +cylinder first. A rumbling chuckle came from the depths of his throat. + +"I should be honored with mademoiselle's approval," he said, "for at +court mademoiselle is a guileful warrior. The casualties there may not +be so sanguinary, but the strategic principle is the same. Know, then, +that Rodrigo Galan employs a spy whom I own, body and soul. By now +Rodrigo has learned from this spy that the Imperial coach broke down, +and that to-night Her Majesty rests--here. So you see that she is not +likely to be attacked----" + +"But I see that _we_ are, parbleu!" + +"Of course," and the Tiger unctuously rubbed his hands in the blaze. +"It's my chance to trap him. He has only three hundred men." + +"And you, monsieur?" + +"Our mutual spy has told him that I have less than two hundred men. The +brigand knows that I was forced to leave a garrison at Tampico." + +"But how many have you, really?" + +Dupin motioned her to the window. But she saw not a man, not a musket. +She saw only the wet fields of cane, and the black mist-shrouded +mountains beyond. + +"Just the same," the Frenchman assured her pleasantly, "they are there, +full five hundred of my little tribe. Does mademoiselle approve?" + +"It looks like the curtain on 'Fra Diavolo,'" she replied, shuddering. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MISSOURIANS + + + "Men sententious of speech and quick of pistol practice." + --_Major John N. Edwards._ + + +An hour before nightfall the guerrillas attacked. Jacqueline was +standing at the window, when she heard a jubilant din and saw a tawny +troop charging through the fields toward the house. They yelled as they +came, waving machetes and carbines. It was the usual theatrical dash of +Mexicans. Like savages, they thought first to frighten their +adversaries. + +"Won't you come and see, Berthe? It's like a hippodrome." + +She felt sorry for them. The dulcet cane grew thorns. Under the leaves +the black soil was become clay red with leather jackets. The Cossacks +had fixed sword-bayonets to their muskets, and were waiting on their +knees. + +Stung by the hidden barbs, the first horses reared in air, pawing and +screeching frantically. Many sank down again, and they were limp as the +life ebbed. Others crashed backward, their riders underneath, and those +behind plunged over them, unable to stop. Soon it was a fearful jumble; +men and beasts, hoofs and steel, curses and shrill neighing. Then the +firing began, a woof of fine red threads through the warp of pale-green +reeds. The guerrillas yet fought. The myth of their own heavier numbers +kept them from panic. Ragged fellows with feet bare in the stirrups +leaned over to slash at heads between the tasselled stalks. They +squirmed like snakes from under kicking horses, and fainting, got a +carbine to the shoulder at aim, and someway, pulled the trigger. Then +they were taken in the rear. One-half of the Contra forces, mounted, had +waited under the sapling growth of the nearest foothill. Now they sprang +from cover, bloodthirsty whelps trailing the Tiger. The guerrillas could +not turn back. To retreat they must cleave the way in front, and they +did, by sheer desperation. Falling in the mesh at every step, they at +last gained the large open space around the cabin. + +Then it was that Jacqueline got a near view of Don Rodrigo. He was +superbly mounted, and his long body made a heroic figure on the +curveting charger. He frowned, and his mustachios bristled fiercely, and +his shouts of command were heavily ominous. The wind turned the folds of +his black cloak. It was faced with scarlet silk; and the charro elegance +beneath was black and resplendent. All told, he was a very outburst of +glitter; breeches, jacket, sombrero, saddle, stirrups, and bridle; not +of silver, but of gold. Good carbines for his vagabond Inditos, +magnificence for himself, these had come from that fabulous theft of the +bullion convoy. And he had arrayed himself this rainy day to dazzle a +princess of the Blood. So now he wielded his sword with a conscious +flourish, glancing toward the window to see if he were seen. + +"The poseur, never out of his role," murmured his audience there. "How +will he enjoy running, I wonder?" + +But to her astonishment he did not run, though Dupin was cutting closer +and closer through tangled bodies, eager to grapple with his old-time +slippery foe. Don Rodrigo raised in his saddle, and looked anxiously in +all directions. Suddenly his dark face lighted, and wheeling round, he +called to his men, and in his turn strove as furiously to reach the +Tiger as the Tiger had striven to reach him. Jacqueline could not now +tell which side to feel sorry for. But she exulted in the thrill of it, +even as she wrung her hands at sight of the red agony. + +Then something happened, which even the Tiger, who knew his warfare so +well, had never known; which got into even his dried and toughened +marrow. It was the Rebel yell. It rose over a sudden thunderous rush of +hoof beats. And next, as a puff of air, a herd of horsemen, a wild +mud-spattering streak, surged past the house. On across the open, and +straight upon the fray, they merged everywhere, and made bigger and +livelier the blotch of mad swarming. Some wore slouch hats, others straw +sombreros, and all were ruddily burned. They fought with revolvers, and +often one would pause between shots to spit tobacco. They brought to the +battle one thing above all else, and that was vim, vim unbounded, vim +that simply had to have vent. + +Jacqueline caught her breath. What race of men were these? Exalted, +quivering, she watched them doing as workmen what fell to their hands, +yet ever with that whirlwind of vim. + +"The Missourians--of course!" she cried. + +Through powder smoke and misty rain the figure of one horseman slowly +grew familiar. She caught fleeting glimpses of him, as he darted into a +melee, as he spurred round to find a hotter field. Suddenly her eyes +widened, and she pressed a hand hard against her breast. + +"The coincidence!" she gasped, trembling from head to foot. "It is the +coincidence!" + +Her nose flattened against the wet pane. She remembered how that general +of the Missourians had told Charlotte about this man, for the Empress +had asked. And the general had related how the troop had dubbed him the +Storm Centre. + +"And no wonder!" she breathed. "Mon Dieu, how he _enjoys_ it!--But, +oh--he will be killed--oh!" + +Yet nothing of the kind happened. When she uncovered her eyes, his +assailants were in flight. Every Cossack survivor was in flight. The +Storm Centre wheeled and confronted Don Rodrigo, who raised his sombrero +effusively. + +"Rebellion makes strange comrades," thought Jacqueline. "But no, +my--the--chevalier--does not take his hand." + +Indeed Driscoll was looking the guerrilla over with little favor. "So," +he exclaimed, "it was you I was to help here!" + +"And what better patriot, senor----" + +"Never mind that. Why didn't you wait till dark to attack? Weren't those +the orders, or--that is, the suggestion?" + +"But whose suggestion? Perhaps, senor, _you_ know who El Chaparrito +is?" + +"Haven't the least idea, nor anyone else. But it's certain, Rod, that +this is your first experience of Shorty. Another time, and you'll have +sense enough to take his hints. Now then, where's the emperor we were to +catch?" + +Fra Diavolo's smile was Satanic. "Your Chaparrito was either mistaken +about the Emperor, or," and he glanced toward the window, "or he +deceived you into helping me capture a beautiful young woman." + +"How? What----" + +"I mean that His Cautious Majesty did not come, however much El +Chaparrito seems to want him. But--" and Rodrigo's tone lowered heavily, +"but his August Spouse came instead. She is in that cabin now. It is +well, senor, for vengeance in kind is just. It is righteous, it is +biblical. Since fate has thrown----" + +"E-a-s-y! Eas-y, boy. Of course, if we've gone and netted an empress, +we'll ask 'em to please take her back. This ain't a woman's game." + +"Give up a queen's ransom?" + +Driscoll nodded cheerfully. + +"I believe, caballero," said the brigand with awful dignity, "that I +command here." + +Driscoll looked at his Missourians returning from the chase. "Well," he +laughed, "you might try it on, and see how they take it." + +Behind Jacqueline the door opened. She almost jumped. Of the hundreds +likely to enter there, her startled fancy pictured only one. But the new +comer was a stranger. + +"Oh-ho, come a-visiting, eh?" + +The voice was cordial, robust, Western. + +"Missour-_i_!" she exclaimed involuntarily. + +"Yes'm, Cooper county." + +She turned, won to friendliness, and beheld a man who, to use her mental +ejaculation, was "of a leanness!" + +"Monsieur----" and she paused. + +"Boone, ma'am. Daniel, your most obedient servant. If I'd known--Sho', +we might of had things spruced up a bit. Are you the queen, maybe?" + +The lady's laugh rang as clear as a bell. Taken aback, Boone sought to +correct his mistake. He saw that Berthe was seated in the hammock. She, +then, must be the Empress. + +"I'm downright sorry we went and captured Your Majesty," he began. + +"Her Imperial Highness does not understand English," Jacqueline +explained. + +Then to her surprise the man proceeded in French. He was evidently +greatly disturbed because Missouri hospitality did not harmonize with +war. "It was a blunder," he apologized earnestly, "come of our deciding +just this morning to make you Europeans vacate our continent. But don't +let that worry Your Majesty. Here, under my roof, the decision doesn't +hold, _at_ all!" + +Berthe lifted her head quickly. It was her second promotion in the +social scale that day. She had trembled when the door opened, for she +knew that Rodrigo's side had triumphed. But this tall stranger brought +relief to one's nerves, and somehow she had watched him trustingly. He +was of the same race as Monsieur Driscoll, to whom also she had once +turned instinctively for help. But when the tremendous young fellow +addressed her with reverence due a queen, she felt only the respectful +admiration due a pretty young woman. It unexpectedly awakened in her the +knowledge that she was a pretty young woman; and with a winsomeness that +amazed and delighted Jacqueline, to say nothing of its effect on Daniel, +she gently put him right as to her identity. + +"It doesn't matter," Boone protested stoutly, "you ought to be one!" + +The door opened again. It struck the wall with an insolent bang, and in +strode Don Rodrigo. Jacqueline noted who it was and indifferently seated +herself in the rocking chair, with her back toward him. The Mexican +advanced to the centre of the room. The brief twilight had fallen, and +the place was in half light except for the blazing logs. He stopped +rigid and flung his scarlet-lined cloak back over his shoulder. + +"Where," he demanded in the huge tones of a victorious general, "is the +tyrant's empress?" + +No one volunteered as to where the tyrant's empress might be. The toe of +Jacqueline's boot was indolently busy with the embers on the hearth. The +heads of both girls were in shadow. + +Rodrigo's furrowed brow creased more deeply. "Which of you is she?" The +heavy syllables dropped one by one. He stepped tentatively toward +Berthe. So did Boone. + +"Stand aside, senor!" + +"Can't, dear brigand," said Daniel. + +Then Berthe spoke. "Please, messieurs," she began, "Her Majesty is +not----" + +"It's only a maidservant," Rodrigo exclaimed in chagrin. + +"Don't make any difference," said Boone, "she's come a-visiting." + +"If, Seigneur Brigand," spoke a clear voice, "you had not interrupted +Mademoiselle Berthe, you would stand informed by now that Her Majesty is +not here. Will you deign to close the door?" + +Rodrigo knew well those bell-like tones. Forgetting the question of an +empress, he drew nearer to the lady of the rocker. She gave him no heed, +but her profile against the red glow was very soft and beautiful. His +chagrin vanished. Here was a more ravishing triumph. + +"A vengeance in kind," he muttered, wetting his lips. "Ha, he took +nobody's wife, as to that; and his wife may go. But in the matter of +sweethearts--ah!" + +Bending, he laid a hand caressingly on her neck, against the tendrils. + +At the touch she sprang to her feet, and Boone leaped forward with fist +drawn back. But both stopped. Her face changed from fury to pallor. +Boone's expressed approval. + +The room had filled through the open door with men and torches, but the +first man among them had come as far as Rodrigo's shoulder even as the +insult occurred. From behind, the man's arm had straightened under +Rodrigo's chin, and twisting to a lever, was gradually forcing back his +head. Rodrigo groped for a knife, but half way to his waist the fingers +clutched vainly in a sharp spasm, and all involuntarily flew up and +gripped at the vise under his chin. Yet another ounce of pressure, and +it seemed his neck must snap like a dry twig. Suddenly his spine bent +limp. Muscles relaxed. The whole body capitulated. Then the man behind +stooped a little, and Rodrigo began to rise. Slowly at first, and next, +as from a catapult, the brigand shot backward over the man's shoulder +and struck his length on the floor. + +"No, not that, boys," said the man. "Don't kick him. Laugh at him, it +hurts more." + +He spoke more particularly to one "Tall Mose" Bledsoe of Pike county who +was purple with indignation that a "saddle-colored Greaser should dare +lay hands on a white woman." + +But there were also "Rube" Marmaduke of Platte, "Mac" Crittenden of +Nodaway, the "Doc" of Benton, "Cal" Grinders from the Ozarks, Clay of +Carroll, and Carroll of Clay, besides a ruddy sprinkling from the county +of Jackson. Among the latter was "Old Brothers and Sisters," a plump +little young man with cherubic eyes behind round brass spectacles. Clem +Douglas had been ordained in the M. E. Church (South), and became +thereupon the Rev. Mr. Douglas. "Old Brothers and Sisters" was a +theological degree of later acquirement, lovingly bestowed by the Iron +Brigade. But in his more recent gospel of pistol practice, Clem Douglas +was not a backslider. He was simply all things Southern to all men. Like +the others in the cabin, his hat was off, his muddy boots scraped; and +like the others, he was not unaware of the two girls. + +"Rather showery out," he observed genially, wiping the mist off his +glasses, and imagining weather a livelier topic than battle. + +Jacqueline did not hear. Her eyes were still on the man who had +disdained to strike Rodrigo from behind, who had flung him away instead, +as one would a dog. She stood motionless, and her face was very white. +She saw that he wore loose leather "chaps," a woolen shirt, and an old +coat, with only stained shoulder straps, green braid on dark blue, to +indicate a uniform. His wet black hair was curly. His brown eyes flashed +whimsical contempt on the resplendent guerrilla at his feet. He was the +Coincidence; he was the Storm Centre. He turned, expecting to see the +Empress, and he met her eyes. His own darkened with a new anger, and +involuntarily, he swung round, himself to kick the Mexican who had +insulted her. But a flood of memory swept over him, the memory of what +he had seen at Cuernavaca. Not for her could he touch a fallen man. + +"Take him into the back room, two of you." + +Red, red to the neck, he was turning to follow, when he saw Berthe. + +"Miss Burt!" he exclaimed. + +Heartily he shook hands with her. "It's my first chance, you know, to +mention what you did for me over a year ago. But I sure appreciate +having my life saved, you know that. There now, you're not to worry over +this present mess. We'll have it straightened out, just in no time." + +He stammered as he spoke, and when he turned and left the room, his +bearing was constrained. Jacqueline's eyes followed him until the inner +door closed behind him. Then, with a half shrug, she sat down and +pensively resumed the building of fiery mounds on the hearth. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +IF A KISS WERE ALL + + + "A man, a woman, a passion--what else matters?"--_Sardou._ + + +"Tall Mose" Bledsoe and the Rev. Mr. Douglas conveyed Don Rodrigo to the +back room, and here Driscoll and Boone joined them. They did not disarm +the Mexican. It did not occur to them that any man would risk drawing a +weapon in such company. And as to Fra Diavolo they surmised correctly. +He sulked a little at first, for there were sore tendons that ached. But +in the end he grew reasonable, and his white teeth gleamed acquiescence +to all that the senores were pleased to say. He agreed to bivouac his +men apart from the Missourians and go his own way at daybreak. The +Contras were routed. The Tiger had barely escaped. There was no further +need of combined forces. Indeed, Don Rodrigo feared a night attack so +little that he meant to reward his men with many copitas of aguardiente. +Might he send a barrel over to his esteemed allies? + +Mose Bledsoe turned a pleading look on the parson, and to his surprise +the Rev. Mr. Douglas beamed tolerant benevolence. "Why yes, my friend," +he himself said to Don Rodrigo, "good liquor is always acceptable, +especially when soldiers must sleep on the wet ground." + +The brigand was then allowed to depart, and Old Brothers and Sisters +explained. It was best to let Rodrigo send the brandy, for then one knew +what to expect. Otherwise the Christian brother and rascal would hatch +up some other plot, and any other plot might take them off their guard. + +When an hour later, Rodrigo did in fact attack the presumably somnolent +Americans, more happened than either he or they expected. A third was +also waiting to strike for the sake of a woman. He was Dupin, who wanted +nothing better than the allies at each other's throat. Crouching warily +near, the Tiger sprang at both of them. In the rain and the black night, +the three-cornered fight raged like firecrackers under a tin bucket. The +guerrillas, repulsed by the Americans, fled upon the Contras, whereat +the Americans swept them both back indiscriminately. Instead of a lady, +the Tiger carried off Don Rodrigo, and was quite glad to carry himself +off. But Boone, scouting near, reported that Rodrigo was held a prisoner +instead of being executed at once. This meant something. It meant beyond +any doubt that the Mexican and the Frenchman would combine, Rodrigo for +his life, Dupin to rescue Jacqueline. + +The Missourians held council in Daniel's sanctum. To restore the +captives to Dupin had been Driscoll's intention from the first. But now +it was a question of trading them against Rodrigo. Dupin must know the +American offer before he and Rodrigo should attack. Driscoll proposed +for himself alone the errand to the Tiger's camp. Rising to his feet, he +left his protesting friends without a word further. But he had to pass +through the front room first, to get the cape coat hanging there. It +was, in fact, his own. The two girls were seated before the fire, +Jacqueline still in revery, Berthe nervously agitated from the late +racket of battle. Daniel Boone had laid before them a ranchman's supper +with tropical garnishing, but it was untouched. Driscoll nodded, crossed +the room, took the coat from its nail, and started for the outer door as +he drew it on. + +"Snubbing--an acquaintance," spoke an impersonal little voice, "is +cheap." + +He stopped, waited. + +"Of a gentleman, I reckon you'd say," he interrupted uneasily. "Maybe +not, but a ruffian's got his instincts too. When he's afraid of hurting +someone, he hides himself." + +"I was mistaken," she said gravely, with that quaintest inflection of +the English he had ever heard, "yes, mistaken. He mais--but it is just +that the complaint. You hurt more by _not_ speaking." + +"But there's nothing to say," he faltered. "I'm just going to Old +Tige's--to Dupin's camp, and get him to come here for you." + +"Monsieur, monsieur, you fight for your captives only--only to give them +up?" + +"That's not the question. You can overtake the Empress yet. Dupin +will----" + +"But it is not that I want to overtake empresses at all. I--Berthe, +would you mind carrying back these supper things?--I," she continued, +when they were alone, "have no wish to go back to Paris. I shall return +to the City." + +Again the liaison with Maximilian, he thought bitterly. And Charlotte +away! It was infamous. However, he had no right to be concerned. + +"Very well," he said, "then Dupin can take you to the City, or wherever +you wish." + +"Ma foi, what trouble to be rid of your prisoners, monsieur, and after +two battles too!" + +"That's got nothing to do with it." + +She meant, though, to have him confess that she had had a great deal to +do with it. She was taken with the self-cruel fancy to lay bare and +contemplate his love for her, that she might feel more poignantly the +happiness she had lost. But he abruptly turned again to leave, and all +else was forgotten in terror. + +"You go to that Tiger!" she cried. "Do you not know that----" She darted +between him and the door--"that he recognizes no rules of war? He will +shoot you, he will, he will!" + +Driscoll laughed. + +"Oh, I'll be safe enough all right, thank you. Dupin holds Rodrigo, we +hold you. So it's simply an exchange of prisoners. And he'll not do +anything to me, for fear of what might happen to you here. You're not a +hostage, sure not, but as long as he thinks so, I'll profit by it." + +"You are right," she admitted, yet not heeding his anxiety to pass. +"Dupin will not even detain you. He will judge you Missou-riens by +himself. So, voila, he frees Diavolo. He comes for me. And--and you, +monsieur?" + +"Me? W'y, I'll wait for the boys at Dupin's camp, after he takes charge +here. Then we'll march." + +"And--you do not come back?" + +"No need to. Now will you please get away from that door?" + +"Not coming back!" she repeated. Could the Coincidence be for naught +after all? Could not real life be for once as complacent as art? He was +going, and when, where, in the wide world, in all time, might they ever +meet again? And he was going, like that! Except for her, he would not +even have spoken. + +But--if he were the man to hold her, despite herself? If he were primal +man of primal nature, the demigod raptor who seizes his mate? Yes, she +would forgive him--if only he were that man. If, as such, he would but +hold her from her duty, from her sacrifice, despite herself, +if--if--if----And so her daring fancy raced, raced as desire and hope to +outrun sorrow. And why not? She could look him in the eye with that +honesty which pertains to woman, for she knew that the shame he thought +of her was only in the evidence of what he had seen, of what he had +heard the world say, and not--no, not in fact. And for the kindness of +that fact she thanked Providence. Then, daring to the end, her insane +hope for happiness gave her to remember that there was a clergyman among +these Americans, and to see in that the ordering of fate. + +But Reality was still there, grim and greater than either Providence or +Art. The man was waiting for her to step aside, and when she did, he +would pass through the door and out of her life. She gazed, as for the +last time, on his stalwart shoulders, on his splendid head, the head of +a young Greek, on his flushed face, his mouth, and those obstinate +little waves of his hair. How good he was to look upon--for her, that +is! No, no, she could not let him go. + +And she tempted him. With all her woman's beauty she tempted him. If +beauty were aught, it must win her now what she held dear. Afterward, +when she should tell him why, he would forgive her the unmaidenly +strategy. She had noted with a passionate joy that the lines of his face +were tightly drawn, were even haggard, that his breath came short; in a +word, that he suffered. It told her that his gruff manner was not +indifference, but the rugged front of self-control. What a will the man +had! Knowing that strength, she must have been an odd young woman indeed +not to try to break it. + +"I suppose," she said, lowering her head and shaking it in demure +resignation, "no, I suppose a captive has not the littlest thing to say +of her disposal? But if the poor child has curiosity, monsieur? If, for +the instant, she wonders why a monsieur fights for her, and then why he +hazards his life to be rid of her?" With which she raised her eyes +inquiringly. It was disconcerting. + +"We'll not talk of that any more," he grumbled. "Are you going to let me +pass?" + +Frail creature between him and the door, how easy to remove her! But he +feared the warmth of her hand, should he but touch it, or the faint odor +from her hair, should a stray lock no more than brush his cheek. + +"Even a captive will wonder why she is so little prized," observed the +perverse maid. + +She considered with glee that the window was too small, and with yet +keener delight that his wits for strategy had left him. He did not once +think of exit by the inner door. + +"Why do you keep me?" he demanded. + +His tone was harsh command, and for the moment it frightened her. She +all but gave way, when she perceived that the menacing growl was really +a plea. The poor fellow was at bay. She very nearly laughed. Then, too, +he would not meet her eye again. + +"Oh, am _I_ keeping you?" she exclaimed in innocent dismay. + +It provoked him to what she wanted. He came toward her angrily, while +she stepped back against the door and spread her arms across it. Her +pose was a dare; and the trouble was, he had to look. He had to see the +girlish, the wonderful line of head and shoulder, the color flooding +cheek and neck, and most dangerous of all, the challenging gray eyes. +His teeth snapped to, and his hand closed over her wrist. He pulled, she +yielded. He felt her other hand laid on his. The touch seemed to sear +his flesh. + +"You must not go," she whispered, "must not!" + +He drew her farther from the door, toward himself. + +"Must not!" she repeated. He could feel the breath of her whisper. + +"Don't--Jack-leen!" + +She barely heard the words, but she knew the agony there. And he, as he +gripped her wrist, sensed the throbbing that passed through her whole +body. For pity, he was powerless to thrust aside a lass who pitied him. + +"It is that common, yes. It is not the instinct of----" + +Yet, all the while, like another Brunhilde, she was praying in her heart +that she had not taunted him in vain. A very eerie Valkyrie, she had +taunted him to be the stronger, stronger than his will, stronger than +herself, to strive with her, to master her. And now she saw a fury of +love and hate aroused in him, a fury against herself for making him love +her more than his great will could bear. In her lust for seeing this +anger of his, she forgot her mission absolutely, forgot why she had come +to Mexico, forgot all but the prayer in her heart. + +Nothing was left her but to learn the answer, and this she did, by +tugging firmly, coyly, to free her wrist. The answer was rapture; his +grip had tightened. She pulled harder, and felt herself being drawn +toward him. Yes, yes, her triumph was a fact. Slowly an arm of iron, a +tremulous, masterful vandal, circled her waist. + +She pushed at him with her fists, and panting, tried to fight him off, +however the blood stung in her veins and coursed hot as in his. The +matter had gone far enough. It was time for explanations, for an +adjustment. But he did not seem to think so. He was relentless. +Barbarian Siegfried with the warrior virgin was not more so. The tendons +in that arm of his suddenly went rigid, and crushed her body against +him. It was then that a sudden horror took her, and she struggled like a +tigress. She gasped out a cry for help, but the scream had no volume. +Before she could try again, his hand covered her mouth. + +And then, and then--oh, the words he was whispering! Even as he +smothered her shriek, she heard them. + +"Well--we'll just have in Clem Douglas. You've seen Clem, little girl? +He's our parson." + +His life long, Driscoll had never dreamed of heaven as he saw it then in +her eyes. Never, his whole life long, as she raised those eyes to his. +And the sweet relaxing of herself, the trustful pillowing of her head on +his breast, the soulful content as she softly breathed there, instead of +that wild panting of a moment before! Blinded to the world, he fervently +thanked God that he had been made. + +He touched her white brow lovingly, and gently tilted back her chin. +Again her eyes lifted, confidingly. His head bent. She waited. His lips +drew nearer to hers, very slowly. He was held in a deep reverence, in an +awe of something sacred. It was a rite of adoration before a shrine. And +she, seeing that look in his eyes, wanted him to know that the shrine +was truly as pure as in his oblivion to the world he for the moment +believed. For later memory would come to him, and that she could not +bear. He must know now, before their lips met. Yet a good woman may not +brazenly avow that rumor and evidence speak what is false. But for all +that he still must know, in some way. With a playful gesture she +intercepted his lips against the soft palm of her hand, her eyes the +while holding his in their communion of soul. And thus she spoke, +prettily, saucily, and blushing the while, + +"And are you so sure, sir, that you are the first?" + +She had looked for protestation, and she would have answered. And he +would have believed. He must have believed. But instead the spell of +faith broke sharply. Poisoned memory rushed in before it could be +belied. She could see the tragedy of it in his changed look, in his +ashen face, cold and gray. He thought her question a gloating over his +weakness, and it revolted him. He was, then, but a caprice for her. He +remembered that after all he had only happened by, and that she was +returning to Maximilian. But still she was hardly less tempting. He had +a moment of cruel conflict with himself, which left him with a sullen +rage against the princelet in Mexico, against the order of princelets, +that thus fell a deathly pall between an honest man and a true love +kiss. Yet, she was there in his arms, dear and fearfully clinging +and--no less tempting. + +"Take this woman to my mother?" the question rose. + +As one might close the eyes of his dead wife, he loosed the arms about +his neck, and let them fall at her side. Once free, he leaped to the +door, flung it open, and was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A CROP OF COLONELS + + + "And thus they led a quiet life + During their princely raine." + --_Ballad of King Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid._ + + +Some years after the events recorded here, there appeared in the +Boonville Javelin (post-bellum and revived) a serial of reminiscences, +which, behind an opalescent gossamer of romance, pictured the +Missourians and the chivalrous role they played around that forlornly +chastened and be-chased damsel, la Republica Mexicana. + +Quite aside from the prodigious deeds set forth therein, the +journalistic epic is of itself naively prodigious, as anyone knowing Mr. +Boone with pen in hand will at once suspect. All the little Trojan +band--call them Gascons if you will, but own that if they boasted they +were ever keen to substantiate the bluff--all of them, then, strove and +blazed away invariably as heroes and were just as peerless as could be. +You wouldn't look for anything else from Mr. Boone. He must, however, be +credited with one peculiarity, that he never hinted at himself as one of +the glorious company. Daniel knew his newspaper ethics. He knew that the +newspaper man is _not_ the story, however they may regard it in +France, for instance, where the reporter is ever the bright particular +cynosure of any interview that bears his signature. + +A few strokes of the Meagre Shanks brush in the way of excerpts from his +narrative, with plenty of extenuating dots in between, should make an +impression, even though impressionistic, and serve perhaps as a sketch +of what befell after Din Driscoll had bearded the Tiger, freed Don +Rodrigo, and surrendered his own two captives. To begin: + +A retreat was had [Daniel always got under way slowly, as though +fore-resolved not to stampede.] Echo demands, "Retreat?--The Iron +Brigade in retreat?" 'Twas true. Rallied once again, but under another +flag than the Bars, the Missourians rode all that dank, wet night lest +they meet and have to fight their new friends, the guerrillas under +Rodrigo Galan. It was a weird predicament. Two days before, they were +peaceful settlers in the land--_omne solum forti patria_--their +blood-flecked swords as ploughshares fleshed in earth's warm bosom.... +But tyrannical confiscation of the soil they tilled loomed +foreboding.... Pestered nigh unto forceful phrases with shooing robbers +of both sides out of their melon patches, and fired at last by the +sentiment that it behooved them to sally forth and regulate things +themselves.... They only lacked a Cincinnatus. Their old general would +not lead them. Wearing his bright chaplet of renown, Joe Shelby now +drove mules, a captain over long wagon trains.... + +Then gallant Din Driscoll appeared among them, the dry-humored, reckless +Jack Driscoll of other days, attired now in the brave, dashing +regimentals of the Republic[!] From out the wilds of distant Michoacan +he came with the long gallop that never would tire, and pausing at cabin +after cabin in the Colony's broad acres, summoned his old comrades to +arms ... to arms against the invader.... Who, now, will argue bucolic +content? Those lusty young planters smelled the battle from afar. What +now were waving tassels to the glory of deeds?--_a cuspide +corona_--to a wreath of powder-burned laurel? That very day the Iron +Brigade rallied again, gathered once again at the oft remembered bugle's +full, resonant blare. + +Fighting came sooner than the Missourians hoped. Even as they started +for Michoacan, a ragged Indito, whose village had been razed by the +Cossacks, met the command and asked for the Senor Coronel Gringo. +Driscoll heard what he had to tell, and was greatly concerned, though +the others laughed at first and scoffed. For it seemed that the Indito +did not know who sent him, except that it was a senor chaparrito, a +short little senor. "Then you must be a Shorter Yet?" said Driscoll. +"Well, what do you bring?" The Indito produced from his ragged shirt a +bit of parchment, whereon Colonel Driscoll was urged to join with his +new recruits in an attack on Maximilian's escort, for Maximilian was on +his way to Vera Cruz. The parchment was signed, "El Chaparrito." + +"Shorty! That word means 'Shorty'," the troopers guffawed. But Driscoll +showed them another handwriting at the bottom. The parchment had been +countersigned in blank, thus: "Benito Juarez, Libertad y Reforma." The +Missourians were respectful after that. Many thought that the mysterious +guardian angel of the Republic's battles must be the Presidente himself, +though the Presidente was thousands of miles away. + + * * * * * + +After the victory won against Dupin's Contra Guerrillas [so the +chronicle goes on], the Missourians found their ally to be none other +than that picturesque buccaneer of the Sierras, Don Rodrigo, wild as a +prairie wolf, handsome as Lucifer; and their captives to be not the +Emperor and suite but two beautiful women.... + +When the prisoners had been exchanged--i. e., the two fair girls +restored to Dupin, and Rodrigo freed--and Rodrigo had hurried away to +gather his scattered vagabonds from among the foothills, the Missourians +realized their predicament. That day they had fought the Empire. Then +they had turned and fought the Republic in the person of the guerrilla +chief, Rodrigo Galan. They had rebelled against the rebels, so were +doubly rebel, doubly outlawed. Ye gods, it _was_ bizarre! And as +morning dawned on them trailing along a dreary inferno gorge of the +Sierra Gorda, they blinked at each other ruefully. Poor waifs, they had +lost their native country. And now, one rainy morning, they found they +had lost an adopted one. But each man looked into a face likewise so +rueful that his own broke into a grin. + +"We'll just start a _new_ country," cried Driscoll abruptly. + +His voice sounded strange and very unlike him, but the inspiration was +characteristic of the man, and true to the old irrepressible Storm +Centre they had known. Hunted outlaws, they too were in the mood for any +desperate venture. Spontaneous as wildfire, they seconded this one ere +they had asked a question. They never did ask "How?" + +"A new country," roared Tall Mose, "but where?" + +"And when?" Old Brothers and Sisters inquired gently. + +"We'll start right after breakfast," their intrepid leader replied. "And +right here in Mexico. It's anybody's country yet, and we might as well +slice off a little private republic for ourselves." + +"And won't we fight, by Jiminy!" drawled Cal Grinders, with Ozarkian +deliberation. + +"And it don't matter whom we fight," Marmaduke added. "Let 'em show +themselves, Slim Max or Don Benito. We'll meet all comers." + +That was the mood they were in, and they were in it to the chin. Submit +a wholesale fighting order, and they bid for it like neither bulls nor +bears, but like wolves. + +"About taxation?" asked Clay of Carroll dubiously. + +But as a good general, or as another Romulus, Driscoll had figured it +all out. His answer brought comfort. + +"We'll not have any. We will levy on commerce, as republics have the +right to do." + +"Then," said Carroll of Clay, "we'll need a seaport?" + +"Of course. Ain't Tampico simply waiting for us? The French aren't there +now. They are concentrating in Mexico City for evacuation. There's no +more of a garrison than what Old Tige left, a few hundred Cossacks. If +we get there before the Liberals----" ... + +... And why not? They were nearly five hundred and greater than Romulus. +They were Missourians, sir. They were from that State which gave the +best fighters to both sides; which, population considered, gave more to +the North than any other Northern state, more to the South than any +other Southern state, and yet as a state would be a Republic unto +herself. What, then, might not be possible to these her sons on a +foreign shore? Intrepid youngsters, they were of royal State lineage, +Missourians from Kentucky, Kentuckians from Virginia, which was in the +beginning. Dauntless cavaliers of the Blood, if they chose to carve +themselves a kingdom, why not? + +But they themselves answered the questions, questions that had men's +lives in them thicker than hard words in the Blue-back speller. The +business was as already done, and Mose Bledsoe could go back to his +chant with an easy mind. And once more Missouri's revered saga echoed +among the crags: + + "I come from old Missouri, + Yes, all the way from Pike. + I'll tell you why I left there, + And why I came to roam + And leave my poor old mammy, + So far away from home." + +Then, the bard leading in a fashion vociferous, the whole command helped +out: + + "Says she to me, 'Joe Bowers, + You are the man to win; + Here's a kiss to bind the bargain,' + And she hove a dozen in...." + +... Bivouacked under the black-lipped howitzers of Tampico's sullen +heights.... Dismal fens ... where fever exhaled its dread gray breath +thick over swamp and lagoon ... above, the vast aegis of the firmament, +wrought in a diamond dust of stars ... a sickly, jaundiced, moon tilted +drunkenly.... Through ooze and fetid slime the Americans crept +stealthily out of the reeds; and on, over cypress roots, silently in the +silent night; on, up the hill under the low walls of Fort Iturbide. +Gently and fleeting as a dark beauty's sigh in old Castile, they were +come in canister range. + +"Steady, men," their leader whispered. + +"Unto death," came the low-breathed response. + +[No such words were uttered, as Daniel knew perfectly well, but he knew +that they should be--in the telling.].... A sharp cry ... fearful +alarums from the crest of the hill ... next a belching fury of grape.... +But Tall Mose was happier for it. The seal was off his lips at last, and +out thundered his stentorian war-song: + + "O Sally! dearest Sally! + O Sally! for your sake...." + +... still upward, until the cannon fumes broke as a dun-colored wave +over pennant and plume ... and grimy troops fell as spring blossoms in a +balmy south breeze.... Dying as they loved to die, game to the last ... +they stumbled back to the river, which swept over the gallant stranger +slain.... + + "... It's enough to make me swear!-- + That Sally had a baby, + And the baby had red hair...." + +... Then piercing and wildly plaintive, the clarions rang out, clamoring +for victory and _vae victis_ ... and Din Driscoll's hoarse voice.... +"We are the last of the race, let us be the best as well."... "Back at +'em, fellows!" Bledsoe bellows.... And the parson murmurs, "He prays +best who fights best, both great and small" ... his soft voice tremulous +enough for Glory, his superb trigger finger disturbing enough for +Chaos.... At last, the supreme command "like volley'd lightning"--"Give +'em the revolver. _Charge!_"... + +Not until the story is told shall ... for over the battered masonry, in +through the splintered doors, felling shadowy foes on every hand.... +When well within-side ... the prowess of each unto himself ... tempest +of pistol cracking ... bleeding deathfully ... ah, the killing is fast +and desperate ... and not a candle over the pitiless fray.... Huddled +together for a brief last stand, the Cossacks ... panic, flight.... +_The fort is taken!_ + +When the incarnadine embers of sunrise glowed in the east, the +Missourians stood on the battlements and surveyed their domain. "You are +the man to win, Joe Bowers," Mose hummed with an I-told-you-so air, but +softly, for many of his comrades were wounded, though he was not, as +usual, for all his seven feet of perpendicular target. But "the Doc," of +Benton, was, of course. Getting wounded was the greatest trouble with +Doc. If he attacked a hornet's nest, he would contrive some way to get a +leg shot off. But with him such things had become to be a matter of +course, so now he crated himself together enough to move around and +attend to the others. Driscoll was most innumerably barked, with a +perforated humerus as climax. [The modest Boone might have catalogued +similarly his own casualties.] Old Brothers and Sisters, that cool +Christian, had lost a lens out of his spectacles, and was now replacing +it from a supply he always carried. What, though, were fractured arms +and busted specs to becoming a republic over night? + +But eternal vigilance is ever ... and menace was not long in coming. +Three French gunboats, like sluggish water beetles, crossed the bar and +steamed up the river.... Promptly the howitzers on the ramparts were +trained.... But there was no need ... a white flag ... a naval +lieutenant at the fortress gate.... The gunboats had not come to fight. +Bazaine had sent them to carry off the endangered garrison, it being +expected that a Liberal army under a General Pavon would shortly besiege +the place. The Frenchman was astounded to find that the Liberals, as he +imagined the Missourians, had already arrived. Driscoll allowed him to +embark the dislodged garrison, as well as the defenders of the other +fort, Casa Mata; that is, all except those who might want to change +sides. And nearly every Mexican among the Cossacks did change. It was a +sign of the panic that had spread throughout the Empire. Driscoll also +insisted on the burial of certain guerrilla corpses which Dupin had left +hanging to the town's lamp posts. After which the gunboats took +themselves out of republican waters. + +Yet they left behind expectancy. So, a Liberal army two thousand strong +was approaching? The Missourians provisioned themselves from the town +and rested on their arms. The Liberal host appeared, variegated of +costume, piratical of aspect.... Again a flag of truce.... "If the +senores Imperialistas desired to surrender?"... "We are not +Imperialists," came the reply from the fort, "and we're blessedly d-n-d +if we desire to surrender."... "Then, the saints bless us, _who_ +are you?"... "The Republic of Tampico, de facto and determined." + +The dumfounded Liberals scratched their heads. They were Republicans, +and here was a republic, and naturally it bothered them. But when they +had gotten it tangled unmistakably enough, they decided that they wanted +surrender anyhow, if the senores Tampicoistas would have the kindness +... and on refusal from the fort, they withdrew to load their siege +guns. + +They had sent a shot or two and received a dozen, when an Indito, +emaciated and loathsome from scales of dirt, dashed from nowhere through +the cross-fire and pounded at the fortress door. Driscoll ordered him +admitted. The first President of the Tampico Republic seemed +extraordinarily anxious about this ragged vagabond, especially as he had +perceived a second one, likewise from nowhere, dash into the Liberal +camp. Ten minutes later the enemy ceased firing. "Now come, all of you," +Driscoll then said to his little army, "and hear what he's got to tell. +I reckon he's a Shorter Yet."... "From Shorty, then!" exclaimed his men. +And so it proved, for the Indito produced the usual bit of parchment, +signed El Chaparrito and countersigned Benito Juarez, Libertad y +Reforma. The message thereon demanded why the Coronel Driscoll and his +new recruits for the cause had turned against it.... "'Cause we don't +hanker after hanging," Cal Grinders interposed.... Was it, Driscoll +continued to read, because they thought they had lost favor by fighting +Rodrigo Galan? If so, there was naught against them, nothing, because +President Juarez had outlawed Galan for robbing a bullion convoy. It was +true that the writer of the parchment had used the said Rodrigo, in the +hope of capturing Maximilian, but the bandit was not for that reason a +Republican officer.... "In other words," lisped Crittenden of Nodaway, +"we're in-lawed because the good patriot Don Rodrigo is away +outlawed."... "Therefore," the parchment went on, "His Excellency the +Presidente through the writer has herewith sent a message to General +Pavon of the besieging camp to comply with whatever Their Mercies the +Americans may deem fit to require. Further, knowing the temper of Their +Mercies, General Pavon is ordered to at once cease operations and leave +Their Mercies in possession." + +The Missourians looked at one another and were reluctant. They hated to +forego a battle. But it takes two sides to make one. Not outlawed, not +even threatened, they had no excuse to hold against the Liberals. + +"But," said Crittenden, "as an ally of this sister Republic, we'll still +have our fighting." + +"Well," demanded Driscoll, "what will you ask for?" + +"Our Cordova lands back, after we've won them from the Empire." + +"And," put in Grinders, "equality. We want republican equality." + +"Then we'll all be privates?" + +"No sir-ee, by cracken! Equality high up, that's what! We'll be +colonels, breveted colonels, every last one of us--Colonel Driscoll, +Colonel Grinders, Colonel Brothers and Sisters, Colonel----" + +"That's easy," said Driscoll smiling. "Now I'll go and fix it up with +General Pavon, before he gets away." + +... To conclude this chapter on the Missourians' Republic, there is yet +a word, which perhaps is also explanation of the saddened change that +had come over Din Driscoll since that night after the battle with Don +Rodrigo. It must be remembered that the peerless lad had just won his +old comrades to the Mexican Republican cause. While yet rejoicing that +here he more than made good the three hundred Liberals he had helped to +capture when a captain under the Empire, he found that he had only cast +his recruits out of the pale of law, first against the Empire, and then +against the Republic.... Then he proposed their own republic, and for +themselves they took Tampico from the French. But why? What was the real +object in Driscoll's innermost thought? The suspicion arises: Was it to +win a peace-offering wherewith to make friends again with the Liberals? +Such an explanation of his otherwise wild scheme is but a theory, but +the theory fits, for John D. Driscoll, though as reckless as any and +quick for any forlorn hope, was, when a leader, scrupulously practical. + +The above suggestion, moreover, is apropos in these later days, when the +Tampico Republic has become to be folklore throughout Missouri, and when +our cousins, the Kentuckians, even those proud colonels by acclamation, +cannot rank beside these five hundred colonels scattered over the sister +state; so that, when a stranger questions, a Missourian answers: "He a +colonel? W'y yes, of course, sir. And, by God sir, a Tampico colonel, +too! Yes, one of the five hundred!" and the stranger's eyes bulge as he +takes off his hat. + +[The deposition of Meagre Shanks ends here.] + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ROYAL RESOLUTION + + + "... O restless fate of pride, + That strives to learn what Heaven resolves to hide."--_The Iliad._ + + +On returning to the capital, Jacqueline did not once set foot in any +Imperial palace, but she established her own salon of a grande dame, and +there installed herself mid a simple elegance. What was left of the +mortgaged chateau in the Bourbonnais went to pay for it. Jacqueline +would accept not a louis out of Napoleon's Black Chest. A French +gentlewoman, she impoverished herself to work for France. And when, a +little later, Napoleon dishonored his own name and that of France in his +dealings with Maximilian, she thanked the instinct that had kept her +free. Puddles muddied one's skirt so! The valiant maid broke her sword. +She would serve no longer. At least, she was quite certain that she +would not. + +Napoleon's shame lay in this. Maximilian had accepted his harsh +ultimatum regarding the Mexican customs, and in return for such +humiliation he depended on the presence of the French troops for yet +another year. But the United States threatened war, and Napoleon +cringed. He would withdraw the troops immediately. He would abandon +Maximilian, treaty or no treaty. Thus the quiet forces in the American +Legation at Paris battled against the proud House of Orleans. The +princess of that House failed. She could not save her husband's throne, +and her own. Her mind gave way. She became a raving maniac. So much for +Charlotte's mission. + +With the news Maximilian was a broken man. He seemed to remember his +promise to rejoin her in Europe, for he set out coastward and left the +marshal a letter that was virtually his abdication. Yet in the Hot +Country he stopped for his health. An Austrian frigate waited for him. +But behind him was his capital. Would he return? History will never +know, perhaps, the soul-despairing network of intrigue and +counter-intrigue that wound and tightened about the young sapling roots +that would strike deep in an unnourishing soil and become a dynastic +oak. The rabid clericals, who were Maximilian's ministers at the time, +thought their puppet gone, and in terror of an avenging Republic they +resigned. But Bazaine, urged to it by Padre Fischer, prevailed upon them +to remain, and Fischer gave his word that the puppet would not escape. +So France lost another chance to take back the Mexican Empire, and +thereby pave a way out of her shame. For while Maximilian recuperated, +he reconsidered. Clerical generals assured him of armies, the ministers +talked eloquently of treasure from the Church coffers. The fat padre +manipulated generals and ministers and Emperor, He was supreme. None +might come near the royal ear except at his pleasure. + +It was at this time, about the first of the year, some six months after +Charlotte had sailed to Europe, and only a few weeks before the French +would do the same, that one evening Jacqueline's footman brought her a +plainly sealed envelope, without crest, without writing. She tore it +open, and started as she looked at a simple autograph on the card +inside. + +"His--this gentleman, Tobie, you admitted him?" + +The well-trained servant stood impassive. "What would madame have?" he +replied. "The man walked in like a lord, keeping his face hid in a +cloak. But if madame----" + +"Was there a carriage?" + +"No, madame, but I noticed a saddle horse at a little distance, held by +a mounted soldier with a carbine. But if madame----" + +"He is in the drawing-room, then?" + +"Oui, madame, and without removing his Mexican sombrero. But if madame +desires that this citizen find himself--h'm--pressed to go----" + +"Tobie! No, on the contrary, you will permit him to wait undisturbed, +until I come." + +A few minutes later Jacqueline beheld a tall figure in elegant charro +garb striding the length of her salon. As she entered, her guest threw +off sombrero and Spanish cloak, and revealed the drawn and troubled +features of the Emperor of Mexico. + +"Your Majesty has returned to His capital!" she exclaimed. "Then it is +true----" + +"That I shall cling to my play-empire? But I do not know yet, +mademoiselle, I do not know yet. If I did, I should not be here, here in +your house for the first time, and against your wishes----" + +"Will Your Highness be seated?" + +Maximilian flung himself wearily into an armchair. The fire of the +enthusiast had died out of his eyes, and the fire of fever had left them +faded. They reminded one of the blue of old-fashioned china. + +"But why----" she began. + +"Why come to you, you mean? I don't know; instinct, I suppose." + +"Isn't that rather vague? Your Imperial Highness returns to the City, to +his palace----" + +"Not to his palace, mademoiselle, not while it would seem a mockery of +my poor imperial state, but to an hacienda in the suburbs. If I enter my +Mexican palace again, it will be because I have decided to remain an +emperor." + +"And for the reason that you have _not_ so decided, you do me the +honor----" + +"I do myself the service, mademoiselle. I can bear this torment of +indecision no longer, and you can help me, for you, dear lady, see +clearly where the vision of others is distorted. The enthusiasm of the +others is unsafe. Yes," he sighed, with a little superior air of +resignation to all human foibles, "those on whose loyalty I can depend +are indeed few, but I am thankful that among them are my ministers, and +my faithful secretary, Father Augustin Fischer----" + +"Then why, in heaven's name, does Your Highness come to me?" + +"Instinct, or--perhaps it's mania. Something has forced me to learn what +_you_ would say." + +Jacqueline's foot--a small digression, at most--was slippered in blue, +and this she pillowed on a cushion of red. And on another cushion she +settled her elbow; and the sleeve of the chemisette, or blouse, or +whatever the high-necked filmy white garment was, fell away, revealing a +rounded forearm clasped in a band of gold. And resting her chin on her +thumb, she regarded the young prince thoughtfully. In her look there may +have been a sedate twinkle of amusement, but all was gently, pityingly +sympathetic. + +"Let me know," she said, "more of the doubts that trouble Your +Highness." + +Unerringly she touched the right chord. Doubts, yes, doubts of a broken +dreamer. Illusions shattered as bubbles. A dweller in an ideal shadow, +believing that subjects needed only lofty phrases, Maximilian was +finding himself tragically maladjusted to the modern day in which he +lived. But as the words tumbled from his lips in the passionate relief +of unburdening, it quickly appeared that his misgivings arose only +because he had fallen short of Dark Age standards. He recalled bitterly +how, unlike the illustrious among his ancestors, he had not stirred +until others had won his crown for him. But destiny was kind. He had the +chance for redemption. To hold his empire now depended on him alone. He +would mount his horse, give to the light a true Hapsburg blade, and +valiantly ride forth to conquer or perish, and in any hazard be worthy +of his House. + +Then, without abrupt change, he talked of Austria's late woes. Had he +but commanded his country's ships at Lissa! Could he but have risked his +life at Sadowa! And moreover, he was still needed over there. But in +some quick recollection a moisture dimmed the blue eyes. He drew from +his vaquero jacket a dispatch. It was from Franz Josef. If Maximilian +returned to Austria, the message ran, then he must leave behind the +title of Emperor--leave behind even the title! + +"And will that hurt so much?" asked Jacqueline. + +The Ritual again! For it a man withheld asylum from his brother. + +"Is there no mother," cried the exasperated girl, "to spank both your +Majesties?" + +"'Tis of Her Serene Highness----" Maximilian began with dignity. + +"Highness? Yes, I forgot, but not high enough to chide majesty, though +she be a mother." + +"Yet she has only just warned me of her deep displeasure if--No, her +message shall wait. I wish to hear first what you think. Tell me, shall +I go, or shall I stay? Tell me, tell me, and why!" + +Feverishly the man craved one frank word. There was in his look the +prayer of a desperate gambler who watches a card poised between the +dealer's fingers. Jacqueline had one answer only. But exactly how to +express it, lest she be wrongly taken, made her pause. + +"In the first place," she began slowly, "there is only a single +consideration involved, and in that lies the solution of Your Majesty's +doubts. I mean the consideration of honor. Now if Your Highness +is--_whipped_ off his throne--_that_ is ignominy--But wait, +wait, I am not through. I----" + +"Almost my mother's words!" he cried triumphantly. And with a hand that +trembled, he got out the letter from that Archduchess Sophia who had +given one son a crown and loved this other as her darling. + +"'Rather than suffer humiliation by a French policy'" he read from her +letter, "'stay, stay, though you be buried under the walls of Mexico!'" + +"But----" Jacqueline interposed. She had been taken amiss after all. + +"You too bid me stay," he insisted. "But I might have known. I might +have known. One who never errs said that this would be your counsel. The +Padre is wonderful--wonderful!" + +Father Fischer, of course! What else? How consummate was the snake in +his cunning! He counted on honesty and nobility in another, though +having none himself. He knew Jacqueline. He thought that, both good and +frank, she must advise the Emperor as his mother had done. Accordingly, +when Maximilian became afflicted with doubts, the priest allowed him to +go to Jacqueline. She would be an accomplice despite herself. Only his +judgment did not go quite far enough. Jacqueline had not spoken +_all_ her mind. + +Imperiously she compelled Maximilian's attention. "I said ignominy, +yes," she persisted, "but I would have added that honor--the modern and +the decent--and the only courage, lies in facing this same ignominy. +Listen. If the least of impure ambition enters in your decision to +remain, then for each death in the civil war that must result, Your +Highness may hold himself to account, and so be held by history. Now," +she went on, unmoved by the fact that he had winced, "the question +remains with Your Highness--does aught besides honor hold you to stay?" + +To himself he answered as she spoke, and guilt confessed mounted his +brow. + +"But there," she said, "Father Fischer will interpret the will of the +Almighty. Before Your Imperial Highness retires to-night, my words will +be forgotten." + +The lash fell on flesh already raw and smarting. To predict that he +would change yet again, when to change he branded himself a wilful +murderer--no! That was more than he could endure. She must not think +that of him. He held out his hand. "Jeanne!" he murmured imploringly. + +"Don't!" she cried, "Don't call me that!" + +Then she bit her lip, and her fury turned against herself. "Jeanne" was +feminine and French for "John," which was masculine and--American. This +important discovery she had made months ago when riding beside a man +whose horse was "Demijohn." As a girl in love, she had found a cozy joy +in their names being the same. But for that very reason any recollection +of it, since then, was the less to be borne. + +Blushing indignantly, she saw that Maximilian was regarding her with a +puzzled expression. Manlike, he referred it to himself, and suddenly, he +too started. Only once before had he addressed her thus familiarly, +which was during that memorable afternoon beside the artificial lake at +Cuernavaca. Here, therefore, must lie the association that caused her +agitation. Yet, since that afternoon, she had permitted no reference to +their interview, unless to raise her brows quizzically at his continued +presence in Mexico. But now, what of the self-betrayal into which he had +just surprised her? It could not but be connected with that other time +when he had murmured her name. There was, however, no conscious vanity +in the remarkable explanation. It was remorse. He thought of Charlotte, +his wife. And this other woman, had he wronged her also? For during the +past weeks of trouble he had forgotten that he had loved her, and she +had not forgotten. In two such facts, falling together, was the wrong, +and one that a woman scarcely ever forgives, as he had had reason to +know. + +"I could not help supposing, mademoiselle," he ventured diffidently, +"that what you said at Cuernavaca was inspired by--by no feeling toward +myself. I could suppose nothing else in the light of your utter +indifference since then, and--and your aversion for my very presence." + +Jacqueline laughed pleasantly. "In that Your Highness deceives himself. +I did then, as I do now, feel for Your Highness enough to wish him +safely out of Mexico." + +"Charity, then?" + +She did not protest. + +"As I thought," he said. "There was no feeling in--in----" + +Jacqueline raised her eyes and met his frankly. + +"When a woman feels in the sense you mean, sire," she said, "then she +does not make an empire, even the Austrian Empire, a condition. If the +man in question has no more than his horse, his pistols, even his pipe, +then the woman----" But she stopped abruptly. + +"With you," he granted honestly, "it was not a matter of personal +ambition either. But if neither of these, then what--_Now_ I see!" +he cried. "A state reason! A decoy, to tempt me out of Mexico! Yes, yes, +now I see!" + +"It is good to know," said Jacqueline, not ungratefully, "that Your +Majesty at least, if no other, can see a high motive in my self +abasement." + +"Now what can she mean by that?" he demanded of himself. "What other, in +particular, thinks hard of her that she should care?" + +Eloin was the only other man who could have seen them, there at +Cuernavaca. No, little it mattered to her what Eloin thought. But--yes, +there was another. There was the American who had intruded and wanted to +save his empire. Maximilian recalled now her change to bitterness after +the American had left them, and a moment ago he had seen the identical +pain of self-contempt tug at her lips. And yet, once she had left the +American to die. But Maximilian answered even that objection. Leaving +him to die was a necessity for her country. And the sacrifice had gone +farther. It had not faltered before the self-degradation of which she +had just spoken. + +The admiration in his eyes grew. The chivalry in his race awoke within +him, and exalted him. He felt himself become the true knight, in the +purity of devotion to a woman--a gentleman, as real chivalry would have +the term. Poor man and poet, he felt even the impulse to bend the knee +and crave as a boon some risk of life in her service, without thought of +boon thereafter--a knightly impulse nearly obsolete in chivalry, if ever +customary. But he knew now that the impulse was really possible, and the +proof was this: that the constraint between them had vanished, that soon +he was talking with her easily and naturally. + +For Jacqueline also the air had become blessedly pure, and deeply, +gratefully, she breathed of it. Because now she talked with one whose +respect was a fact, who _knew_ her for what she was, and during a +moment's space she was happy, with the happiness of delusion. It seemed +that other men, that one other man, might one day know her too, and give +her his esteem. But the phantasy passed. The knowledge must forever be +restricted to the man before her, and for him she did not care. + +Maximilian, very strangely, was thinking of the very self-same thing. +Here was a service in her behalf already offering. If he could cause +that other man to know? But it was out of the question. Men may convince +one another of a woman's guilt, and only too easily. But of her +innocence? No, it was absurdly out of the question. Besides, next day +the true knight would be starting back for Europe. Had he not just +decided? + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +INTERPRETER TO THE ALMIGHTY + + + "... and could make the worse appear + The better reason."--_Paradise Lost._ + + +After half an hour's sharp canter, Maximilian dismounted at La Teja, his +suburban hacienda. He had come quickly from Jacqueline's, for his heart +was light. The stress and storm of wavering were ended at last. Soon now +he would be at Miramar, at beautiful Miramar, overlooking the sea, where +Charlotte awaited him, but knew it not. And by love and tender care he +would coax her back to sanity. Ah, no, the pure joy of living was not +done for them yet! + +"Desire Father Augustin to attend me in my private cabinet," he said to +the first lackey. + +The huge priest came on the instant. He bore a candle in one fat, +freckled hand, and above its light the dull flesh of his face shone +yellow. His head was as ever pear-shaped with its heavy, flabby jowls, +and in the apex the two little beads of eyes leaped adventurously at +sight of the prince. + +"I am here, sire," he said purringly. "Your Majesty, then, wishes me to +prepare for his return to the imperial palace to-morrow?" + +"No, father," His Majesty answered stoutly, though not without an uneasy +glance. "To-morrow I set out for the coast. The _Dandolo_ is still +there at anchor. You will give the necessary orders to my Hungarians, +who will be my escort." + +Fischer opened his lips, to close them. The involuntary creasing of his +brow smoothed at once. Maximilian, who had dreaded argument from this +man, breathed easier. But of course any man would give way when a +Hapsburg had irrevocably made up his mind. The padre laid down the +candle, and interlaced his bloated fingers over his paunch in an +attitude of sleek calmness. He was smiling and fawned meek anxiety to +second his patron's least wish. + +"Your Imperial Majesty's wisdom, I see, is not a thing to be turned by +the fraeulein?" + +"On the contrary, Mademoiselle la Marquise d'Aumerle counseled my +departure, not my remaining." + +The fingers tightened slightly over the bulge of the sutane. "She then +presumed to differ from Her Serene Highness, Your Majesty's mother?" + +"My mother would counsel the same, were she in Mexico. I thank you, +padre, that I went to see the only one who could so take my mother's +place, because now, at last, I know what I must do." + +The priest took a long breath, and drew back, mentally, to some vantage +point whence he could survey the field and plan his campaign anew. He +nodded humble acquiescence, but the small bright eyes seemed to gorge +themselves on the prince. Maximilian stirred restively. One has seen a +lion watch the trainer's whip, as though he wondered that a creature +with only a whip should yet, in some way, compel him to do this or that. +Before an obscure adventurer the monarch hastened to justify his +abdication. But it did not make him easier because the padre listened so +obsequiously, with never a quiver before the horror and misery pictured. +He only listened, this man of God, noting it all deferentially, item by +item, with a smiling gesture that he heard and understood, and was quite +ready for the next. Maximilian became aware at last of his own low +stooping. And that moment he stopped abruptly. + +"The Lord reward Your Majesty's tender heart," now spoke the priest, +"and may the reward be such as a ruler should expect from his God!" + +"What do you mean?" demanded Maximilian in impatient anger. "Have all +the barbarities of civil war no power to move you? Do I not know that +the savagery has already begun?" + +The curate crossed himself. In humility he would bear the charge of +hardness of heart. "Power to stir me?" he repeated. "If Your Majesty +would think on his power to bring this same savagery to an end! That is +his reward offered by Heaven, the reward of bringing holy peace to a +stricken land." + +"Did I not come for that? You only remind me how I have failed." + +"And why, sire? Because your instruments were not blessed. The French +oppressed the Church as well as the people. But now the French are +leaving. It is the hand of Providence." + +"She _said_ he would interpret the will of Heaven!" Maximilian +exclaimed. + +The priest heard, stammered, and went to wreck miserably, as a hypocrite +unmasked knows that his next word must sound like hypocrisy. How slyly +she had checkmated him! Forseeing his thrust, she had countered his +every shift of cunning through this feeble fencer before him. And the +mistake he had made, in sending Maximilian to her! For a moment the +expression of the apostate Lutheran was very ugly in its baffled rage. +But he was too wise a trainer to lose patience utterly. He realized +instead that the struggle was harder than any he had yet had with his +royal dupe, since now his real antagonist was the young Frenchwoman. + +"I? I interpret the word of God?" He said it very humbly, with bowed +head. "Alas, Your Majesty knows I am the last to presume to that. But +there are those who can. There is the Holy Father in Rome, who is +infallible. I only know that _he_ told Your Majesty's servant, +myself, that a ruler blessed by the Church is an instrument of God. But +if the ruler turns his back ere his work is done----" + +Maximilian's nostrils were dilating strangely, and the consummate +tempter hurried on. He exalted the grandeur of the Emperor's task, yet +craftily made success appear simple and easy. The forces of "the +arch-rebel Benito Juarez" were concentrated in "a horde of impious +thieves calling themselves the Army of the North." But Miramon, His +Majesty's own general, was hastening to meet them. One decisive battle, +and there would be no more rebels. The nation must then recognize that +the Empire had sustained itself without French aid. + +"Of course a few lives will be lost," he quietly sneered, "and we who do +not understand may grieve for them, but the ways of Heaven, for its own +ends, are inscrutable. Your Majesty knows that others before him, his +ancestors, have had to wade through the blood of God's enemies. But Your +Majesty's glorious ancestors were fulfilling their destiny. And why +should not you, also, sire, you who are the child of destiny?" + +It was a magic word. Fischer knew his man devilishly well. + +"But how can I tell," Maximilian demanded petulantly, "that my destiny +really lies in Mexico?" + +"Then your destiny, sire, must lie in Europe, in Austria," was the +priest's astounding concession. "After all, a prince's intuitions, being +given him by divine revelation, can alone be his guide." + +Maximilian's eyes flashed. + +"Then I abdicate--herewith!" + +Fischer meekly assented. + +"There are rumors, nay, more than rumors," he mused aloud, "that a +strong hand is needed in Austria. I repeat only what all Europe says +boldly, that Franz Josef cannot long hold his throne. Yes, yes, sire, +but do not stare so!--Yet the crown prince is a child. Who then shall be +regent? Who but----" + +"Enough, enough, I say! Now look to my orders. We start to-morrow." + +The secretary beamed unctious joy that his master had so decided, and +was bowing himself out, when abruptly he paused, "Oh, I forgot, a packet +for Your Majesty." + +Maximilian took the missive. It was not heavy. It did not seem as heavy +as Fate, not as heavy as a coffin. + +"This is an old date," he said in a puzzled way. "See, the postmark, +'Brussels, Sept. 17.'" + +"It just came by courier from Vera Cruz, being sent via New York no +doubt accounts for the delay." + +Maximilian sighed. Even the post no longer considered royalty. Packets +had taken on leisurely habits since the Empire's crumbling--or since the +secretary's ascendancy. He broke the seal with tremulous fingers. The +thing must tell him of Charlotte. + +"From Monsieur Eloin," he said. + +"But he--he does not send bad news, nothing, sire, of Her Imperial +Highness?" + +Well enough did that soul of mud know the letter's contents. Well enough +he knew that Eloin and himself could waste no time on an insane woman. +Their chances of future position were in too critical a state. And the +packet was designed for just such a crisis as the present. + +Maximilian frowned, read excitedly. He was swept along as by a torrent. +Fixed on him were the small bead eyes of the priest, darting a light, +like a flame on oil. And when the Emperor gasped quickly and sprang to +his feet with hands clenched in the manner of a strong man, the priest +was ready. + +"Good news, then?" he cried. "What fortune! Now Your Majesty will hurry +the faster to Vienna?" + +Maximilian gave him a glance, as though he were dense to think so. + +"Here, read, read it!" + +M. Eloin, sycophant, courtier, had never sung for his royal patron a +roundelay more pleasing than his prose of the moment. It caused to +vibrate the very heart chords of the susceptible prince. There were +subtle appeals to spite ungratified, to wounded pride, to ambition, to +honor. The letter ran: + + ... Nevertheless, I am convinced that to abandon the throne now, + before the return of the French army, would be interpreted as an + act of weakness.... If this appeal (to the Mexican people) is not + heard, then Your Majesty, having accomplished his noble mission to + the end, will return to Europe with all the prestige that + accompanied his departure; and mid important events that are + certain to happen, he will be able to play the role that belongs + to him in every way.... + +And then the supreme refrain: + + In passing through Austria, I was able to bear witness to the + general discontent that reigns there. Yet nothing is done yet. The + Emperor is discouraged; the people fret and publicly demand his + abdication; the sympathies for Your Majesty are spreading visibly + throughout the entire Empire; in Venetia a whole population wishes + to acclaim its former governor.... + +Thus it was that Eloin pilfered Jacqueline's lever, and thus he used +another fulcrum, as he had promised Charlotte he would. By pandering to +Maximilian's Austrian ambitions, he showed the weak prince how they +could yet never be realized if prestige were lost in Mexico. To keep +this prestige, to increase it, Maximilian must prove to Austria that he +could hold the empire he already had, and that without foreign bayonets. +He had only to stay a short time after the French should evacuate. And +then, within a few months, a few weeks, he might lay down the sceptre +voluntarily, to take up the one awaiting him across the ocean. + +"We will leave here in the morning," cried Maximilian--"no, to-night, at +once!" + +"For Vera Cruz, sire?" queried the padre. + +"No, for my capital, for my palace! And father, allow no one to mention +abdication to me again. My decision to stay is irrevocable." + +The padre promised faithfully that he should not be disturbed, and this +was one promise that the good padre kept. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +ALONE AMONG HIS LOVING SUBJECTS + + + "And Jove himself shall guard a monarch's right." + --_The Iliad_. + + +Early one morning a month later, a solemn little group of uniformed men +climbed to the roof of Buena Vista, the imperial wedding gift to Marshal +Bazaine, and nerving themselves, pulled down the Tricolor. France, a +Napoleon, were again leaving the New World. It was Evacuation. + +The Army of the Expedition came tramping down the Paseo. There were +heavy Dragoons and Cuirassiers, on majestic chargers. There were light +Chasseurs and Lancers, on fleet Arabians that had often proved +themselves against the Mexican pony. There was the clanking of steel, +and the flash of helmets through the dust. The imperial eagles, gilded +anew, were poised for flight back to their native aeries. Lower in the +earthly cloud bobbed the tasseled fez of the bronzed Zouave, and the +perky red pompon on the fighting cap of the little piou-piou. With the +steady beat of the march, the pantalons rouges crossed, spread, crossed, +spread, like regiments of bright, bloody shears. The bands played. And +yet it was not a martial scene. Feet, not hearts, lifted to the fife's +thrilling note. Nor was the multitude that thronged the wide avenue a +fiesta populace. It looked on stolidly, without a huzza, yet without a +hiss. Enthusiasm in either sense would have been relief, but the +Mexicans assisting at the bag and baggage of an invader were as unmoved +as those other spectators, the colossal figures in the glorietas; as the +two Aztec giants, leaning on their war clubs; as Guatemotzin, with high +feathered crest and spear aloft, foreboding as in life to the European +conqueror; as Columbus, who, having himself suffered, gave now no sign +of remorse for the blows which this new hemisphere gave the old; as +Charles IV. on his iron horse, who had bargained with a former Napoleon +to be called Emperor of America, and who, unlike Maximilian, had wisely +surrendered such a crown. + +Cavalry, infantry, cannon, wagons, on they came through the city and +past the Zocalo, under the Cathedral towers, under the lifeless, +shuttered windows of the Palacio. Here in the Zocalo, in the central +plaza, the sometime first lady of Her Imperial Majesty's household sat +in her barouche, and opposite her a pretty girl, and she was talking +with an officer of Chasseurs d'Afrique whose horse was restive, and all +the while there was the rumbling of wheels, the tread of feet, and the +ring of hoofs. + +The sometime first lady was saying good-bye to the officer, as she had +already to many another gallant chevalier pausing beside her carriage. +But for her it was farewell to all her countrymen there, to the little +piou-pious most of all, and her gray eyes were frankly moist. + +"And now they are going," she mused aloud, "really going, because, +parbleau, a monsieur in Washington says they must." + +"I wish to heaven," swore the young officer gloomily, "some monsieur +would say as much to you! See here, we'd give you and Mademoiselle +Berthe enough room on the ship for a barracks, if you'd only come. +There's a many less welcome," and he jerked his head toward a stream of +vehicles straggling among the troops. They were filled with Mexican +aristocrats whose doubtful titles had been revived by the Empire, all +eagerly accepting French transport out of their native land. + +Jacqueline laughed. "They're so afraid of the Liberals, they will forget +their escutcheons. So of course they've forgotten the bouquets. You +should have seen the garlands, Michel, that heralded our grand entry +here. Oh, la-la! We paid for them ourselves. Thus arrived the Drapeau +Civilizateur de la France. And now behold the departure. Not the cost of +a violet to spare from Napoleon's strong chest! He mais, hear that tune! +It's 'Leaving for Syria,' the thing decreed into our national hymn. For +once I'm glad, glad it's not the 'Marseillaise.'" + +"Mademoiselle--dear friend," spoke the slow-thinking Michel, "you do not +wish to answer my question. Why do you stay behind, alone? Why? Nothing +good ever happens to anyone in this country, and who can tell what might +happen to you when the army is gone? Come now," he went on, forcing some +bluff cheer into his words, "Jeanne d'Aumerle, your friends want you out +of it. Fall in with us, here, now. Let me give the order, 'Cocher, a +Paris!--Voila, what more's to be done?" + +Indeed, what more simple? Or more to be desired? Yet there was nothing +she desired less. She thought of what she had found in Mexico, and must +leave behind. It was a dead thing, true, and already buried. But--the +grave was too fresh as yet. However, the real reason for her staying +involved something else. + +She made no reply, for at the moment a strange voice, with a jagged +Mexican accent and a thin insidious inflection, broke in upon them, and +startled them all three. + +"Nay, Monsieur le Duc," it began, rolling the title as a morsel on the +tongue. "Your Grace would deprive us of too much honor. Why, indeed, +should mademoiselle not remain among us?" + +Turning quickly, Jacqueline beheld the stranger's black eyes upon +herself. He, too, wished to know why she stayed in Mexico, but in his +sharp, shifting look there was a penetration quite different from that +of the guileless Michel. He bestrode a magnificent horse that seemed +made for armor, whereas he himself would surely have been crushed under +so much as a Crusader's buckler. Being so very small, and perched so +very high, he cut a ludicrously martial figure with his plumed hat and +epaulettes and gold buttons and braid and medals and exquisitely mounted +sabre. It was not a French uniform that he wore, but Mexican Imperial, +and stupendously ornate. And within the brave array, he was such a +little, little man!--insignificance glorified into caricature. + +But the pigmy was not altogether on parade. He had that morning been +receiving arsenals and fortresses from the French; in short, the keys of +the Empire. For he was Commander in Chief of the Imperial armies, was +this species of manikin. And ugly? He was a man of lifted upper lip +under a bristling moustache, a man of fangs, a wee, snarling, strutting, +odious creature of a man. A deep livid scar split his cheek and would +not heal. Instead of arousing sympathy, it proclaimed him rather for the +scratches he gave to others. For he was that Mexican of infamous name, +the Leopard. Once he had looted the British Legation. Another time he +massacred young medical students attending the wounded of both sides. +There were stories of children speared and tossed in ditches. Yet +certain priests blessed his ardor as defender of the Church. Maximilian +had sent him on a mission to Palestine, since he was abhorrent to the +moderates. But now he was back again, to lead the clerical armies. The +valley of Mexico shrank from his brutal proclamation demanding +submission. "Mexicans, you know me!" so ended the snarl. He gathered +forced loans. He drafted peons, though they were exempt. He emptied the +prisons, and convicts he sent in chains as recruits for the Imperial +garrisons. In such a fashion Leonardo Marquez began his duties as +generalisimo of the Empire. + +"Your Excellency is most kind," said Jacqueline, for no other reason +than to annoy him by changing from French into his own language. + +"On the contrary," returned Marquez, "I am flattered that you will be +here to observe how we, alone, shall crush the rebels. Your countrymen, +senorita, happily leave plenty of them. But I cannot believe that this +is why you remain." + +"Make her tell you, then," interposed the helpless Ney. He was utterly +at sea. There was a trial of strength on between these two, but how or +for what was quite beyond him. + +Jacqueline pushed back the Persian shawl she wore--this fifth day of +February was the Mexican springtime--and settled herself to the contest +in earnest. "I fear," she began slowly, "that my motive in staying can +hardly be intelligible, unless, perhaps, Your Excellency knows why I +came to Mexico in the first place. No senor, that blank smile of yours +will not serve. Your Excellency cannot feign ignorance of public +gossip." + +"Of course, I have heard that----" + +"To be sure you have," she returned dryly, "and you might add that I +failed, since Maximilian has not yet abdicated. But Your Excellency is +not one to imagine that the end can be long delayed." + +She, too, was searching for a motive, his motive in the interview. + +"The Mexicans alone will sustain our patriotic ruler," stoutly declared +the generalisimo. "But let us suppose, merely for pastime, that His +Majesty does abdicate. What then? What profit to France, since at this +moment, before our eyes, her army is leaving?" + +Jacqueline smoothed the ruffled pleats on her full gray skirt. They +looked like an exaggerated railroad on a map, and doubtless needed +smoothing. + +"And remotely supposing," she said, "that our army _might_ come +back again?" + +Then, in a flash, she raised her eyes, and surprised the start he gave. +But she laughed at once, and at him, for taking her nonsense as serious. + +"No," she exclaimed, "Your Excellency can more easily recall Santa Anna +from his island exile." + +This, too, was nonsense, or so he was forced to consider it. But knowing +that the Empire could not endure, he was believed even then to be +negotiating with the rich former dictator. In his scowl Jacqueline +discovered what she sought. He wanted, in brief, to negotiate with +Napoleon also, and he wanted to negotiate through her. Napoleon could +bid higher than Santa Anna. She saw, moreover, what was worrying the +traitor. If Napoleon did not mean to bid, why then was she staying in +Mexico? + +Marquez glanced fretfully at Ney and Berthe. If he might be honored in +the privilege of calling to pay his respects?---- + +But Jacqueline regretted that she was to be too much occupied in +preparations for her own early departure. And that very evening she sent +a note to Maximilian, frankly warning him against the Leopard. But she +warned His Majesty farther, that if he did not heed, that when it should +be too late to save him in any case, and Marquez still had something to +sell, that then she would advise her own emperor, should her own emperor +wish to buy. Hoping, though, for the best, she sent by Ney a message to +Bazaine at the head of the column, suggesting that he delay embarkation +as long as possible. She had in mind Maximilian awakened to the +faithlessness of his chief support and wishing to overtake the French +troops. + +For which it appears that Jacqueline still wielded a free lance, +belonging to her own country alone and owning no master other than her +own conscience. + +As Bazaine at the army's head rode through the Zocalo, he looked up to +find the palatial shutters closed. The Mexican Empire was sulking like a +spiteful child. The marshal wearily shrugged his shoulders, and thought +on the ingratitude of princes. But the silence of the Palace was only a +pose, mean and despicable. Maximilian himself was peeping through the +shutters down upon the gallant, moving sea of color. It was a stream of +gleaming bayonets, of champing horses, of lumbering artillery. His eyes +would single out and cling to this or that figure till it was lost in +the street beyond, and then he would try to realize that it was lost to +him forever. For the street beyond lay toward the coast, where many +ships awaited. The archducal petulance gave way to vague melancholy. + +Finally he looked upon the last swinging foot, then at the dust +settling. Below, in the Zocalo, what had been a fringe of mourning +around the troops, became a scurrying of human creatures. They were his +subjects. Not a French uniform remained, but the prince sighed heavily +as he turned from his ignoble peep-hole. Courtiers and counselors +glanced at each other significantly. By tacit consent one among them +spoke. + +"Free at last, sire, free at last! Ah, see them, there below. They know +their shackles are broken, they know that the foreign invader who +chilled their allegiance is gone. Nay more, their loyalty has already +borne fruit. In the north, sire----" + +"How, father? You do not mean----" + +"Yes, sire, yes, the mother of God be praised! I mean victory, and death +to many traitors. The news has just come. Miramon has won a decisive +battle and taken Zacatecas." + +"Zacatecas! But Juarez was there?" + +"Yes, sire, and Miramon entered so suddenly the arch rebel surely could +not have escaped." + +"Juarez taken, that man taken!" + +"Even so, sire, And"--Fischer's interlaced fingers tightened until the +veins grew large--"and, it only remains for Your Majesty to dispose of +him, according to the law." + +Maximilian trembled with joy. He was master of the situation. His people +had made him master. Here was divine right vindicated. It was--Destiny! +He had but to follow whither the heavenly finger pointed. And in +rapture, he seized his pen. + + Palace of Mexico, Feb. 5th, 1867. + + My dear General Miramon: + + I charge you particularly, in case you do capture Don Benito + Juarez, Don Sebastian Lerdo de Tejado, and others of his suite, + to have them tried and condemned by a council of war ... but + the sentence is not to be executed before receiving Our + approbation.... + Your affectionate + Maximiliano. + +Bazaine and the French camped the first night, the next day, and yet +another night outside the City, waiting. They did not reach Puebla until +the tenth. The rear guard fell farther and farther behind, keeping the +road open. At last there was news. Juarez had escaped Miramon at +Zacatecas, warned in time through some mysterious agency. And farther, +Miramon had encountered another Republican army, by whom he was not only +defeated, but routed completely. In panic he was fleeing to Queretero. + +"Maximilian must surely abdicate now," thought Bazaine, and he sent back +a message. "I can," he wrote, "yet extend a hand to His Majesty to help +him retire." + +In Vera Cruz the marshal waited for an answer. Day after day passed, and +then the answer came. Too late, was its refrain. Maximilian had left his +capital with what troops he could spare. He had left for Queretero, to +join Miramon there. + +Bazaine, the last to quit the shore, climbed aboard his ship, and taking +one final look for a chance horseman with word to wait yet longer, and +seeing none, gave the order to weigh anchor. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +FATALITY AND THE MISSOURIAN + + + "Si debbe ai colpi della sua fortuna + Voltar il viso di lagrime asciutto." + --_Machiavelli._ + + +The mountain villages were arming. Bronzed men, savagely joyful, poured +from under roofs of thatch, strapping on great black lead-weighted +belts. In the corrals others lassoed horses. It looked like a sudden +changing from peaceful highland domesticity, as the clans of Scotland or +the cantons of Helvetia might gather. But these men were not rising to +defend their homes. The hamlets clustered among the crags were their +barracks, nothing more. The wildest canyons of the Sierra Madre del Sur, +far away in the rocky southwestern corner of the continent, were only +their camping grounds, their refuge. To be armed was their natural +state. They were fighters by occupation. They were an army. Unceasing +hardship and constant peril had seasoned them, and their discipline was +perfect, unconscious, because it came from the herding instinct of +wolves. During years they had waged war against a ruthless foe, and +they, too, were relentless. The penalty of defeat was massacre. + +The foe of this army was a greater army, and between the two it was a +duel of chieftains, of General Regules in the Sierra, of General Mendez +on the plain. Deadlier antagonists might not be imagined. Mendez, he who +had shot two Republican generals under the Black Decree, was above all +men the likeliest to hold stubborn Michoacan for the Empire. But even he +failed, because the man against him was not less a man than he, because +also the spark of resistance to sceptre and crosier never dies out in +Michoacan. + +The man as good as he was Regules. A Spaniard, Regules had fought with +the Catholic Don Carlos. And now, he was suffering for Mexican Liberals +the most that any general can suffer, defeat after defeat, and sometimes +annihilation. But he was a Marion, a Fabius. He knew the mountain +recesses as no one else, even better than Mendez, who was born among +them, and here he would gather fugitives, draft every straggler, until +in time he sallied forth again to badger his arch enemy. He hoped only +to exist till that day when the French should leave Empire and Republic +face to face, on equal terms. It had taken tenacious faith and gloomy +years, but the day came at last. The news sifted through defile and +gorge. The invader had embarked for Toulon. Nearer at hand Mendez had +evacuated Morelia, and was marching to Queretero. And at Queretero was +Miramon, driven there from the north by Escobedo. At Queretero was the +Emperor--was the Empire, desperate, ferocious, an animal at bay. Out +boldly upon the plain, then! But no longer as a slinking guerrilla +horde! As an army rather, with thrilling bugles and the Mexican eagle +aloft, and regiment numbers in gold on pennons of brightest red! For the +Empire was the hunted mad-dog now, and the dignified host was the +Republic. The barracks of the Sierra were arming. + +In one of the corrals an officer of cavalry was quelling insubordination +with soft words. But the mutineers, not knowing their man, did not +fathom the dangerous sweetness of his tone. They were deserters from +Mendez, come that morning, and as they had horses, were foisted on the +officer's splendid troop. But like the native infantry, they insisted +that their women, the soldaderas, should go with them on what was to be +a swift march to Queretero. Having brought useful information concerning +Mendez, they were insolent in their demands. + +"Now, muchachos," said the officer of cavalry, "you see how absurd it +is, so quiet down. The women can follow later." + +"A Gringo to dictate to us, bless me the saints! Us, free Mexicans, and +Republicans!" And the ringleader drew his machete and rushed on the +officer. + +The Gringo smiled, in a way that a man rarely smiles. His eyes opened in +mild surprise, and as the mutineers looked to see his head roll from his +shoulders, he was still smiling in that poisonously sweet way. Perhaps +there passed across his face just the shadow of pity or of revulsion, +but none might say for certain, because of a pistol's flash that came so +quickly after. With the report the assailant plunged headlong, and on +the ground seemed to shrivel in his rags. Behind the smoke the officer +was carelessly holding a large black revolver, no higher than his hip. + +"Because," he added, "it's not a woman's game." + +Then he thrust the weapon back under his ribs and sauntered away. The +mutineers gaped in trembling at his back. When they picked up the +ringleader, they saw that his fingers had been neatly clipped at the +hilt of the machete. + +The cavalry officer was Driscoll--but changed! He was changed as bland +Mephisto would change a man, if the material were adaptable and Mephisto +an artist. Such exquisite gentleness in peril and in slaying could be no +other than the devil's own, and in the most devilishly artistic mood of +that suave dilettante. + +It was natural that any man should color somewhat into a desperado, +considering such an existence among those Sierras, but Driscoll was a +desperado refined by cynicism. And yet there was still naught of +self-consciousness in it all. The change had not been abrupt, but +gradual, as a growing into maturity. The roughened native instincts of a +gentleman had sobered from Quixotic impulses into a diabolic calm. His +bravery was turned to cool and almost supernatural self possession, +mocked withal by gentleness. And yet he was not a villain. To the +mutineers, to those who beheld his smile, he seemed a fiend. But his +horse knew no change in him, which was significant. Something had gone +wrong, that was all. The young man who had looked out on the world, half +challenging, half expectant, must have seen too suddenly that part of +life which is unlovely. However, the thing may not be thus easily +explained. The soul of a man, when bent or distorted under stress, is a +weird and fearful growth. One may contemplate it in awe; but understand +it, never. + +More than a year before, when Driscoll changed sides, he was embarrassed +to find a side to change to, so thoroughly had the Empire swept away all +vestiges of the Liberal strength. But on achieving that farewell of his +to Mendez, he rode happily southward, with some vague notion of tracking +the Republic into Michoacan. The first night he slept under the stars +mid tunas and Spanish daggers, and when he awoke it was to find a +strange Indito squatting patiently at his feet. He sat up and rubbed his +eyes at what might have been a Hindoo image, except that it doffed a +straw sombrero. + +"Y'r Mercy is awake?" queried the idol. + +"N-o, but it will probably not be long now. Who in thunder are you?" + +The Indito explained, and Driscoll covered his knees with his hands, and +stared and grew more astounded. The ragged fellow said that he had +escaped from Mendez's camp by squirming on his belly through the cacti, +and he had followed the American senor, on foot. He was, he added, a +Republican spy. + +Driscoll mechanically drew his pistol, but recalled that now he also was +Republican. + +"But why follow me?" he demanded. + +"I was sent to watch only Y'r Mercy, Y'r Mercy's thousand pardons." + +"The devil!" + +"And with Y'r Mercy's permission, I was to kill Y'r Mercy at the first +chance. But since Y'r Mercy has changed sides----" + +"Now look here, who--who put you up to this business, I want to know?" + +The man shrugged his shoulders. He only knew that a senor chaparro had +sent him. + +"A short senor?" Driscoll repeated. "Then we might call you a Shorter +Yet, and maybe you know where this Republica is hiding out?" + +The Indito brightened. "That's why I'm here, senor. I'll take Y'r Mercy +to the Citizen General Regules." + +At the name Driscoll frowned involuntarily, but laughed as he again +remembered that he no longer shared the Imperialist hates. + +"Regules?" he repeated. "But we all thought he was dead, since the last +time we scoured his mountains." + +"That the Virgin would have let me kill Y'r Mercy before then!" said the +Indito regretfully. "But no matter, Y'r Mercy will discover that the +citizen general is still alive." + +And so he was. They found him in the wildest of the wild region of the +Sierra Madre del Sur, far away beyond the Rio de las Balsas, beyond +Michoacan, in the impassable tierra caliente of the Pacific slope. The +Indians here were the Pintos, who knew naught of the world outside, and +owned allegiance to none but a grizzly old dictator, royally described +as the Panther of the South. One thing was certain, the Empire could +never follow Regules to the fever and ambush of the Panther's marshy +realm, and Regules was hard pressed indeed when he sought such +protection. But he was there now, in that last refuge of Liberalism, +alone, wounded, fever stricken, emaciated, but undaunted. Driscoll found +him so, and became his first recruit. + +For the moment Regules had no army, but armies were only weapons +brandished by the real principals in the duel. Over battle and rout and +slaughter the two chiefs would glare each at the other, blade in hand +and panting, but either ever ready for the stroke that should thrust +through the army to the heart of its general. Such a struggle needed +only antiquity and a bard to be Homeric. No Greek could equal either +champion in cunning, nor Trojan in prowess, nor both in grim persistence +and rugged hate. It was truly a fight to have a hand in, and with big, +lusty zest, the Storm Centre bounded into the lists. He leaped backward +into the age of colossal, naked emotions, which strove as great veined +giants with a rude splendor that was barbaric. It was the grandeur of +primeval man, of majesty resting on him who fought best. After a +thousand years of roof and tableware a man may be no longer primeval, +but he is no longer quite a man either if his primeval state does not +sometimes appeal to him. As for the young Missourian, he was enthralled. + +During that winter, the Spaniard and the American were a recruiting +squad of two, picking up the seeds of rebellion among the fertile rocks. +The vago, or poor Indito, was drafted wherever caught. Guerrilla +fugitives rejoined their leader. The little band grew slowly, but in +appearance merited Mendez's contemptuous epithet of brigand thieves. +Fluttering yellow rags revealed only leathery-hided bones. Sandals +sloughed away. There were a few machetes, and one or two venerable +musketoons. But the commoner weapon was a heavy wooden staff, used for +trudging up the steep paths. Imagine a Mexican abandoning his horse! But +pursuers often tracked "the brigand thieves" by their mounts dying here +and there--a pitiful blazed trail. And their exhausted riders often lay +down as well, and would not rise, though Regules lashed them, though the +terrible Mendez followed close behind. If at this time the Republic +compared its conditions with the tapestried court in Mexico, then hope +of success must have seemed lugubrious irony. Yet there was the +watchword still, "Viva la Intervencion del Norte!" Regules looked to the +United States to drive away the French. Driscoll's face would twist to a +grimace. It was a peculiar position for an ex-Confederate. + +The Republicans in Michoacan were cut off from all outside help, while +those along the Rio Grande drew from the friendly Americans in Texas +much aid and comfort. Driscoll pondered on this, until in June he got +leave to go to the Cordova colony and there enlist, if possible, his old +comrades of Shelby's brigade. The result is known. After the affair at +Tampico, he came back with a troop of colonels. They were the nucleus of +a cavalry which he loved more than Demijohn, more than his ugly pistols, +more than his pipe. + +It was a grim affection that Driscoll bore his regiment of horse. He was +no longer the same man as when he left. He returned from Cordova with a +mood on him, which settled more and more heavily as he nursed his troops +into a splendid fighting machine. There was a dangerously quiet +exultation in the patience with which he built the regiment up to full +strength and trained it into the power of a brigade. He did wonders +through the idea, pleasantly instilled, that much of the fun of fighting +lies in the winning, and he demolished, as an absurd fetich, the idea +that the hunted men of Regules were doomed never to win. + +Thus he labored with the Inditos, his terrible little fatalists in +combat. There were enough to choose from, since by now the tide of +desertion was changing toward the Republic. The problem of mounts in +time solved itself. The French began selling their horses rather than +transport them back to Europe, and these being declared contraband of +war by the Liberal government, were complacently taken away from their +owners without even Juarez script in payment. The question of arms +proved more troublesome, but the answer at last was even more +satisfactory. For the besieged at Queretero, Driscoll's troop later +became some unfamiliar dragon hissing an incessant flame of poisonous +breath. This was due to a strange and mystical weapon which not only +carried a ball farther than any rifle known before, but sixteen of them, +one after the other. The strange and mystical weapon multiplied a lone +man into a very genii of death, until the Missourian's twelve hundred +were more to be dreaded than many battalions. + +The repeating rifles, it may be explained, formed a part of the cache +which General Shelby had made on crossing into Mexico. He had taken +them, among other things, from the Confederate depositories in Texas. +Driscoll knew of the cache through Boone, and by infinite patience had +it brought into Michoacan. A solitary Indito journeyed eight hundred +miles unnoticed with some seeming fragments of scrap iron. Other vagos +were in front of him. Others followed. And these passed yet others, +empty handed, trudging in the opposite direction. So an arsenal came to +the Sierra Madre del Sur all the way from the Rio Grande, and each and +every cavalier, whether miserable ranchero or veteran Missourian, became +an engine of destruction, good for a fusillade of forty shots without +the biting of a cartridge, for sixteen from his rifle, for six from each +of his revolvers, and after these, good for terrific in-fighting with +his dragoon sabre. It was no marvel that Driscoll loved such a troop, +but the wonder lay in his smile, soft and purring and far-away, as he +stroked his murderous darling. + +Colonel Daniel Boone, chief of scouts, was harassed nearly to insomnia +over the change in his friend. At the bottom of the mystery there must +be inspiration for a glowing line, and with pen ready poised over the +violet fluid of romance, it was disheartening to have the solution elude +him. He proposed clues as a poet tests rhymes. There was vendetta. There +was blighted passion. But he ruefully discarded both. Either would be +marked by violent growth, while this thing that touched the Storm Centre +formed as slowly as the gravity of wisdom. But what baffled most was +that Driscoll himself was completely oblivious. If _he_ knew +nothing of the effect, how then could one ask him about the cause? + +Daniel, however, overlooked the fact that a malady may break out +variously, according to temperament. As an instance Daniel's patient +would lose himself in reverie, long and deep and mellowing. Now he was +riding with a girl whose gray eyes were upon him in that pensive way she +had; or rather, in the pensive way of a girl who finds herself in love, +and wondering at it, seeks to learn the reason through a grave scrutiny +of the object. It seemed very good to be riding with her again like +that, for there was a soothing sense of companionship, of dear +camaraderie that needed no words, but only that expression of her mouth +and a pair of gray eyes. The day dream, while it lasted, had nothing of +bitterness, but lulled his soul instead, and when it passed, he would be +left with thankfulness for his moment of fleeting bliss and ineffable +comfort. Or again, he awoke to reality with a longing that fiercely +would not be denied. "Oh, I want--Jack'leen!" Often and often the +imperious smothered cry all but passed his lips. And then he would shake +himself, as out of physical slumber, and he would take up his life +again. But he would be a shade deeper in the devil's own mood, of +gentleness and a smile. + +After Cuernavaca Driscoll had brooded somewhat, yet rather as a boy +whose melancholy is callow and easily fades. But during that evening in +Boone's cabin, he had changed to a man, for it was then he came to know +the meaning of possession, and in the same moment he learned the meaning +of loss. A dull and indefinable resentment thereafter grew on him. But +against whom? Against no one, perhaps. Yet he had had a vision of his +life's dearest happiness, and it was gone, that vision, beyond recall. + +Ignorant as he was of Jacqueline's mission, Driscoll had but one +explanation. A man had been born a prince, and a prince dazzles a woman. +Yet the rankling in him was neither because of the prince, nor because +of the woman. It was much more hopeless than that. It was because a man +could be born a prince at all. Something was out of harmony in the +world. The irony of it made him grim, and to his sense of humor that +such things could be came the smile. A prince in the New World and in +the Nineteenth Century!--Now here was as incongruous a juxtaposition as +a bull in a crockery shop. And the result?--A people robbed of their +dignity as men; a spike among the cogs, and the machinery everywhere +grinding discordantly. For the pilfered people, however, the matter +could be righted, and Driscoll felt his vague wrath as one with theirs. +Together they would drive the bull from the shop. The Mexicans could +later repair _their_ crockery. But as to his own precious little +bit of bric-a-brac, that was shattered beyond hope. His only balm was to +help the other sufferers. His only resentment was against fatality. But +to pout at fatality is such a foolish business that he smiled, in a +gentlemanly, sardonic way. Lucifer himself would be obsequious before +fatality. And as for presuming to chastise it, that does indeed require +the devil's own mood. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE RENDEZVOUS OF THE REPUBLIC + + + "It may be short, it may be long, + 'Tis reckoning-day!' sneers unpaid Wrong." + --_Lowell._ + + +It was a long column that undulated over the cacti plain with the +turnings of the national highway. Men and horses bent like whitened +spectres under a cloud of saltpetre dust. They burned with thirst, and +had burned during fifteen days of forced marching over bad roads. They +kept their ranks after the manner of soldiers, else they would have +seemed a hurrying mob, for there was scant boast of uniforms. The +officers wore shoulder straps of green or yellow, and some of the men +had old military caps, high and black, with manta flaps protecting the +neck. + +Except for an occasional pair of guaraches, or sandals, the infantry +trudged barefoot, little leather-heeled Mercuries who cared nothing for +thorns. Their olive faces, running with sweat, were for the most part +typically humble, patient under fatigue, lethargic before peril. Here +and there one held the hand of his soldadera, like him a stoic brown +creature, who shared his hardships that she might be near to grind his +ration of corn into tortillas. Veterans were there who had fought the +French at Puebla, and on coarse frayed shirts displayed their heroes' +medals. Some among them had meantime served the Empire, and had lately +deserted back again--but no matter. In the cavalry there were those who +on a time had ridden against the Americans in Santa Anna's famous guard. +Now they rode with Driscoll, among the Missourians. And the Missourians +sang: + + "My name it is Joe Bowers, + And I've got a brother Ike; + I come from old Missouri, + Yes, all the way from Pike." + +Their mouths opened wide to the salty dust, and they roared with +great-lunged humor, the stentor note of Tall Mose Bledsoe--Colonel +Bledsoe of the State of Pike--far and away in the van of the chorus. +Even the Mexicans, who comprised over half the regiment, chanted forth +the tune. They had heard it often enough, and thought it a species of +appropriate national hymn. Only the colonel of the troop rode in +silence, but not gloomily. This playfulness of his pet before a snarl +was music that he liked. The other Missouri colonels (brevet) were as +boys ever, were still only Joe Shelby's "young men for war." There was +Colonel Marmaduke of Platte. There was Colonel Crittenden of Nodaway. +There was Colonel Grinders from the Ozarks. There was Colonel Clay of +Carroll, and Colonel Carroll of Clay. These were captains. Colonel +Bledsoe was a major, and so was Colonel Boone, also chief of scouts. +Colonel Clayburn, otherwise the "Doc" of Benton, was ranking surgeon; +while the chaplain, lovingly known as "Old Brothers and Sisters," and +the choicest fighter among them, was lieutenant-colonel. + +Of course some of the four or five hundred colonels had to be privates. +But they did not mind, they were colonels just the same. Which provoked +complications, especially with a Kansan who had wandered among them some +time since. The Kansan, whose name was Collins, was an ex-Federal, even +one of their ancient and warmest enemies, of the Sixth Kansas Cavalry. +And being a mettlesome young man into the bargain, he rose by unanimous +consent to command a native company of the troop. But Captain Collins +found it hard to address a Missouri private as colonel, and to be +addressed by the Missouri private as an inferior in rank. A sporadic +outburst of jayhawker warfare generally ensued. But according to the +merger treaty between the Republic of Colonels and the Republica +Mexicana, the Missourian was strictly in his rights. Besides, both +needed the exercise, and after the business of fists, formality dropped +of itself. Captain Collins thereupon became "Harry;" and the private +"Ben" or "Jim," or whatever else. + +Driscoll's troop wanted for nothing. Regimentals, luckily, were not +considered a want. But in replacing worn-out slouch hats and cape-coats, +the Americans set an approximate standard, which was observed also by +their fellow troopers among the Mexicans. They were able to procure +sombreros, wide-brimmed and high-peaked, of mouse-colored beaver with a +rope of silver. The officers and many of the men had long Spanish capas, +or cloaks, which were black and faced in gray velvet. Their coats were +short charro jackets. As armor against cacti, they either had "chaps" or +trousers "foxed" over in leather, with sometimes a Wild Western fringe. +They came to be known as the Gray Troop, or the Gringo Grays. The +natives themselves were proudest of the latter title. + +The brigade marched as victors, but they remembered how they had +formerly skulked as hunted guerrillas, and also, how Mendez had scourged +the dissident villages. They found bodies hanging to trees. At Morelia a +citizen who cried "Viva la Libertad!" had been brained with a sabre. It +was the hour for reprisals. And Regules exacted suffering of the +_mocho_, or clerical, towns that had sheltered the "traitors." +Requisitions for arms, horses, and provisions marked his path. Deserters +swelled his ranks. He had enough left-overs from the evacuation to +organize what in irony he called his Foreign Legion. At Acambaro a +second Republican army, under General Corona--"welcomer than a stack of +blues," as Boone said--more than doubled their force, and together they +hastened on to Queretero. + +But at Celaya, when men were thinking of rest in the cool monasteries +there, they learned that they must not pause. The word came from El +Chaparrito, who ever watched the Empire as a hawk poised in mid-air. +General Escobedo of the Army of the North had pursued Miramon south into +Queretero, but only to find him reinforced there by Mendez and the +troops from the capital. This superior array meant to attack Escobedo, +then turn and destroy Corona and Regules. The Republicans, therefore, +must be united at once. + +The message was no sooner heard than the two weary brigades of Corona +and Regules set forth again. They covered the remaining thirty miles +that night, expecting a victorious Imperialist army at each bend in the +road. But they met instead, toward morning, a lone Imperialist horseman +galloping toward them. Regules's sharp eyes caught the glint of the +stranger's white gold-bordered sombrero, and with a large Castilian oath +he plucked out his revolver. Driscoll touched his arm soothingly. + +"But, Maria purisima," cried Regules, "he's an Explorador!" + +The Exploradores were Mendez's scouts, his bloodhounds for a Republican +trail, and the most hated of all that breed. + +"Aye, Senor General," the stranger now spoke, "I was even the capitan of +Exploradores, who kisses Your Mercy's hand." + +There was a familiar quality in the man's half chuckle, and Driscoll +hastily struck a match. In its light a face grew before him, and a pair +of malevolent eyes, one of them crossed and beaming recognition, met +his. + +"Well, Tibby?" said Driscoll quietly. + +"First your pistols, then what you know," commanded Regules. "Here, in +between us. Talk as we ride, or----" + +Don Tiburcio complied. Such had been his intention. + +"I am no more a loyal Imperialist," he announced, with a gruesome +contortion of the mouth. + +"Nor a live deserter for long," said Regules. "Quick, what's the news at +Queretero?" + +"Carrai, my news and more will jolt out if I open my mouth. Eh, mi +coronel," he added to Driscoll, "you've taught this barbarous gait to +the Republic too, I see?" + +"Better obey orders," Driscoll warned him gently. + +"But there's no need of hurry, senores. Not now, there isn't." + +"You mean the Imperialists have whipped Escobedo, that----" + +"Not so fast, mi general. If they had, wouldn't I want you to hurry, for +then there'd be a conquering Empire waiting for you?" + +"Colonel Driscoll," said Regules, "fall back a step. I'm going to kill +this fellow now." + +"As you wish, general. But he's got something to tell." + +"Then por Dios, why doesn't he?" + +"Yes, Tibby, why don't you?" + +Don Tiburcio cocked a puzzled head toward the American. He had not known +such softness of voice in Mendez's former captain of Lancers. But he saw +that Driscoll had drawn his pistol, which accorded so grimly with the +mildness of his tone that the scout chuckled in delight and admiration. + +"You know that I'll tell--now," he said reproachfully. "In a word, +there's been no battle at all, curse him, curse both----" + +"No battle! Escobedo kept away then?" + +"No, not even that. The Imperialists would not fight, and the Empire has +lost its last chance. Curse them both, curse----" + +"Well, curse away, but who, what?" + +"I curse, senores mios," and the scout's words grated in rage and +chagrin, "I curse His Excellency the general-of-division-in-chief of the +army of operations, Don Leonardo Marquez. I curse, senores, the Reverend +Senor Abbot, Padre Augustin Fischer----" + +"Good, that's finished. Now tell us why there was no battle." + +"I curse His Ex----" + +"You have already, but now----" + +Tiburcio flung up his hand in a gesture of assent, and his ugly features +relaxed. Though going at a brisk trot, he rolled a cigarette and lighted +it. Then he told his story. Queretero? Ha, Queretero was now the Court, +the Army, the Empire! Pious townsmen shouted "Viva el Senor Emperador!" +all day long. The cafes were alive with uniforms and oaths and high +play. Padres and friars shrived with ardor. There was the theatre. +Fashion promenaded under the beautiful Alameda trees, and whispered the +latest rumors of the Empress Carlota. Maximilian decorated the brave, +and bestowed gold fringed standards. Then came Escobedo and his Legion +del Norte, but they kept behind the hills. Bueno, the Empire would go +forth and smite them, and the pious townspeople climbed to the housetops +to see it done. And yesterday morning the Empire, with banners flying +and clarion blasts, did march out and form in glittering battle array. + +"And then, hombre?" + +"And then the Empire marched back again, senores." + +Regules and Driscoll were stupefied. What gross idiocy--or +treachery--had thrown away the Empire's one magnificent chance? + +Tiburcio sucked in his breath. "I curse----" + +"Marquez?" cried Regules. + +"Si senor, Marquez! Marquez cried out against the attack, and His +Majesty ordered the troops back into town again." + +"But Miramon, hombre? Miramon, the best among you, where was he?" + +"General Miramon fairly begged to fight, but he has been defeated once, +and now Marquez warns the Emperor against Miramon's 'imprudence.' +Marquez is chief of staff, and crows over Miramon, who was once his +president. He personally ordered Miramon off the field, yet it was +Miramon who first made the insolent little whelp into a general." + +"This," said Driscoll, "does not explain why you desert to us?" + +For an instant the old malignant humor gleamed in the baleful crescent. +"It's the fault of the fat padrecito," he replied. "Your Mercy perhaps +does not know about the pretty servant he eloped with from the Bishop of +Durango's to Murguia's hacienda? Well, but trouble started when I saw +her, or rather, when she saw me, even me, senor, for then she perceived +that the padrecito was not a handsome man. Presto, there was another +eloping, and the holy Father Fischer felt bad, so very bad that when he +got into favor with Maximilian, he had me condemned for certain +toll-taking matters he knew of. But I vanished in time, and I've been +serving under Mendez as a loyal and undiscouraged Imperialist until +yesterday. But yesterday the padre recognized me at a review of the +troops. Your Mercy figures to himself how long I waited after that? Your +Mercy observed how fast I was riding?" + +The fellow's audacity saved him. The news he brought proved correct. +Escobedo had not been attacked. Besides, Regules perhaps hoped to trap +Mendez through the former Imperialist scout, though Driscoll derided the +idea and even counseled the worthy deserter's execution. + +Don Tiburcio's lank jaw dropped. Driscoll's advice was too heavy a +recoil on his own wits, for had he not once saved the Gringo's life, +feeling that one day he might be a beneficiary of the Gringo's singular +aversion to shooting people? And now here was the Gringo in quite +another of his unexpected humors. But what bothered Don Tiburcio most +was the acumen that tempered the American's mercy. The facts indeed +stood as Driscoll casually laid them before General Regules. Tibby, for +instance, had neglected to call himself a "loyal" Republican. Asked for +a description of the new earthworks on the Cerro de las Campanas, he +only told how peons and criminals were forced to carry adobes there +though exposed to Escobedo's sharpshooters, which had in it for Tibby +the subtle element of a jest. Or asked about the new powder mills, he +described how Maximilian slept patriotically wrapped in a native serape, +woven with the eagle and colors, or related how the Emperor won the +hearts of soldiers and citizens by his princely and ever amiable +bearing. + +"Now sing us the national hymn," said Driscoll, "and the betrayal of +your former friends will be complete." + +But though Don Tiburcio had deserted for convenience and perhaps meant +to be a spy in the dissident camp, yet Regules saved him, while Driscoll +lifted his shoulders indifferently and at heart was not sorry. + +The Celaya road, crossing a flat country, first touches Queretero on its +southwestern corner, and from here the two Republican brigades beheld +the ancient romantic town in the dawn as they approached. Many beautiful +Castilian towers, stately and tapering to needles of stone, rose from +among flat roofs and verdure tufts, and pointed upward to a sky as soft +and warm as over the Tuscan hills. Other spires were Gothic, and others +truncated, but the temples that gave character to the whole were those +of Byzantine domes. Lighted by the sun's level rays of early morning, +their mosaic colors glittered as in some bright glare of Algeria, but +were relieved by the town's cooling fringe of green and the palms of +many plazas within. It might have been a Moorish city, in Happy Arabia +called paradise, a city of fountains, and wooded glens, like haunts of +mythical fauns. Queretero once boasted a coat of arms, granted by a +condescending Spanish monarch, and for loyalty to the hoary order of +king and church she in those old days described herself as Very Noble +and Royal. Stern cuirassed conquistadores held her as a key to the +nation's heart, as a buckler for the capital, and lately the French did +also. And now the Hapsburg had come to a welcome of garlands, and called +her his "querida." + +But however excellently Queretero served as a base of military +operations, as a besieged place pocketed among hills her aspect altered +woefully. She was like an egg clutched in the talons of an eagle. On +north and east and south the hills swept perilously near, a low, +convenient range, with only a grass plain a few miles wide separating +them from the town below. On north and east the heights were already +sprinkled with Escobedo's tents and cannon. They commanded the only two +strongholds of the besieged, as well as the town itself, which lay +between. One stronghold was the Cerro de las Campanas, a wedge-shaped +hill on the northwestern edge of the town, which held nothing but +trenches. On the northwestern edge was the other stronghold, the mound +of Sangremal, which fell away as a steep bluff to the grassy plain +below. From the bluff, across the plain, to the hills opposite, +stretched a magnificent aqueduct. On the mound's commodious summit of +tableland there was the Plaza de la Cruz, also the Church de la Cruz, +and an old Franciscan hive, called the monastery de la Cruz. Here +Maximilian established himself in a friar's lonely cell. On the north a +small river skirted the town, on the south, where nothing intervened +between the grassy plain and the wooded Alameda, the besiegers found the +most vulnerable flank. + +On this side investment began with the arrival of Corona and Regules, +and soon after, of General Riva Palacio. The Republicans numbered +fifteen thousand already, and more were coming daily, but as yet there +were ragged strands in the noose being woven around the beleaguered +place. Curiously enough, the most feverish to see the cordon perfected +was none other than Don Tiburcio. + +"Marquez will escape! Marquez will fly the net!" he kept bewailing. "Si +senor, and the padrecito with him, curse them both!" + +Two weeks passed, filled with skirmishes and ominous tests of strength. +At night fiery parabolas blazed their course against the sky, up from +the outer hills, sweeping down on Las Campanas or La Cruz. Imperialist +chiefs urged a general attack, but again Marquez foiled their hopes. +Then, at two o'clock one morning, there came to pass what Tiburcio had +feared. A body of horse stole out upon the plain, and gained the +unguarded Sierra road to Mexico. Four thousand cavalry pursued over the +hills, but in vain. The fugitives were Marquez and the Fifth Lancers, +his escort. He was gone to the capital to raise funds, and to bring back +with him, at once, the Imperialist garrison there of five thousand men. +Doting Maximilian had even named him lieutenant of the Empire, and +Mexico City would shortly have the Leopard for regent. Queretero, +moreover, was seriously weakened by the loss of the Fifth Lancers, and +there were those who remembered how, when Guadalajara was besieged by +Liberals seven years before, Marquez had likewise set out for aid, and +had returned--too late. + +To his wrathful disgust, Don Tiburcio learned that Father Fischer was +also gone with Marquez. The priest had disguised himself in an officer's +cloak, and for the moment none in the town knew of his flight. The fat +padre, it appeared, no longer hoped for the luscious bishopric of +Durango. His was the rat's instinct, as regards a sinking ship. + +The Leopard and the Rat got away only in time. The very next day ten +thousand ragged Inditos, largely conscripts, arrived from the Valley of +Mexico and filled the gap in the besiegers' line. Investment was now +complete, against a paltry nine thousand within the town. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A BUCCANEER AND A BATTLE + + + "The inclination to goodness is imprinted deeply in the nature + of man." + --_Bacon._ + + +But the paltry nine thousand were the best army of Mexicans ever yet +gathered together. For weeks they kept more than thirty thousand +Republicans out of an unwalled, almost an unfortified town. But while +the Republicans were largely _chinacos_, or raw soldiery, they +inside were trained men. There were the Cazadores, a Mexican edition of +the Chasseurs, organized by Bazaine under French drill masters. There +was Mendez's seasoned brigade. There was Arellano's artillery, though +numbering only fifty pieces. There were the crack Dragoons of the +Empress, the Austro-Mexican Hussars, and a squadron of the Municipal +Guards. There were veterans who had fought at Cerro Gordo, and steadily +ever since in the civil wars. There was the ancient Battalion de Celaya, +mainstay of the Spanish viceroys, and later of the Emperor Iturbide, its +colonel. There were the Battalion del Emperador, the Tiradores de la +Frontera, a company of engineers, and several well-disciplined regiments +of the line. + +But the day came when they began to starve, and being hungry took the +heart out of many things. It took the heart out of bombarding Escobedo +in his hillside adobe; out of taunting "uncouth rebels." The rebels were +in trenches often not a street's width distant, and for reply they +pointed to certain dangling acorns who had been "traitors" caught +slipping through the lines. Being hungry took the heart out of the +quick-time diana, played after a brilliant sortie. Out of the embrace +Maximilian gave Miramon. Out of Miramon's call for vivas for His Majesty +the Emperor. Out of standard decorating and promotions and thrilling +words of praise. Out of the anniversary of Maximilian's acceptance of +the throne. Out of a medal presentation for military merit, which the +generals bestowed on their Emperor in the name of the army. Out of being +made a caballero of the Order of Guadalupe, especially as the monarch +could give only a ribbon, since the cross must wait until his return to +the capital. And being hungry certainly made pathetic his prediction +that some among those present would one day wear the medal for +twenty-five years of faithful service to the Empire. Being hungry took +the poet-hero's glow out of his wan cheek as he declared again that he, +a Hapsburg, would never desert, for even then he heard Imperialist +platoons shooting recaptured deserters. Or he thought of the wounded +left to die on the grassy plain and lying there unburied. No, all the +heart was being taken out of these things, for Marquez still did not +come with the help he had gone to bring, and the noose was tightening +day by day. Attempts were made to send some one through to depose +Marquez, but each one failed. Splendid sallies resulted in prisoners +taken, which were only so many more mouths to feed. The Roman aqueduct +had long since been cut off, and now the wells were giving out. Mules +and horses drank at the river, while sharpshooters picked them off. The +feebler animals were butchered and distributed as rations. And still the +sorry Marquez gave no sign. Even hope failed the empty stomachs. + +But for those who waited outside as Vengeance enthroned, expectation +began to take on a creepy quality. The besiegers were preparing against +themselves a host, not of men, but of frightful spectres, of famished +maniacs, of unearthly ghouls, who would clutch and tear with claws any +man that stood between them and a morsel of food. And the fury of +desperation sharpened with each succeeding irony of a dinner hour. + +The siege had endured six weeks. Marquez had been gone a month. But the +Republicans held ready for whatever force he might bring. Their key to +the situation was the Cimatario, the highest hill on the south. Between +it and the wooded Alameda stretched the grassy plain. Republican +trenches from base to shoulder of the peak opposed Imperialist trenches +under the Alameda trees. Republican troops flanked the Cimatario on +either side, lying in wait for Marquez. On one side Driscoll's Grays +guarded the Celaya road. + +So here they were sleeping encamped on the morning of April 27, when the +bugle of a patrol cracked their slumbers. They lay booted and spurred. A +moment later they were horsed as well, blinking across the plain in the +pearly mist of dawn. They had heard hoofbeats, sharp and dry on the high +tableland. Now they saw a wild, shadowy troop, which was hotly pursuing +a spectral coach of gossamer wheels, with six plunging mules frantically +lashed by outriders. At once, almost, the coach was lost among the dim +strangers, who snatched at flying ends of harness, and with their prize +raced on again. + +The Grays stared. It was like some pictured hold-up, not real. But they +knew better when from among themselves a colossal yellow horse and rider +dashed toward the road. Then they awoke for certain, and tore after +their colonel to solve this ashen mystery so early in the morning. Was +it Marquez, perhaps? But the coach white with dust, and white curtains +flapping, what was that? + +Striking their flank at an angle, Driscoll drove hard into the fleeing +horde. The Grays saw his hand raise as a signal, whereat they did not +close in, but swerved and galloped parallel, some fifty paces distant. +Driscoll struggled alone against the heaving sea about him. But no +cut-throat of that pirate mass so much as drew a knife. By force of +brawn, he wedged his way toward the coach, reached it, leaned forward, +and caught up the curtain. And what he saw was a poke bonnet. The bonnet +was a bower of lace and roses, held by a filmy saucy knot under a lady's +chin. He saw a face framed within, of a skin creamy white, of lips +blood-red, of hair like copper, and he saw a pair of eyes. They were +gray eyes, and as they opened suddenly and wider upon him whom she +thought must be her captor, the lady started violently, her cheeks +aflame. But at once the eyes snapped as in mockery, and her lips moved. + +"Monsieur permits himself----" she began, but no one heard except her +terrified companion within the coach. Driscoll had already dropped the +curtain as a thing that burned, and was raging on again with the +turbulent stream. He got to the leader of the band, and jerked the +fellow's bridle. He raised his voice, and louder than the pounding of +hoofs he cursed in wrathful disgust. + +"Dam' you Rod, this here's getting monotonous!" + +The man swung in his saddle. His eyes were black-browed and savage. He +was Rodrigo Galan, the terrible Don Rodrigo. But shabby, how very shabby +he looked for the thief of million dollar convoys! Yet that bonanza coup +of the bullion train had happened two years ago. Since then the outlaw +had visited the capital. Boldly, audaciously, he had gone as a rich +hacendado, and after the manner of rich hacendados he had "seen the +City." Mozos with gorged canvas bags on their shoulders had followed his +stately stride into the gambling casinos. He had played with regal +nerve, and on the last occasion, had flung the emptied sacks away as +nonchalantly as on the first. Only, the last time, he had felt remorse +that the "bank" had profited instead of Tiburcio. In that matter of the +bullion convoy he had not treated Don Tiburcio as one caballero should +another. + +Their horses--Rodrigo's and Driscoll's--were racing by bounds shoulder +to shoulder. This endured for possibly the space of a second. Then +Demijohn felt his rein tighten, and he took more time. Next his bit +suddenly pinched, and down the old fellow came upon his front feet +together, firmly planted, and sank to his haunches. Driscoll still held +Rodrigo's bridle, and Rodrigo and horse, being in air, lunged backward. + +"We stop here," Driscoll announced. + +Don Rodrigo plumped down heavily in his saddle. His bristling moustache +lifted over his cruel white teeth. Two hundred swarthy little demons +reining in around them looked expectantly for a signal. But their chief +frowned at the twelve hundred Gringo Grays hovering on his flank. They +too wanted only a sign, and they outnumbered the Brigand's six to one. +But Rodrigo believed he held the advantage. First he obediently halted +himself and his minions. + +"Now then senor," said he in pompous and heavy syllables, "I am at your +disposition. Will your people commence the battle, or shall we?" + +Driscoll appreciated the dilemma. The carriage would be in the line of +fire. He had had an intuition of its occupants, and for that reason had +kept back his men. + +"Where was she going?" he demanded. + +Rodrigo feigned surprise. "And where," he asked, "or rather, to whom, +should Your Mercy imagine?" + +To Queretero! To Maximilian, of course! This, too, Driscoll had divined +already. + +"No matter," he retorted shortly, "but how did you run across her this +time?" + +The outlaw filled his chest, "You Americans, senor, do not understand +the feelings of a man bowed under a heavy wrong. You----" + +"We'll let it go at that," said Driscoll, with a little wave of the +hand, "but--how in----" + +"You scoff already, senor? But will you, at these stains of blood? Then +let me say to you, senor mio, they make me remember one shameless deed +for which the tyrant Maximilian must pay." + +The stains Rodrigo meant were on a little ivory cross which he had taken +from his jacket. The emblem served him to lash his emotions, to goad his +precious sense of wrong. He studied the cross intently; then, by a vast +and excruciating effort, thrust it into Driscoll's hand. + +"Yes, yes," he cried, "you must take it! He said so." + +"He?" + +"Si, senor, he who shares my wrong, Don Anastasio Murguia." + +"Murgie!" exclaimed the bewildered American. "But--why, hombre, I +haven't seen the old skinflint since--since he and I both were +court-martialled by Lopez!" + +"Still I promised him to send the cross to you, because you will have a +chance to give it to him. He said so." + +"Oh, he did?" But Driscoll put the trinket in his pocket, not unwilling +to see more of this foolish drama in Latin-American sentiment. "Now +then, Rod," he went on impatiently, "you haven't explained yet how you +happen to find her again." + +"That," replied the outlaw, "was _his_ part of the bargain." + +"Whose?" + +"Anastasio Murguia's." + +"Rod, you talk like a----" + +"But no, senor, it's because you Americans cannot understand. Murguia +also believes in vengeance. I haven't seen him either, not since he sold +his hacienda over a year ago. But I do know that he or some spy of his +is in the capital, for a messenger from him came to me in the mountains. +The messenger said that the Marquesa d'Aumerle was leaving for +Queretero. If I captured her, it would be vengeance in kind. But Murguia +wanted pay for his information. He wanted that cross--it was his +daughter's--and I was to send it to him through you. Dios mio, but I had +to hurry! A little more, and the Marquesa would have been inside your +lines." + +"She is already," Driscoll corrected him, "and so are you. Will you +fight it out, or surrender?" + +He pointed to the Grays as he spoke. They had dismounted, and each man +had a rifle at aim across his saddle. It was a reminiscence out of +Driscoll's boyhood of Indians and the Santa Fe trail. But Don Rodrigo +only smiled. + +"You want the coach first?" he said. + +"No!" Driscoll retorted. "You're the one that's wanted, and you can +either wait for your trial, or be shot now, fighting. The coach will +have to take its chances. But see here, if the firing once starts, not a +thief among you will be left standing----" + +It was a perilous "bluff," and none might say if it would have broken +the deadlock. But the outlaw interrupted. + +"Listen! What's that?" + +"Oh, nothing. We're only throwing a few bombs into Queretero." + +"Only!" The brigand's eyes flashed, and his voice was filled with envy. +Throwing bombs among the traitors?--and magnificence like that had grown +common! Yet he, whose patriotism was a passion that fed and thrived upon +itself, must be barred from such exquisite satiety. + +Driscoll understood, and thought it droll. First there was that loyal +Imperialist, Don Tiburcio, frothing chagrin because he had had to +desert. And now here was this rabid Republican, heart broken over being +outlawed from the ranks of his country's avengers. + +Again Rodrigo interrupted, more excitedly yet. "Senor, senor, you don't +shoot them that way every day? What does it mean?" + +Both gazed across the plain to the city of domes under the green hills. +Driscoll's chin raised, and he listened intently. What had commenced +like indolent target practice against a beleaguered town had suddenly +burst into a terrific cannonading chorus. More, there was musketry, +vicious and sustained. There were troops deploying over the plain. +Something critical was happening. If it were the supreme rally of the +famishing Empire! + +Driscoll stirred uneasily. He glanced at his outlaw. He thought of the +coach. To leave her with these ruffians? To miss a fight? Here was a +quandary! + +"You are not going?" Rodrigo cried at him furiously. "Now, now," he +raged, "is the hour of triumph for the incarnation of popular +sovereignty. Go, I say, go, the Republic needs you!" + +Until those words Rodrigo had held the situation. With them he lost it, +and Driscoll was master. And Driscoll grew serene, and very sweet of +manner. He began filling a cob pipe. A nod of his head indicated the +coach as a condition of his going. + +"Look, look!" Rodrigo shouted. "Oh, que viva--they're running! We've +smoked them out! We've smoked them out!" + +Driscoll swept the country with his glasses. Thousands of men were +running like frightened rabbits down the Cimatario slope, and spreading +as a fan over the grassy plain. Mountain pieces boomed farewell behind +them, until in abject panic they cast away carbines and scrambled the +faster. But other troops were pushing up the slope opposite the town, +and these were ordered ranks of infantry. Up and up they climbed, to +trench after trench, and the howitzers one by one stopped short their +roar. When Driscoll laid down the glasses, his face was white. Rodrigo's +glee turned to uncertainty. + +"What--what----" + +"Smoked out, you fool? We're the ones smoked out!" + +"But those runaways?" + +"Are our own men, ten thousand of 'em, raw conscripts to support our +batteries on the Cimatario." + +"But the Cimitario?" Rodrigo knew by instinct the crucial importance of +the black cone. + +"The Cimitario is taken by the Imperialists!" + +Driscoll did not forget, however, the nearer contest, and as the Mexican +grew frantic, he was the more coolly indifferent. + +"Max has everything his own way now," he added soothingly. "He can +either evacuate, or go around on the north side and thrash Escobedo." + +But the Grays were clamoring for action. "By cracken, Din, hurry up +there!" yelled Cal Grinders. + +Driscoll raised his palm, waving the fingers for patience. He scanned +the plain again. The Imperialist ranks were breaking. Hungry men rushed +on the besiegers' camps, snatching untouched breakfasts. The townsmen +poured out among the uniforms, and darted greedily in every direction. +The llano was alive with scurrying human beings. Driscoll could well +wait for the psychology of Republican defeat on Don Rodrigo, since at +the same time he awaited the effects of victory on a starving army. The +Grays fretted, but they knew their colonel was never more to be depended +upon than when his blood grew cold like this. + +"If," Driscoll observed pleasantly to the Mexican, "Escobedo isn't +already making tracks for San Luis----" + +It was the last straw. The patriot brigand jerked off his sombrero and +flung it to the ground. He gestured wildly over the plain, and he +gestured in the American's face. He choked on words that boiled up too +fast. + +"You--you--traitor!" he spluttered. There was actually froth on his +lips. + +"We haven't," Driscoll reminded him with exceeding gentleness, "settled +this other yet," and again he nodded to the coach. + +"That--that is why you wait?" Rodrigo had forgotten his prize entirely. +"Take her, then, take her! Only go, go, kill all the traitors!" + +"After you, caballero," Driscoll returned with Mexican politeness. He +wanted to be sure of the outlaw's departure, since holding him prisoner +was now out of the question. But Rodrigo chafed only to be gone. With a +reed whistle he signaled his little demon centaurs, then at a touch of +the spurs his horse leaped forward and all the band clattered close on +his heels. + +"Sure anxious to escape," thought Driscoll. But he stared after them in +wonder. Instead of turning to the safety of the mountains, they charged +straight ahead on the town, straight against the Empire, and in any +case, straight into the maw of justice. Behind, the coach and mules +stood high and dry in the road. Driscoll was at once all action. + +"Shanks," he called. + +Mr. Boone hurried to him from the Grays. + +"Shanks, will you stay here with six men----" + +"Jack Driscoll!" + +"To watch that coach, Dan. There's two girls in it." + +"Jack! Miss that there fight!" + +"But Dan, _these_ girls are friends of yours, you met them once." + +Mr. Boone started violently. + +"Never mind, I'll ask Rube Marmaduke or the Parson." + +A pitiful struggle racked Mr. Boone. + +"You, you're not fooling me, Din?" he pleaded. + +"Sure not. It's your empress all right. It's Miss Burt all right." + +"Then, Lawd help me, I'll stay!--But you'd best be hustling and get to +work." + +"Just a minute, Shanks, there's the other one in the coach. She wants to +go to Queretero. If she gives her word of honor--never mind, she knows +honor from a man's standpoint--if she gives her word that she brings +nothing that will help 'em inside, then you can escort the coach into +the town after things quiet down some. All right? Good. Then we're off!" + +Demijohn's hoofs pelted dust balls with each impact. The Grays were +ready. They surged behind. The sound of them was a swishing roar. In the +apex of the blinding tempest, Driscoll sat his saddle as unmoved as an +engineer in his cab. He looked ahead placidly. Empire and a prince had +just triumphed. So he was going to readjust fatality. The smile touched +his lips as it never had before, and hovered there in the midst of +battle. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +BLOOD AND NOISE--WHAT ELSE? + + + "On stubborn foes he vengeance wreak'd, + And laid about him like a Tartar, + But if for mercy once they squeak'd, + He was the first to grant them quarter." + --Orlando Furioso. + + +Only for the moment of a cooling breath is Nature gray in Mexico. The +sun's barbed shafts had already ripped away the cloak of dawn when +Driscoll and his cavaliers swept over the glaring road. But there was no +longer any battle. The plain swarmed confusion only. Panic cringed +before hunger. The defeated besiegers panted, stumbled, ran on again, or +lay still in trembling. The victorious besieged were gorging from +fingers crammed full. It was the hour for trophies. A prosperous +townsman bore a stack of tortillas, and gloated leeringly as he hurried +to put his treasure safely away. A dashing Hungarian with fur pelisse +shouted gallant oaths at a yoke of oxen and prodded them with his curved +sword, as though a creaking cart filled with corn were the precious loot +of an Attila. Pueblo and soldiery tore ravenously at fortifications that +had so long kept them from one savory broth. With nails alone they would +demolish walls and trenches. Some lurched over fugitives in the grass, +and then pinned them there with bayonets, the lust for food turning +fiendishly to a lust for blood. + +But what most inflamed the Grays were the captured cannon. They counted +as many as twenty being dragged into the Imperialist lines. The +Missourians were aggrieved. Never, never had Joe Shelby's brigade ever +lost a gun. And as they galloped, they looked anxiously about for +chances of more battle. Just then Rodrigo's outlaw band caught their +eye. These had swerved from the road out upon the field, hot to engage +anything, everything. A long provision train offered first. Many carts +had been loaded with Republican stores, and were being convoyed to the +town by a squadron of Imperialist cavalry. It was the clash between this +escort and the brigands that attracted the Grays coming on behind. But +the escort wheeled and fled and the brigands pursued, slashing with +machetes, and so charged full tilt into the Dragoons of the Empress who +were sent to retake the abandoned prize. Red tunics mixed with ragged +yellow shirts, and war-chargers and mustangs swirled together as a +maelstrom. Then the Grays pounded among them, in each hand of each man a +six-shooter. The red spots began to fall out of the peppered caldron. +The red tunics that were left broke, retreated, ran. It became a rout. +Only a few of the Empire's best survived those ten minutes of +blood-letting. Fatality? Driscoll's lip curled. Fatality? The Dragoons, +now no more, had twice held him for their bullets. + +Grays and brigands chased them back toward Queretero. The fleeing +remnant began yelling for help. Driscoll rose in his stirrups, and saw +just ahead a large force of the enemy. It was gathered around the Casa +Blanca, a little house on the plain. The large Imperialist force there +was an army, nothing less, though still disordered from the late action +and victory. Surrounded by a brilliant staff was a tall, golden bearded +chieftain, sumptuously arrayed as a general of division, regally mounted +on a cream-coated horse of Spain. He was Maximilian, viewing from there +the winning of his empire. The army behind him filled his ears--"Viva Su +Majestad!" + +But he who had given the cue for that thrilling music now saw the +convoy's fate. He rode up and down anxiously, striving for order in the +confused ranks. He wore the green sash of a general. He had a moustache +and imperial, searching black eyes, and an open brow. His fine features +showed in the blend of French and Castilian blood. He was the real +chieftain. He was Miramon. Impetuously he made ready to avenge the +Dragoons. + +These things that he saw ahead brought Driscoll to his senses. With +reluctance, but instantly, he made up his mind. He held high his sabre +and halted his own men, turning at the same time to collide obliquely, +and purposely, against Rodrigo. + +"Not that way, Rod, not that way!" + +"But it's the tyrant! It's the tyrant!" + +Driscoll got the brigand's bridle and swung him around fiercely. "Let +the poor tyrant be!" he yelled. "We've got to take that there Cimatario +hill." + +A moment later Grays and brigands wheeled to the right and were off. +Back at the Casa Blanca Maximilian lowered his glasses. "They surely, +they surely are not--yes," he cried, "they _are_ going to attack +the Cimatario!" + +Miramon smiled. "Then they are lunatics," he said. "Why, Your Highness +knows that we have five thousand of our best men on the Cimatario." + +"Yes," Maximilian agreed uneasily, "but I thought I recognized the man +who leads those lunatics. Do you happen to know, general, how Tampico +fell?" + +"Do not worry, sire," Miramon replied, willing to humor the prince, "I +will take our infantry to the Alameda and strengthen our reserve there, +should anything really happen." + +Across the grassy plain raced the twelve hundred cavalry and the two +hundred outlaws. They raced to attack five thousand brave men who had +that morning dislodged ten thousand. Five thousand in the trenches +above, fourteen hundred in the open below, such were the odds of Empire +against Republic. + +Grays and brigands drew rein under the Cimatario's west slope, and the +bugle sounded to dismount. + +"But senor," Rodrigo protested, "don't we charge straight up?" + +"And not have a man left when we do get up? Here Clem," Driscoll added +to Old Brothers and Sisters, the lieutenant colonel of the Grays, "you +circle round and up the other side with eight companies. Take all the +horses, but leave 'em back of the hill as you go. Don't that look like +the best scheme?" + +The parson's cherubic features beamed. "Good-bye, Din," he said. "But +pshaw, I reckon--I reckon we'll be meeting up above." He referred, +however, to the top of the Cimatario. + +Four companies and Rodrigo's band remained. These Driscoll spread out in +a skirmish line that made a long beaded chain around their side of the +hill. It was evidently an unfamiliar method, for the Imperialist +tiradores fired down on them contemptuously. But each time, while the +enemy above were reloading, the Grays and outlaws below were climbing a +few yards, each man of them individually, up from behind his own +particular rock. The Imperialists, it now appeared, had blundered +incomprehensibly, since they had actually taken away nearly all the +cannon captured on the Cimatario. But six-pound affairs from batteries +in the Alameda soon began to splinter and furrow around the climbing +men. One loosened boulder rolled and struck Doc Clayburn on the tip of +the shoulder, bringing him down like a bag of meal. He arose, feeling +himself. "Now, by the Great and Unterrified Continental----" he began, +as he always did at the monotony of being hit. Then his disgust changed +to wonder. "W'y," he cried, "I'm not either, I only thought I was!" + +They mounted higher, and the business grew hotter. Each man had to look +to himself more and more sharply, lest he forget that economy of the +individual was now the hope of the regiment. But for all that, when a +Missourian craved tobacco--it is a craving not to be denied, in no +matter what danger, as most any fireman knows--he would leave cover to +beg his nearest neighbor for a chew, and obtaining it, would feel the +heart put back into him. + +As they drew close under the first of the trenches, they concentrated +for a bit of sharp in-fighting, and so suffered more. But once they +provoked the next volley, they meant to rush the works. The Imperialists +though were loath to squander the one ball to a carbine when Indian-like +fighters like these were so near. They had one mountain piece, a brass +howitzer, and the gunner stood ready, the lanyard in his hand. But he +hesitated, bewildered. His targets were not twenty paces below, yet +nowhere crouching behind the rocks were the foe massed together. His +pride forbade that he waste twelve pounds of death on a single man. + +But suddenly that happened which the gunner never in this life +explained. Poised expectant in the lull of the fray, he was trembling +under the tense silence, when he saw the impetuous Don Rodrigo dart up +the slope, full against the muzzle. At the same instant he heard shouts +of warning behind him, and he heard the tiradores there above firing at +someone almost at his feet. But the figure that had scaled up the back +of the hill, crawling around the trench, was already on him. He drew +back his arm to drive the heavy shot through Don Rodrigo in front, but +only to feel the cord in his hand part before a knife's keen edge. With +a cry of dismay he sprang to grasp the rope's end, but as in a vision a +head of curly black and an odd smile rose between, and a swinging fist +of a great bared arm crashed back his chin, and he sank as a brained ox. + +"Lambaste 'em, Din Driscoll!" + +It was a rapturous shout, and Cal Grinders, passing Rodrigo, tumbled +over the earth-heap and joined his colonel against five hundred. Behind +swarmed others into the newly awakened hell, coatless men of Saxon necks +tanned a dark ruby, and in the hot Imperialist fire they settled to +their work. + +"By cracken, lambaste 'em! Why in all hell _don't_ ye lambaste +'em?" + +This fury boiled through oaths, unable to spend itself in blows. The +tigerish rage seized on them every one. Teeth grated vengefully as men +struck. + +"Lambaste 'em, Din Driscoll!" + +"Lambaste 'em--_good_--Din Driscoll!" + +The yell swelled to a murderous chorus. These men did not know that they +were raving. A war cry is just the natural vent. It is simply the whole +pack in full cry. + +But never before--for now around him there was the contrast of hate and +panting and passions in ferment--had Driscoll seemed so distant a thing +from flesh and the human sphere. In grime, in dust, in smoke, among +faces changing demoniac wrath for the sharp, self-wondering agony of +mortality, his face was cool, serene, with just the hint of a smile +tugging at his lips. His own men would try to look another way, try +uneasily to break the fascination of this strange warrior who led them. + +The battle was short, but of the hottest. Its central point was the +little brass howitzer. Driscoll, Grinders, Bledsoe, the Doc, all four +pushed at the carriage or pulled at the trunnion rings, while around +them, hindering them, swaying back and forth over rocks and in the +ditches, the two forces battled for possession, hand to hand, with +six-shooters and clubbed muskets. Grinders fell, cursing angrily. +Bledsoe fell, toppling heavily his great length. The Doc fell. "By +the----" he began, but got no further. He was not mistaken this time. +But the gun was turned at last, and a vicious hand jerked the rope. +Powder grains pierced the eyes of the nearest Imperialists. The shot +tore through the mass of them. Yet Driscoll remembered most how wan, how +_hungry_, they looked. + +"Death to the traitors! A muerte! A mu-erte!" + +It was a heavy nasal, hurled from the lungs with that force and venom +peculiar to the Spanish tongue. It came from Don Rodrigo, who had pulled +the lanyard, and who now pulled it again and again, crazed first with +joy, then with rage because the emptied gun would not respond. + +While the combatants were so confused together, the tiradores in the +upper trenches had to hold their fire, but when the defenders gave way +at last, those above could wait no longer. Four thousand and more, they +leaped their earthworks, and came charging down the slope on what was +left of Driscoll's six hundred. + +Grays and brigands faced about, but most of all they looked beyond the +enemy's right flank, to the line of the hill's crest there. For just +beyond that jagged line and somewhere below Old Brothers and Sisters and +the eight other companies must be toiling up. But they would have to +appear in the interval of the Imperialists' downward rush. Driscoll +turned to his bugler. "Blow, Hanks! Blow like the _very_ devil!" + +The blast sounded long and shrill, like a plaintive wail. The six +hundred pumped lead up the hill mechanically, but their hearts were +echoing the clarion's cry for help, and rather than on the foe sweeping +down over the rocks to crush them, their eyes were strained on the +sun-emblazoned line against the sky. But the parson was a man. At last, +just over the slope's crest, a head appeared, a cherubic head with +spectacles, and two arms waved for haste to others behind. And instantly +more heads bobbed up, and more yet, until the jagged line was fairly +encrusted with mouse-colored sombreros, like barnacles on a stranded +keel. + +From where they were the new comers began their work, lying flat on +their stomachs. Once over the ridge, down each man fell and joined the +chorus of musketry. Their fusilade thickened to a blanket of flame, +closely woven. The host rushing down the slope forgot the tales that +were told of the marvelous sixteen-shot rifles. They thought instead +that an army of Republicans, and not a man less, were upon their flank. +For how else could volleys be so well sustained, how else so deadly? And +how fast they themselves were dropping! The thing was not like bullets, +but as the earth caving under them. The charge turned to panic. They +plunged on downward, indeed, and even sheer into the cross fire of +Driscoll's six-shooters and the one howitzer. But it was headlong +flight. At the trench they did not stop to grapple, but fought their way +through and fled on down the hill, on across the grassy plain, nor +paused until they had crowded pell-mell into the main Imperialist army +drawn up before the Alameda. + +Maximilian and his resplendent staff were there at the Alameda. The +Emperor was perhaps less astounded than they. + +"Ai, general, if you _had_ known how Tampico fell!" he said to +Miramon. + +Yet neither was actually dismayed. The Cimatario and five thousand men +had succumbed to a thousand or fifteen hundred daredevils. It was hard +enough to believe, in all conscience. But the daredevils could be +dislodged, and they must be, at once. Miramon's orders rose sharply and +quick, and the Empire sprang to obey. The Alameda batteries were trained +on the hill, and a few moments later the guns on the roof of the La Cruz +monastery were also. At the same time, the army, the entire Imperialist +reserve, battalion after battalion in close, hurried ranks, set out +across the grassy plain, straight toward the Cimatario's front slope. +Foot, horse, artillery, the concentrated might of the Austrian's +sceptre, was being hurled against a handful of jaded warriors. +Maximilian flushed with something like shame at the thought. + +Back on the slope Driscoll cried, "No, no, keep to the trenches, you +fellows! This ain't _our_ promenade." + +And soon, when screaming comets began to fill the air and burst around +them, they were glad of the ditches. There they waited, smoking, +spitting tobacco against the torrid rocks, but with sullen eyes on the +army moving nearer and nearer. Where, all this morning, was Escobedo, +who, with his thousands of Republicans on the north of the town had +taken no thought of the Republican stress on the south? He had not fired +a shot. Yet surely he must know by this time. But no matter. Over a +hundred outlaws were left, and nearly a thousand Grays. Missourians, +brigands, and guerrillas of Michoacan, they were a dangerous blend. + +"Got a match, Harry?" asked Driscoll of the Kansan, as he filled his cob +pipe. + +They _had_ to wait, you see. Yet haste was all they would have +begged of the advancing Imperialist host. + +The red jackets of the Dragoons--the few that were left--brightly dotted +the van of the attacking thousands. On either side rode the Second and +Fourth Lanciers. Behind tramped the battalions of Iturbide, of Celaya, +and regiments of the line. They gained the foot of the hill and the +cavalry were dismounting before they drew fire. The baptism had a +sharpshooter deadliness, even at that distance, but the Imperialists +waited tentatively. No, there was but one volley. When the second came, +it was only after an interval long enough for reloading. Officers and +men glanced at one another more hopefully. The terrified fugitives were +of course mistaken, they thought. For the force above could not be +large, nor yet possess the mysterious sixteen-shot rifles. The assurance +gave the buoyancy of relief. To charge against carbines that made each +man as sixteen were uncanny, too much like challenging the Unknown. But +a thousand men who fired only every two or three minutes--an antagonist +like that was quite well known to their philosophy. So breathing hard, +they valiantly marched up the hill. They suffered cruelly under the +scattered fusillades, yet were not materially resisted. At last they +were near enough, and the bugles sounded for the final rush. + +Now what was odd, the Republicans stopped firing altogether. But they +were waiting for shorter range, and a moment later, at a hundred paces, +their reopening volley had all the clockwork dispatch of platoon drill. +Yet the Imperialists took the dose as a thing expected, and sprang over +their wounded to gain the trenches. They required only the lull of +reloading. But instantly a second volley prolonged the first. The column +staggered, and faces blanched. In a sudden despair they realized the +enemy's tactics, for the enemy did have those terrible rifles, after +all. From the trenches a low sheet of flame had spread, searing the +breasts of rank after rank that pressed against its edge. Scarlet-coated +Dragoons, the last of them, flecked the rocks, and over them fell green +uniformed troopers, as grass will cover a bloody field, and the +Municipal Guards, swaying up from behind, paid out a sprinkling of +blue--a ghastly pousse-cafe, as one grim jester described it afterward. +The long massed lines wavered. + +"They've stopped, they've stopped!" cried Rodrigo. "Now we'll close with +them, eh, senor--por Dios, _now_!" + +"All you fellows," shouted Driscoll, "just fill your rifles while they +wait. Stopped nothing, Rod! And anyhow, who'd hold the hill if we left +it? Who?" + +The answer came at once, and in dramatic form. One of the pickets +stationed on the flank ran among them. + +"There's another big slew of 'em a-coming!" he yelled excitedly. +"Yonder, over yonder!" + +Driscoll rose and followed the man to the east slope. From there he +beheld an overpowering force, advancing diagonally across the llano +below. It came by the Carretas road, which skirted Queretaro on that +side, and it was hurrying toward the Cimatario. The colonel of Grays +watched them anxiously through his glasses. + +"Shucks," he said at last, "the fight's over. It's Escobedo. He's sent +his reserve. Don't you see those black shakos, Jim, and those gray +coats? They're the Cazadores de Galeana, and the best yet. Now we'll +have someone to hold the hill!" + +But getting back to the trenches, Driscoll saw that the help might not +come soon enough. For however the Imperialists squandered their lives, +they would yet overcrowd death. Some had already gained the first +trench, and were there engaged hand to hand, with sabre and pistol. In +the trenches above the Grays steadily fed the molten flame. But Driscoll +chose the in-fighting, and naturally became himself the centre of the +hottest patch. + +"Help's here! in five minutes, just five minutes!" he spoke right and +left to his men, as a carpenter will converse and hammer at the same +time. For the outnumbered Grays it was the help arrived already. + +The Imperialist cannon had of necessity ceased firing, so what should be +the consternation of the attacking column to have a shell fall among +them from the rear! All eyes turned, and a murmur of panic rose. It was +not that their own batteries had made a mistake, but that there had not +been any mistake. The reserve sent by Escobedo, hearing the battle, had +wheeled and rushed straight down the centre of the plain on the chance +of giving quicker assistance. Once in sight of the trenches, though +still considerably to the right of the hill, they had unlimbered a gun, +while cavalry and infantry pushed on to the rescue. Not to be caught +between trenches and plain, the Imperialists acted with soldiery +decision. Their clarions sounded retreat. + +"Now it's _our_ turn!" shouted Driscoll, and with the parson and +the Kansan and the outlaw chief, and guerrillas and Missourians pouring +out of their ditches, he chased down hill the concentrated might of an +Empire. So closely was that chasing performed that pistol flashes burned +into standards and uniforms. + +Maximilian and Miramon and the high officers of the realm were still at +their post of observation in front of the Alameda. For the third time +that morning they faced Imperial cohorts hurled back upon them by a man +named Driscoll. Miramon reproached himself bitterly. His plans to +intercept Escobedo's reserve on the north had failed. The Emperor's +pallid features were drawn with the tensity of a big loser. Yet in the +soft blue eyes there flashed a chivalrous wonder at an enemy's valiant +deed. + +On the llano fugitives and pursuers mingled as one in the human wave of +confusion. Escobedo's cavalry had overtaken the melee, and blended with +the rear of the fleeing column, until it seemed likely that both must +enter the town together. But a charge of grape, fired obliquely from the +Alameda, mowed a path between them--a Spartan business, for it reaped +Imperialists among Republicans. However, a second and third blast were +better gauged, and these carpeted the new alley-way with Republican +bodies. Also, the Imperialists were re-forming, and under a withering +fire the little band of victors had to draw back to the Cimatario. + +As Escobedo's reserve occupied the hill, Driscoll marched his own force +behind the same to get his horses there. But the mustangs of the +brigands had disappeared, and far to the southwest were the brigands +themselves, moving swiftly over the plain toward the mountains. They +hardly numbered two-score now, and at that distance seemed a few men +herding a drove of empty saddles. The late indignant patriot, Don +Rodrigo, had changed back to outlaw. As another Cid, he might have +looked for pardon from a grateful country, but possibly he feared the +Roman justice of Juarez too much to risk it. Besides, a man will not +lightly give up his career. That same night Rodrigo lay again among the +sierras, quite ready for the first bullion convoy or beautiful +marchioness passing by. + +Shells and minie balls were yet dropping perfunctorily, and the llano +between hill and town was still a dangerous place enough, but scattered +here and there were a few of both sides looking for their wounded, and +often themselves going down before the aim of sharpshooters. Stiffening +bodies lay under the trampled grass in every varied horror of +mutilation, and glassy eyes peered unseeing upward through the stalks, +like the absurd and ghastly contrast of a horrible dream. But among them +were the stricken living in as varied an agony, of raw wounds stung by +gnats, of pain cutting deep to vitality, of thirst, of the broiling sun, +of a buzzing fly, or of an intolerable loneliness there with death. +Groans rose over the plain, and guided the searchers. Driscoll had +already found many of his men in this way. Once he heard his own name. +The voice was weak, but there was something vaguely familiar to it, and +involuntarily he held his pistol against treachery as he parted the +grass and revealed a wounded man at his feet. It was a piteously +famished body that raised itself a little by one hand. It was a +soul-tenanted death-head that crooked gruesomely down on the shoulder +and lifted its eyes to Driscoll's in greeting. They were glowing coals, +those eyes, glowing with the virile fire of twenty men, however wasted +the face or tightly drawn the yellow parchment skin. + +"Murgie!" + +Driscoll's exclamation was a shudder rather than the surprise of +recognition. What could it be that had grown so--so _terrible_ in +the weazen, craven miser! And to find the abject little coward on a +battlefield, and wounded! An occasional bomb even then screeched +overhead. And he was clothed in uniform, a soldier's uniform, he, Don +Anastasio! + +"Gra-_cious!_" Driscoll muttered. + +More and more stupefying, the uniform was not Republican, but +Imperialist. There were the green pantaloons with red stripes, the red +jacket, the white shoes, the white kepi, of the Batallon del +Emperador--a ludicrous martial combination, but pathetic on an aged, +withered man. The Batallon del Emperador? Driscoll remembered. They were +the troop that had surrounded Maximilian during the recent battle in +front of the Alameda, and Murguia had fallen on the very spot. The +venomous Republican was then become one of the Emperor's bodyguard! + +As the Republican, so also was the coward gone. The gaunt little old +Mexican seemed oblivious of peril, as fever blinds one to every nearest +emotion. There was even a grimness in the shifting gaze. And a certain +merciless capacity, born of unyielding resolve--born of an obsession, +one might say--was there also. He could have been some great military +leader, cruel and of iron, if those eyes were all. Little shriveled Don +Anastasio, he had no sense of present danger, nor of the red blood +trickling. + +"That's bad, that," said Driscoll, overcoming his repugnance. "Here, +I'll get you taken right along to our surgeons." + +But Murguia shrank from the offer as though he feared the Republicans of +all monsters. + +"No, no," he protested feebly, yet with an odd ring of command. "Some +one on--on my side will find me." + +"But you called?" Driscoll insisted. + +"Yes, you--have heard from Rodrigo Galan? He was to have sent you a--to +have sent you something for me." + +More and more of mystery! Rodrigo had said that Driscoll would see +Murguia to give him the ivory cross, and so it had come to pass. But the +battle, the old man's wound, surely these things were not prearranged +only that a trinket might be delivered. + +"How was I to see you?" Driscoll asked abruptly. + +Murguia started, and there was the old slinking evasion. + +"There, there," said Driscoll hastily. "Don't move that way, you'll +bleed to death! Here, take it, here it is." + +Murguia clutched the ivory thing in his bony fingers. + +"Maria, Maria de la Luz," he fell to murmuring, gazing upon the cross as +though it were her poor crushed face. In the old days she had made him +forget avarice or fear, and now, before this token of her, the hardness +died out of his eyes and they swam in tears. Driscoll gazed down on him +pityingly. The old man was palsied. He trembled. There passed over him +the same spasm, so silent, so terrible, as on the night of her death, +when he had sat at the court martial, his head buried in his arm. + +"Rod said you would want it," Driscoll spoke gently. Then he moved away. +An Imperialist officer was approaching over the field who would bring +the help which Murguia refused to accept of the Republicans. + +Driscoll looked back once. The Imperialist officer was carrying Murguia +into the town. He was a large man, and had red hair. His regimentals +were gorgeous. There seemed to be something familiar about him, too. +Greatly puzzled, Driscoll unslung his glasses, and through them he +recognized Colonel Miguel Lopez. Lopez, the former colonel of Dragoons, +now commanded the Imperialist reserve, quartered in the monastery of La +Cruz around the person of their sovereign. But Lopez had once condemned +Murguia to death. A strange solicitude, thought Driscoll, in such a high +and mighty person for a little, insignificant, useless warrior as poor +Murgie. A strange, a very strange solicitude, and Driscoll could not get +it out of his head. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +OF ALL NEWS THE MOST SPITEFUL + + + "O poor and wretched ones! + That, feeble in the mind's eye, lean your trust + Upon unstaid perverseness."--_Dante_. + + +Her gestures, her every word, were an effervescence. There was something +near hysteria in the bright flashes of her wit. However gay, joyous, +cynical, Jacqueline may have seemed to herself, to Berthe, terrified +though the girl was, Jacqueline's mood was a sham. + +"The _frisson_, oh, those few exquisite seconds of emotion, eh +Berthe?" she exclaimed. "Pursued by robbers--the chase--the rescue--and +the jolting, the jolting that took our breaths! Why, Berthe, what more +would you have? Helas, to be over so quickly! And here we are, left +alone in our coach, robbers gone, rescuers gone! Berthe, do you know, I +believe they compared notes and decided we weren't worth it. But I +_should_ have thought," she went on in mock bitterness, "I should +indeed, that at least our Fra Diavolo would have been more gallant, even +if----" + +"Even if?" prompted Berthe, then bit her lip. + +"Even--Oh Berthe, _fi donc_, to catch me so because I was +wandering!--even if one could expect no such gallantry from the +Chevalier de Missour-_i_. There now, do you tell Tobie to drive +on----" + +"But mademoiselle----" + +"Say 'Jeanne'," the marchioness commanded, stamping her foot. + +"My lady," the girl persisted, but added with affectionate earnestness, +"and my only friend, I was simply going to say that we are not deserted +after all." + +"But didn't I see him riding away?" + +"_Him_, yes, but look out of the window. See, he's left six or +eight--O--oh----" + +It was a joyful cry, which got smothered at once in confusion. Turning +quickly, Jacqueline beheld a little Bretonne with eyes cast down and +cheeks aflame. Yet even then Berthe gave a cosy sigh of relief. There +was cannonading not far away. They had just been taken by brigands, and +as suddenly left alone on the road. Thus Jacqueline's company ever cost +her many a tremor. Yet somehow one of those chevaliers de +Missour-_i_ needed only to appear, and she felt as secure as a +kitten on the hearth rug. A chevalier de Missour-_i_ had but now +ridden up to the coach door. + +"Berthe!" whispered Jacqueline severely, so that the girl thought her +dress was awry. "Quick, tuck your heart away in your pocket. It's right +there on your sleeve." Whereat Berthe employed the sleeve to hide her +higher mantling color. + +Jacqueline turned on the chevalier at the window, and surveyed +_his_ sleeve. It was covered with dust, but Jacqueline's big eyes +could see through dust. She felt about her a subtle atmosphere that made +her an outsider. + +"Ah, Monsieur le Troubadour?" came her bantering recognition. + +Mr. Boone's French crowded pleasantly to his tongue tip. "Mademoiselle," +he returned, "and," he added, with an odd glance toward Berthe, "Madame +l'Imperatrice, uh--how goes it?" + +Jacqueline's lashes raised inquiringly, until she remembered how the +lank gentleman before her, with the tender heart of a Quixote, had +mistaken Berthe for the Empress, months before at the Cordova +plantation. She liked him somehow better now for persisting in it. + +"Her Imperial Highness," she explained, very soberly, "may deign +presently to observe that you are here, monsieur, though, as you see, +her thoughts are far away. However, if you can possibly give your own to +a humbler person, to myself, dear Troubadour, I should very much like to +know what is to happen next. Use fine words, if you must; even put it +into verse, only tell me----" With an impulsive shove she flung open the +door and stepped into the road. She could still see Driscoll's troop, or +rather the cloud of dust, speeding toward Queretaro, but her arm swept +the horizon impersonally. "Only tell me," she demanded, "what's +happening now, over yonder?" + +"Pressing business, ma'am--mademoiselle, and," Daniel lied promptly, +"Colonel Driscoll wished me to make you his excuses." + +"The minstrels of old, sir," said Jacqueline, "usually accompanied their +more gallant fibs with a harp." + +Her vivacity was rising fast, and for some reason, Berthe darted an +angry look of warning on Mr. Boone. But the poor fellow was blind to +Jacqueline's jealousy of a distant conflict, and he blundered further. + +"Jack Driscoll's just that way," he apologized for his friend +cheerfully. "_Abundat dulcibus vitiis_--he's chuck full of pleasant +faults. When there's a clash of arms around, let the most alluring Peri +that ever wore sweet jessamine glide by, and--she can just glide. While +with me----" + +"I see. _You_ have stayed. But I, too, like battles, monsieur. +Tobie, get back up there with the driver. There's no admission charge, I +imagine, to this battle?" + +Boone gladly offered to take them for a nearer view, but he saw +Berthe--his eyes were never elsewhere--shrink involuntarily. + +"Stop, arretaz! Hey there!" he ordered, and the driver stopped. + +Jacqueline's pretty jaw fell in wonder. The natural order of things was +prevailing over the artificial. Social status to the contrary +notwithstanding, it was Berthe who commanded here, and not Mlle. la +Marquise. But Jacqueline was happy in it, and perhaps a little envious +too. Ah, those _Missouriens_! This one, who would rather stay than +fight! And that other, who was now fighting for quite the opposite +reason! They had a capacity for variety, those _Missouriens_! + +It was much later, after a lunch from Jacqueline's hampers under the +nearest trees, and after the distant fusillades had quieted to an +occasional angry spat, that the ladies' escort of Gringo Grays, bearing +a flag of truce, set out with their charge toward the town. Daniel rode +beside the coach window, and the flaps of the old hacienda conveyance +were drawn aside. He wondered how it happened that the hours had passed +so quickly. He would not believe that his comrades had been fighting, +that many of them had died, so blissfully fleeting were those hours to +himself. + +"It's all according," he mused profoundly. + +And he could not help singing. He hummed the forlorn chanson of Joe +Bowers of the State of Pike, which Bledsoe, then lying cold and stiff +under a mountain howitzer, had so often bellowed forth. + + "It said that Sal was false to me, + Her love for me had fled, + She's got married to a butcher-- + The butcher's hair was red." + +But he sung it as a plaint, yet not hopelessly, and Mademoiselle Berthe +was the maid entreated of his melody. + +The sharpshooters on both sides paused as the coach drove into the +little sweet-scented wood that was called the Alameda, and the +Missourians, with sabres at salute, transferred their charge to the +Imperialists crowding around. Among the latter were some of Jacqueline's +own countrymen, and those, in starvation and defeat, were as debonair as +the cadets of Gascogne. + +"A rose, mademoiselle," said one, bowing low. He had an arm bandaged, +and his sword was broken. "An early merciful bullet plucked it for you, +so that it fell unhurt, though the petals of all the others are +scattered everywhere among the leaves, among the fallen branches, among +the shattered statues of our classic grove here. See, like the rose I +tender, you come among us poor broken soldiers of fortune. I think, dear +lady, there will be those above to bless you for it." + +Jacqueline smiled behind her tears. "Always a Frenchman, eh, mon +lieutenant?" she said. + +The fragrance of the place was smothered under gunpowder and sluggish +fumes. The pleasant drives, the grass, the flowers, were trampled by +gaunt soldiers bearing their wounded, but the young officer murmured on +in the speech of the Alameda's one time fashionable promenade. + +"Who is that?" she interrupted. + +She pointed over the heads around her to a man bearing someone off the +late bloody field, and that moment staggering across the trenches into +the Alameda. It was an act that moved her, for the rescuer was a richly +uniformed officer, and the other but a common soldier. With Berthe close +behind, she alighted from the coach and hurried forward to help. The +wounded soldier's face lay on the officer's breast, and she saw only his +hair, matted and very white, from which a rusty brown wig had partly +fallen. But more to the purpose she saw that he was bleeding, and the +callous warriors there knew that the angels of the siege had come at +last. + +"Lay him in my carriage--but carefully, you!" she said, and was obeyed, +while Berthe deftly fixed cloaks and blankets around the withered form. +Someone mounted with Toby and the driver, and the coach rolled slowly +away to the hospital, leaving behind the two girls staring at the richly +uniformed officer, and the officer staring tenfold harder at them. He +was a large man, with big hands and feet, and for a Mexican he had a +mongrel floridness of skin. His cap was in his hand, and his hair was +red and thin. Amazement and a startled prying anxiety choked his +utterance. + +"Now then, Colonel Lopez," Jacqueline addressed him calmly, "may I ask +you the way? I have come to speak with Maximilian." + +"La Senorita d-d'Aumerle!" he stuttered. + +"Faith, no other, who is awaiting your pleasure, senor." + +"You come from, from--Mexico?" + +"But hardly to chat with you all the afternoon, caballero." + +"From Mexico! From the capital!" he kept repeating. The man's finger +nails cracked disagreeably, and his features worked in an extreme of +agitation. He tried to fix his shifting blue eyes upon first one and +then the other of the two girls, as though to ferret out what they must +know. "You do bring news from there?" he said huskily. "What of Marquez? +Is he coming? Shall we have the aid he went for? When----" + +"Ah, the medal for military valor!" observed Jacqueline. "Indeed, mi +coronel, all must acclaim your bravery, as well as--your loyalty. But +take me to your beloved Prince Max, for I do assure you, senor, my news +goes not without myself." + +"He visits the hospital every day," Lopez advised reluctantly. "Perhaps +if I should take Your Mercy there first----" + +Passing on through the ravaged Alameda, they entered the streets of +Queretaro. + +"Hear!" Jacqueline exclaimed. "Such a quantity of vivas and clarins and +national hymns and triumphant dianas, one would imagine, for example, +that there had been a great victory?" + +"Eh? Oh yes, or a hearty breakfast, senorita." + +Which was more essential. And why not? Hope's bright hue blotted out +emaciation. They had broken through to food that day. Bueno, could they +not do it again? Old croons had returned to their stalls and accustomed +corners in the market place, and as in days of peace were already +squatted before corn or beans heaped on the stone pavement in portions +for a quartilla, a media, or a real, as though the pyramids were not so +pitifully little, as though the wholesale purchase were not made just +that morning in heavy terms of blood. + +Behind the ponderous Assyrian-like church of Santa Rosa, in the old, +half ruined monastery and garden, was the hospital of the besieged. A +stifling, fetid odor, far worse than of drugs merely, sickened the two +girls as a foul breath when they passed with their guide between thick +walls into the large, overcrowded rooms. Military medical service was +not yet become an institution in Mexico, and this place was like some +horrible antechamber of the grave. Every cot had its ghastly transient, +and so had the benches, brought here from the different plazas. More and +more wounded were arriving constantly, and those found to be still alive +were laid on the flagstones wherever space for a blanket remained. But +in spite of the morning's fight, in spite of almost daily skirmishes for +weeks past, the sick outnumbered all others; and those who did come with +wounds, and survived them, stayed on to swell the longer list. Men +tossed in fever, craving what they might not have, a cooling draught, a +proper food, and effective medicine, until, with waking, they craved an +easier boon, and died. But the hospital fever, the calenturas, the +gangrene, were not to be all. Out of the diseased air, mid the fumes of +pious tapers, the spectre of epidemic was taking hideous shape over the +many, many upturned faces. The spectre was the tifo, a plague more +dreaded in high altitudes than black vomit in the low. + +Jacqueline found Maximilian bending over a stricken cavalry officer. The +Emperor was far from a well man, and his fair skin more than ever +contrasted as something foreign and lonely among the swarthy faces on +every side. His ostentation was now simplicity, as befitted a monarch in +camp. He wore neither sword nor star. His garb was plain charro, in +which he often walked among citizens and soldiers, inquiring about +rations, or requesting a light for his cigar, never minding if a shell +burst and kicked dust over him, and always affable, always ready to +smile and praise. It was a role that came naturally to his gentle soul. +One would like to believe--if one could, alas!--that he had in mind no +kingly precedent. + +Pausing unseen, Jacqueline noted tears in the blue eyes as he pinned +some decoration on the officer's bloodstained shirt. A good heart, she +thought, yet ever the prince. In his divine right was he even here, +presuming to send a dying subject to the Sovereign in Heaven with a +"character," with a recommendation for service faithfully done. His +hands trembled from haste, for he would have the soldier appear before +that dread Throne above as a Caballero of the Mexican Eagle. In pity for +them both, Jacqueline asked herself what precedence awaited the new +Caballero of the Mexican Eagle in a Court, not Imperial, but Divine. + +Jacqueline had not journeyed her perilous way out of simple friendship +for a desolate prince, but could she have foreseen how his eyes lighted +with gladness to behold one friend who remembered, in sweet charity she +would almost have come for that alone. + +"When Your Highness has finished here," she said, glancing at the +inquisitive Lopez near her, "or whenever I can speak with Your Highness +in private----" + +There was beseeching in Maximilian's quick scrutiny of her face, as +though the helpless messenger had aught of power over her tidings. +"In--in a moment, mademoiselle," he said tremulously. "I always see +the--new ones, before I go." + +The "new ones" were still being brought in, until any first aid from the +distracted surgeons was of the most casual--the ripping of bandaged +cloth, a knot tied, and so on to the next. Followed by Lopez, the two +girls, and several officers of the hospital staff, Maximilian passed +from ward to ward. But Jacqueline's hand seemed always to be threading a +needle, or holding a ligature, or lightly touching a hot forehead, and +in every case the surgeon would nod quickly, gratefully, as to a fellow +craftsman. Berthe the while gazed in tender wonder on her calm mistress, +and nerved herself someway to help also. + +And so they came to the withered form in brave red coat, and green +pantaloon whom Lopez had carried off the field. One of the nurses had +placed a handkerchief over his face, because of the stinging flies, but +Jacqueline recognized the thin white hair and the twisted wig as of the +old man whom she had sent ahead in her coach. At first he seemed to be +dead, for he lay very still on the floor, though a surgeon was probing +his wound, and his blood was fast filling the bowl held by the nurse. +But now and again, the straining cords in his emaciated wrist twitched +with the protest of life. Maximilian stooped to raise the handkerchief. +Lopez made a movement to prevent, but restrained the impulse as useless. +And then Maximilian revealed the gaunt, leaden features of Anastasio +Murguia, the father of Maria de la Luz. + +Jacqueline fell back with bloodless lips. The father of that dead +girl--and Maximilian! They were face to face, these two! But the +Emperor's expression was of pity only. He sank to his knees, the better +to make the wounded man understand the words of comfort on his lips. For +Jacqueline, the horror of it chilled her. Surely, surely, she thought, +the hidden tragedy must now unmask; because of its very awfulness, it +must! That the prince should be thus oblivious of such a knowledge, and +yet kneeling there, made the scene ghastly beyond words. + +"I remember him," said Maximilian softly, looking up to the others. "One +of your orderlies, Colonel Lopez, I believe? Of course I remember him, +for I see him often. He is always near me. Even to-day, on the llano, +during the thickest of the battle, there he was at my stirrup, and there +he must have fallen, in humble, unquestioning loyalty." + +Jacqueline drew back in relief, and she imagined that Lopez did also. +Maximilian had forgotten the hacendado utterly. + +With a grunt of satisfaction the surgeon drew forth his forceps from the +wound and dropped a bullet to the floor. Next he gently rolled the +patient over on his back, and then it was that Jacqueline saw in +Murguia's hand, in the hand that had been under him, a little ivory +cross. Fainting, unconscious, he still clutched it, from Driscoll's +leaving him on the battlefield until the present moment. By now the +stains of his child's blood were washed away in his own. Jacqueline's +quick eyes caught an inscription on the gold mounting, and leaning close +she read the dead girl's name, "Maria de la Luz." + +With the gripping of the bullet and its extraction, or possibly at the +sound of a voice--Maximilian's--the old man's eyes opened, and held the +Emperor's in a deathly stare. Jacqueline watched the piercing beads grow +smaller and smaller in their cavernous sockets, and all the while they +seemed to concentrate their intense fire. The others, except Lopez, +thought it delirium, but Jacqueline would have named it the very +blackest hate. "This man will live!" she said to herself, and shuddered. + +Maximilian, seeing consciousness returned, spoke cheerily. "Ah, doctor, +you will have him well and sound within a week, I know? Look to it, sir; +a heroic veteran like this cannot be spared." + +A strange distortion wrapped the visage of suffering. "Could that be a +smile?" Jacqueline wondered. But the Imperial party took its leave, and +the tragedy lurking beneath was not revealed, as yet. + +Through the throng waiting outside the hospital to acclaim him again as +a prince victorious, Maximilian led the two girls to their coach, and +went with them to the convent of Santa Clara, where he asked that they +be received as guests by the sisters. Here, in the comfortless +_parloir_ of the retreat, he learned the reason of Jacqueline's +daring journey from the capital. + +"I bring Your Highness," said she, "the most spiteful news my feeble sex +can ever bring." + +Again the involuntary plea for fair tidings swept his face. + +"And, and that is, mademoiselle?" + +"'I told you so.'" + +Maximilan's cheeks paled to the marble whiteness of his brow. He had +just heard the answer to the one question, to the one hope, of all +Queretaro. + +"You, you mean Marquez?" + +"Yes." And then she told him, and seeing how stricken he was, her +exasperation at his vain incapacity changed to pity for his breaking +pride--which may be called his breaking heart. + +"But mademoiselle, I gave my empire into his keeping," he protested, as +though such trust in a man of itself proved that man's constancy. But +the messenger, but Truth, would not recant. + +"Then," moaned the Emperor suddenly, "Marquez is not coming back?" + +"Nor ever meant to, sire. Listen, Your Highness made him lieutenant of +the Empire, and sent him to the capital for aid. Bien, he turned out the +ministers. He broke into homes, and pillaged even the stanchest +Imperialists. He heard that Puebla was besieged by a Liberal general, +Porfirio Diaz, so instead of coming here, Marquez marches all his army +down there. You will observe, sire, that he wanted the road kept open to +Vera Cruz." + +"But why? Tell me!" + +"Ma foi, to sell the capital more easily. In any case to be able to save +himself." + +"Sell the capital?" + +"Just a little patience, sire. Now what did Diaz do, but take Puebla by +assault before Marquez could arrive? Then he turned on Marquez, and +Marquez turned and ran. Oui, oui, sire, he _ran_, ran like the +little ugly, skulking Leopard that he is. To cross a creek, he filled it +with all the ammunition, and kept on running, leaving his army +defenseless behind him. Groan if you must, sire; others have died in +groans. But the Leopard had done this kind of thing before, it should +have been remembered. He got back safely though, and squandered the army +that might have relieved Queretaro to do it. Mon Dieu, what that panic +must have been! One entire battalion surrendered to fifty guerrillas. +Yet the Austrian cavalry, the Hungarians, and some others fought, fought +with their sabres, and won victories too. Helas, they only proved what +might have been. They only proved how Marquez, if he had not hesitated, +might perhaps have saved Puebla and destroyed the Liberals. As it was, +they could only retreat, and hardly two thousand of them, ragged and +bleeding and filthy, straggled back into Mexico during the next few +days. Now they are besieged there. Oui, oui, _besieged_, by Diaz, +by the army of the East, by twelve thousand Republicans, formerly called +brigands. And inside is the Leopard, snarling as ever with his regency +of terror. Oh no, he will not come to Queretaro. Bonte divine, he +cannot. Nor would he. He still holds the capital--for sale." + +"No, no, mademoiselle, there you wrong him, surely. Or tell me, then, +who would buy?" + +"Probably no one. At least not Santa Anna. The buyer must have an army." + +"My friend, this is a cruel jest." + +"Earnest enough, parbleu, to make the Leopard forget Queretaro, once he +was safely away." + +"Then why doesn't he sell out to Diaz?" + +Jacqueline's eyes snapped contemptuously. "Young Diaz," she replied, "is +not a fighter to buy what he can take. It's only a question of a few +weeks." + +"Then by all that's mysterious, _who_ would buy? I cannot." + +"Of course you cannot. That is why Marquez wants you out of the way, +sire. So he left you here. The Liberals will attend to that for him." + +"Then who will buy? Who? Who?" + +The blood shot into the girl's cheeks, and one small hand clenched +tightly. + +"France--possibly," she said. + +The Emperor started as from an acute shock. His thoughts raced backward, +then forward, gathering the whole heinous truth about the perfidy of +Marquez. + +"And I," Jacqueline added calmly, though she was still flushed, "I have +forwarded his offer to Napoleon." + +"You, mademoiselle? You, an accessory?" + +"To Your Imperial Highness's downfall? Ah no, sire! Your Highness is no +longer a factor. Your August Majesty will be eliminated absolutely +before Napoleon can reply to my despatch. As I said, the Liberals around +Queretaro will attend to that. Your Highness has merely delayed the +profit my country might have had from his abdication. Meantime Your +Highness himself has made his own ruin inevitable. But I, sire, I would +not see Marquez, nor receive a word from him, until we were actually +besieged in the capital, and he beyond the hope of coming to Your +Highness here. Now then, if Marquez only holds out until the army of +France returns----" + +A deep sigh interrupted her. "No longer a factor," murmured the Emperor. +Thus quickly, then, could the world take up its affairs again after his +elimination! + +"Mademoiselle," he cried suddenly, generously, "you are--superb! Dear +little Frenchwoman, you are, you are!" + +"Poof!" said Jacqueline. "But don't you see, sire," she hurried on +eagerly, "that we will have to fight the Americans? Yes, yes, then they +can no longer say they _drove_ us out." + +"Indeed they cannot. And I, among the first, and the most heartily, do +wish you a warlike answer from that firebrand of a Napoleon. But tell +me, why do you come to Queretaro? How did you come?" + +"How? Easily. All the guerrilla bands--except one, which I escaped--are +concentrated either here or with Diaz." + +"And Marquez let you come, you who are so important to him now?" + +"As though he could help it, parbleu! My message to Napoleon was in my +own cipher, and after he had sent it by a scout to Vera Cruz, I informed +him that in it I had directed Napoleon to send his answer to me at +Queretaro. Otherwise Marquez would have kept me in prison rather than +let me go. But as it was, he assisted me through the Republican lines by +a secret way he has arranged for his own escape, if need be. So----" + +"But why did you wish to come at all?" + +"Ma foi, as if I knew! A matter of conscience, I suppose." + +"Matters of conscience are usually riddles." + +"Like this one? Bien, I am still trying to get Your Highness to leave +the country. But this time, sire, it is to save you." + +"To save me?" + +"Of course, on account of France." + +"Oh, on account of France?" + +"Why else? If--if anything happens to Maximilian, France will be blamed. +Oh why, why did you not escape this morning, while the road was open?" + +For the first time during the interview the fire of high resolve leaped +into the prince's eyes. "But could I, in honor?" he demanded sternly. +"Think of the townspeople, abandoned to the Liberal fury. Their Emperor, +mademoiselle, means to face the end with them, here, in Queretaro." + +The dignity of his catastrophe was already beginning to appeal to him, +to exalt him, even as the vision of a Hapsburg winning his empire had so +often done before. + +"But," protested the girl, "if they capture Your Highness, if they--if +they hold you for trial?" + +She stopped, for Maximilian was laughing, and laughing heartily. The +idea of hands laid on him, an Archduke of Austria--ha, he was grateful +to her. Its very absurdity had given him the first relaxation of a laugh +in months. + +"Nevertheless," persisted Jacqueline, whose heritage of a revolution was +an obstinate bundle of these same absurdities, "nevertheless, I had +hoped to save Your Highness with my news, since it is news that leaves +no hope. Why not, then, escape? Treat for terms, do anything, only save +your followers and--yourself, sire?" + +But she found it impossible to sway him from this, his latest conceit. +His new role, the more desperate it looked, only ensnared him as the +more worthy. He contemplated the end serenely. As a military captain he +was culling laurels against theatric odds. His heroic loyalty to a lost +cause, with perhaps a little martyrdom (of personal inconvenience), how +these would count and be not denied when he should return to his destiny +in Europe! + +His was even a mood to consort with lofty traits in others, and in a +kind of poetic ecstasy he thought of Jacqueline's steadfast devotion to +her country's glory. And he was moved again by the vague, chivalrous +longing to bend the knee, to do her some knightly service. But--yes, he +seemed to remember, there _was_ such a service to be done, yet and +yet--no, he had forgotten. + +Then quite curiously, yet still without remembering, he dwelt in reverie +on that man named Driscoll who had so filled the morning with valiant +deeds. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +VENDETTA'S HALF SISTER, BETTER BORN + + + "When private men shall act with original views, the lustre will + be transferred from the actions of kings to those of gentlemen." + --_Emerson_. + + +Just outside Driscoll's tent, under the stars, a fragrant steak was +broiling. The colonel's mozo had learned the magic of the forked stick, +and he manipulated his wand with a conscious pride, so that the low +sizzling of flesh and flame was as the mystic voice in some witch's +brew. There were many other tents on the plain, a blurred city of +whitish shadows against the night, and there were many other glowing +coals to mark where the earth lay under the stars, and the witching +murmur, the tantalizing charm of each was--supper. In this wise, and +thinking themselves very patient, men were waiting for other men to +starve to death. The besieged had tried, but they had not again cut +through to food. + +In Driscoll's tent there was a galaxy of woolen-shirted warriors, a +constellation of quiescent Berserkers. For they were Missouri colonels, +except one, who being a Kansan, required no title. They were +tobacco-chewing giants, famous for expectoration. Except Meagre Shanks, +who tilted his inevitable black cigar now toward one eye, now toward the +other. Except the Storm Centre, who fondly closed his palm over his cob +meerschaum and felt its warmth and seemed far away, a dangerous poet. +Except Old Brothers and Sisters, most austere of Wesleyans, who had +neither pipe nor quid. He was cleaning his pistols. They were men hewn +for mighty deeds, but--cringe must we all before the irony that neither +life nor romance may dodge--it was not a mighty deed which that night +was to exact of them, which yet they were brave enough to do, though +sorry the figures they thought they made. + +Politics was their theme, since men, though busy with war and death, +must yet relieve their statesmen, especially after supper, and neatly +arrange the Tariff, Resumption, or whatever else. Like oracles the +ex-Confederates held forth that the Yankees had only driven out the +French to march in themselves, and so tutor the Mexicans in +self-government. To which the Kansan ventured a minority opinion, though +being thus a judge of the bench, as it were, he had no need of the oaths +he took. + +"Why God help me and to thunder with you, the United States ain't aiming +at any protectorate. You unreconstructed Rebs simply cain't and won't +see good faith in the Federal government!" + +"Carpet bags?" Driscoll murmured sweetly. It was the majority opinion. + +"Yes sir'ee," and Daniel took the cue as a bit in the mouth, "there's +blood on the face of the moon up there, _acerrima proximorum odia_, +by God sir! Look at the troops at our elections! Look at the Drake Test +Oath! Look at----" Mr. Boone was fast getting vitriolic, in heavy +editorial fashion, when a famished face, a wolfish face, appeared +between the flaps of the tent. "Look at--_that!_" + +Politics vanished, war and death resumed their own. + +The whole mess stared. + +"Sth-hunderation, it's an Imperialist!" lisped Crittenden of Nodaway. He +pointed at the newcomer's uniform, which was of the Batallon del +Emperador. + +"Well, bring him on in," said Driscoll to the pickets gripping the man +by either arm. + +"He was trying to pass through our lines," one explained. "And when we +stopped him, he begged hard to be brought to the Coronel Gringo, that +is, to you, senor." + +The mess turned curiously on Driscoll. Why a half dead soldier of the +Batallon del Emperador should have a preference as to his jailer was +beyond them. But they were yet more puzzled to hear Driscoll address the +prisoner by name. + +"See here, Murgie," he said, "is this the occasion Rodrigo meant when he +talked about my meeting you soon? Is it? Come, crawl out of the grass. +Show us what you're up to. No, wait, feed first. There's plenty left." + +But the old man had not once glanced toward the table. Whatever the +pangs of hunger, another torment was uppermost. + +"What do you mean by this," Boone demanded, as though personally +offended, "you've got the hospital color, dull lead on yellow? Here, +take a drink. Yes, I know, it's mescal, out-and-out embalmed deviltry +that no self-respecting drunkard would touch, but Lord A'mighty, man, +you need _something!_" + +Murguia shook his head irritably. Offers of what his body craved were +annoying hindrances before the craving of his soul. He twitched himself +free of the sentinels, and limped painfully to where Driscoll sat. He +wore no coat, but his green pantaloons with their crimson stripes were +rolled to the knee, and the white calzoncillos beneath flapped against +his skeleton ankles. His feet were bare, the better for an errand of +stealth in the night. He was a pitiful spectacle, yet a repulsive, and +the Americans despised themselves for the strange impulse they had to +kick him out like a dog. They watched him wonderingly as he tried to +speak. He panted from his late rough handling by the sentry, and his +half-closed wound gave excruciating pain. The muscles of his face jerked +horribly, but his will was tremendous, merciless, and at last the cords +of the jaw knotted and hardened. + +"To-morrow morn--morning," he began, "the Emperor will fight. It is +arranged for--for daybreak, senores. To to fight--to break +through--to--to ESCAPE!" + +"W'y then," exclaimed Harry Collins, the Kansan, "_good_ for him!" + +The parson snatched off his brass-bowed spectacles, and his brow lowered +fiercely over his cherubic eyes. + +"And so _you_ had to come and tell us?" he demanded. + +But the traitorous old man had not the smallest thought of his shame, +nor could have. + +"You--you will let him _escape?_" he challenged them in frantic +anger. + +The mess stole abashed glances at one another. They would, they knew +well enough, have to act on this information. But they were men for a +fair fight, and they had no stomach to rob the besieged of a last +desperate chance. For a moment they were enraged against the informer. + +"We'll just keep him here," said one. + +"Yes, till morning. Then he'll tell no one else, and _we_ won't. +Poor old Maxie!" + +"Sure," ejaculated Collins, "give Golden Whiskers a show!" + +The wolfish light in the sunken eyes quickened to a flash. Lust for +Maximilian's capture turned to chagrin. + +"Senores, senores mios," he whined, "you do not know yet, you do not +know, that if Maximilian is not taken----" + +"Ah, here now," growled Clay of Carroll, "you needn't worry so much. +He'll be driven back into the town all right, I reckon." + +"And what then, senor? No, you do not know. Your general, +senores--General Escobedo--has orders to--to raise the siege." + +"_What?_" + +"Si senor, to _raise_ the siege! The orders are from San Luis, from +the Senor Presidente there. He--he thinks the siege has lasted long +enough." + +"Great Scot!" + +"Precisamente. Yes, it would look like--defeat. It would, if--you don't +capture Maximilian by daybreak." + +Meagre Shanks brought his boot soles wrathfully to the ground, kicking +the stool back of him. His whole mien exuded a newspaper man's contempt +for faking. "Now then, young fellow," and he shook a long finger at the +ancient Mexican, "here you know all that Maximilian knows. And here +again you know all that the Presidente knows. All right, s'pose you just +tell us now more or less about how mighty little you _do_ know?" + +"It's--it's like a message from El Chaparrito," the parson demurred. + +"From Shorty?" Daniel almost roared. "Oh come, Clem, don't you go to +mixing up the unseen and all-seeing guardian of the Republica with this +dried-up, wild-eyed specimen of a dried-up--of, of an old rascal. No one +ever hears from El Chaparrito 'less there's a crisis on, and is there +one on now? You know there ain't. If there was, someone would be hearing +from Shorty--Driscoll there, prob'bly. But there ain't. Shucks, this old +codger is only plum' daft. Aren't you now"--he appealed querulously to +Murguia, "aren't you just crazy--_say?_" + +But even as the Americans breathed easier, they stared aghast at the old +man. + +"Crazy?" he repeated. "Crazy?" he fairly shrieked, clutching Boone by +the sleeve. "No, I am not! Senor, say that I am not! No, no, no, I am +not crazy, not yet--not--not before it is done, not--before----" + +"God!" Boone half whispered. "Look at his eyes now!" + +The old man checked himself in trembling. No help for him lay in human +testimony. But there was his own will, which had driven his frail body. +Now as a demon it gripped his mind and held it from the brink. + +"Go, out of here, all of you!" he burst on them. "Go, I have more to +tell--more, more, more, do you understand?--but I'll tell it to no one, +to no one, unless to Mister Dreescol." + +A raving maniac or not, canards or not, there might be in all this what +was vital. The Americans stirred uneasily, in a kind of awe, and at a +nod from Driscoll they left the tent. + +Murguia grew quieter at once. His faculties tightened on the effort +before him. He was alone with the man who would understand, so he +thought; who had the same reason to understand, so he thought. + +Driscoll had shared nothing of the late emotions. He had smoked +impassively. His interest was of the coldest. Only his eyes, narrowed +fixedly on the Mexican, betrayed the heed he gave. When the others were +gone, he uncrossed his legs, and crossed them the other way, and thrust +the corncob into his pocket. + +"Sit down!" + +Murguia dropped to the nearest camp stool. + +"Now then, you with your dirty little affairs, why do you come to me?" + +Murguia leaned forward over the table between them, his bony arms among +candles and a litter of earthen plates. The odor of meat assailed his +nostrils. But the hunger in his leer had no scent for food. + +"This _is_ the time I meant, senor, when Rodrigo told you that you +would see me." + +"About the ivory cross? But I gave you that a month ago." + +"A month ago--a month, wasted! How much sooner I would have come, only +another had to be--persuaded--first." + +"Oh, had he? Then it's not about the cross? And this other? Suppose I +guess? He was--he was the red-haired puppy, my old friend the Dragoon, +who carried you off wounded that day? Humph, the very first guess, too!" + +Murguia darted at him a look of uneasy admiration. + +"I would have told Your Mercy, anyway," he said, half cringing. "Yes, he +is Colonel Lopez." + +"And you 'persuaded' him?" + +"Events did. Since the siege began I've tried, I've worked, to convince +him that these same events would happen. Ugh, the dull fool, he had to +wait for them." + +"I can almost guess again," said Driscoll, as though it were some +curious game, "but if you'd just as soon explain----" + +"Listen! You remember two years ago at my hacienda, when Lopez sentenced +you to death? But why did he sentence you to death, why, senor?" + +"That's an easy one. It was because he didn't want my offer of +Confederate aid to reach Maximilian." + +"But why not? I will tell you. It was because he was trying even then to +buy the Republic's good will, in case--in case anything should happen. +But he was _afraid_ to change, the coward! He must first +_know_ which side would win. I am his orderly--_he_ knows why +I am--and I've tried to drive it into his thick wits that the Empire is +damned and has been, but he still doubted, even when we were starving +again, even when every crumb was gathered into the common store, even +when it was useless to shoot men for not declaring hidden corn, even +when forced loans were vain, since money could no longer buy. No senor, +even with proofs like these, Miguel Lopez was stubborn." + +"I'd prob'bly guess he was a loyal scoundrel, after all." + +"More yet, he has fought bravely, making himself a marked man in the +Republic's eyes." + +"Then why----" + +"Because so long as the Empire had a chance, or he thought it had, he +hoped for more coddling. You see, senor, he thought Marquez was coming +back with relief. There was that--that Frenchwoman you know of--who +brought news from the capital. But Maximilian dared not make the news +public. He forged a letter instead, a letter from Marquez, and he had +its contents proclaimed. Marquez had been delayed, so all Queretaro +read, but he had at last destroyed the Liberals in his path, and was +then hurrying here with his victorious army. This false hope blinded +Lopez with the others in there. But when Marquez did not come, when +utter demoralization set in, when we were a starving town against +thirty-five thousand outside, when there were scores of deserters every +day, when any man who talked of surrender was executed, and still no +Marquez, then Lopez began----" + +"I see, he began to be persuaded?" + +"Still, he wanted to be a general. But the other generals forced +Maximilian not to promote him." + +"So he was disappointed?" + +"And persuaded, senor. The sally was already planned for this morning, +but Lopez argued obstacles, and so got it postponed until to-morrow +morning. He wanted to--to act on his--persuasion. And that is why," +Murguia got to his feet and limped around the table to Driscoll, "and +that is why," he ended in a croaking whisper, "why I am here!" + +"And the red puppy, how near here did _he_ come with you?" + +Again Murguia darted at his questioner that uneasy glance of admiration. + +"Lopez is waiting between the lines," he replied. "As to our own lines, +we passed them easily, since Lopez commands the reserve brigade and +places the sentinels himself around La Cruz monastery." + +"Oh, does he?" Driscoll whistled softly. "But what's your plan?" He put +the question sympathetically, which disturbed Don Anastasio vastly more +than the American's peremptory tone in the beginning. "What's your +plan?" he asked again, gently coaxing. + +Murguia hesitated. This polite drawing-room interest was the most +ironical of encouragement for villainy. Driscoll frowned impatiently, +but at once he was smiling again. He placidly filled his corncob, and a +moment later, his gaze piercing the tobacco smoke, he said, "Then I'll +tell you. You're here to make a dicker, you and your tool between the +lines. The monastery of La Cruz on top of the bluff is the citadel of +Queretaro. Maximilian has his quarters there. The troops there are the +reserve brigade. This puppy, this mongrel, commands the reserve brigade. +He places the sentinels. And you are his orderly.--Oh, I haven't +forgotten how he let you off that time he condemned me!--So now you are +his orderly, for your own reasons and his. And here you are, talking +mysteriously about _capturing_ Maximilian. But you don't mean that, +snake. You are here to _sell_ him! Howsoever," and smiling a little +at the stilted phrasing, Driscoll paused and delicately rammed the +tobacco tighter in the bowl, "howsoever, Murgie, you've come to the +wrong market. No, there's no demand for Maximilians just now, not in +this booth. But why in blazes didn't you go to Escobedo? With his +Shylock beard, I reckon _he'd_ take a flyer in human flesh." + +"I was going to him, but I came to you first, to take us there, to take +Lopez and myself, I--I thought you would manage it all, because +you--Your Mercy is the strongest, the most resourceful----" + +"Resourceful enough, eh, to dodge the bullets you had fixed up for me +once? Thanks, Murgie, but I liked your attentions then better than your +slimy advances now. By the way, how are you going to get to Escobedo?" + +The tone was honey itself. + +Murguia gasped, yet not so much to find himself a prisoner, as to find +himself mistaken in the American. + +"Now maybe," Driscoll suggested, "maybe you'll be wondering yourself why +you bring your dirty little affairs to me? Lopez may be an open book, +but you seem to've read _me_ wrong. Prob'bly the language is +foreign." + +Murguia's jaw dropped, and he gaped as one who beholds the collapse of +high towering walls. It was his system of life, of motives calculated, +of humanity weighed. It was the whole fabric of hate and passions which +quivered and crashed and flattened in a chaos of dust before his wildly +staring eyes. + +"You mean, senor, you mean you do not want--as well, as _I!_--to +bring to his end this libertine, this thief of girlhood, this prince who +scatters death, who scatters shame, this--this----" + +"Man alive, you're screaming! Stop it!" + +With his nails the old man combed the froth from his lips. + +"But you too have cause," he cried, "cause not so heavy, but cause +enough, as well as I! There was my daughter, my little girl! With you +there is that French wo----" + +He stopped, for he thought he heard the sharp click of teeth. But +Driscoll was only grave. + +"Well, go on," he said. "But--speak for your daughter only." + +"I can't go on. I won't go on," Murguia burst out desperately, and flung +up his arms. "If you don't understand already, then I can't make you. +It's useless. A book? You're a stone! But any other, who had a heart for +suffering, in your place would----" + +"Oh shut up, Murgie!" cried Driscoll wearily, but in something akin to +supplication. + +With the serpent's wisdom, the tempter struck no more on that side. His +fangs were not for the blighted lover. What, though, of the soldier? + +"No one doubts, senor," he whined unctuously, "that Your Mercy is loyal +to the Republic. So it cannot be that Y'r Mercy knows----" + +"See here, Murgie, I'm getting sleepy. But I'll find you a comfortable +tent, with plenty to eat, and a polite guard----" + +"Senor," stormed the old man, "I tell you you don't know what this means +to the Republic. Maximilian will escape, no matter the cost. At daybreak +there is to be a concentrated attack on some point in your lines; but +where, nobody knows except Miramon. Then Maximilian will cut through +with the cavalry. The infantry will follow, if it can. And after them, +the artillery. You Republicans may not even know it until too late, +because meantime you will be fighting the townspeople, thinking you are +fighting the whole army." + +Driscoll roused himself suddenly. "The townspeople?" + +"Si senor, they are to be a decoy. Some volunteered, the rest were +drafted. They have been armed, but they are only to be killed, they are +only to draw the Republican strength, while the Emperor and the army +escape." + +Driscoll sprang from his seat, in an agitation that was Murguia's first +hope. + +"Do you mean to tell me," he demanded, "that this Maximilian who makes +speeches about not deserting intends now to sacrifice these poor +helpless devils? Prove it!" + +Murguia had touched neither lover nor soldier. But what man was here, in +boots and woolen shirt, puffing angrily at a corncob, yet sitting in +judgment supreme on the proud Hapsburg himself? Blindly stumbling, +Murguia had touched the inexplicable man who was of stone, and the +baffled fiend that was in him leaped up with a cry of glee. + +"To prove it?" he cried, "Ai, then Lopez shall walk with you in our +outer trenches. For in them you shall see the doomed townsmen +themselves, a thousand townsmen, sleeping there until the dawn. +Afterward, when Maximilian is safe, they who are still alive will be +free to surrender." + +"And then----" But Driscoll knew the temper of the siege. What with the +chief prize lost, there would be scant mercy for surrendered townsmen. + +"God in heaven," he muttered fervently, "if there's any to suffer, it +might as well be the guilty one, and a thousand times better one than +one thousand! A man's a man, or alleged to be!--Murgie, you wait here, +I'm going to call the others." + +The others came, and heard. It was the court en banc, five Missourians +and a Kansan. And the culprit was a Caesar. But they hewed forth their +Justice as rugged and huge, and as true, as would the outlaw, Michel +Angelo. Like him, they were their own law. Nor were they nice gentlemen, +these Homeric men who spat tobacco. Finding their goddess pandered to by +those who were nice gentlemen, and finding the gift of these a pretty +scarf over her eye, they roughly tore it away. For them she was not that +kind of a woman. + +"W'y, this prince is no Christian," Crittenden announced in querulous +discovery. + +"One thousand loyally dying for their sovereign," Daniel mused, his +romantic soul wavering. "Sho!" he cried the instant after, "that thing's +out-dated!" + +"And the prince there----" began the Kansan angrily. + +"May just go--to--the--devil!" + +All swung round on one of their number. It was the parson himself who +had pronounced sentence. + +Then they set out under the stars to attend to it. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +UNDER A SPANISH CLOAK + + + "What misadventure is so early up, + That calls our person from our morning's rest?" + --_Romeo and Juliet_. + + +Just within their own bivouac four Missourians waited with eight horses. +Driscoll and Boone, and the small limping shadow of Murguia between +them, went on outside the sentry line toward the Alameda. When they +returned, a stranger accompanied them, a little distance apart. + +"It's true," Driscoll whispered to those who had staid. "The trenches +are filled with townsmen. _He_ took me." + +The Americans glanced once the stranger's way, and grunted. He was a +large man, hidden to the eyes in a Spanish cloak. For all the charity of +darkness, he seemed ill at ease, and held himself from them, a marked +figure, alone. A leprosy in himself tainted his every thought. He would +not willingly come near any man. He understood English, unhappily now +for him, and Boone's warning as they mounted seared like vitriol. "Look +out, Harry, don't touch the filthy skut! It'll take the rotting of death +to clean your fingers." After that, even Murguia drew involuntarily away +from the stranger. + +They circled the town widely, having only Republican challenges to +quiet, and they dismounted under the trees which shade the valley to the +northeast, between the Sangremal, or mound of La Cruz, and the +besiegers' range of hills. Here, under La Cruz's steep bluff, the +Republican general-in-chief had his quarters, and here he kept a hawk's +jealous watch on the walls above, where slept his country's invader. + +Open battle is clear honor, so reckoned; but it takes a brave man to +dive for a pearl in slime. Driscoll was the one to conduct Murguia and +his gloomy companion into the presence of General Escobedo. When he +rejoined the other five outside the tent, he was alone. + +"Well, come on," he said as he mounted under the trees. "We needn't stay +for the rest of it, thank God." + +For a while they rode in silence back toward their camp. They passed +under the aqueduct and entered the open plain. Then the parson stretched +out his hand to the pommel of Driscoll's saddle. + +"Well?" he ventured softly. + +"Well, Clem, it's done." + +The others crowded their horses nearer. + +"I want to tell you all," Driscoll abruptly began again. "I want to tell +you that I've just seen the strangest thing of my whole life, right back +there in that tent. I--well, it's simply flattened me out!" + +"You mean Lopez, Din?" one asked tentatively. + +"Lopez? No, no, there's nothing strange in him. Any low hound will sell +out to save his hide. No, Dan, I mean the other. I mean the old man. +He's the one who used to run the blockade off Mobile, and a +whiter-livered, more contemptible old grandmother I never hope to see +anywhere, no, never! Yet not a month ago, the day of that Cimatario +scrimmage, I found him on the battlefield, and he had been wounded. But +he didn't seem to know it. He didn't even seem to know that the shells +were still banging all around him." + +"An _old_ coward, too!" someone muttered. + +"But wait. He used to be one thing worse, one thing more, than a coward. +He was a miser, and such a miser that he _made_ himself face +danger. You should have seen him running a blockade, with the Yankees +chasing behind. He trembled--I tell you, he trembled like a withered +cottonwood leaf on a broken stem. Yet he whined against stoking with +turpentine, because it cost a little more. I'd 'a' thought, I did then, +that the miser was in his bones until the last trumpet. But to-night, +back in that tent just now----" + +"Well?" + +"Well, he _refused_ money! He refused _gold_! He didn't seem +to know what it was, any more than he did bullets a month ago. Escobedo +asked him his price, and shoved a glittering heap across the table at +him. You saw how he acted when we offered him something to eat? Well, he +looked the same way at the gold. He acted impatient. He didn't want to +see anything except Lopez. But you'd have called it a miser's eagerness, +the way he watched that Lopez. Only a miser don't exult when it's +someone else who pockets the money." + +"Maybe they'll divide?" + +"Not much, because Murgie could have had his share over and above. No, +it wasn't that. It wasn't the gold. He was greedy--for a soul! He wanted +to see Lopez _bought_, and no hitch. And when it was done, he wet +those catfish lips of his with his tongue. I believe the devil in hell +must look just that way when he gets some poor sinner. But to think of +that old skinflint, to think of that old feeble cowardly shark not +_knowing_ danger, not _knowing_ money----" + +"Come, Din," the parson's blessed, cheery voice interrupted, "let's +hurry back and wash our hands. Then we'll _all_ feel better." + +While the six Americans rode gloomily away from what they had done, and +from their own thoughts as they best could, a stealthy company was +forming under the trees among the tents of the Republican general. After +a time the seeming spectres began to move in unison, an undulating wave +that spread as the grayish shadow of a low hanging cloud. The dim +figures slowly swept the little space of valley, on toward the steep +slope of La Cruz, and soon they were climbing, silently creeping, nearer +and nearer the dark walls above. + +Two seemed the leaders, and the third limped close behind. But one of +the first two held a pistol ever near the heart of his companion, who +was wrapped to the eyes in a Spanish cloak. + +"Who goes----" cried an Imperialist sentry. + +"Your colonel, fool!" he of the cloak stopped him short. "I, Miguel +Lopez. I am changing the guard. Return now to your barracks and get what +sleep you can before morning. One of these men with me will take your +place." + +In like manner each later challenge was satisfied, and so on to a +cannon-battered crevice in the wall. The spectres passed through the gap +there into a field of graves on the mound's level summit. The earth had +an uncanny softness under their tread. The plots were mostly fresh, of +slain Imperialists still keeping their rank according to battalion. But +the living, the Reserve Brigade, were here as well, sleeping over the +dead. They stirred and grumbled at being disturbed, but thought then no +more of the intruders. The secret plans for the daybreak attack +explained everything. Their colonel, whose voice they knew, was shifting +forces in preparation. But when the dawn came, they awoke to find their +weapons gone, and themselves defenseless prisoners. + +Many of the spectral troop fell away to hold the cemetery, but the rest +kept on, and entered the monastery garden. Here there was a battery of +one gun, whose muzzle pointed the way to the Republican camp. Without a +sound the Imperialist gunners were replaced by Republicans. The cannon +was one captured during the Cimatario fight. It was called "La +Tempestad," and bore an inscription, "The Last Argument of Nations." Its +new possessors turned the muzzle squarely on the monastery, not fifty +yards away, where Maximilian lay then asleep. + +The shadowy host did not linger in the monastery itself. They swept +through hastily, in at the garden entrance, along the corridor, and out +by the great portico door upon La Cruz Plaza. They had passed the +citadel. The town lay before them. But in the Plaza were more cannon, +which had been taken from the trenches and massed for the supreme +effort. They lay silent, under the silent bells of the church. They lay +under the giant Cross of the Apparition, which was adorned by the +Inditos with garlands in vague memory of pagan rites on that very spot. +They lay under the splendid Arabian palms. They lay among defenders. To +take them was like prowling with a torch among broken casks of +gunpowder. Not a shot must be fired until the thing was done. Otherwise, +a quick second shot was to find the heart of Lopez. So Lopez was +exceedingly cautious. However, he commanded here. He was the Emperor's +favorite. Squad after squad, the drowsy Imperialists moved off, letting +the strangers relieve them. So the critical work was achieved, even as +day appeared over the eastern hills. Then he who had kept so close to +Lopez put his revolver away. + +"Your bargain is fulfilled, senor," he said. "Accordingly, here's the +paper I was to give you. It is your safe conduct throughout the +Republic. You are free. Go!" + +Lopez clutched the thing that meant his life, but as his fingers +tightened over it, his first greed vanished. He stared about him +uncertainly. The Plaza swarmed with men. They were the gray battalion he +had led there. In the dawning light they were still gray. They were the +Supremos Poderes de la Republica. De la Republica? Yes, of the enemy, +and he had brought them. But it was as though he had just awakened, and +found them there. The enemy? The enemy was in La Cruz! With a sharp cry, +he turned and ran back into the monastery. He brushed aside the hateful +gray uniforms. He ran panting up the stone steps. In the dark hall above +he stopped at a cell door, and pounded, and tugged frantically at its +latch. + +"Senor, awake! Hurry! We are betrayed! Hurry! Escape--escape----" + +Within came a startled sleepy voice, "What, what's--" which changed at +once to reproving dignity. "Can it be?--Lopez!" + +"But senor--sire--the Chinacos, the Republicans, they are here already!" + +"Colonel Lopez!" In its shocked surprise the voice was edged with +rebuke. "Man, man, where are your years of training near my person? One +would think you some boorish night-watchman." + +Lopez outside the door dropped his hands, and fell abjectedly silent, as +servilely abashed in his lapse of etiquette as though he stood the +traitor unmasked. + +"Now then, Miguel," spoke the Emperor more kindly, "go to General Mejia +and the others. Let them have the goodness to attend me here." + +Lopez turned on down the corridor, stopped at the doors of Generals +Mejia and Castillo, and the Prince Salm-Salm. At each he tapped lightly, +as one dazed, and announced that the enemy surrounded them. Then, +remembering, he fled. + +Within the thick walls that narrowed his state into a friar's cell, +Maximilian rose from his iron couch. "So," he sighed, almost in relief, +"Destiny means it to end in this way." He was calm, and he attired +himself carefully. He chose his general's uniform, with its rich dark +blue, and scarlet cordon. Nor did he forget the star of some royal +order, which to common men seemed a cotillion favor. When he should step +forth that morning, it was to play a world role. The prince must be +serene in the moment of trial. The nations must know that Destiny had +him in hand. And musing thus, he parted his golden beard with dainty +precision. Within a month Europe would acclaim him reverently. He noted +that his high boots glistened. Mejia and the other two, hurrying to him, +fell back in admiration to behold how placid he was. + +"Gentlemen," said he, "to leave here, or die! There's nothing else." + +He noticed a soft heap at the door, and picked it up. + +"Lopez's cloak, a disguise!" he exclaimed. "God bless the poor fellow, +he left it for me." + +He wrapped the garment about him, took his pistols, and led the way. In +the dark corridor down stairs a Republican sentry mistook the cool, +commanding figure for one of his own generals, and presented arms. +Maximilian gravely saluted, and with his three companions passed out. + +The Plaza was a blurred scene of confusion. Men were awakening to find +their arms gone, and themselves covered by muskets. Shots had been +fired. Curses abounded. Entire companies were being marched away as +prisoners. Republican officers either thought that Maximilian was Lopez, +from his cloak and height, or were too distracted to notice. It is +possible, too, that the victors would have had him escape, that they +might not have the trouble of his disposal, and that they preferred that +he should not thrust it on them. At any rate, he and the three behind +pushed their way undisturbed through cannon and brown stolid men in +gray, and reached the spot where the Plaza narrows into a street that +gently slopes down into the town. But here a guard was posted. + +"Pues, hombre, they're civilians, let them pass." + +Maximilian turned on him who spoke, and beheld the blackmailer, scout, +deserter, Don Tiburcio. He wore now the uniform of a Republican +explorador. His crossed eye gleamed so humorously up at the Emperor, it +might have been insolence, but it was only the proffered sharing of a +jest. His matter-of-fact tone prevailed, and the guard stood aside. The +four passed on down the street. In comical melancholy Don Tiburcio +looked after them, and then he perceived that a fifth had slipped by the +guard and was following closely behind. + +"The saints help us--help _him_, it's Murguia!" Tiburcio muttered +in horror. He recalled the night when Maria de la Luz was found dead. + +The old man, coatless, barefoot, in his pantaloons of Imperial green, +limped desperately to keep pace with the great strides of the four +ahead. The broad crimson stripe down each pant leg would break, +straighten, break again, in bizarre accord, with every painful step. It +was a lope, and he more like a starved wolf, a lean, persistent shadow, +ever ready for the chance to spring. + +By hastening down into the town, Maximilian thought to rally what forces +were there for a last stand; or, to be more exact, for a last tableau. +The end of his empire must have eclat. He found the town panic-stricken, +since all could see the Republic's standard over the towers of La Cruz. +Dumfounded officers had gotten to housetops, and were using their +glasses. They beheld the enemy as busy as scurrying ants on the +surrounding hills. Clouds of men from every point were sweeping across +the llano toward the town. The advance were already in the narrow +streets. Killing, looting, had begun. Clanging bells, hoof beats, yells, +musketry, and in the distance deep-voiced cannon! The Emperor and his +three companions, with the malignant shadow hovering ever near, +quickened their course through the town. They paused only to dispatch +couriers. Miramon, when found, was to come at all speed with every +possible man to the Cerro de las Campanas. They gained the adobe suburbs +on the western edge, leaving behind the fearsome rising tide of human +sound. An officer forced the Emperor to mount his horse. Many joined +their flight. They crossed broken fields, and reached the summit of the +wedge-shaped rock called las Campanas. Close behind, emerging from the +town, were the first pursuers, who quickly grew to a thick black fringe +around the hill. Shells were falling. The heavens seemed to flower +vengefully, with the Campanas knoll as the one focus. The adobe stockade +crowning the top was soon packed with fugitives, until those within, +like shipwrecked creatures on a raft, barred out those still coming. The +whisper spread that in the town Miramon had been taken shot through the +cheek after shooting many others. The panic grew. Men knew themselves at +bay. They recognized the deathtrap. On the outlying heights the cannon +had their range. Grenades, bombs, grape, and canister, fell as hail. + +The Emperor turned to General Mejia. + +"Could we cut our way out?" he asked. + +Mejia put down his glasses. He paused, then shook his head. + +Straightway an orderly with a white flag was sent down the hill. But the +firing did not cease for that. Maximilian, seeing that he could make no +terms for those around him, seeing them fall by scores instead, himself +followed the orderly; and following him, was the ever faithful shadow. + +From out the dark fringe a man on a white horse, a black bearded man +with monstrous flapping ears, General Escobedo, rode forth to meet the +Hapsburg. Then Maximilian forgot the eyes of the world, and thought of +her who had suffered with him, who had suffered more than he, to hazard +this, their dream. + +"It is our throne, Charlotte," he murmured, and gave up his sword. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +EL CHAPARRITO + + + "Meagre were his looks, + Sharp misery had worn him to the bones." + --_Romeo and Juliet._ + + +A few days later Jacqueline and Berthe attended a performance at the +Teatro de Iturbide. It was the first held there since the beginning of +the siege, and to the place late foes were thronging eagerly in what +seemed a most inordinate thirst for amusement. The playhouse was without +a roof. Its metal covering had been widely sown in the shape of bullets, +and only a canvas overhead kept out the sun. But the broiling pit was +filled, as well as circling tier over tier of loges, and in the street a +great crowd jostled and surged, like people who stare at the dead walls +of a jail because a man is being hanged inside. If the curious cannot +have both Time and Space to their liking, then the more ghoulish will +gorge themselves on the coincidence of Time alone. "Now," they whisper +awesomely, "his hands and feet are being strapped! What _must_ he +be thinking this very instant, and we standing here?" So those outside +the Teatro de Iturbide sweated patiently. In all evidence it was not an +ordinary performance scheduled for that day. + +"Buzzards?" said Jacqueline, looking up and seeing their outspread wings +shadowed on the canvas roof, "Fi donc, _that_ effect is long since +shabby!" But it chilled her, nevertheless. + +The curtain was up. A drop, showing fields in green and a receding road +in brown, filled the back. The actors seemed actors solely, and this +idea persisted with the Frenchwoman, as with many another, throughout. +Seven military characters arranged themselves in a kind of state on the +unpainted, slanting stage. They might have been supernumeraries, like +the "senators" in "Othello." At least their severe demeanor became them +awkwardly. They wore uniforms, but not of appalling rank. He who +presided was only a lieutenant colonel, the other six were captains. +Before them, each on a square stool, sat two generals, one with a +bandaged cheek. There were legal gentlemen in plain black, while guards +at stiff attention here and there completed the grouping. Beyond any +doubt, it was a trial scene. And to confirm the surmise, one of the +legal gentlemen, a very peaceable appearing youth, arose and in the +Republic's name demanded the lives of Miguel Miramon and Tomas +Mejia--here he indicated the two generals--and with impressive cadence, +also in the Republic's name, demanded likewise the life of Fernando +Maximiliano de Hapsburgo. The lieutenant colonel and the captains +knitted their seven tawny brows portentously, but they were not in the +least astounded at such a very extraordinary request. + +There was no need of a theatrical production at all. Other Imperialists +had not been so unnecessarily distinguished, as for instance, General +Mendez, that ancient enemy of Regules and executioner of Republicans +under the Black Decree. Caught the day Queretaro fell, he was shot in +the back as a traitor. Yet he met a legal death. Taken in armed defiance +of the Republic, identity established, the hollow square and shooting +squad, such was the routine prescribed. But the lesser official relics +of the Empire, six hundred in all, escaped generally with a few months +of prison. The rank and file of the betrayed army had already melted +away. But for the three arch-culprits a trial was deemed requisite, and +President Juarez, in San Luis Potosi, so ordered. Hence the stage +setting as above described. + +Maximilian was at first surprised. He had said to Escobedo, "I am ready +to go whenever you can favor me with an escort to the coast, but first I +require assurance that my loyal followers shall not suffer." But the +Republican chief had smiled oddly, and locked him up. Later, however, +Maximilian had seemed content. A trial for his life, that would add the +last needed glamour to the prestige of his return to Europe. So he +affably humored his captors, and was rewarded with humiliation--his +judges could hardly be more obscure. So as he was genuinely sick abed, +he got himself excused from playing his part in the Teatro Iturbide. + +The soi-disant Emperor had four conscientious defenders, chosen from +Republican jurists, two of whom were then in San Luis to do what they +might before Juarez. The other two spent eloquence and acumen on the +court's seven tawny brows. Their first point came from Maximilian +himself. It was complacent, this point. The naivete of it was superb. + +"I am no longer Emperor," so the defense ran, "nor was I during the +siege; because, before leaving the capital, I drew up my abdication, +which was then countersigned by my ministers. However, it was not to +take effect until I should fall prisoner." + +When the Republic recovered her breath, she felt in her amusement a +wounded pride. This prince must think her very simple. So, she was to +recognize the usurper's abdication after she had fought and suffered to +take the usurper? A captured thief draws from his pockets a quit-claim +deed to the plunder he has stolen, and giving it to the court, would +therefore go free! The tragedy changed for a spell to comic opera. And +matters were not helped greatly when next were invoked "the immunities +and privileges which pertain under any and all circumstances to an +archduke of Austria." + +Though handicapped by their client's arrogance, counsel yet did their +utmost. They argued law and humanity, with tremulo effects. They prayed +that "the greatest of victories be crowned by the greatest of pardons." +But it was of no use. The bloodthirsty stripling persisted in the +Republic's name. This Maximiliano was a Mexican. In many beautiful +speeches the said Maximiliano had said so. Hence he could not evade +responsibility to the laws of his adopted country. And there was, for +instance, the law of 1862 concerning treason. + +Well, in a word, the three accused were straightway sentenced to death; +and Escobedo, approving, named Sunday, June 16th, for the execution. It +might be mentioned of this Escobedo that on two former occasions, when +the circumstances were exactly reversed, Mejia had each time saved his +life. Since Queretaro, there have been comments on the vigor of +Escobedo's memory. + +"Poor pliant Prince Max," sighed Jacqueline, "he is still being +influenced to stay in Mexico! Come, Berthe, we must make all speed to +San Luis and see the Presidente." + + * * * * * + +In the long hall of the Palacio Municipal at San Luis Potosi, before the +old-fashioned desk there, sat an Indian. He was low and squat and +pock-marked, and there was an ugly scar, livid against yellow, across +the upper lip. He had a large mouth, high cheek-bones, and swarthy skin +with a copperish tinge. He was a pure-blooded Indian. At twelve he did +not know a word of Spanish. His race, the Zapotecas of Oaxaca, had all +but been extinguished by the Conquest. Except for the ungainly black he +wore--excepting, too, his character--he might have been a peon, or still +the servant he once had been. But the homely, heavy features of his +round head did not, in any sense, repel. On the contrary, the +countenance was frank, though yet inscrutable. The piercing black eyes +were good eyes, and indomitable, like his muscled jaw. The flat, square +forehead made one aware of intellect, and of force. So short and thick, +he looked a sluggish man, but it was the phlegm of a rock, the calm of +strength, and whatever the peril, almost inanimate. His country called +him Benemerito de America, a title the noblest and rarest in its Spartan +hint of civic virtue. + +The Indian's desk was littered with messages from the princes of the +earth. Like his expiring race, he had fought their order, and they had +made of him a wandering fugitive. But now they were imploring him for +one of their number, whose surrendered sword that moment lay across +their petitions. Two of the letters, but not from princes, he had read +with deep consideration. One was from the President of the United +States, the other from Victor Hugo. But these also he shoved from him, +though regretfully, and now he was gazing out over the Plaza, the line +of his jaw as inflexible as ever. + +But they were not many, the moments this man had to himself, and it was +not long before a gendarme in coarse blue, serving as an orderly, +disturbed him. + +"Well, show her in then," he said, frowning at the card laid on his +desk, nor did he rise when an unusually beautiful but very grave young +woman entered the room. + +"At your orders, Senorita de--d'Aumerle. You come, I suppose, to save +him?--But," he added with the austerity of a parent, "it is not +difficult to imagine why _you_ are interested." + +"No, Senor Presidente," he heard himself quietly contradicted, "Your +Excellency can not imagine." + +He looked up, into a pair of honest gray eyes. But her tone had already +told him enough. He rose to his feet in rugged courtesy. The Indian was +a wise man, and he knew now that other men had whispered falsely about +one exquisite Parisienne. + +"Pardon me, child," he said gently. "No, I cannot imagine." + +Impulsively Jacqueline leaned over the desk and gave him her hand. +"Thank you," she said, in a voice that trembled unexpectedly. From that +moment, too, she abandoned tactics. The wiles of courts would avail +nothing against the primitive straightforwardness of the man before her. +It seemed, moreover, good and homely, to cast them aside. She took a +seat near the window, since he remained standing until she did, and +waited. He should speak first, and afterward, she would accept. For +there was nothing, she felt, that she could say. O rare tongue of woman, +to so respect the leash of intuitions! + +As for Don Benito Juarez, he had not meant to speak at all. But knowing +her now to be not what he had thought, he spoke as he had not to any +plenipotentiary of any crowned head. + +"You are a Frenchwoman, senorita," he began. "Tell me, your coming must +be explained by that?" + +"Now," said Jacqueline, smiling on him cordially, "Your Excellency's +imagination is getting better." + +"And you wish to save Maximilian," the Presidente stated, rather than +questioned, "because he is a victim of France." + +"Because he will be considered so." + +The old Roman smiled. "My dear young lady," he said, "an answer to +France is the least of my obligations. Yet you expect it, and ask for +clemency, though I deny all the great nations?" + +"Oh senor, what's the use? Let him go!" + +The keen black eyes regarded her quizzically. "Do you know," he said, +"this is the second time I've heard that question to-day? One of our +American officers had himself put in command of the escort for +Maximilian's two lawyers here, and now I believe he did it simply +because he too wanted to know, 'What's the use?' It was anti-climax, and +a wet blanket over the fervid eloquence of the two lawyers. But +nevertheless, he hit the one argument." + +"Yes, yes!" + +"In a word, why not brush aside our archduke? He's harmless, now, he's +insignificant? Why not take from him the only dignity left, that of +dying?" + +"Of course, Senor Juarez! Of course!" + +"And at the same time win bright renown for ourselves, instead of what +will be called harsh cruelty?" + +"Surely!" + +The smile vanished. The large mouth closed tightly. + +"No," spoke the judge of iron. "He dies! That is the truest mercy, a +mercy to those who might otherwise follow him here. And we, senorita, we +have already suffered enough from Europe." + +"But the other two?" pleaded Jacqueline. "They are Mexicans." + +"They are that, por Dios, and they make me proud of my race. Miramon, +Mejia, they are the leaven. They redeem Lopez, they redeem Marquez, they +redeem the deserters who now so largely form my armies, who before had +deserted me for the French invasion. By the signal example of these two +men to die to-morrow, the world shall know that Mexicans are not all +traitors. And as we grow, we Mexicans, we may grow beyond the empty +loyalty of glowing Spanish words. Remembering such an example, we may +come to be, in our very hearts, breathing things of honor. We have been +shackled because of infamy during the last centuries. Can you wonder, +then, that we use the treacherous weapon of the Conquistadores?--But +that's apart. The loyalty of Miramon and Mejia has been loyalty to an +invader, a wrong their country will not forgive. But our cultured +gentleman of Europe, our vain fool who would regenerate the poor Indito, +he will perhaps not feel so ashamed of us, not when he has two such +companions in death, and not when he learns, though painfully, that the +rod of Mexican justice respects neither immunity nor privilege of birth. +There, senorita, I've had to talk more about this one individual than +about the hundreds of others who have been punished for much less than +he." + +"But it must be terrible to die, senor. And _he_ doesn't realize, +while a delay of only a few days----" + +"Would suffice for his escape?" + +Jacqueline reddened guiltily. "No, to prepare for his end," she said. + +The Presidente smiled tolerantly. "Never fear," he answered first her +confusion, "our justice stands committed, and to wink at escape now +would be cowardly. Yet, whether you meant it or not, you are right, and +the execution stands postponed until the nineteenth. A doomed man may +learn much in three days to comfort him--on his way. But the criminal of +all is lacking." + +"Marquez, you mean?" + +"U'm, him also. But I was thinking of Louis Napoleon, _and_ his +wife." + +The order of postponement, being openly telegraphed to Escobedo at +Queretaro, was known at once in San Luis, and caused a fury of +excitement. For none doubted but that it meant eventual pardon. The +tender hearted rejoiced. The rabid ones muttered. The wise shook dubious +heads. And even as Jacqueline and Berthe were hurrying back to Queretaro +in the canvas-covered coach, another caller was admitted roundly on the +president's privacy, without so much as being announced. Juarez wondered +if his orderly had gone crazy, for the newcomer thus obsequiously +presented looked to be a species of ancient vagabond. + +"Well, what is it?" the President asked, frowning heavily. He was +curiously irritated. "Stay," he interposed, "those dusty, muddy rags you +have on, that green and red, that's not a Republican uniform?" + +"It's of the Batallon del Emperador," replied the stranger, unabashed. + +"Bless me the saints! Well, well, well, I suppose you, too, want to save +your Maximilian. But how does it happen that you're not under guard +yourself?" + +For answer the old man came nearer. He limped feebly, and the while he +unbuttoned his coarse red jacket. Juarez watched him sluggishly, but +with a hand upon a revolver under the papers on his desk. The stranger, +however, drew forth nothing more sensational than five or six square +bits of parchment. Yet these aroused the President more than a weapon +could have done. They were blank, except at the bottom, and there the +President read his own signature, "Benito Juarez, Libertad y Reforma." + +"Your--Your Excellency remembers?" + +"How well!" The admission came involuntarily. Juarez was laboring under +an emotion that he could not at first control. He stared at his visitor +in a new wonder. So gaunt, so hollow, so utterly insignificant! The +President's wonder grew. + +"You--you gained entrance here by one of these slips?" he questioned +sharply. The old man nodded. "And it was countersigned by----" + +"Si senor, by El Chaparrito. The slip said, 'Admit bearer at once.'" + +"Then I cannot blame my orderly! But who are you?" + +"Anastasio Murguia, to serve Your Mercy." + +"Bien, Senor Murguia, and now will you explain what no other messenger +from our unknown friend has done? Who--who is El Chaparrito?" + +But, like the wretched messengers who had gone before, Anastasio Murguia +only shrugged his shoulders blankly. "Your Excellency does not know El +Chaparrito?" he asked. "And yet you trusted him, a stranger, with your +signature?" + +There was a crafty stress on his words. + +"Ah, senor," Juarez placidly inquired, "what if a chief magistrate did +not know when to trust? You are to be informed, then, that one year ago +last October, at Chihuahua, I was saved from a French flying column by +an Indito. The poor wretch had run across the desert with his warning. +But he could prove nothing. He couldn't even tell who sent him, except +that it was a short gentleman, a senor chaparro. Yet it was well for the +Republic that I took his word and fled. Later, when I reached the Rio +Grande, and he wanted my signature to some blank squares of parchment, +which he was to take back to his senor chaparro--well, senor, I trusted +again. That Indito in breech-clout obtained my autograph some twenty +times over." + +The President, however, might have added that every Republican officer +was advised first to test any warning on any bit of parchment signed +"Benito Juarez." Yet, as a matter of fact, there came to be such magic +in the name of El Chaparrito that the name of Juarez thereto was only +needed as a guarantee that the lesser name was genuine. + +"Now, then, Senor Emissary," said the President, "what danger hangs over +our Republic this time?" + +"None, senor. I return the parchment squares left over. El--El +Chaparrito has no more thoughts for the Republic. He thinks," and +Murguia ground his knuckles into the desk top, "he thinks of no one, of +no one--except Maximilian! And he has never thought of aught else. The +Republic? Bah, the Republic was only his tool, Senor Presidente. Only +his tool, but the tool needed sharpening. They say that's the way with +the guillotine, eh, Senor Presidente?" + +"But hombre--No, our unseen friend of the Republic, our Chaparrito, +would not ask for Maximilian's pardon?" + +"_Pardon!_"--It was fairly a cry of rage--"Yet you, Senor +Presidente, _you_ postpone the execution! _You_ mean to pardon +him!" + +"Indeed?" + +"Yes, I--I think so. But you shall not, Senor Presidente. I come to, +to----" + +"Now that's curious. Possibly I, too, am to be sharpened into a kind of +guillotine, eh, senor?" + +"All the others were," Murguia returned stubbornly. "That is, all except +one." + +"Ha, then El Chaparrito found one man who was incorruptible?" + +"Yes. But still Your Excellency is mistaken. El Chaparrito did not use +money to win his agents. That, senor, is the unsafest way of all." + +"You would tell me, senor, that El Chaparrito had a safe way?" + +"Yes, and it was absolute. He awakened memory, the memory, Senor +Presidente, of wrongs. For example, there was Your Excellency's savior +in breech-clout. He once lived in a forest village down in the Huasteca. +One night Dupin came and burned the huts, and the Indito's family +perished with other women and children there. That village alone gave +the Chaparrito many another messenger or spy, but memories left by the +Empire were plentiful enough everywhere, and cheap. The Chaparrito +simply drafted them, that was all. But once his system failed. Yet--well +the man in that case was an American, and _they_ are liable to be +exceptions to any rule, to any passion. But in the end he was safe +enough too, though something else, that I can't understand, made him +so." + +"And what did he do, this American?" + +"He took me to Escobedo." + +"And you?" + +"I took Lopez. That same night Queretaro fell." + +"_You?_ Now--now to what particular wrong in _your_ case, +senor, does the Republic stand thus indebted?" + +Juarez put the question lightly, even patronizingly. But his steadfast +gaze had not once left his gaunt and battered visitor. By design, too, +he had not asked a second time who the Chaparrito was, because he saw, +or felt, that the old man knew, though former emissaries from that +mysterious source had not known. And Juarez meant to possess the secret. +But with his casual irony he never looked for any such kindling of +memory as then flashed deep in the cavernous sockets opposite him. The +eyes of the aged man glowed and darkened, glowed and darkened, and +seemed the very breathing of some famished beast. It was a thing to +startle even Benito Juarez, who during many, many years had learned the +meaning of civil war. The President leaped to his feet, pointing a +finger. + +"You are," he cried, "yes, _you_ are the Chaparrito!--No?--Yes! Ha, +I've struck, I've struck!" + +He had indeed. The colossal guile and intellect and will, the giant whom +men in awe called El Chaparrito, was only old, withered Anastasio +Murguia. But the astute Juarez _knew_ that he was right. He knew it +in that one look of consuming, conquering hate. He knew the giant in +that hate. The feeble flesh, Anastasio Murguia, was an incident. Yet +even so, only the President's tenacity held him to where his instinct +had leapt. For under discovery Murguia was changed to a huddled, abject +creature, stammering denial. Yet it must be true, it must. The +strangest, the most weird of contrasts in the same soul and body--yet it +must, it _was_ true! + +And Murguia? He might have asked for reward, and had it. But his was +rankest despair. His work was not finished, his goal not attained. And +now his most potent instrument of all, the Chaparrito, was miserably +identified in his own self, was taken from him. + +Juarez rose and touched his shoulder, "Come," he said, "there's much too +much tension here. Now then, sit down, so. Let me see, you said your +name was--yes, Murguia. But--why, Dios mio, that's the Huasteca miser! +Well, well, well, and so you are that rich old hacendado who never gave +even a fanega of corn to Republic or French either, unless frightened +into it? But hombre, we've had _big_ sums from the Chaparrito, and +all unasked!" + +And yet must it still be true, yet must even this contrast accord. El +Chaparrito had indeed given munificently. But in each case it was to +bridge a crisis. As the shrewdest general he knew a vital campaign, and +aided, if need be. But on a useless one the Republic's soldiers might +starve, might freeze, might bleed and die, without ever the most +niggardly solace ever reaching them from El Chaparrito. Economy was +applied to vengeance, and made it unspeakably grim. + +"Once though," Juarez pursued, "you all but lost your Maximilian? I mean +last fall when he started for the coast. He could have escaped to +Europe." + +"I know," said Murguia quietly, "but I was near him. If he had not +turned back, I would have done it myself." + +"It?" + +"The justice which Your Excellency has just postponed three days." + +"Dios mio, but our Chaparrito is a dangerous person! He'd have to be +locked up if Maximilian were pardoned." + +"But--but Your Excellency will not pardon him!" + +"To be sure, I had forgotten. I am to be given a memory. Well?" + +"Your Excellency remembers, he remembers Zacatecas?" + +"Last February? Certainly I do. Miramon came, but a warning from El +Chaparrito, from you, came first, and a last time I escaped. As it was, +I was reported captured, and I sometimes wonder what Maximilian would +have done had that report been true." + +"If I should tell you, senor?" + +"Ah, that is beyond even you, since Maximilian has never had the chance +to decide my fate." + +"But he did decide, senor. He got word that you were taken at Zacatecas, +and at once he sent orders to Miramon as to your treatment. But Miramon +was already defeated, already fleeing to Queretaro." + +"And the orders, the orders from Maximilian?" + +"They never arrived. They were intercepted. They--yes, here they are, +but before reading them, will Your Excellency promise to imagine himself +in Miramon's power?" + +"I would, naturally. Come, senor, hand them over." + +It made curious reading, that weather-blotched dispatch. For Don Benito +Juarez it was reading as curious as a man may ever expect to come by. In +the handwriting of his prisoner, he read his own death sentence. + +"Your--Your Excellency sees?" Murguia stammered hungrily. + +"H'm, what, for example?" + +"Why, that--that Maximilian would not have pardoned?" + +"On the contrary, senor mio, that is precisely what the generous +Maximilian did intend. Listen--Miramon was 'to delay execution until His +Majesty should pass upon it.'" + +"No--no, Your Excellency, he would not have----" + +"O ho, so you think you've missed your last stroke! You think that there +is no memory for me in this dispatch! But don't whine so, because, man, +there is, there is! It may not be the memory of my intended death, but +it is the memory of--intended insult. Oh, what a patriot he must have +thought me, this good, regenerating prince! He had already offered to +make me chief justice. But this time he would have saved me from his own +Black Decree. And I would have been touched by his clemency? I would +have accepted, the grateful tears streaming from my eyes? And thus I +would be regenerated? It sounds beautiful. It sounds like the chivalrous +Middle Ages, when there were Black Princes along with the Black Decrees. +My liege lord _he_ would have been, but my liege Patria, what of +her?--Well, well, well, he has three days in which to understand me +better, and to think of his own regeneration a little." + +"Then," cried Murgia, limping gleefully toward him, "then there will be +no pardon?" + +"I see," said Juarez, suddenly cold and very calm, "I am now corrupted. +I am now safe, like the others. Take that chair, wait!" + +Saying which the Presidente left his desk, clapped his hands for the +orderly, and seated himself near the window. To the orderly he said, "Go +to the diligence office across the Plaza. Ask for Colonel Driscoll, the +American officer who commands the escort of the two lawyers. Say that I +wish to see him here at once." + +When Driscoll appeared, Juarez put to him this question, "Colonel--I'll +say 'General' whenever you decide to be a citizen among us--Colonel, can +you reach Queretaro early to-morrow morning by riding all night?" + +"Not with my own horse, sir. He's getting old, and deserves better." + +"Then it's all right, senor. You will take any horse you want. I have +telegraphed to stop the execution, but there's been no reply. You must +therefore see General Escobedo yourself. Look on my desk. Do you find a +packet there?" + +"Yes." + +"Sealed? Well, break it open. Now read the contents to my visitor here." + +Driscoll unfolded a long sheet of foolscap, and began to read. Murguia +the while fidgeted in an agony, but listening further, his limbs grew +tense, and a hideous joy overspread his face. + +"'But at sunrise of the nineteenth you will execute the sentence already +approved.'" + +The prisoners were not to be deceived by false hopes. There would be no +further appeal. The last, the final decision, had been made. + +"I have signed it, I believe, Colonel Driscoll?" + +"Yes." + +"Then seal it again, and hurry! Good-bye, sir, good-bye." + +When Driscoll was gone, the Benemerito of America turned to the grinning +hyena-like old man who was his visitor. His own dark features were +passionless, impenetrable. + +"You observe, senor," he said, "that Justice does not require +corrupting, nor even a memory. So let El Chaparrito add this to his +philosophy, that he need not boast again of an infallible spur to civic +loyalty, for he will never find it, nor I. And yet--there is +patriotism." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +IN ARTICULO MORTIS + + + "The centuries are conspirators against the sanity and majesty + of the soul.... Man cannot be happy and strong until he lives + in the present."--_Emerson._ + + +For Maximilian it was the eve of execution. The soul feels that there is +much to decide at such a time, but under the nettling merciless load the +soul will either flounder pitifully and decide nothing, else lie numb +and in a half death vaingloriously believe that it has decided +everything. So may the condemned be open-eyed or blind. Or, according to +the police reporter, be either coward or stoic. But it really depends in +large measure on whether realization be dulled, or no. + +Maximilian had too late come to understand that his anointed flesh was +violable at all. He learned it only when the death watch was actually +set on his each remaining breath. And now he was _en capilla_, in +the chapel of the doomed; he, Ferdinand Maximilian Joseph, Archduke of +Austria, Prince of Hungary and Bohemia, Count of Hapsburg, Prince of +Lorraine, Emperor of Mexico, even He! + +They had given him the tower room of Queretaro's old Capuchin church, +and against the wall was an improvised altar. But the sacrament waited. +The tapers on the snow-white cloth were as yet unlighted. Instead the +Most Serene Archduke--Emperor no longer--read from a battered volume of +Universal History, which, with a book's queer vagaries, had strayed into +his cell. He read how Charles of England had died, then he paused, +blinking at the two candles on the rough table. They were vague shapes, +they were horrors, which he now began to see, as the visions of Truth so +often are when hazily perceived. + +He bitterly envied that unhappy Stuart, who, before his palace window, +among Cavaliers and Roundheads, had died in majesty, the bright central +figure in a tragedy of august magnitude. But for the Hapsburg how +sordid, how mean, it all would be! He could see already the gaping, +yellow faces, sympathetic in their stupidity. _They_ would not +really know that a prince was dying. The very guard with shouldered +bayonet outside his door was a deserter, and it was this man, more than +aught else, that gave him to chafe against his ignoble lot. The fellow +never uttered a word, indeed; but he had a heavy, malignant eye, and +each time he passed the large inner window that opened on the corridor +he would look into the cell, as though to locate his prisoner. Then +Maximilian could feel the insolent, mocking gleam upon himself, until +for rage he clenched his fist. + +Thus the Most Serene Archduke's first perception of calamity was not +that royal blood was to flow, but that it was to flow obscurely. Even +the ancient raven curse, the curse of the Habicht which had given his +House its very name, was now fulfilled by unclean buzzards. He saw them +each day, perched on the neighboring roofs. + +He sighed and turned to his book. Universal History? Yes, but for +hundreds and hundreds of years that history of millions and millions of +people was no more than the record of his own little family group. Such +a course of reading for such a man held a terrible grandeur, and it must +have been a unique sensation of pride that touched the golden-bearded, +ultra-refined viking prince. A spoilt child he was, and though so +cruelly reproved by Life, he yet could learn no lesson in the passing +footnote that _he_ would add to that family record. He could not +see that the light which made the printed characters so dazzling, yet +distorted them. He could not know that the commonest man of the millions +and millions might read that Universal History by quite a different and +a calmer light. But he was aware of the sentinel's tread back of him, +and aware too of the fellow's coarse, familiar leer. + +One consolation he felt he might have had, and this was the dignity of +martyrdom. But no one, alas, seemed to regard him as a martyr at all. He +had begged that he alone should suffer. But the play at knightly +generosity was too shallow. For at the time Maximilian believed that he +would not suffer in any case. Later, though, when he knew that he must +die, then with simple earnestness he had pleaded for Miramon and Mejia, +and forgot himself altogether. But Juarez had hardly more than +acknowledged the telegram, and now in the cell next him Miramon was +confessing, and in the cell on his other side Mejia waited. Each of +these two men would leave a wife and child. + +Someone knocked. "No, father, not yet," Maximilian answered gently, +although his mood was impatience. The confessor sighed in protest +against the waste of precious time, but he did not move away, as he had +already twice before during the night. Instead he came and stood at the +corridor window. His lip trembled pityingly. There was news, he said. + +Maximilian pushed back the book, and was on his feet. The priest meeting +his eager look, shook his head sadly. + +"It comes from--from Miramar." + +Maximilian fell back. One hand groped out involuntarily, as in appeal +before a blow. "News of Charlotte?" he asked faintly. + +Charlotte was dead, the priest told him. + +During a long time, after the priest had gone, his head lay on his arms, +between the two candles. He heard no more the sentry challenges, nor +sensed the menace in every slightest sound of the dark night outside. +There was something else. "Death?" At first he did not consciously +strive for an answer. But the question kept falling, and falling again, +as a lash. The vulgar hands which plied the scourge, the stupid yellow +faces, these no longer mattered. He felt the blows themselves, only the +blows. + +She had died, the poor maniac! She had died, a thing for the lowliest +pity. And this was true of the haughty child of Orleans because she had +wanted a throne. Slowly her husband raised his head; and staring at the +wall, his tear-dimmed eyes opened wider and wider. Because she had +wanted a throne? Because she had wanted a dais above the meek and lowly, +above those who now pitied her! His eyes fell on the Universal +History--the family record, and there grew in his eyes a look of +detestation. Groaning suddenly, he buried his head again in his arms. + +At dawn he too was to die, and because he too had craved a sceptre. Yet, +and yet, he had meant to be an instrument of good. Born of kings, +anointed by the Vicar of Christ, he had come as agent from the Almighty. +But God had failed to sustain him, God had--again the blue eyes raised, +but dry now, and stark in terror. "Yes, yes, yes," so his reeling soul +cried to him, "there _is_ a God! There is, there is!" One sharp +breath, and the mortal fear passed. In ghastly panic he crept back from +the brink, either of the atheist's despair or of the madman's chaos. But +the cost was heavy. Since God did exist, and God yet had failed him, +then it was the man's Divine Right that must be false. He, only a man, +had mistaken his Destiny. Nay, had he a Destiny? Or why, more than +another man? Here, then, was the cost. To keep his hope of Heaven, he +stepped down among the millions and millions. His Divine Right, +crumbling under the grandeur of partition among the millions, became for +himself the most infinitesimal of shares, neither greater nor less than +that of any other human being. But glorified now by the holy alchemy of +Charity, the tiny grain became divine indeed, and he beheld it as a +glowing spark, his own inalienable share in the rights of man. So, for a +moment, the poet prince knew again his old-time exultation. Even Truth, +he now perceived, had her sublimities. + +But the pall of horror fell again. To-morrow he was to die. He was to +die because his life long he had sought to rob others of the tiny grain, +of their God-given dignity as men, and that too, even as they were +awaking to its possession. The vanity, the presumptuous, inconsistent +vanity of it all! Under the dark mediaeval cloak he had planned +enlightenment, he, who had tried to rule without parliament, without +constitution! He would have made a people believe in God's injustice, in +God's choice of a man like them to be a demigod over them. Hence the +blasphemous demigod had now to answer to human law. And it was meet and +right. Purgatory was beginning on the eve of his death. + +He, the torch of Progress! Maximilian smiled scornfully on himself. He +was only a clod of grit caught in the world's great wheels. The foreign +substance had wrought a discordant screech for a moment, and then was +mercilessly ground into powder and thrust out of the bearings. He +pondered on the first days of the Family Group, when there was +extenuation; more, when there was necessity, for a king. At any rate the +monarch then earned, or could earn, his pomp and state by services +actually rendered. And now? The Hapsburg decided that there was not a +more contemptible parasite on the body politic. The crowned head was +simply the first among paupers. He had his bowl of porridge, which was +the civil list. + +The doomed prince sank to a depth of shame that may not be conceived. He +was humanity's puny infant. He had dawdled among men centuries older +than himself. His whole being was out of harmony with the universe. Fate +had held his soul fast during those Dark Ages when he might have striven +nobly, and now had cast it forth, an anachronism. It was a soul +misplaced in eternity. The dire realization grew and grew, and with it +the tragic agony, until with a sudden and the bitterest of cries he +flung up his arms and fell heavily across the table. + +"My life!" he moaned in piteous begging for something he might not have. +"My life, to live my life over again!" + +In the first light of morning Escobedo came. The Republican general +unfolded a paper, and began to read. But instead of the death sentence, +it was reprieve. President Juarez had postponed execution for three +days. + +"Three days?" Maximilian repeated, wearily shaking his head. "If your +Republic could give me as many centuries, but three days!--Three days, +in which to _live_ my life!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +KNIGHTHOOD'S BELATED FLOWER + + + "Trusting to shew, in wordes few, + That men have an ill use + (To their own shame) women to blame, + And causeless them accuse." + --_The Nut-Brown Maid._ + + +Later the same morning there sounded the ineffable swish of silken +petticoats along the corridor and the clinking of high heels on the +tiles. La Senorita Marquesa d'Aumerle had obtained permission to visit +His Most Serene Highness. The sentinel of the evening before was again +on duty, and his evil crossed eye seemed to lighten with vast humor as +he presented arms for the lady to pass. She met his insolence with a +searching, level gaze. + +Maximilian hastened to the door of his bare cell, and took both her +hands in his. "I am beginning to recognize my friends," he said simply. +"I know, I know," he added, "you come to tell me that you failed to get +the pardon. But you do bring reprieve." + +He would have her believe that he valued that. + +Jacqueline regarded steadily the tall, slight figure in black, with the +pinioned sheep of the Golden Fleece about his neck, and she sighed. She +was disappointed in him. She had thought that pride of race, if nothing +more, would give him character during these last moments. She allowed, +too, for the grief, and the remorse, in the blow of Charlotte's death. +But she was not prepared for the roving eyes, the disordered mind, the +feverish unrest of the condemned prince. Had his soul, then, been a +cringing one throughout the night just past? It was the first time she +had seen him, except at a distance, since the day she arrived in +Queretaro, for she had chosen, and perhaps maliciously, to disconcert +the tongue of slander. Hence she could not picture the ravages of +sickness and anxiety, until now when she beheld his haggard face. It was +one to bring a pang. The cheeks were hollow, the lines sharply drawn, +and the skin was white, so very white, with never a fleck of pink +remaining. And staring from the wasted flesh were the eyes, large and +round and faded blue, and in them an appealing, a haunted look. But they +softened at sight of her, as though comforted already. + +"A reprieve is best," he said. "You cannot think that I want a pardon, +now that, that _she_ is dead!" + +"But sire----" + +"'Sire'? Ah, my lady, you are a little late, by something like a few +hundred years. You see our American was right after all; a letter no +longer makes a king." + +It was a bon mot that Maximilian had always enjoyed, it being his own, +but this time he was most zealously in earnest. + +"Monsieur, then," she said, in no mood for reforms of etiquette. "Only, +let me talk! We have three days, three days which are to be used. Your +Highness must escape!" + +But now she understood him less than before, for he only smiled wearily. +It was, then, something else than fear that had broken him so. + +Escape? And that guard in the corridor? Passing, ever passing, the +diabolical humorist seemed to chuckle inwardly, as though to stand +death-watch were the most exquisite of jokes. + +"That man?" whispered Jacqueline. "Why, that's Don Tiburcio. He was +driven out of the Imperialist ranks by Father Fischer. But from his +lips, this very night, Your Highness will hear that the road is open to +Vera Cruz. Ah sire--monsieur--we have been working, we others. There +will be horses ready, there will be a long ride, and then, you will +safely board an Austrian ship waiting for you." + +Maximilian slowly shook his head. "No," he said, "I am ready to die, +as--as ready as I shall ever be." + +"But the remaining years of your natural life, Your Highness counts them +as nothing! Yet you might live twice your present age!" + +"My life--over again," he murmured dreamily. + +"Of course, why not?" + +"One year to redeem each year that has gone." + +"Years of Destiny!" she cried, thinking to touch him there. + +"No!" he exclaimed, so harshly and quick that it startled her. "But for +me they will be years of dearest mercy. Wait, tell me first, Miramon and +Mejia----" + +"Yes, yes, we will save them too. Only, the risk is greater." + +"Bien!" He had almost accepted, but he smothered the word, and starting +up, began to pace the room. At last he stopped. "The risk must be +lessened, for them," he said. "_I_ will remain." + +"H'm'n," the girl ejaculated, "Hamlet declines? Then there will be no +play at all, at all." + +Maximilian knew how stubborn she could be; and so, reluctantly, he +joined the plot. + +"I have deserved Marquez and Fischer and Lopez," he sighed. "But why +there should be friends, even now, that I cannot understand." + +Yet she told him bluntly why she wanted his safety. It was on France's +account. Still, his gratitude was no less profound. She who would give +life to others, what was her life to be henceforth? The mellowing +sorrow, which her vivacity could not hide, smote him again, as it had +that evening in Mexico when he came to her for counsel. He remembered. +Out of a useless ambition for her country she had squandered her name, +blighted her future. He remembered how, looking on her saddened face, he +had been exalted to a pure devotion, and had burned with knightly fervor +to do her some impossible service. But what was the service? There his +memory failed, and he despised the chivalrous ardor which could be +quenched with feeding on itself. After the fearful vigil of the night +before, he had found a suit of armor beside him. In a word, he had +forgotten self. Simple compassion was enough. That service? that +service? If he could only remember. But he must. And in hot anger he +strode back and forth, while Jacqueline sat and gazed in wonder. Once, +turning from the corridor window, he paused. The guard had stopped a +man, who now was evidently waiting until the prisoner should be +unoccupied. Unseen himself, Maximilian recognized in the man the +American named Driscoll. And then he remembered. He remembered +Jacqueline's secret, betrayed to him that evening in Mexico. He +remembered that her happiness was lost in the loss of this man's +respect. Here, at last, lay the impossible service! + +Maximilian glanced toward her stealthily. No, from where she sat she +could not see the corridor, could not see the waiting American. A moment +later Maximilian stood behind her; and when he spoke, she thought it odd +that he should change from French to halting English. + +"Miss d'Aumerle," he began, in distinct if nervous phrasing, "yes, it +was for France, all, all of which you haf done. Therefore is it that you +haf come to this country, and here to Queretaro, whatever is to the +contrary said." + +"De grace," she laughed, rising abruptly, "there's enough to do to-day +without discussing----" + +But he intercepted her even as she opened the door. + +"Will Your Highness kindly let me pass?" + +"And I know, I alone, that nefer haf you toward myself once felt, once +shown, that which----" + +A sharp, indignant cry escaped her. Following her gaze he saw the +American pass on down the corridor and out of hearing. + +"Now who," exclaimed the chagrined prince, "would ever have imagined +such delicacy of breeding!" + +"And don't ever again," cried Jacqueline furiously, "imagine that +_I_ stand in need of being righted!" Wherewith she too was gone, +leaving her clumsy knight staring blankly after her. + +A few moments later Driscoll knocked. + +It was the first meeting of these two men since the memorable afternoon +at Cuernavaca, when Driscoll had surprised Jacqueline listening to +royalty's shameless suit. Now he beheld Fatality's retribution for that +day's bitterness. Retribution, yes. But it was not restitution. The girl +he loved had just passed him in the corridor with a slight casual nod, +and he would not, could not, stretch forth a hand to stop her. Instead, +the smile so ironical of Fate had touched his lips. + +"I was sent by Senor Juarez, sir," he addressed the archduke in the tone +of military business. "The President is afraid your three days of +reprieve will be misunderstood. He sent for me as I was leaving San Luis +yesterday, and I--I was to tell you----" + +"You need not hesitate, colonel." + +"Well, that you must not hope for pardon, for the sentence will +positively be carried out day after to-morrow. That--I believe that is +all." + +"But--" Maximilian called, staying him. "Dios mio, such news merits a +longer telling. It seems to me too, Senor Americano, that you should +enjoy it the more, since it was partly you who brought me to this." + +"I don't know as I'd thought of that. How?" + +"You ask how? Do you forget how you took the traitor Lopez to Escobedo, +the night I was betrayed?" + +Driscoll swung bluntly round on his questioner. "No I don't," he +replied. "But you see, there was such a lot of bloodshed scheduled for +the next day?" + +"Isn't that rather a curious reproof from a soldier? Loyal hearts would +have bled, yes, and gladly. Noble fellows, they would have saved their +Emperor!" + +Driscoll half snorted, and turned on his heel. But he stopped, his lips +pressed to a clean, hard line. "What of those townsmen in the trenches?" +he demanded. "It wasn't their fight." + +Maximilian's eyes opened very wide, and slowly his expression changed. +The thick lower lip drooped and quivered. Suddenly he came nearer the +American, a trembling hand outstretched. + +"I was saved that," he murmured earnestly. + +"They were," the grim trooper corrected him. + +"The townsmen, yes. But I--I was kept from murder. God in heaven, I +would have murdered them! Ah, senor, if I could put to my account a +night's work such as yours, that night, when you used the traitor! I +could almost thank Lopez. I do thank you." + +Still Driscoll failed to notice the proffered hand. He might have, had +he seen his suppliant's face, and the tense anguish there. + +"Those innocent non-combatants, then," Maximilian went on, "so they +counted more than a prince with you?" + +"Of course, there were a thousand of 'em." + +The other's haggard look gave way to a smile, half sad, half amused, and +taking the American by the shoulder in a grip almost affectionate, he +said, "Colonel, did you ever happen to know of one Don Quixote of La +Mancha? Well, lately I've begun to think that he was the truest of +gentlemen, though now I believe I could name another who----" + +"And," interrupted Driscoll, "did you ever try to locate the most +dignified animal that walks, bipeds not excepted? Well, sir, it's the +donkey. Take him impartially, and you'll say so too." + +The strain was over. Maximilian laughed. "If Don Quixote had only had +your sanity!" he began; "or rather," he added, charmed with the conceit, +"if knighthood had had it, then the poor don would never have been +needed to be born at all." + +Ignoring the sincerity of the Hapsburg's new philosophy, and how +tragically it was grounded, Driscoll only smiled in a very peculiar way. +Knighthood? The word was supercilious cant, and irritated him. During +that very moment, while listening to Chivalry's devotee, the young +trooper thought of a little ivory cross in his pocket, a cross which was +stained with a girl's blood. Murguia had given it to him, to give to +Maximilian on the eve of execution. But Driscoll had not promised, and +yet Murguia had implored him to take it, even without promising. The old +man held faith in vengeance as a spring to drive all souls alike, and if +Maximilian's last earthly moment could be embittered with sight of a +cross, then, he firmly believed, the American needed only to be tempted +with the means to do it. Moreover, in a sudden impulse, Driscoll had +taken the holy symbol, "to do with as he chose." There was no message, +Murguia had explained. The Senor Emperador would read the graven name, +"Maria de la Luz," and that would suffice. + +Looking now on the cultured gentleman caressing his beard, Driscoll +thought again how hellishly distorted was the sign of salvation then in +his pocket. But he left it there. He, too, had a king's pride, incapable +of low spite. Charity alone, though, would have held him, if he had but +known that Maximilian was ignorant of the dead girl's fate. + +The archduke for his part had been amiable and conciliatory, because +there was a certain delicate question he wished to ask. + +"Oh by the way, mi coronel," he said abruptly, "I must extend my excuses +for keeping you waiting in the corridor just now. But there was another +visitor here. And as we happened to be talking of--well, of a rather +personal matter, not intended for outside ears----" + +"Do not worry. When you raised your voice, I turned and left." + +"But perhaps," said Maximilian slowly, "it would have been better if you +had overheard, either you or another knowing the cruel rumors +which--which link my recent visitor's name with my own. Then the truth +would have been made known. That truth, senor," he hastened to add, +despite a hardening frown between the American's eyes, "means first that +I have been honored, indeed, in my visitor's----" + +He got no further. A broad hand closed over his mouth. + +"Another word of that, and I'll--I'll----" + +The threat was left unfinished. Gasping in the chair where he had +fallen, Maximilian found himself alone. He was vaguely nonplussed. There +had been so many revelations of late that he thought this one simply a +further re-adjusting of himself to the modern world of men. The present +instance had to do with the critical juncture where the woman enters. +But he had learned something else, too. The American loved her, and that +was important. Yet lovers were very contrary beings, he mused +lugubriously. + +"Still, I shall try again," he decided. "One humble success against my +career of distinguished failures should not be too much to expect." + +The night that followed, a black, favorable night, was the time planned +for escape. Horses ready saddled waited outside the town under the +aqueduct. Certain guards were bribed, among them Don Tiburcio. The +humorous rascal had driven a hard bargain, but only because the money +was to be had. He would have sold himself as briskly for the cream of +the jest. + +Late the same night there came a frantic pounding at Driscoll's door, +where he was quartered in the sacristy of the old Capuchin church. +"Well?" he muttered, alert already. + +"Hurry, mi coronel!" a cracked voice blended with the knocking. "Hurry, +you are wanted!" + +"Murgie!" Driscoll exclaimed, flinging wide the door. "Back from San +Luis, and prowling round here as usual, eh? Well, what's the matter?" + +"Quick, senor! Maximilian is sick. Go, go to him!" + +Partly dressed, bootless, unarmed, Driscoll shoved the old man aside, +and sped through the church, hopping over half awakened soldiers as he +went. Once in the street, he glanced up at the tower room, which was +Maximilian's, and thought it odd that no light streamed through the +narrow slits there. The sentinels, too, were gone. But he ran up the +steps and darted along the corridor, only to strike his head against a +heavy wooden door that was ajar. He rushed inside the cell, and with +arms outspread quickly covered the space of it, in the utter dark +smashing a chair, crashing over a table, cursing a mishap to his toe. +But he found no one. + +"This here's a jail-break," he mumbled under his breath. "Dam' that +Murgie, he's roped me in to stop 'em!" Whereat, all unconsciously, he +smiled again at Fatality. + +Groping his way back to the corridor, he felt rather than saw three dim +figures steal past the door. Silently, swiftly, he gave pursuit. He +heard a fervent whisper just ahead. + +"Hasten, dear friends, and may God----" + +The next second he was grappling with someone. But his unknown captive +did not resist. + +"There, senor, loosen your fingers. I am not escaping. I am returning to +my cell. But I had to make the other two think that I was with them." + +The voice was Maximilian's. + +"Hark! Ah, poor souls, they have failed!" + +The prince spoke truly. A fierce "Alto ahi!" sounded below. Then there +were musket shots and the confusion of many scrambling feet. Murguia had +routed out the church barracks. And when torches were brought, the +soldiers discovered that they had hands on Miramon and Mejia. But the +false sentinels were gone! In leaving the road clear they had used it +themselves, already. + +"You fools!" suddenly a half crazed wail arose. "Fools, _he_ has +escaped! He----" + +"Oh dry up, Murgie," said Driscoll, coming down the steps. "He's gone +back to his room, I reckon." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE TITLE OF NOBILITY + + + "Hear, therefore, O ye kings, and understand." + --_Wisdom of Solomon._ + + +One more sunset, one more sunrise! And then?... + +Maximilian again confronted the ghostly enumeration. But this time his +last day should be the day of a man's work, in simple-hearted humility. +He no more searched the skies to find a supernal finger there. He let +Destiny alone, and did his best instead. For a man's best is Destiny's +peer. + +The fiery June sun was dying in its larger shell of bronze over the +western sierras, and the self-same blue that vaults beautiful Tuscany was +taking on its richer, darker hue, when a foreigner in the land, Din +Driscoll, walked under the Alameda trees, his pipe cold in his mouth, he +perplexed before his heavy spirits. For he no longer had war to +distract, to engross. + +Maximilian's physician, an Austrian, found him in his reverie. Would the +Herr Americano at once repair to His Highness attend? The senor's +presence would a favor be esteemed, in reason that a witness was greatly +necessitated. + +Wondering not a little, Driscoll hastened back into the town. As the +physician did not follow, he arrived alone. But in the door of the +archduke's cell he stopped, angry and embarrassed. For his eyes +encountered a second pair, which were no less angry, which moreover, +were Jacqueline's. Maximilian and Padre Soria, the father confessor, +were also there, but Driscoll at first saw no one but Jacqueline. As +with him, she had been vaguely summoned, without knowing why. A last +testament was to be signed, she imagined, but in his choice of witnesses +she thought that Maximilian might at least have shown more delicacy. As +to cruelty also, she would not confess, but cruelty it was, +nevertheless. To see again this American was to know memory quickened +into torture, and days afterward there would still be with her, vividly, +hatefully, the beloved awkwardness of his strong frame, the splendid, +roguish head, now so forbidding, and more than all, the way he smiled of +late. It was a smile so cold, so cheerless, a something so changed in +him since the old, piquant days of their first acquaintance. Despise +herself as she might, Jacqueline knew how the sight of the man halted +there would leave her whole woman's being athirst and panting. + +Maximilian's thin white face lighted eagerly when he perceived that +Driscoll had come. The haggard despair of two days before had given way +to a serene calm, like that which soothes a dying man when the pain is +no longer felt. In a gentleness of command that would not be denied, he +rose and brought the American into the room. + +"Colonel Driscoll," he began, "you know, of course, that a witness is +the world's deputy. He is named to learn a certain truth, but afterward +he must champion that truth, even against the world. So you find +yourself here, but first I wish to thank----" + +"Please don't mention it," Driscoll interposed. "I'm willing to do +anything I can." + +"Then remember," said Maximilian, "that you are a witness, and a witness +only. Can you bear that in mind, senor, no matter what you may hear?" + +Driscoll nodded, but the very first words all but made him a violent +actor as well. Maximilian had turned to Jacqueline. For a moment he +paused, then with a grave dignity spoke. + +"Mademoiselle," he said, "reverently, prayerfully, I ask your hand in +marriage." + +She gasped, and so sharp and quick that certainly she was the most +dumbfounded there. Her utter stupefaction amazed Driscoll as much again +as the question itself. He stiffened as though struck. If this were a +revelation? If it could be--if it could be that she really knew no +reason why she should marry Maximilian? + +The archduke observed them both, and his eyes shone with kindliness. But +making a gesture for patience, he hurried on. "Father Soria here," he +said, "will come in the morning, just before the--the execution, to +perform the ceremony. A judge of the Republic will come too, for the +civil marriage. As to the banns----" + +"But why--_why_, parbleu?" + +Jacqueline stood before him, stung from her speechless trance by fury. +Behind narrowed lids the gray eyes hardened as points of steel. + +"You shall know, mademoiselle," he answered softly. "It is a boon I ask +of you, the greatest, and the only one before I go----" + +"Why? Tell me why!" + +"Because it is _the_ boon a true knight may crave. It is to right +before the world the noblest woman a knight can ever know----" + +"Sire!" + +The word was rage and supplication both. It was a hurt cry, piteous to +hear. Then the glint dying from her eyes blazed to tempestuous life in +those of the Missourian. But the priest's hand touched his arm, and the +priest's voice, low and gentle, stayed him. + +Maximilian, though, had seen the outburst. "Ah yes, senor, I remember," +he said, and smiled, "one may be slapped upon the mouth, yes, yes, for +even breathing my lady's name when one talks of rumor." + +Jacqueline darted at them a puzzled glance. She did not understand at +first. Then she divined. And then, wide and gloriously, her eyes opened +on Driscoll, her defender. But in the instant they sought a safer +quarter. She could not, and would not, forgive him for being there at +all. + +"However," the obdurate prince continued, "our witness must bear with me +this time, for I will--_will_, I tell each of you--speak plainly. +The false scandal does exist. Deny it, dear lady, if you can.--Nay, +senor, _you_ believe it, or did. So, now, as the world's deputy +here, you must be armed to foil those venomous tongues. But there is +only one way. You shall tell them that they talk of Maximilian's +widow----" + +"But----" + +Jacqueline, Driscoll, both spoke at once. But the girl flashed on the +man an angry command for silence. + +"Enough, enough!" she cried, "Let me speak, then end it. Whatever others +may think, Your Highness extends me his respect? Bien, but that gives me +a certain right, which is the right to consider just one thing in +answering the question of Your Highness--just one lone, little thing." + +"And that?" + +"Is--is whether or not I have the honor to love Your Highness. Oh, the +shame in such sacrifice, the shame you put on me! You should have known +my answer already." + +Her answer? Driscoll stirred uneasily. What, indeed, was her answer? + +"Yet later, mademoiselle," pursued her inflexible suitor, "when others +aspire to your hand, there might come one for whom your answer would be +favorable. How then, if this suitor, when pausing to hear what the world +says of you----" + +"He'd choke it down the world's throat!" Driscoll burst forth. "He alone +need know it's a lie." + +Jacqueline started as she heard him speak, but the glad and unintended +look she gave him changed as quick as thought to haughty resentment. +After all, he was still there. + +"But how else," Maximilian persisted, "can such a man know so much?" + +Then, a captive absolute to his lofty idea, the poet prince pleaded for +it as one inspired. All things worked, as by Heaven's own will, to +sanction what he proposed. There was Charlotte's death. There was his +own. Dying, he was still a Mexican, and might wed in any station he +chose. While if he lived, as an archduke of Austria he could not. But he +detested life. With it he had bettered no one. Yet by his death he hoped +to save more than life to another. This other was the girl before him. +He had wrecked her dearest ambition. For France's sake she would have +lured him from peril. For that, and that alone, she had sacrificed her +name. Such accounted for their interview at Cuernavaca. Such accounted +for her coming to Queretaro. Yet through his own blind weakness she had +failed. France had lost Mexico, he his life, and she--her happiness. But +the last could yet be restored. And why not purchase it with his death, +since he must have died in any case? + +"Must have," Driscoll interrupted, "must have died in any case?" + +The American had listened perplexed, now with a quick, eager start, now +with crinkled brows. First of all the old mystery and its anguish had +assailed him. The hideous, gloomy tangle would wound him round again. +Did Jacqueline care for this prince? Surely, because he had seen the +evidence. But why had she intrigued against his Empire, why had she +turned Confederate aid from him? + +Then, as the ruined monarch spoke, the other man saw. He saw the truth. +Truth that reconciled all contradictions. That explained what even the +theory of her wanton heart had only half satisfied before. Explained +everything by that heart of purest gold. The lover knew now why she had +delivered him to Lopez and the Tiger, two years ago, though with the act +so perversely confessing her love for him. He knew why, at Boone's +Cordova plantation, she had tempted him to hold her for his own, though +even then she was returning to the capital, to Maximilian. No, it was +not wanton sport. It was not contradiction. But it was conflict. In the +contemplation of that conflict he stood unnerved. It was the conflict +between a wild yet altogether French scheme of patriotic endeavor and +her own good woman's love. His eyes wandered to her, half afraid, and +the chill of months about his heart was gone, as some great berg of ice +sinks in the warmth of sunny waters. From siren alluring flesh whose +touch was woe, she was become a sceptred angel, far, far away, so +tantalizingly far away! + +Thus Driscoll listened on, happy in his soul of a man, yet abashed as a +boy. But listening, at the last he was perplexed anew, though for +another reason. + +"Must have died, sir?" he repeated again. "But that wasn't what you +thought last night. No sir, last night you thought you could escape. But +just the same you turned back. You chose to die!" + +"His Highness," spoke the gray-haired priest, "returned for the +senorita's answer." + +"My answer?" cried Jacqueline. "You mean, father, for my sake?" + +"Yes." + +Driscoll started violently, perplexed no longer. "By God, sir," he +swore, and clapped Maximilian on the shoulder, "but you are a man!" + +The prince recoiled, his instincts of breeding in arms against the +savage equality. But then, slowly, a smile that was almost beatific +touched his lips, and without knowing it, he straightened proudly, as +majesty would. + +"A man?" he murmured, breathing exaltation. "Then am I, at my last +moment, come into harmony with God's own ordering of the universe. For +he made man on the sixth day, not a Hapsburg. Man, and after His Own +Image--Oh, but that is the title the hardest of all to win! You--you +don't think, senor, that you would like to take it back?" + +Driscoll reddened inexplicably. Murguia's ivory cross was still in his +pocket. + +"No!" he blurted out with sudden defiance. "It's the truth!" + +"Then," said Maximilian solemnly, "on your word I stake my faith. +To-morrow, at the judgment-seat, I shall hope to hear myself called so." + +"Your Highness," questioned Jacqueline in a kind of daze, "Your Highness +did not _intend_ to escape last night?" + +"No, he did not," Driscoll answered for him. "He got Miramon and Mejia +started all right, and then, without knowing that your plot had failed, +he turned back to this cell here, alone." + +"Your Highness, you did that for--for----" + +Her voice broke, and she stopped abruptly and went to the narrow window. +With her back to them, she groped for the dainty bit of cambric that was +her handkerchief. + +"So you see, my daughter," said the priest, drawing near her, "what he +would have given, what, before Heaven, he has given, to tell you what +you so hotly resent. Do you resent it now?" + +The beautiful head shook slowly. She was touching her eyes with her +handkerchief. + +"Then you will not let his sacrifice be in vain? You will marry him?" + +Impetuously she turned, and faced them. There were blinding drops, clear +as diamonds, on the long lashes. "Oh Your Highness, Your--Oh, there is +something you can tell me that is--that is inexpressibly better?" + +"Let me know what it is." + +"It is if--if you can forgive me.--Mon Dieu, why did you need to heap +this terrible sacrifice on me? Why could you not remember that I tried +to drive you from your empire? That I plotted against you? That----" + +"Hush, you would have saved me." + +"Oh, only incidentally, and you knew it. Yet you must----" + +"Don't! There's nothing to forgive.--But wait, we will grant that there +really is, but only that I may exact my price of forgiveness." + +"The price? Name it." + +"That you will marry me, here, to-morrow morning, before I die." + +Jacqueline raised her head. "Has Your Highness," she demanded, smiling +shyly behind her tears, "has he forgotten the woman's, rather my +consideration, before such a question?" + +Driscoll straightened, squared his shoulders to take a blow. To his +blindness her manner looked like awakening love for the other man--and +for the man himself, not for the prince! His sense of loss, his agony, +were extreme. But of the old bitterness he now knew nothing. His rival +was putting the question. "And according to that consideration, +mademoiselle?" + +Driscoll did not see her swift glance toward himself. He was hurrying +out lest he might hear her answer. And she let him go--till he reached +the door. But there, like one frozen, he halted rigidly. + +"Helas, I do not love you, sire," Jacqueline had answered, very quietly. + +Maximilian, however, did not seem heart broken. + +His attention was all for the mere witness. He saw the effect on that +witness. In Driscoll's glad face he read his own triumph, his own +purpose achieved. Jacqueline was righted at last. + +"No," he agreed, "I could not hope for so much.--But another might." + +Then apropos of nothing, he went and flung his arms about Driscoll. The +astounded trooper could only grip his hand, just once, without a word. +Then he was gone. + +Maximilian watched him go. The priest turned to Jacqueline. She, too, +stood poised so long as his spurs rang through the corridor. At last +silence fell on them. For a moment she hesitated. Then, trembling, her +eyes moist, she held out her hand. "Good-bye," she whispered. But, +impulsively, she raised her arm and touched the doomed man's forehead +lightly with her finger tips, making a blurred sign of the cross. And, +not daring an instant longer, she too fled. + +Maximilian was alone with the priest. The room was growing dark. It was +the last night. + +"Now, father, light the tapers, there on the altar. Yes, I am ready. +Ready? Blessed Mother in Heaven, it is more than I had thought to be!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE ABBEY OF MOUNT REGRET + + + "O, here + Will I set up my everlasting rest, + And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars + From this world-wearied flesh." + --_Romeo and Juliet_. + + +It is curious and humiliating, how Nature does not vex herself in the +least for the dying of a man. And yet, to the man, the event is so very +important! Each breath of spaceless night, each twinkle from the +firmament, though but the phantom of a ray quenched ages before, +everything, he teases into anxious commentary on his own puny end. There +could not be more ado if the Universe were in the throes, writhing +against a reconquering Chaos. Harassed creature, what ails him is only +the pathetic fallacy, which is a soothing melody and stimulating to +mortal pride. But the lapses into healthier realization are very, very +hard to bear. + +How cold it was, when Maximilian awoke! The chill seemed creeping nearer +his heart, nearer the citadel. And how black the night, before the dawn! +But where, now, were his matches? He had the same monotonous trouble of +any other morning in getting one to light. Then the two candles guttered +fitfully, sordidly, just as they had always done. The white cloths of +the last communion seemed a ghostly intrusion on what was of every day. +Maximilian drew his cloak about him. The chill was simply of the +plateau, of the night, not the portent of death. The world without was +dark and desolate, but that had no reference to the tomb. The world was +merely taking its normal sleep. The heavy cloak ought to answer--but, it +did not. + +He took up the snuffers, coaxing the yellow flames to brighter promise, +then set the candles before him on the table. A piece of dripping tallow +fell upon his hand, and the hand jerked back. The man pondered. So, even +his flesh was part of Nature too, and heeded trivial pain, with no +thought of the bullets to drive through it shortly. + +He wrote two or three letters yet remaining, to friends, to his brother, +the Emperor of Austria. He penned words of farewell, yet even as the +tears welled in his eyes, he needed to stop and make sure that he had +indeed not more than three hours yet to live. It was difficult, though, +with the candles spluttering there, in the ordinary, every-day fashion. +He signed the last letter, to his mother. He gazed at the signature, of +characters squarely formed. He might have written it yesterday, or the +year before. It looked the same. But the pen he had just dropped had +dropped forever. No, no, that should not be! And he snatched it up +again, and wrote, scribbled, covered paper, fearing to stop. But at last +he did stop, with a shivering laugh. He must face this thing, he +decided. And over and over again he told himself, "I have written my +last. Yes, my last!" and steadfastly resisted the taunting, airy quill +lying there. So, what was harder than farewell to loved ones, he nerved +himself to end the small actions of his daily existence. + +Maximilian had his life long been a dreamer, ever gazing wide-eyed as a +child on the wonderful fantasies that came, whether entrancing or +dreadful. But the child's fantasies are kindred with man's philosophies. +Often, as he lay awaiting sleep, there was one particular thought that +would bring him quickly, stark, staring awake. And this thought was, how +certain things always came to pass. No matter how far away, nor how very +slow their approach, making vague the hope or horror of them, yet the +actual, present hour of their happening always struck at last. There was +the eve of the day when he should be of age. Oh, but he had longed for +that day! He had longed until he craftily suspected it never would +arrive. And yet, despite those leaden-footed oxen, the minutes, arrive +it did, in very fact. The eve of that day was a happy bed-time; but over +his ardent reveries, over the vista of future achievements, there +suddenly, darkly loomed another thought, a foretoken and clammy shroud, +which smote the young prince with trembling. For would not the day of +his death, however far away also, sometime be the present, passing +moment, as surely, just as surely, as this anniversary of his birth? +Here was a terrifying glimpse of mortality. + +When, not fifteen years later, Maximilian opened his eyes in the black +Capuchin cell, and comprehension grew on him of the present day's +meaning, he recalled how the fantasy of a morning of death had first +come to him. He was a boy, and he was to go on a voyage. The boy had +awakened when there was scarcely light as yet, and heard his mother at +the door. "It is time, dear." She spoke low, not liking to break his +slumber. But in the silence of all the world her voice was clear, and +very sweet, and the words stood forth against his memory ever afterward. +He was to be gone from her for a time, and this was in her mind as she +called him. The boy, though, could think of nothing except that his +little excursion among new and strange adventures was to begin, actually +to begin. But then, quite unaccountably, there fell over his eagerness +a chilling gloom. The delightful sprite named Expectation, who had +whispered so piquantly of this same eventful morn, had basely changed +herself into a hideous vampire, and she muttered at him, in frightful, +raucous tones. Yet the hag's snarls were true promises. There was +to come, surely, inexorably, a certain other eventful morn, and +he would awake, and without his mother's calling him, he would +know--_know_--that it was time! + +Back in that childhood hour he had lain for a while quite inconsolable, +until his mother came again, and rested her hand on his head, and told +him--"Why, one would think the little goose was going away forever!" It +was broad daylight by now, too; and wholly comforted, he had sprung up, +joyfully alive. Eternity did not worry him any more for a week. + +But the awakening of this later morning, in a Mexican prison! And when +he understood that the old familiar fantasy was become a fact! When he +remembered how once he had been consoled in his boyhood! For a moment +the sense of loss and of helplessness was stifling, and he +yearned--yearned frantically, as he never had as a boy--for the touch of +his mother's hand, for her voice, so low and sweet. The horrid cruelty +he could not, during that moment, bear. He felt that he must cry out for +her, like a very child. And though he wept, it was the man, and the +man's despair that his was not now the boy's need of comfort. + +But when they came in the first dawn and knocked at his door, they found +him serene, untroubled, and only the wonted shade of melancholy on his +brow. He greeted them courteously, and was desirous that they should +have no unnecessary difficulties on his account. Being dressed already, +punctiliously, and in black, he himself went to call Miramon and Mejia, +and brought them to his own cell, where they received the last sacrament +together. + +Later the three condemned were at breakfast--bread, chicken, a little +wine and a cup of coffee--when horses' hoofs rang abruptly in the street +below, and as abruptly ceased under their window. There was a command, +and sabres rasped against their scabbards to gain the light. Maximilian +raised eyes filled with pity to his two companions. Mejia, an Indian +thoroughly, made a gesture of impatience. The handsome Miramon, of +French blood, shrugged his shoulders. Then both glanced timidly in their +turn at Maximilian, and each finding a hand stretched forth, grasped it +silently. But the priests of the condemned, who were waiting apart, felt +their blood turn to icy beads. For them the quick metallic gust of +strident life down in the street had the merciless quality of hammering +upon a coffin lid. + +Troops filed up the stairs, and along the corridor. They halted, faced +the door, grounded arms. An officer stepped out, fumbled with a +document, and read the death sentence. Maximilian gently released +himself from one and another of those present, and turning to the +Austrian physician, handed him his wedding ring. "You will give it to my +mother," he said. Father Soria's eyes filled with tears, one plump fist +clenched pathetically. Maximilian passed an arm over the good man's +shoulder, and with him walked out among the soldiers. He nodded to them +encouragingly, and so started on his little journey. + +Three ramshackle public hacks, set high over wabbling wheels, and drawn +by mules, waited at the door. Maximilian smiled an apology as he +motioned Father Soria to precede him into the first. The troops used +their spurs. A whip cracked. The springs jolted. Everywhere, on the +curbs, in windows, on housetops, there were people. The archduke had the +impression of breath tensely held, and of eyes, eyes strained, curious, +and awed, like those of children who witness suffering and cannot +understand. + +Passing the convent of Santa Clara, Maximilian peered upward at the +windows; and, as he hoped, he saw Jacqueline. She was leaning far out, +and tremulously poised. Tender compassion was in every line of her tense +body, but as their gaze met she tried to smile, bravely and cheerfully, +and until the hack swung round the corner, there was her hand waving him +farewell. The little journey might have been, a fete, and somehow, he +was comforted. + +"I wonder," he mused, "if I've done very much for her, after all. Or for +that American, named Driscoll? Will she--" He shook his head, and +sighed. "No, she is not the lass to have him, not after my little scene +of last night. But, the choice does rest with her, now. And for a girl, +that is everything.--Alas, poor young man!" + +His rueful prophecies were that moment interrupted by a woman's scream. +It rose piercingly over the clatter of their march. Maximilian put out +his head and looked back. The woman was running beside Mejia's hack, +panting, stumbling through the dust, her black hair streaming. She held +a babe in her rebosa, but with her free hand she clutched weakly at the +spokes. To the clumsy, pitying soldiers who would force her away, she +cried again, "Mercy ... Mercy ... Mercy...." A low murmuring grew on +every side. Maximilian flung open his cab door. But the same instant it +was slammed against him. He sank to his seat, with a stare of dumb pain +in his eyes that the priest beside him never afterward forgot. The woman +back there was Mejia's wife. And Maximilian had had one glimpse of the +husband's face. It was a face stretched to agony, deadened to the color +of lead. + +"May I, may I--_pay_ for this!" moaned the one-time Emperor. "O +God, grant Thou that I do pay for this, hereafter!" + +Beyond the last hovels of the suburbs, at the foot of the Cerro de las +Campanas, the condemned were told to alight. Here again there was a +throng, hundreds and hundreds of swarthy faces, blank in awed pity. One +gaping fellow pointed wonderingly. + +"Look, there they are! There--los muertos!" + +Maximilian overheard, and a cold shiver crossed his spine. To be +identified already as "the dead one!" + +Then he beheld his coffin, there, the longest of the three being borne +up the hill. They were boxes of cheap wood, unpainted inside, smeared +with black on the outside. A wavy streak of carmine simulated the +drooping cord and golden tassels of richer caskets. It was the pomp and +circumstance that pertains to the humblest peon clay. + +Four thousand serried bayonets squared the base of the hill, and made a +compact, bristling hedge to hold back the common people. Through it +marched the doomed Imperialists, each with his confessor and a platoon +of guards, and so toiled on up the slope. The archduke looked about him. +There were many privileged spectators within the cordon, but nowhere did +he see a former friend. All, all, had kept away, and in his heart he +knew that it was better so. He could not ask that much of them. But +stay--yes, a remembered figure caught his attention; a shriveled +decrepit figure. Here, too, mid every color Republican, he beheld in the +man's garb a last surviving uniform of the vanished Empire. It was, +however, scarcely to be distinguished as such. The red coat was +threadbare, and soiled with dust. The ragged green pantaloons, held by a +knotted rope, were grotesquely faded. Yet the prince, who had once +gloried in dashing regimentals and mistook them for power, was deeply +touched. He recognized a lone unit of what had been none other than the +Batallon del Emperador. He paused, to have a word with the miserable +derelict. + +"So, you would be near me, even now?" he said. "Ah, ever faithful little +old man, but are you brave enough for the horror of it? Are you?" + +Red eyeballs rolled upward in their sockets, and for a space met the +archduke's kindly gaze. Then the steady repellant hate in them seemed +disconcerted, and the withered form cowered under the touch of the pale +white hand. Inaudible words rattled in the old man's throat, and he +trembled, as though to turn and run. Maximilian regarded him +benevolently, thinking it a crisis of emotion. + +"There, there," he said, "go if you wish. It's not well, you see, to +think of me so much. But you must not imagine that I am ungrateful. When +you believed yourself unseen, certainly when you had no hope of reward, +throughout my misfortunes, you have always hovered near me, on the +battlefield, and more lately under my prison window. Yes, yes, I have +seen. And now, and now I thank you." The bloodshot eyes roved the +ground, but did not lift again. "As humble, as loyal as a dog," +Maximilian murmured as he turned away. + +They indicated to him that he should take his place before a wall of +adobe blocks which had been piled together near the crest of the hill, +only a little lower than those very fortifications built by the +Imperialists themselves. With a gesture of assent, he complied. The +priests fell sorrowfully back behind the soldiers, and he and Miramon +and Mejia were alone together, three tragic isolated figures in a little +oblong patch of bare rocky hillside. One end of the oblong was the adobe +shield. The other three sides were walls of living men, massed shoulder +to shoulder, with bayonets pointed outward against the jostling peering +crowd. The three who were to die could now see no human being beyond the +dense, double row of soldiery. The remainder of earth for them was the +hollow square, bounded by the slouching backs clothed in blue, by the +white flats of the kepis, by the line of light playing over the thorns +of steel. Beyond was the early morning sun; above, the mystery of space. + +Through the gap of an instant the shooting squads tramped in, nearer and +nearer, until they halted opposite the condemned. Maximilian then +perceived which squad was to be his own. It numbered seven tiradores and +a yellow, beardless officer. The seven were low, cumbersome, tawny, and +they shuffled awkwardly. Their stripling chief thrust out his stomach, +and he handled his large sword with an unaccustomed flourish. The +pompous severity was, after all, only insolence. He had need to keep +guard on his importance; he did not wish to hear the pounding of his +heart. Yet his muscles twitched unbecomingly, which jerked his mouth, +and sometimes his head. + +Maximilian stepped forward and addressed them. To each he gave a gold +piece bearing his effigy. It was his last expenditure in that coin. He +requested them earnestly, gently, to aim at his body, not at his head. +He was thinking of his mother. He would not have her see him with +mangled features. Then with a final reassuring word, he turned back to +the wall. + +They were going to place him between the other two, but with a smile and +shake of the head, he would not have it so. His last act was for +precedence. Affectionately he drew Miramon to the place of honor, so +that Mejia was on the right, and himself on the left. + +Then the _fiscal_ of the Republic appeared, and read the military +law. For any who should ask the lives of the condemned, death was +prescribed. But if there was anything the condemned themselves wished to +say.... + +Maximilian removed his hat. "Mexicans," he said, "may my blood be the +last to be spilled for this country's welfare. Long live Independence! +Long live Mexico!" + +He spoke the words calmly, gravely, and having concluded, he carefully +adjusted a large handkerchief, so that his beard might not be burned by +the powder. Then he crossed his arms on his breast, and gazed steadily +into the barrels of the leveled muskets, waiting. + +A wave of motion, of tendons stiffening, passed along the thick wall of +flesh. Against it the tide without swelled higher, stronger. Tension +strained upward to the supreme crash. The quiet of a multitude is pain. + +But the other two Imperialists had not spoken yet. Mejia shook his head +passionately. He saw only his young wife with her babe, panting, +stumbling through the dust. He held a crucifix, and would not take it +from his lips. Miramon, however, raised his voice to protest against the +charge of treason. Of that crime he died innocent. But he pardoned, as +he hoped for pardon. Then he cried, "Long live Mexico! Long live the +Emperor!" + +Maximilian started. These were the words that he thought he should like +to hear. But now they grated. They recalled the mistake he had lived, +the anachronism of his life. They were scorpions. They stung like the +needle in an ulcer. He turned sharply, in tearful reproach. But a sword +flashed, the volley came, and the three men fell, as under a crushing +rock, one against the wall; his head broken over upon his breast. The +pert young officer pointed his blade at three convulsive bodies, and +through each a last bullet sped, burying itself in the earth beneath. +The crowd pressed, surged, stood on tiptoe. + + * * * * * + +There was one other among the spectators, but keeping himself hidden, +whom Maximilian would have been concerned to see there. He was Driscoll. +He came to watch the shriveled derelict, Murguia. He came to stand guard +over a soul, Maximilian's. What peace that soul had found should not be +destroyed. And so he screened himself in the crowd, holding ready to +crush a viper whose fangs were heavy with poison. When Maximilian paused +and spoke to the old man, Driscoll was very near, near enough to hear, +and to strike. But the old man had only wheezed and mumbled. Though why +that old man did not utter a first word, though why he could not, will +never be explained. But this much is true, that the ambushed soul, +moving so calmly toward eternity, then stepping so near the coiled +serpent, was yet its own guardian, unwittingly. + +Until the very end Driscoll staid there alert. The old man, baffled, +insatiate, might yet cry out what he knew. Driscoll's gaze never +relaxed. He felt as though he watched a murderer while the murder was +being done. But the old man only listened. Unable to see within the +hollow square, he listened, and waited. His lower jaw hung open, and +over his lip a white froth grew and grew, until it broke and trickled +down his chin. The red eyeballs gleamed ravenously, as still he waited. + +"When this is over," Driscoll said to himself, "he'll plump down in a +fit and blow out. Else he'll go raving crazy. Lord, that look!" + +When it _was_ over, Driscoll went to him. He had but to reach forth +a hand and fasten on his shoulder. He held him against a scurrying of +spectators, whom the tragedy's close had that instant brought to life. + +"Here, Murgie, here's something that belongs to you," he said. "Well, +what's the matter? Take it, I don't want it." + +The old man looked up. An ivory cross was dangling from the other's +fingers. The cross still showed bloodstains; no later flowing of blood +had washed _them_ away. But the father of Maria de la Luz stared, +stared vacantly at the trinket. The masterful, consuming rage of two +years past was gone out of his eyes. Instead they were watery and +senile. The brows, and even the lashes, had turned as white as the thin +strands of hair, and contrasted gruesomely against the yellow, mottled +skin, which stretched like clouded parchment over the bony death's head. +At last the old man put out his hand and took the cross, not +comprehending. + +"No, I didn't give it to him," Driscoll explained bluntly. "I told you I +wouldn't." + +Yet no spasm of chagrin distorted the weazen face. + +"This chain here, it's--it's _gold_!" the old man cried. + +Then he sputtered, choked. What had he betrayed? Would the strange donor +reclaim the gift, knowing it was gold? He leered craftily at Driscoll, +and with a hungry, gloating secrecy--his old slimy way of handling +money--he smuggled the holy symbol under his jacket. But from cunning +the leer changed to suspicion and quick alarm. He delved into his +pockets, one after another. He searched greedily, wildly, until the last +coin on him lay in his palm. Quaking in every feeble bone, he counted +his poor wealth again and again. There was very little left. He glared +at Driscoll. He glared at townsmen, officers, blanketed Inditos, all +swarming past to gaze on the three corpses. He cried "Thief!" first at +one unheeding passer-by, then at another. + +"I had more than this!" he whined. "More--more than this! There was my +hacienda, my peons, my cotton, my mills, my canvas bags. There was my +blockade runner. She was Clyde-built, she was named _La Luz_, she +cost twenty thousand English gold pieces. Who has taken these things +from me? Who--where----Curse you, do _you_ know?" + +Dissipating his hoards, sacrificing his last chattel, all that was now a +blank. But his hoards, his chattels, were all that were now worth while, +and the miser clamored for them, and them only. Vengeance, however, is +an ironical bargainer. Vengeance kept her pay, and "abhorred Styx, the +flood of deadly hate," had dried and left a stranded soul, parched by +avarice. Driscoll was moved by a pity half ashamed. + +"Look here, Murgie," he threatened terribly, "Do you say _I_ stole +your----By the Great Horn Spoon, I'll----" He flung his hand to his +revolver. + +The counter-irritant had instant effect. All moisture died out of the +rat eyes, leaving them two little horrible beads. The miser shrank, +groveled, in mortal terror of some physical hurt. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE CONTRARINESS OF JACQUELINE + + + "Much adoe there was, God wot; + He wold love, and she wold not." + _--Ballad of Phillida and Corydon._ + + +Maximiliano I. of Mexico was dead. His dynasty and his Empire were the +frippery of a past time. Yet there was his capital, still holding out +against the Republic. Leonardo Marquez, the Leopard, spitefully refused +to capitulate. But why he would not, no one knew, neither the starving +City, nor the patient besieger outside. No one, unless it was +Jacqueline. The very day of the triple execution she called on Escobedo, +commander in chief at Queretaro. She desired to return to the capital, +and she wanted a pass through the Republic's lines there. She mentioned, +in case it were any inducement, that the place would fall within +twenty-four hours after her arrival. Jacqueline had difficulty to speak +at all. She could not endure the general's monstrous flaps of ears, his +rabbinical beard, his cruel black eyes. + +"Maria purisima," he exclaimed, "you cannot mean, senorita, that you, +all alone, will deliver the City of Mexico into our hands?" + +"It will certainly be an incident of my stay there," she replied. + +The hard, Jewish features lighted cunningly. "Then, por Dios, you are as +wonderful as I've always heard! But may--may one be allowed a little +curiosity?" + +"I _might_ say," and Jacqueline forthwith said it, "that I have +just had a cipher telegram from Louis Napoleon." + +"Which," breathlessly demanded the other, "will interest Marquez, eh? +Will disappoint him? Will cause him to surrender?" + +"Your Excellency is of course entitled to his own conjectures." + +But the commander-in-chief was satisfied. "We must hasten your going by +every means," he declared. "You shall have an escort. You----" + +"Then I choose the Gray Troop--because," she added carefully, "they're +the best." + +Now, why, by all that's feminine, was she surprised next morning when +the Gray Troop gathered round her coach, as though that were a +coincidence? At least she arched her brows, and lifted one shoulder +petulantly, and unmistakably showed that she expected a tedious time of +it. The sunburned colonel of the Grays beamed so with happiness too, as +he drew rein to report to her. They met for the first time since +Maximilian's embarrassing little scene for their express benefit. +Driscoll noted her disdain, and it is likely that he only grinned. He +did that because he knew how helpless he was, and how merciless she +could be. For she was not only beautiful, she was pretty--a demure, +sweet, and very pretty girl. Some vague instinct of self-defense guided +him. His broad smile was exasperating in the last degree, and it was not +she, but the other young woman in the coach, whom he addressed. + +"I got some side saddles, Miss Burt," he announced, "and a few extra +mustangs, whenever anybody gets tired of traveling behind curtains." +Curiously enough, both girls wore riding habits. "Oh, by the way," he +inquired suddenly, "how's Miss Jack'leen this morning? Is she well +and--docile?" + +Jacqueline's chin dropped in astonishment. She seized the old canvas +window flap and jerked it down. But at once she raised it again, and +thoughtfully contemplated the trooper. + +"I wonder," she mused aloud, in that quaint accenting of the English +which cannot be described, "when is it that you are going to grow up, +_ever_?" + +"I did start to," Driscoll informed her soberly, "but it got tiresome as +all creation, and I reckon I've backslided just since"--a world of +earnestness came into his lowered voice--"well, just since we had that +talk with poor Maximilian." + +The old canvas curtain fell for good then, and very abruptly. + +A moment later, however, she was avenging her flushed cheeks on Mr. +Daniel Boone, who rode at the other side, also sunburned, also effulgent +with happiness. + +"If it isn't the _animal disputans_!" she exclaimed. "Look Berthe, +and rejoice; our sighing Monsieur le Troubadour!" + +Driscoll hovered near a moment, then reluctantly rode ahead of his +battered dusty warriors. So he and the wilful maid from France began a +second journey together, yet far, far apart. But only after many +torturing hours did his first joy consent to perceive the distance +between them. + +Now and then, though rarely, and never when he hoped for such a thing, +she would ride with him. And then he usually stirred up hostilities +before he knew it, and notwithstanding all that was tender and humble +which he meant to tell her. There was, however, cause enough for +savagery. She made him the least of the troop, though he arranged each +detail of speed and comfort, laid out tempting noon-day spreads, +improvised cheer in the cheerless hostelries, and all with a forethought +showing pathetically how his every thought was of her. But if she +divined the inwardness of this, which of course she did, outwardly she +contrived to be oblivious. She thanked him sincerely and simply, the +while that he craved repayment, as the heart repays. He yearned for only +a chance to speak his mind, and to force hers. But now craftily she +would bring the others flocking round, to decide for her if they did not +think monsieur absurdly mistaken in this or that! The same instant she +would conjure up the most trivial of arguments, and be vastly shocked +over the ridiculous contentions which she herself assigned to Driscoll. + +She grew honestly fond of the other Missouri colonels, with their ranger +uniforms, and brawn scarred by weather and battle, and they and the +marchioness became great friends. She was a dainty flower among them, +but they were prime comrades, and she, the mad-cap tomboy her life long, +took to them in the impulse that here were her own kind. Driscoll was +proud to see it, without need of being generous. She gathered Berthe, as +a soberer sister, into the merry communion, and she rode with Clay of +Carroll, with Carroll of Clay, with Reub Marmaduke, with Crittenden, +with cherubic Old Brothers and Sisters, with Hanks the bugler, and she +mocked Meagre Shanks, that disputatious animal, because he tried to +monopolize Berthe and would not dispute at all. She asked them +questions. She asked Harry Collins if his tribe were the same as that of +ces Missouriens-la, and the Kansan confessed that the two tribes had +been a bit hostile of late, but what with raiding, razing, and +murdering, he guessed they'd laid the foundation for a mutual +self-respect, as behooved valiant redskins. So she often got strange +answers for her inquisitiveness, but she had grown wary among +Westerners, and she usually paid them back. They were a happy party. But +Driscoll wanted a more definite focusing of the joy. And at times, +indeed, yielding to temptation herself, she permitted him to lose his +heart deliciously over again. Shadows were lifted now, and she was just +a lovable girl, just sweet Jacqueline. And he loved her with the boy's +young strength of adoration and diffident awe. Precisely in which state +she made him suffer exquisitely. No one could be more contrary and +capricious than the lovable girl of a moment before. Whereat storms +brewed within him. + +There was one of the rare times when the Missourian and the maid rode up +and down the winding white ribbon of a Mexican highway, and for awhile +both were quiet. This once they dared the risk--she did, rather--which +lurks in the silence that requires no words. For him it brought the old +time, and the rides of that time, when he wondered what was the matter +with him, and she knew all along. And he thought how during the hard +winter in the Michoacan mountains and swamps, he had caught himself +almost crying aloud, that he wanted her, that he wanted her--wanted +again the subtle comradeship of those silences which require no words. +And here, at last, here she was, riding beside him! + +He looked at her furtively. She was in profile. He looked again, to be +sure that it was not memory, but the breathing girl herself. Yes, for a +fact, it was the girl herself. And here was her own queenly head, here +its regal poise, here the superb line of the neck to the shoulder. +Reverence grew on admiration, for as he gazed he beheld her character +revealed, of lines as stately, as womanly, and withal as flexible, too, +before the cheery glow of each moment's life. He stirred, and was +vaguely restive, and perhaps a little frightened also, because of the +deep mystery of something within himself which he could not understand. +The classic outline of her features was softened now in the warmth of +flesh. Her vivacity was off guard, in the forgetfulness of reverie. The +pure white of the little tip of ear was tinged with pink. Her eyes were +lowered to the saddle horn. They were melting. They were almost blue. + +"Jack'leen!" He burst out fervently, before he thought, with an arm half +lifted toward her. + +The drooping lashes raised. The eyes were gray again. She regarded him +for awhile without speaking. + +"Why don't you quarrel?" she asked finally. + +The spell was broken. Her pounding heart had vent in a nervous laugh of +raillery. She touched her horse with the riding crop in her gauntleted +hand. Somehow she would not leave that dumb brute, the horse, in peace. +Driscoll's old Demijohn, however, was used to the game by now. He +pointed his ears, and checkmated that last move by bringing his master +once more to the lady's side. + +"You used to," she went on, as though there had been no interruption, +"nicely. You were of an interest then. In fact, I reck-_on_--I know +no one that I had rather have quarreled with." + +But still he would not, though that "reckon" from her lips was most +alluring. She stole a mischievous glance at his face, but the fixed look +there made her lift _her_ hand toward _him_. Perhaps, if he +had seen and had spoken then--But he did see. + +"Eh bien, since monsieur won't fight, won't, _won't_," she cried, +"then it's more fun to----" + +Evidently to seek livelier company. For she wheeled the mustang, swerved +from a grasp at her bridle, and went galloping back to the coach. He +twisted in his saddle, pushed his sombrero higher on his head, and +dubiously watched her flying from him, a lithe, trim figure in snug +Hungarian jacket, the burnished tendrils fluttering on the nape of her +neck, the soft white veil trailing like a fleecy cloud from her black +_amazona_ hat. He bent a perplexed gaze to the road. "It's 'way, +'way beyond me," he told himself. Then he grew aware of a sense of +warmth on his forearm. Yes, he remembered. For an instant she had laid a +hand on his sleeve, and he had thrilled to the ineffable token of +nestling. He was never immune from her tantalizing contradictions. He +felt this one yet. + +Hoofs pounded behind, and Mr. Boone drew up alongside. "She came back, +and made me get away from the coach," he announced. "Prob'bly she wanted +to cry some; she looked it." + +Yet another of her contradictions! + +"Then why in the nation," Driscoll demanded, "do you keep hanging round +that coach for? Look here Shanks, you make me plum' weary. The idea of +you falling in----" + +"No more'n you, you innocent gamboling lamb of an ol' blatherskite." But +Daniel's steel blue eyes had softened to their gentlest. "Say Jack," he +added, "she's going back to Paris." + +"Don't I know it? Lord A'mighty!" + +"Go on, never mind me," said Mr. Boone. "Groan out loud, if you want to. +For she sho'ly is, yes, back to Paris. Now Buh'the"--The Troubadour's +_r's_ always liquefied dreamily with that name--"Buh'the has been +telling me a few things, and I'm sure reporter enough to scout out the +rest of the story, and it's just this--Jack, she's fair broken-hearted." + +"Miss Burt?" + +"No, no, the marchioness. She staked out a campaign over here, and it's +panned out all wrong, and it wasn't her fault either. Poor girl, no +wonder she might like to cry a little. She's lavished everything she had +on it too, ancestral chateau, and all that." + +"But," said Driscoll quickly "she'll not suffer. There's her title----" + +"Title?" exclaimed Daniel. "W'y, she's going to give that up too, not +having any chateau any more, and she'll trip blithely down among the +people again, where she says it's more comfortable anyhow. Title? Well, +you've suhtinly noticed that she always did take that humorously. Her +grandfather--Buh'the says--was right considerable of a jurist, used +scissors and paste, and helped make a scrap-book called the Napoleonic +code, and Nap the First changed him into a picayunish duke. But wasn't +the nobility of intellect there already? Sho'ly! Miss Jacqueline, +though, likes the father of her grandfather the best. He never was +noble, technically I mean. His was the nobility of heart, and he'd have +scorned to be tagged. He just baked bread, and fed most half of Saint +Antoine for nothing at times, while the Dauphin at Versailles was +throwing cakes to the swans. Howsoever," Mr. Boone added hastily, as sop +to his softness for princes, "I reckon that there Dauphin was noble too. +Both of 'em fed the hungry mouths that were nearest." + +"But," demanded Driscoll, "doesn't her title carry some sort of a--a +compensation?" + +"Not a red sou. The majorat--that's the male line--died out with her +father, which means that the annuity died out too." + +"W'y, Great Scot, she's----" + +"She's tired and disheartened, that's what she is, and she's going back +to Paris, and you--" Boone paused, and glared at his companion, "--and +you mean to let her!" + +Old Demijohn felt a spur kicked against his flank, and he lifted his +fore feet and sped as the wind. It was fully an hour later when Meagre +Shanks caught up with horse and rider again. Rather, he met them coming +back. His conversation was guileless, at first. + +"Do you know, Din," he began, "those two girls are only half educated? +Yes sir, gastronomically, they are positively illiterate, and it's a +shame! W'y, they don't know hot biscuits and molasses. They don't know +buttermilk. They don't know yams. Nor paw-paws, nor persimmons. They +don't even know watermelon. Now isn't France a backward place?" + +"Don't, Shanks!" Driscoll begged. "You'll have me heading for Missouri +in a minute. You didn't, uh, mention peach cobbler?" + +"_And_ peach cobbler, big as an acre covered with snow. And just +think, it's roastin' ea'ah time up there now, _now_!" How Daniel's +voice did mellow under a tender sentiment! "And to think," he went on, +"of the marchioness living on in such ignorance! It's a thing that's +just got to be remedied, Jack." + +"Then suppose you take her to Missouri," growled his friend, "and let me +alone." + +"_I_ take _her_? Oh come now, Din, I see I've got to tell you +something which is--" The Troubadour's accents grew low and fond, and +the other man respected them, with something between a smile and a sigh +for his own case. "Which is--well, nobody's noticed it, but the fact is +that Buh'the, that Miss Buh'the----" + +"Dan," interrupted Driscoll severely, "you're not going to tell me any +secret. You mean that you weren't mistaken when you mistook her for a +queen." + +"That--that's it!" ejaculated Daniel. "Of coh'se," he added soothingly, +"the other one is a--a mighty nice girl, but----" + +"Oh, _is_ she? But Miss Burt is _the_ one you want to take to +Missouri? Well Dan, why don't you?" + +"Because," was the doleful reply, "those two are just like orphan +sisters together, and--well, she won't desert. She _is_ a queen, by +God, sir! Miss Jacqueline might make her, but I haven't got the heart to +ask it. Now, uh, if--if you would just bring along the other one?" + +So, here was the goal of all of Daniel's manoeuvering! + +Driscoll cast a leg over the pommel of his saddle, and faced Boone +squarely. "Shanks," he demanded with tense vehemence, "do you suppose I +need your woes for a prod? Don't you know how much--Lord A'mighty, how +much!--I'd like to oblige you? But--she won't let me--even speak. +There's, there's something the matter." + +Boone's lank jaw fell. "What, I wonder?" + +"And don't I wonder too?" Driscoll muttered savagely. "But it's +_something_." + +From which moment until the end of the journey, and afterward, there +were two men who pondered on what could be the trouble with Jacqueline. +But while one pondered gloomily and fiercely and with a semi-comic grin +under the lash, the other let perplexity delve and ferret into the +mystery. For Mr. Boone had grown aware that an enormous heap of +happiness for four depended on himself alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE JOURNALISTIC SAGACITY OF A DANIEL + + + "Ah, my Beloved, fill the cup that clears + To-day of past Regret and future Fears." + _--Omar._ + + +At last Jacqueline stabbed a dot after the word "Finis," and so rounded +out her chapter on "Failure." Beyond doubt that tiny punctuation point +saved many lives. The besiegers were waxing impatient to assault, and +within the City famine mobs ran the streets, crying, "Corn and wood! +Corn and wood!" Those who could fled to the Republican camp. The +Austrians practically mutinied. Starving and dying thousands clamored +for surrender. Yet the ugly, revolting pigmy who was lieutenant of the +Empire held them back in the terror of his heartless cruelty. + +Then the angel of mercy came. From her Marquez the tyrant learned that +his speculation in treachery had collapsed. Louis Napoleon wanted no +more of that stock. Besides, every French bayonet was needed in France. +The rabid Leopard heard, and that night meanly crept away to save his +own loathsome pelt. Bombs had begun to fall into the City, when a +Mexican general worthier of the name took upon himself the heroic shame +of unconditional surrender. The Oaxacans outside marched in, led by +their young chief, Porfirio Diaz, and they fed the people, and of +"traitors" shot only a moderate few. + +Renovation became the order of the days that followed. The President of +the Republic was to be welcomed back to his capital. The stubborn old +patriot's heart must be gladdened by every contrast to the dreary, rainy +night years before when he fled into exile. Mexico would honor herself +in honoring the Benemerito of America. So bunting was spread over every +facade, along every cornice, green, white, and red, a festival lichen of +magic growth. Flags cracked and snapped aloft, and lace curtains decked +the outside of windows. Soldiers put on shoes and canvased their brown +hands in white cotton gloves, and military bands rehearsed tirelessly. + +Din Driscoll sat on a bench in the shady Zocalo, and contemplated the +Palacio Nacional and the Cathedral in process of changing sides from +Empire to Republic. Innumerable lanterns being hung along their massive +outlines were for incense to a goddess restored. The Mexican eagle had +prevailed over monarchial griffins, and held her serpent safely in the +way of being throttled. The blunt homely visage of Don Benito Juarez, +luxuriously framed, looked out from over the Palace entrance. It was a +huge portrait, surrounded by the national standards. Among the emblems +there was one other, the Stars and Stripes. The gaze of the +ex-Confederate was fixed. It was fixed steadily on the Stars and +Stripes. Now and then he felt a rising in his throat, which he had +difficulty to swallow down again. + +"Well, Jack?" + +Boone stood over him. Driscoll's eyes were oddly troubled as they turned +from that flag opposite. + +"Sure it's hard," said Boone quietly, "mighty hard, to forgive our +enemies the good they do." + +"What enemies?" + +"W'y, them," and Daniel pointed to a flag as to a nation. "Yes sir, the +Yanks have kept faith. Do you see a single one of their uniforms down +here? Do you notice anywheres that Yankee protectorate we were +predicting? No sir, you do not! The Yanks--" But the term was damning to +eloquence. Mr. Boone found another. "The _Americans_, I repeat, +have hurled back the European invader. They have given Mexico to the +Mexicans. They have endowed a people with nationality. But they have not +gobbled up one solitary foot of territory. Which is finer, grander, than +your Napoleonic glory! And yet it's selfish, of coh'se it is. But listen +here, there'll never be any Utopia, Altruria, Millennium, or what not, +that don't coincide with self-interest. And first among the races of the +earth, the Americans have _made_ 'em coincide, and I want to know +right now if the Americans are not the hope of the world!" + +The orator paused for breath. He had to. And then surprise the most +lugubrious unexpectedly clouded his lank features. "Darn it, Jack," he +exclaimed in alarm, "if I ain't getting Reconstructed, right while I am +standing here!" + +"_Talked_ yourself into it," Driscoll observed scornfully. "But +Dan, you can just put the South along with your Americans. The French +laughed at the North alone, but later, when--Well, just maybe it's a +good thing we did get licked." + +Mr. Boone gasped. Sparks of indignation darted from his steel blue eyes. +The recoil needed a full minute to spend itself. Then a greater horror +appalled him, a horror of himself. "The Lawd help me," he burst forth, +"but you're right, Din Driscoll! You are! It _was_ for the best. +But don't you ever think I'm going to admit it again, to nary a living +mortal soul, myself included. W'y, it would, it would knock my editorial +usefulness--all _to_ smash. There," he added, "that's decided, +we're going back. The colonels want their mamas. They've been men long +enough, and they're plum' homesick. All the old grudges up there must be +about paid off by now, so's an ex-Reb can live in Missouri without train +robbing. _Libertas et natale solum_--It's our surrender, _at_ +last." + +Driscoll rose abruptly. "Lay down your pen, Shanks," he said. "You're +only trying to convert the converted. Of course I'm going too. That +there flag, being down here, did it. And don't you suppose _I've_ +had letters from home too?" + +Meagre Shanks jumped with relief. He straightened throughout his spare +length. As the smell of battle to the war charger, the pungent odor of +printer's ink wet on galley proofs assailed his nostrils. There were +visions, of double-leaded, unterrified thunderbolts crashing from the +old Gutenberg, back in Booneville. + +"Missouri," he breathed in fire, "Missouri will sho'ly stay Democratic." + +Both men glowed. They were buoyant, happy. But these two could not so +soon be quit of the enervating Land of Roses. A pair of countenances +fell together. Daniel voiced their mutual thought. + +"And Miss Jacqueline?" he queried boldly, with the air of meaning to +persist, no matter what happened. + +Driscoll showed weariness, anger. + +"And Miss Burt?" he parried. + +"She won't desert, I told you once." + +"You mean that she's going to Paris too? I say, Shanks, they're leaving +to-morrow." + +Shanks knew that much, quite well enough. + +"Have you _tried_ to stop her?" he demanded sternly. + +Driscoll only looked disgusted. + +"But have you--_asked_ her?" + +Driscoll's head jerked a nod, of wrath ascending. + +The inquisitor wisely swerved. What her answer had been was, to say the +least, palpable. But her reason for it was _the_ question with +Daniel. + +"Is it," he pursued, "is it because she hasn't any dot? You know, Jack, +that in France, when a young lady----" + +"No, it's not that. I know it's not." + +"Oh ho," said Daniel, "so you've been guessing too! And how many guesses +did she give you? No, let me try just a few more. It ain't because, +because she's an aristocrat?" + +"But I _want_ an aristocrat," cried the young Missourian, "one to +her finger tips, enough of one to be above aristocracy. And _she_ +is." + +"Then," said his friend in despair, "it's because she don't, just simply +don't care for you?" + +"You're a long time finding that out." + +"What! You don't mean----" + +"Fact," said Driscoll. "Even I guessed it at last. I told her I had been +reckoning that she----" + +"Cared, yes?" + +Driscoll made a wry face. "And she said I mustn't jump at conclusions, I +might scare 'em." + +The Troubadour chuckled heartlessly. Neither was Driscoll's sense of +humor entirely gone. + +"'Oh, awful goddess! ever dreadful maid!'" Mr. Boone quoted. + +"She's sure a wonder," the other owned gloomily. + +"And you are a blind dunce, Jack." + +"Don't talk axioms at me," said Driscoll, with a warning light in his +eye. "I don't need 'em." + +"Well, now," drawled Mr. Boone, "I can't help it if I associate with you +any longer, so I'll just mosey round to the flower market. As they leave +to-morrow, they'll be wanting some violets." + +And he went, and Din Driscoll sat down again and hated him. + +Daniel wended his way slowly, an attenuated ranger in gray mid carriages +and blanketed forms. "Sho'", he mused, "that girl's heart is fair +bleeding for him, can't _I_ see! Her eye-lashes, they're +_wet_, every now _and_ then. And whatever the matter with her +is, it's nothing. But nothing is the very darndest thing to overcome in +a girl. There's got to be strong measures. It's got to be _jolted_ +out of her. _Archimagnifico, there's_ the point!" + +Mr. Boone drew out a black cigar, and mangled it between his teeth. He +pondered and pondered, absent-mindedly kicking at natives he bumped +into. "Kidnap 'em!" he cried at length. "N-o," he reflected, "they go in +the public stage, and what with the escort, somebody'd get hurt. We +don't want any dead men at this wedding. Old Brothers and Sisters would +balk anyhow, and our ecclesiastical officiator is the boy we _do_ +need. Now what the everlasting----" + +He meant what salutary jolt he _could_ invent, barring holdups, but +in the same breath he meant also a most startling scene which revealed +itself as he turned the corner. + +A deafening crash of musketry was the first thing, and he looked up. He +had come into a small plaza before a church, and against the church's +blank wall a scene was taking place before an awe-stricken throng. He +understood. Another proscribed "traitor" had just been caught; and +executed, naturally. But no, not executed! For as the officer of the +shooting squad approached to give the stroke of mercy, the prostrate +victim raised himself by one hand and knocked aside the pistol at his +head. Then he laughed in the officer's face, the most diabolical and +unearthly mirth any there had ever heard. There was not a stain of blood +on him. He had dropped in the breath of eternity before the bullets +spattered past. But his uplifted face, with chin tilted back, was +swollen, black, distorted, corded by pulsing veins, and one of the +eyes--a crossed eye--bulged round and purple out of its socket, and +_gleamed_. The demon of pain was tearing at the man's tissue of +life, but by grip of will unspeakable the agony in that grimace changed +to a smile. + +"Yes, poison! Vitriol!" he chattered at them hideously. "Adios, +imbeciles. It's my last--jest!" + +Whereat he fell, writhing as the acid burned to his soul. Before the +astounded officer could shoot, he had grown entirely quiet. + +Boone strained and pushed against the crowd until he reached the spot. +The cadaver was in tight charro garb of raw leather. His sombrero lay +near, on which was worked a Roman sword, meaning "Woe to the conquered!" +Boone turned inquiringly to the officer. The man, who was pallid, +touched his thumb to his cap, recognizing the uniform of the Grays. + +"You should know him, mi coronel," he explained. "His name was Tiburcio. +He deserted from the Imperialistas at Queretaro, but afterward he joined +the plot for Maximilian's escape. We had his description, and I found +him. He wanted to take me to Marquez and Fischer, whom we would also +like to find. He said that he risked himself here, to spy on them, and +that he knew where they had fled, the Leopard disguised in the padre's +cloak. But of course I paid no attention. I did not delay even to tie +his hands. As Your Mercy observes, I had the honor to do my duty, at +once." + +"I see," replied Boone dryly. "Lawd, this _is_ a jolt!" + +Then he got himself away from there. + +"A jolt," he muttered to himself again. "But shucks, it can't--Yes, it +can," he decided fervently, "it can be used. We've got to have something +terrifying, and poor cock-eyed Don Tibby won't care. He'd appreciate it. +And anyhow, I don't seem to be able to stir up inspirations to-day, and +this is the only thing." + +He was as pallid as the shooting squad he had just left. + +"No matter," he reflected, "I'll need just this ghastly state of mind. +But here, goodness gracious, I've got to be in a sweat," with which he +began to run, a lank knight in gray dented armor. + +"Worse luck," his thought pounded along with him, "this here's the first +time I've ever faked. And it's a heap the hottest story I've ever +handled, too. Our little Parisienne will get a frisson all right, all +right, and such a one she'll not be wanting any of again very soon. +Dixie Land, I mustn't smoke, I'm to be too excited." + +He came into the Zocalo, and drew up before Driscoll, who was still +there and still ruminating. + +"Listen here," Boone panted, "here's your cue.--In ten minutes--to the +second--arrive--knock at her door--appear!" + +"With violets?" inquired Driscoll. + +"Oh shut up!--Quit, don't stop me, I'm getting cooled off!--Only do what +I say.--In just ten minutes--that is--if you want the girl." + +And Daniel was off again, "with high and haughty steps" towering along. + +"That Meagre Shanks, there, isn't a fool," Driscoll mentally recorded, +and he took out his watch. + +The two girls were stopping at a hotel in Plateros Street, for +Jacqueline had returned to find her beautiful residence, salon and all, +ruthlessly dismantled, looted, robbed by Marquez while she was in +Queretaro, which was a manner of levying contributions not unfamiliar to +the Lieutenant of the Empire. + +In the balcony room of their hotel suite the two girls strove valiantly. +Crisp gowns and dainty allied mysteries lay spread over the upholstery. +They were vanishing into cavernous trunks, with crushing indifference if +Jacqueline seized on a garment, but gently when Berthe rescued it, which +she always did. Through the double glass doors of the balcony the street +sounds below rose to their ears, clarion notes and vivas, hurrying feet +and prancing hoofs, and the National hymn a few blocks away in the +Zocalo. + +Suddenly a grim apparition loomed before the glass doors on the balcony. +Berthe half screamed, in dismay clutching at ruffles and laces to hide +them, when into the sweet-scented confusion strode Mr. Daniel Boone. He +was the grim apparition. Jacqueline withheld her opinion, but she had +one. The intruder's spurs were iconoclastic of carpeting, his abrupt +presence of feminine sensibilities. But the lean, perspiring face drove +away all thought of the conventions. Jacqueline snatched up a fleecy +bank of petticoats, making room for him on the sofa. Daniel stared +vacantly. The two girls looked very pretty. They were just flurried +enough, and they wore white lawn, with sleeves short to the elbow. His +fingers groped, and soon they closed over a small, instinctive hand. He +kept hold upon that hand for strength, at the same time collapsing on +the sofa. + +"Now, if you please," said Jacqueline calmly, "what----" + +"O Lawd!" Boone gulped, fighting for breath. "It don't matter +much--maybe--to you all, but--O Lawd, I got to tell somebody!" + +"Tell us, tell us!" cried she of the captured hand. + +Daniel had sufficient presence of mind to retain it. + +"You know that--that poor devil Tiburcio?" he gasped. + +"Yes, yes!" But what anti-climax was here? + +"Well, he--he's dead. I saw him.--Lawd!" + +"Oh!" It was a little cry of relief. + +"But some were--were killed--taking him." Boone noted Jacqueline's +intake of breath, her first tremor of alarm. "He fought like a--a +wildcat. He had a knife--and a machete--and a pistol--and----" + +"_Who_ was killed? Monsieur--Oh, mon Dieu, what _can_ you have +to tell me?" + +Daniel almost repented, there was that in her gray eyes. + +"Among them was my--" He nerved himself to it, some way--"my best +friend, that peerless----" + +"Who?" Her command was imperious, her white teeth were set. + +"Din Driscoll!" + +The man blurted it out like a whipped schoolboy. He could not look up. +He could only feel that she stood there, stricken, suffering. + +"Where is he?" + +He could not believe that this was her voice. It was hardened, tearless, +without emotion. + +"Monsieur--where is he?" + +The girl at his side sprang up with a sharp cry to her who questioned. +Then he raised his eyes. Jacqueline was unaware of the sobbing girl who +clung to her. Her face was changed to marble, her body as rigid. + +"Take me to him," she spoke again, still with that deathly authority of +the grave. + +The man stammered before what he had done. The great beads stood out on +his forehead. "You would not--you must not--you----" + +"He is mine," she said simply. "Wait, I shall be ready, at once." She +passed into an inner room, the portieres falling after her. + +"She's--she's getting on her hat," Boone muttered inanely. "Buh'the, +she's got to be stopped! She's--God, why don't he come? It's shuah ten +minutes. It's--What's that?" + +Someone had knocked. In the instant Boone had the hall door ajar. + +"Round to the balcony window, hurry!" he whispered. + +Then he turned, caught Berthe by the hand, and drew her quickly out into +the hall. As he closed the door behind him, he heard the portieres +rustle, but he dared not look back. + +Jacqueline stepped into the room, and her hat was upon her head. It was +of straw, with a drooping brim. She had thrown a long cloak over her +thin dress. There was ice in her veins on this tropical June day. She +paused, for she saw that the room was deserted. But no--there was a +shadow between her and the balcony door. She stared at it, and her eyes +grew big. The cloak slipped to the floor, and her fingers worked in the +tapestry behind her. She fluttered weakly, like a wounded dove on the +ground. Her knees trembled under her. And the man there? He was gazing +about him in a puzzled way, for the glare outside still blinded him. +Then he saw. He reached her, and caught her as she sank. He felt two +soft arms, but icy cold, drop as lead around his neck. The white form he +held was rigid, and he thought of shrouds and the chilled death sweat. +With savage despair he crushed her to him. After a time her body slowly +began to relax. + +"Oh, oh, my lad, my lad!" he heard her crying faintly, in a kind of +hysteria. + +He touched her hair dazedly, with unutterable tenderness. + +"There, there--sweetheart!" + +The word came, though he had never used it before. + +Blood awoke, and coursed, sluggishly at first, through her being, until +her heart tripped and throbbed and pounded against his own. Her head lay +on his breast, the hat hanging by its ribbons over her back, and with +the pulsing life the head and her whole body nestled closer. The soft +arms grew warm against his neck, and tightened fiercely, to hold and +keep him. Gently he forced up her chin, and her eyes, wet with hottest +tears, opened under his. He bent and kissed the long lashes. But a small +moist hand flattened against his brow and pushed back his head, and she +raised on tiptoe. He understood, and--their lips met. + +"Tu sais," she murmured deliriously--nothing but her own dear French +would answer now--"tu sais, que--oh, mon coeur, que je--que je +_t'aime_!" + +The oddest contrasts fall over life's most sacred moments. The tone of +her words thrilled him, set every fibre tingling, yet he thought of dry +conjugations and declensions, conned over and over again in school, and +he was conscious of vague wonderment that those things really, actually, +had a meaning. Meaning? He believed now that no words in English could +tell so much. He did not have to understand them. They bore the flesh +and blood, the passion and the soul, of a woman who told him that she +loved him. + +With a hesitant gentleness which bespoke the deep and reverent awe in +his yearning, he pressed her head back against its resting place. A man +can do without words of any kind. She grew very quiet there. The tense +quivering ceased, and she crept closer, and at last she sighed, +purringly, contentedly. + +But of course there was more which she simply had to say. And this time, +when she raised her eyes, they were calm and earnest, and her beautiful +forehead was white and very grave. "Do you know, dear," she said, "I +should not care to live, I would not have lived, if what he said +were--were--" But the eyes filled with tears, and angry with herself, +she planted her fists against him to be free, and as impulsively crying, +"Oh, my--my own dear lad!" she flung her arms about his neck again. "Oh, +oh," she moaned, "he said that you were dead!" + +For the first time it dawned on Driscoll that all this must have had a +cause, and for the first time since entering the room he remembered +Boone. + +"_He_ told you--He----" + +But Driscoll did not finish. Putting her from him he sprang to the door +and flung it open. There he waited. Boone was outside, and Boone walked +expectantly in. Without a word Driscoll raised his fist, drew it back, +his cruel arm muscled to kill. Jacqueline saw his anger for her, +terrible in murder. She threw herself upon him, got hold of the knotted +fist, got it to her lips. Another woman, too, had darted between him and +the other man, and she faced him. The gentle Berthe was become a little +tigress. + +"Not that, not that!" It was Jacqueline's voice. "Listen, mon cheri, +I--I thank him. Au contraire, I do! And--and you must, too!" + +Driscoll stared at all three, first at one, then at another. He +floundered, stupefied. Here was this loving girl, clinging to him as +though he might vanish, and he had left her that morning a disdainful +beauty. Then here was this Meagre Shanks with his mysterious ten +minutes, and here was this dumfounding product of those ten minutes. +Driscoll put forth an open hand. + +"Dan," he muttered incoherently, "you're a--a wonder, too!" + +Boone clenched the proffered hand in his own. "I never once thought, +Jack," he said earnestly, contritely, "never once, that she cared so +ever-_lastingly_ much." + +"Well," said Driscoll, "don't do it again." + +"Not unless," ventured Boone, "not unless she should ever want a little +antidote for ennui. By the way, mademoiselle, do you thank me for the +quaver of emotion, for the frisson?" + +"Frisson?" she repeated scornfully, with loathing. For once she had been +unaware of the prized knife-like tremor. In the fear of losing one dear +she had lost consciousness of self. She had _lived_ the tremor, the +agony, and it was too dreadful, "No, monsieur," she said, "I want no +more of art. I--I want to _live_!" + +"You needed something, though," said Berthe, "to make you find it out." + +Driscoll looked curiously at the two girls. + +"Yes, J-Jack'leen"--how quaintly awkward he was, trying her old tomboy +nickname without the "Miss!"--"Yes, what was the matter with you, +anyhow?" + +"Parbleu, I forgot!" cried Jacqueline in dismay. "I was not to have +monsieur, no!" And Jacqueline's chin, tilting back with elaborate +hauteur, was meant to indicate that she was in her first mind about it. + +Berthe laughed outright, and softly clapped her hands. + +"Sho'," declared Mr. Boone, "the matter was nothing, nothing _at_ +all!" + +But before feminine caprices and scruples it is wiser to bow low into +the dust. Jacqueline turned on the editorial personage with vast +indignation. "You leave the room, Seigneur Troubadour," she commanded, +"and Berthe, you march with him. Haste, both of you!" + +They went, meekly. Their attempt to hide content over the dismissal +together was extreme, but transparent. + +"What was it?" Driscoll insisted, when he and Jacqueline were alone once +more. + +"You mean," she exclaimed, "that you are going to quarrel--now?" + +"Jack'leen, what was it?" + +"I reck-on," she observed demurely, "that the animal disputans was--was +right, after all. It was nothing, I--reck-on." + +He noted mockery, defiance. There was much too much independence after +her late surrender. He went up to her and deliberately reassumed the +mastery. He held her, by force. "Mon chevalier," she murmured softly. So +she confessed his strength. + +"Tell me," he said. + +"And you did not guess? You--Oh, how I hated you! How I never wanted to +see you, never again! Not after, not after--Mon Dieu, you were two +exasperating idiots, you and poor Prince Max! He virtually _threw_ +me into your arms. But I, monsieur, am not a person to be thrown. That +is, unless--unless I do it myself, which--I did, helas!" + +The trooper's grip tightened on her arms. "Then you," he said earnestly, +"would have let me lose you?" + +She laughed merrily at him. + +"And would not you have followed after me?" + +"W'y, little girl, I reckon I certainly would of." + +"Don't," she gasped. "Let me come--closer. Oh dear, how can the bon Dieu +let people be so happy--s-o happy!" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISSOURIAN*** + + +******* This file should be named 30623.txt or 30623.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/6/2/30623 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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