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diff --git a/5987-h/5987-h.htm b/5987-h/5987-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..499939b --- /dev/null +++ b/5987-h/5987-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9170 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>In Kedar's Tents, by Henry Seton Merriman</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, In Kedar's Tents, by Henry Seton Merriman + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: In Kedar's Tents + + +Author: Henry Seton Merriman + + + +Release Date: January 27, 2015 [eBook #5987] +[This file was first posted on October 8, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN KEDAR'S TENTS*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1909 Smith, Elder and Co. edition by Les +Bowler.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/coverb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Book cover" +title= +"Book cover" + src="images/covers.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>IN<br /> +KEDAR’S TENTS</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic" +title= +"Decorative graphic" + src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +HENRY SETON MERRIMAN</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">LONDON</span><br /> +SMITH, ELDER, & CO.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">15 WATERLOO PLACE</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">1909</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">Printed by <span +class="smcap">Ballantyne</span>, <span +class="smcap">Hanson</span> & <span +class="smcap">Co</span>.<br /> +At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">CHAPTER</span></p> +</td> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">I.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">One Soweth</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">II.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Another Reapeth</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page11">11</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">III.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Like Ships upon the Sea</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page23">23</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">IV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Le Premier Pas</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page34">34</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">V.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Contraband</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page48">48</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">At Ronda</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page59">59</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">In a Moorish Garden</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page70">70</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Love Letter</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page82">82</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">IX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">A War of Wit</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page94">94</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">X.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The City of Discontent</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page105">105</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">A Tangled Web</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page117">117</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">On the Toledo Road</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page129">129</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">A Wise Ignoramus</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page140">140</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">A Weight of Evidence</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page151">151</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">An Ultimatum</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page163">163</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">In Honour</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page174">174</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">In Madrid</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page185">185</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">In Toledo</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page197">197</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Concepçion takes the +Road</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page208">208</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">On the Talavera Road</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page220">220</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">A Cross-Examination</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page231">231</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Reparation</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page242">242</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Larralde’s Price</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page254">254</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXIV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Priestcraft</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page265">265</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Swordcraft</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page276">276</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXVI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Womancraft</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page287">287</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXVII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">A Night Journey</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page298">298</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXVIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The City of Strife</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page309">309</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXIX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Midnight and Dawn</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page320">320</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Dawn of Peace</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page331">331</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>CHAPTER +I<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ONE SOWETH</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘If it be a duty to respect other +men’s claims, so also is it a duty to maintain our +own.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is in the staging of her +comedies that fate shows herself superior to mere human +invention. While we, with careful regard to scenery, place +our conventional puppets on the stage and bid them play their old +old parts in a manner as ancient, she rings up the curtain and +starts a tragedy on a scene that has obviously been set by the +carpenter for a farce. She deals out the parts with a fine +inconsistency, and the jolly-faced little man is cast to play +Romeo, while the poetic youth with lantern jaw and an impaired +digestion finds no Juliet to match his love.</p> +<p>Fate, with that playfulness which some take too seriously or +quite amiss, set her queer stage as long ago as 1838 for the +comedy of certain lives, and rang up the curtain one dark evening +on no fitter scene than the high road from Gateshead to +Durham. It was raining hard, and a fresh breeze from the +south-east swept a salt rime from the North Sea across a tract of +land as bare and bleak as the waters of that grim ocean. A +hard, cold land this, where the iron that has filled men’s +purses has also entered their souls.</p> +<p>There had been a great meeting at Chester-le-Street of those +who were at this time beginning to be known as Chartists, and, +the Act having been lately passed that torchlight meetings were +illegal, this assembly had gathered by the light of a waning moon +long since hidden by the clouds. Amid the storm of wind and +rain, orators had expounded views as wild as the night itself, to +which the hard-visaged sons of Northumbria had listened with +grunts of approval or muttered words of discontent. A +dangerous game to play—this stirring up of the +people’s heart, and one that may at any moment turn to the +deepest earnest.</p> +<p>Few thought at this time that the movement awakening in the +working centres of the North and Midlands was destined to spread +with the strange rapidity of popular passion—to spread and +live for a decade. Few of the Chartists expected to see the +fulfilment of half of their desires. Yet, to-day, a moiety +of the People’s Charter has been granted. These +voices crying in the night demanded an extended suffrage, vote by +ballot, and freedom for rich and poor alike to sit in +Parliament. Within the scope of one reign these demands +have been granted.</p> +<p>The meeting at Chester-le-Street was no different from a +hundred others held in England at the same time. It was +illegal, and yet the authorities dared not to pronounce it +so. It might prove dangerous to those taking part in +it. Lawyers said that the leaders laid themselves open to +the charge of high treason. In this assembly as in others +there were wirepullers—men playing their own game, and from +the safety of the rear pushing on those in front. With one +of these we have to do. With his mistake Fate raised the +curtain, and on the horizon of several lives arose a cloud no +bigger than a man’s hand.</p> +<p>Geoffrey Horner lived before his time, insomuch as he was a +gentleman-Radical. He was clever, and the world heeded +not. He was brilliant, well educated, capable of great +achievements, and the world refused to be astonished. Here +were the makings of a malcontent. A well-born Radical is +one whom the world has refused to accept at his own +valuation. A wise man is ready to strike a bargain with +Fate. The wisest are those who ask much and then take +half. It is the coward who asks too little, and the fool +who imagines that he will receive without demanding.</p> +<p>Horner had thrown in his lot with the Chartists in that spirit +of pique which makes a man marry the wrong woman because the +right one will have none of him. At the Chester-le-Street +meeting he had declared himself an upholder of moral persuasion, +while in his heart he pandered to those who knew only of physical +force and placed their reliance thereon. He had come from +Durham with a contingent of malcontents, and was now returning +thither on foot in company with the local leaders. These +were intelligent mechanics seeking clumsily and blindly enough +what they knew to be the good of their fellows. At their +heels tramped the rank and file of the great movement. The +assembly was a subtle foreshadowing of things to come—of +Newport and the march of twenty thousand men, of violence and +bloodshed, of strife between brethren, and of justice nonplussed +and hesitating.</p> +<p>The toil-worn miners were mostly silent, their dimly +enlightened intellects uneasily stirred by the words they had +lately heard—their stubborn hearts full of a great hope +with a minute misgiving at the back of it. With this +dangerous material Geoffrey Horner proposed to play his game.</p> +<p>Suddenly a voice was raised.</p> +<p>‘Mates,’ it cried, at the cross-roads, +‘let’s go and smash Pleydell’s +windows!’</p> +<p>And a muttered acquiescence to the proposal swept through the +moving mass like a sullen breeze through reeds.</p> +<p>The desire for action rustled among these men of few words and +mighty arms.</p> +<p>Horner hurriedly consulted his colleagues. Was it wise +to attempt to exert an authority which was merely nominal? +The principles of Chartism were at this time to keep within the +limits of the law, and yet to hint, when such a course was safe, +that stronger measures lay behind mere words. Their fatal +habit was to strike softly.</p> +<p>In peace and war, at home and abroad, there is but one humane +and safe rule: Hesitate to strike—strike hard.</p> +<p>Sir John Pleydell was a member of that Parliament which had +treated the Charter with contempt. He was one of those who +had voted with the majority against the measures it embodied.</p> +<p>In addition to these damnatory facts, he was a local Tory of +some renown—an ambitious man, the neighbours said, who +wished to leave his son a peerage.</p> +<p>To the minds of the rabble this magnate represented the +tyranny against which their protest was raised. Geoffrey +Horner looked on him as a political opponent and a dangerous +member of the winning party. The blow was easy to +strike. Horner hesitated—at the cross roads of other +lives than his own—and held his tongue.</p> +<p>The suggestion of the unknown humorist in the crowd commended +itself to the more energetic of the party, who immediately turned +towards the by-road leading to Dene Hall. The +others—the minority—followed as minorities do, +because they distrusted themselves. Some one struck up a +song with words lately published in the ‘Northern +Liberator’ and set to a well-known local air.</p> +<p>The shooting party assembled at Dene Hall was still at the +dinner table when the malcontents entered the park, and the talk +of coverts and guns ceased suddenly at the sound of their rough +voices. Sir John Pleydell, an alert man still, despite his +grey hair and drawn, careworn face, looked up sharply. He +had been sitting silently fingering the stem of his +wineglass—a habit of his when the ladies quitted the +room—and, although he had shot as well as, perhaps better +than, any present, had taken but little part in the +conversation. He had, in fact, only half listened, and when +a rare smile passed across his grey face it invariably owed its +existence to some sally made by his son, Alfred Pleydell, gay, +light-hearted, <i>débonnaire</i>, at the far end of the +table. When Sir John’s thoughtful eyes rested on his +motherless son, a dull and suppressed light gleamed momentarily +beneath his heavy lids. Superficial observers said that +John Pleydell was an ambitious man; ‘not for +himself,’ added the few who saw deeper.</p> +<p>When his quick mind now took in the import of the sound that +broke the outer silence of the night, Sir John’s glance +sought his son’s face. In moments of alarm the glance +flies to where the heart is.</p> +<p>‘What is that?’ asked Alfred Pleydell, standing +up.</p> +<p>‘The Chartists,’ said Sir John.</p> +<p>Alfred looked round. He was a soldier, though the ink +had hardly dried upon the parchment that made him one—the +only soldier in the room.</p> +<p>‘We are eleven here,’ he said, ‘and two men +downstairs—some of you fellows have your valets +too—say fifteen in all. We cannot stand this, you +know.’</p> +<p>As he spoke the first volley of stones crashed through the +windows, and the broken glass rattled to the floor behind the +shutters. The cries of the ladies in the drawing-room could +be heard, and all the men sprang to their feet. With +blazing eyes Alfred Pleydell ran to the door, but his father was +there before him.</p> +<p>‘Not you,’ said the elder man, quiet but a little +paler than usual; ‘I will go and speak to them. They +will not dare to touch me. They are probably running away +by this time.’</p> +<p>‘Then we’ll run after ’em,’ answered +Alfred with a fine spirit, and something in his attitude, in the +ring of his voice, awoke that demon of combativeness which lies +dormant in men of the Anglo-Saxon race.</p> +<p>‘Come on, you fellows!’ cried the boy with a queer +glad laugh, and without knowing that he did it Sir John stood +aside, his heart warm with a sudden pride, his blood stirred by +something that had not moved it these thirty years. The +guests crowded out of the room—old men who should have +known better—laughing as they threw aside their dinner +napkins. What a strange thing is man, peaceful through long +years, and at a moment’s notice a mere fighting devil.</p> +<p>‘Come on, we’ll teach them to break +windows!’ repeated Alfred Pleydell, running to the stick +rack. The rain rattled on the skylight of the square hall, +and the wind roared down the open chimney. Among the men +hastily arming themselves with heavy sticks and cramming caps +upon their heads were some who had tasted of rheumatism, but they +never thought of an overcoat.</p> +<p>‘We’ll know each other by our shirt fronts,’ +said a quiet man who was standing on a chair in order to reach an +Indian club suspended on the wall.</p> +<p>Alfred was at the door leading through to the servants’ +quarters, and his summons brought several men from the pantry and +kitchens.</p> +<p>‘Come on!’ he cried, ‘take anything you can +find—stick or poker—yes, and those old guns, use +’em like a club, hit very hard and very often. +We’ll charge the devils—there’s nothing like a +charge—come on!’</p> +<p>And he was already out of the door with a dozen at his +heels.</p> +<p>The change from the lighted rooms to the outer darkness made +them pause a moment, during which time the defenders had leisure +to group themselves around Alfred Pleydell. A hoarse shout, +which indeed drowned Geoffrey Horner’s voice, showed where +the assailants stood. Horner had found his tongue after the +first volley of stones. It was the policy of the Chartist +leaders and wirepullers to suggest rather than demonstrate +physical force. Enough had been done to call attention to +the Chester-le-Street meeting, and give it the desired prominence +in the eyes of the nation.</p> +<p>‘Get back, go to your homes!’ he was shouting, +with upraised arms, when the hoarse cry of his adherents and the +flood of light from the opened door made him turn hastily. +In a moment he saw the meaning of this development, but it was +too late.</p> +<p>With a cheer, Alfred Pleydell, little more than a boy, led the +charge, and seeing Horner in front, ran at him with upraised +stick. Horner half warded the blow, which came whistling +down his own stick and paralysed his thumb. He returned the +stroke with a sudden fury, striking Pleydell full on the +head. Then, because he had a young wife and child at home, +he pushed his way through the struggling crowd, and ran away in +the darkness. As he ran he could hear his late adherents +dispersing in all directions, like sheep before a dog. He +heard a voice calling:</p> +<p>‘Alfred! Alfred!’</p> +<p>And Horner, who an hour—nay, ten minutes—earlier +had had no thought of violence, ran his fastest along the road by +which he had lately come. His heart was as water within his +breast, and his staring eyes played their part +mechanically. He did not fall, but he noted nothing, and +had no knowledge whither he was running.</p> +<p>Alfred Pleydell lay quite still on the lawn in front of his +father’s house.</p> +<h2><a name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +11</span>CHAPTER II<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ANOTHER REAPETH</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘Attempt the end, +and never stand to doubt.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">During</span> the course of a harum-scarum +youth in the city of Dublin certain persons had been known to +predict that Mr. Frederick Conyngham had a future before +him. Mostly pleasant-spoken Irish persons these, who had +the racial habit of saying that which is likely to be +welcome. Many of them added, ‘the young divil,’ +under their breath, in a pious hope of thereby cleansing their +souls from guilt.</p> +<p>‘I suppose I’m idle, and what is worse, I know +I’m a fool,’ said Conyngham himself to his tutor when +that gentleman, with a toleration which was undeserved, took him +severely to task before sending him up for the Bar +examination. The tutor said nothing, but he suspected that +this, his wildest pupil, was no fool. Truth to tell, +Frederick Conyngham had devoted little thought to the matter of +which he spoke, namely, himself, and was perhaps none the worse +for that. A young man who thinks too often usually falls +into the error of also thinking too much, of himself.</p> +<p>The examination was, however, safely passed, and in due course +Frederick was called to the Irish Bar, where a Queen’s +Counsel, with an accent like rich wine, told him that he was now +a gintleman, and entitled so to call himself.</p> +<p>All these events were left behind, and Conyngham, sitting +alone in his rooms in Norfolk Street, Strand, three days after +the breaking of Sir John Pleydell’s windows, was engaged in +realising that the predicted future was still in every sense +before him, and in nowise nearer than it had been in his +mother’s lifetime.</p> +<p>This realisation of an unpleasant fact appeared in no way to +disturb his equanimity, for, as he knocked his pipe against the +bars of the fire, he murmured a popular air in a careless +voice. The firelight showed his face to be pleasant enough +in a way that left the land of his birth undoubted. Blue +eyes, quick and kind; a square chin, closely curling hair, and +square shoulders bespoke an Irishman. Something, however, +in the cut of his lips—something close and +firm—suggested an admixture of Anglo-Saxon blood. The +man looked as if he might have had an English mother. It +was perhaps this formation of the mouth that had led those +pleasant-spoken persons to name to his relatives their conviction +that Conyngham had a future before him. The best liars are +those who base their fancy upon fact. They knew that the +ordinary thoroughbred Irishman has usually a cheerful enough life +before him, but not that which is vaguely called a future. +Fred Conyngham looked like a man who could hold to his purpose, +but at this moment he also had the unfortunate appearance of not +possessing one to hold to.</p> +<p>He knocked the ashes from his pipe, and held the hot briar +bowl against the ear of a sleeping fox terrier, which animal +growled, without moving, in a manner that suggested its +possession of a sense of humour and a full comprehension of the +harmless practical joke.</p> +<p>A moment later the dog sat up and listened with an interest +that gradually increased until the door opened and Geoffrey +Horner came into the room.</p> +<p>‘Faith, it’s Horner!’ said Conyngham. +‘Where are you from?’</p> +<p>‘The North.’</p> +<p>‘Ah—sit down. What have you been doing up +there—tub-thumping?’</p> +<p>Horner came forward and sat down in the chair indicated. +He looked five years older than when he had last been +there. Conyngham glanced at his friend, who was staring +into the fire.</p> +<p>‘Edith all right?’ he asked carelessly.</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘And—the little chap?’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>Conyngham glanced at his companion again. Horner’s +eyes had the hard look that comes from hopelessness; his lips +were dry and white. He wore the air of one whose stake in +the game of life was heavy, who played that game nervously. +For this was an ambitious man with wife and child whom he +loved. Conyngham’s attitude towards Fate was in +strong contrast. He held his head up and faced the world +without encumbrance, without a settled ambition, without any +sense of responsibility at all. The sharp-eyed dog on the +hearthrug looked from one to the other. A moment before, +the atmosphere of the room had been one of ease and comfortable +assurance—an atmosphere that some men, without any warrant +or the justification of personal success or distinction, seem to +carry with them through life. Since Horner had crossed the +threshold the ceaseless hum of the streets seemed to be nearer, +the sound of it louder in the room; the restlessness of that +great strife stirred the air. The fox terrier laid himself +on the hearthrug again, but instead of sleeping watched his two +human companions.</p> +<p>Conyngham filled his pipe. He turned to the table where +the matchbox stood at his elbow, took it up, rattled it, and laid +it down. He pressed the tobacco hard with his thumb, and, +turning to Horner, said sharply:</p> +<p>‘What is it?’</p> +<p>‘I don’t know yet; ruin, I think.’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense, man!’ said Conyngham cheerily. +‘There is no such thing in this world. At least, the +jolliest fellows I know are bankrupts, or no better. Look +at me: never a brief; literary contributions returned with +thanks; balance at the bank, seventeen pounds ten shillings; +balance in hand, none; debts, the Lord only knows! Look at +me! I’m happy enough.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, you’re a lonely devil.’</p> +<p>Conyngham looked at his friend with inquiry in his gay +eyes.</p> +<p>‘Ah! perhaps so. I live alone, if that is what you +mean. But as for being lonely—no, hang it! I +have plenty of friends, especially at dividend time.’</p> +<p>‘You have nobody depending on you,’ said Horner +with the irritability of sorrow.</p> +<p>‘Because nobody is such a fool. On the other hand, +I have nobody to care a twopenny curse what becomes of me. +Same thing, you see, in the end. Come, man, cheer up. +Tell me what is wrong. Seventeen pounds ten shillings is +not exactly wealth, but if you want it you know it is there, +eh?’</p> +<p>‘I do not want it, thanks,’ replied the +other. ‘Seventeen hundred would be no good to +me.’</p> +<p>He paused, biting his under lip and staring with hard eyes +into the fire.</p> +<p>‘Read that,’ he said at length, and handed +Conyngham a cutting from a daily newspaper.</p> +<p>The younger man read, without apparent interest, an account of +the Chester-le-Street meeting, and the subsequent attack on Sir +John Pleydell’s house.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ he commented, ‘the usual thing. +Brave words followed by a cowardly deed. What in the name +of fortune you were doing in that <i>galère</i> you +yourself know best. If these are politics, Horner, I say +drop them. Politics are a stick, clean enough at the top, +but you’ve got hold of the wrong end. Young Pleydell +was hurt, I see—“seriously, it is +feared.”’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Horner significantly; and his +companion, after a quick look of surprise, read the slip of paper +carefully a second time. Then he looked up and met +Horner’s eyes.</p> +<p>‘Gad!’ he exclaimed in a whisper.</p> +<p>Horner said nothing. The dog moved restlessly, and for a +moment the whole world—that sleepless world of the +streets—seemed to hold its breath.</p> +<p>‘And if he dies,’ said Conyngham at length.</p> +<p>‘Exactly so,’ answered the other with a +laugh—of scaffold mirth.</p> +<p>Conyngham turned in his chair and sat with his elbows on his +knees, his face resting on his closed fists, staring at the worn +old hearthrug. Thus they remained for some minutes.</p> +<p>‘What are you thinking about?’ asked Horner at +length.</p> +<p>‘Nothing—got nothing to think with. You know +that, Geoffrey. Wish I had—never wanted it as I do at +this moment. I’m no good, you know that. You +must go to some one with brains—some clever +devil.’</p> +<p>As he spoke he turned and took up the paper again, reading the +paragraph slowly and carefully. Horner looked at him with a +breathless hunger in his eyes. At some moments it is a +crime to think, for we never know but that thought may be +transmitted without so much as a whisper.</p> +<p>‘“The miners were accompanied by a gentleman from +London,”’ Conyngham read aloud, ‘“a +barrister, it is supposed, whose speech was a feature of the +Chester le-Street meeting. This gentleman’s name is +quite unknown, nor has his whereabouts yet been discovered. +His sudden disappearance lends likelihood to the report that this +unknown agitator actually struck the blow which injured Mr. +Alfred Pleydell. Every exertion is being put forth by the +authorities to trace the man who is possibly a felon and +certainly a coward.”’</p> +<p>Conyngham laid aside the paper and again looked at Horner, who +did not meet his glance nor ask now of what he was +thinking. Horner, indeed, had his own thoughts, perhaps of +the fireside—modest enough, but happy as love and health +could make it—upon which his own ambition had brought down +the ruins of a hundred castles in the air—thoughts he +scarce could face, no doubt, and yet had no power to drive away, +of the young wife whose world was that same fireside; of the +child, perhaps, whose coming had opened for a time the door of +Paradise.</p> +<p>Conyngham broke in upon these meditations with a laugh.</p> +<p>‘I have it!’ he cried. ‘It’s as +simple as the alphabet. This paper says it was a +barrister—a man from London—a malcontent, a felon, a +coward. Dammy, Geoff—that’s me!’</p> +<p>He leapt to his feet. ‘Get out of the way, +Tim!’ he cried to the dog, pushing the animal aside and +standing on the hearthrug.</p> +<p>‘Listen to this,’ he went on. ‘This +thing, like the others, will blow over. It will be +forgotten in a week. Another meeting will be held—say +in South Wales, more windows will be broken, another young +man’s head cracked, and Chester-le-Street (God-forsaken +place, never heard of it!) will be forgotten.’</p> +<p>Horner sat looking with hollow eyes at the young Irishman, his +lips twitching, his fingers interlocked—there is nothing +makes so complete a coward of a man as a woman’s +love. Conyngham laughed as the notion unfolded itself in +his mind. He might, as he himself had said, be of no great +brain power, but he was at all events a man and a brave +one. He stood a full six foot, and looked down at his +companion, who sat whitefaced and shrinking.</p> +<p>‘It is quite easy,’ he said, ‘for me to +disappear in such a manner as to arouse suspicion. I have +nothing to keep me here; my briefs—well, the +Solicitor-General can have ’em! I have no +ties—nothing to keep me in any part of the world. +When young Pleydell is on his feet again, and a few more windows +have been broken, and nine days have elapsed, the wonder will +give place to another, and I can return to +my—practice.’</p> +<p>‘I couldn’t let you do it.’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, you could,’ said Conyngham with the +quickness of his race to spy out his neighbour’s vulnerable +point. ‘For the sake of Edith and the little +devil.’</p> +<p>Horner sat silent, and after a moment Conyngham went on.</p> +<p>‘All we want to do is to divert suspicion from you +now—to put them on a false scent, for they must have one of +some sort. When they find that they cannot catch me they +will forget all about it.’</p> +<p>Horner shuffled in his seat. This was nothing but +detection of the thoughts that had passed through his own +mind.</p> +<p>‘It is easily enough done,’ went on the +Irishman. ‘A paragraph here and there in some of the +newspapers; a few incriminating papers left in these rooms, which +are certain to be searched. I have a bad name—an +Irish dog goes about the world with a rope round his neck. +If I am caught it will not be for some time, and then I can get +out of it somehow—an alibi or something. I’ll +get a brief at all events. By that time the scent will be +lost, and it will be all right. Come, Geoff, cheer +up! A man of your sort ought not to be thrown by a +mischance like this.’</p> +<p>He stood with his legs apart, his hands thrust deep into his +pockets, a gay laugh on his lips, and much discernment in his +eyes.</p> +<p>‘Oh, d—n Edith!’ he added after a pause, +seeing that his efforts met with no response. +‘D—n that child! You used to have some pluck, +Horner.’ Horner shook his head and made no answer, +but his very silence was a point gained. He no longer +protested nor raised any objection to his companion’s +hare-brained scheme. The thing was feasible, and he knew +it.</p> +<p>Conyngham went on to set forth his plans, which with +characteristic rapidity of thought he evolved as he spoke.</p> +<p>‘Above all,’ he said, ‘we must be +prompt. I must disappear to-night, the paragraphs must be +in to-morrow’s papers. I think I’ll go to +Spain. The Carlists seem to be making things lively +there. You know, Horner, I was never meant for a wig and +gown—there’s no doubt about that. I shall have +a splendid time of it out there—’</p> +<p>He stopped, meeting a queer look in Horner’s eyes, who +sat leaning forward and searching his face with jealous +glance.</p> +<p>‘I was wondering,’ said the other, with a pale +smile, ‘if you were ever in love with Edith.’</p> +<p>‘No, my good soul, I was not,’ answered Conyngham, +with perfect carelessness, ‘though I knew her long before +you did.’</p> +<p>He paused, and a quick thought flashed through his mind that +some men are seen at their worst in adversity. He was ready +enough to find excuses for Horner, for men are strange in the +gift of their friendship, often bestowing it where they know it +is but ill deserved.</p> +<p>He rattled on with unbroken gaiety, unfolding plans which in +their perfection of detail suggested a previous experience in +outrunning the constable.</p> +<p>While they were still talking a mutual friend came in—a +quick-spoken man already beginning to be known as a journalist of +ability. They talked on indifferent topics for some +time. Then the new-comer said jerkily:</p> +<p>‘Heard the news?’</p> +<p>‘No,’ answered Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘Alfred Pleydell—young fellow who resisted the +Chartist rioters at Durham—died yesterday +morning.’ Frederick Conyngham had placed himself in +front of Horner, who was still seated in the low chair by the +fire. He found Horner’s toe with his heel.</p> +<p>‘Is that so?’ he said gravely. ‘Then +I’m off.’</p> +<p>‘What do you mean?’ asked the journalist with a +quick look—the man had the manner of a ferret.</p> +<p>‘Nothing, only I’m off, that’s all, old +man. And I cannot ask you to stay this evening, you +understand, because I have to pack.’</p> +<p>He turned slowly on Horner, who had recovered himself, but +still had his hand over his face.</p> +<p>‘Got any money, Geoff?’ he asked.</p> +<p>‘Yes, I have twenty pounds if you want it,’ +answered the other in a hoarse voice.</p> +<p>‘I do want it—badly.’</p> +<p>The journalist had taken up his hat and stick. He moved +slowly towards the door, and, there pausing, saw Horner pass the +bank-notes to Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘You had better go too,’ said the Irishman. +‘You two are going in the same direction, I +know.’</p> +<p>Horner rose, and, half laughing, Conyngham pushed him towards +the door.</p> +<p>‘See him home, Blake,’ he said. +‘Horner has the blues to-night.’</p> +<h2><a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +23</span>CHAPTER III<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">LIKE SHIPS UPON THE SEA</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘No one can be +more wise than destiny.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘<span class="smcap">What</span> are we waiting for? +why, two more passengers—grand ladies as they tell +me—and the captain has gone ashore to fetch them,’ +the first mate of the ‘Granville’ barque, of London, +made answer to Frederick Conyngham, and he breathed on his +fingers as he spoke, for the north-west wind was blowing across +the plains of the Medoc, and the sun had just set behind the +smoke of Bordeaux.</p> +<p>The ‘Granville’ was lying at anchor in the middle +of the Garonne river, having safely discharged her deck cargo of +empty claret casks and landed a certain number of +passengers. There are few colder spots on the Continent +than the sunny town of Bordeaux when the west wind blows from +Atlantic wastes in winter time. A fine powder of snow +scudded across the flat land, which presented a bleak brown face, +patched here and there with white. There were two more +passengers on board the ‘Granville,’ crouching in the +cabin—two French gentlemen who had taken passage from +London to Algeciras in Spain, on their way to Algiers.</p> +<p>Conyngham, with characteristic good-nature, had made himself +so entirely at home on board the Mediterranean trader that his +presence was equally welcomed in the forecastle and the +captain’s cabin. Even the first mate, his present +interlocutor, a grim man given to muttered abuse of his calling +and a pious pessimism in respect to human nature, gradually +thawed under the influence of so cheerful an acceptance of heavy +weather and a clumsy deck cargo.</p> +<p>‘The ladies will be less trouble than the empty casks, +at all events,’ said Conyngham, ‘because they will +keep below.’</p> +<p>The sailor shook his head forebodingly and took an heroic +pinch of snuff.</p> +<p>‘One’s as capable of carrying mischief as the +other,’ he muttered in the bigoted voice of a married +teetotaller.</p> +<p>The ship was ready for sea, and this mariner’s spirit +was ever uneasy and restless till the anchor was on deck and the +hawser stowed.</p> +<p>‘There’s a boat leaving the quay now,’ he +added. ‘Seems she’s lumbered up forr’ard +wi’ women’s hamper.’</p> +<p>And indeed the black form of a skiff so laden could be seen +approaching through the driving snow and gloom. The mate +called to the steward to come on deck, and this bearded servitor +of dames emerged from the galley with uprolled sleeves and a fine +contempt for cold winds. A boy went forward with a coil of +rope on his arm, for the tide was running hard and the Garonne is +no ladies’ pleasure stream. It is not an easy matter +to board a ship in mid-current when tide and wind are at +variance, and the fingers so cold that a rope slips through them +like a log-line. The ‘Granville,’ having still +on board her cargo of coals for Algeciras, lay low in the water +with both her anchors out and the tide singing round her +old-fashioned hempen hawsers.</p> +<p>‘Now see ye throw a clear rope,’ shouted the mate +to the boy who had gone forward. The proximity of the land +and the approach of women—a <i>bête noire</i> no less +dreaded—seemed to flurry the brined spirit of the +Granville’s’ mate.</p> +<p>Perhaps the knowledge that the end of a rope, not judged +clear, would inevitably be applied to his own person, shook the +nerve of the boy on the forecastle—perhaps his hands were +cold and his faculties benumbed. He cast a line which +seemed to promise well at first. Two coils of it unfolded +themselves gracefully against the grey sky, and then Confusion +took the others for herself. A British oath from the deck +of the ship went out to meet a fine French explosion of profanity +from the boat, both forestalling the splash of the tangled rope +into the water under the bows of the ship, and a full ten yards +out of the reach of the man who stood, boathook in hand, ready to +catch it. There were two ladies in the stern of the boat, +muffled up to the eyes, and betokening by their attitude the +hopeless despair and misery which seize the southern fair the +moment they embark in so much as a ferry boat. The fore +part of the heavy craft was piled up with trunks and other +impedimenta of a feminine incongruity. A single boatman had +rowed the boat from the shore, guiding it into mid-stream, and +there describing a circle calculated to insure a gentle approach +on the lee side. This man, having laid aside his oars, now +stood, boathook in hand, awaiting the inevitable crash. The +offending boy in the bows was making frantic efforts to haul in +his misguided rope, but the possibility of making a second cast +was unworthy of consideration. The mate muttered such a +string of foreboding expletives as augured ill for the +delinquent. The boatman was preparing to hold on and fend +off at the same moment—a sudden gust of wind gave the boat +a sharp buffet just as the man grappled the +mizzen-chains—he overbalanced himself, fell, and recovered +himself, but only to be jerked backwards into the water by the +boathook, which struck him in the chest.</p> +<p>‘<i>À moi</i>!’ cried the man, and +disappeared in the muddy water. He rose to the surface +under the ship’s quarter, and the mate, quick as lightning, +dumped the whole coil of the slack of the main sheet on to the +top of him. In a moment he was at the level of the rail, +the mate and the steward hauling steadily on the rope, to which +he clung with the tenacity and somewhat the attitude of a +monkey. At the same instant a splash made the rescuers turn +in time to see Conyngham, whose coat lay thrown on the deck +behind them, rise to the surface ten yards astern of the +‘Granville’ and strike out towards the boat, now +almost disappearing in the gloom of night.</p> +<p>The water, which had flowed through the sunniest of the sunny +plains of France, was surprisingly warm, and Conyngham, soon +recovering from the shock of his dive, settled into a quick +side-stroke. The boat was close in front of him, and in the +semi-darkness he could see one of the women rise from her seat +and make her way forward, while her companion crouched lower and +gave voice to her dismay in a series of wails and groans. +The more intrepid lady was engaged in lifting one of the heavy +oars, when Conyngham called out in French:</p> +<p>‘Courage, mesdames! I will be with you in a +moment.’</p> +<p>Both turned, and the pallor of their faces shone whitely +through the gloom. Neither spoke, and in a few strokes +Conyngham came alongside. He clutched the gunwale with his +right hand, and drew himself breast high.</p> +<p>‘If these ladies,’ he said, ‘will kindly go +to the opposite side of the boat, I shall be able to climb in +without danger of upsetting.’</p> +<p>‘If mama inclines that way I think it will be +sufficient,’ answered the muffled form which had made its +way forward. The voice was clear and low, remarkably +self-possessed, and not without a suggestion that its possessor +bore a grudge against some person present.</p> +<p>‘Perhaps mademoiselle is right,’ said Conyngham +with becoming gravity, and the lady in the stern obeyed her +daughter’s suggestion, with the result anticipated. +Indeed, the boat heeled over with so much goodwill that Conyngham +was lifted right out of the water. He clambered on board +and immediately began shivering, for the wind cut like a +knife.</p> +<p>The younger lady made her way cautiously back to the seat +which she had recently quitted, and began at once to speak very +severely to her mother. This stout and emotional person was +swaying backwards and forwards, and, in the intervals of wailing +and groaning, called in Spanish upon several selected saints to +assist her. At times, and apparently by way of a change, +she appealed to yet higher powers to receive her soul.</p> +<p>‘My mother,’ said the young lady to Conyngham, who +had already got the oars out, ‘has the heart of a rabbit, +but—yes—of a very young rabbit.’</p> +<p>‘Madame may rest assured that there is no danger,’ +said Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘Monsieur is an Englishman—’</p> +<p>‘Yes, and a very cold one at the moment. If madame +could restrain her religious enthusiasm so much as to sit still, +we should make better progress.’</p> +<p>He spoke rather curtly, as if refusing to admit the +advisability of manning the boat with a crew of black-letter +saints. The manner in which the craft leapt forward under +each stroke of the oars testified to the strength of his arms, +and madame presently subsided into whispers of thankfulness, +having reason, it would seem, to be content with mere earthly aid +in lieu of that heavenly intervention which ladies of her species +summon at every turn of life.</p> +<p>‘I wish I could help you,’ said the younger woman +presently, in a voice and manner suggestive of an energy unusual +to her countrywomen. She spoke in French, but with an +accent somewhat round and full, like an English accent, and +Conyngham divined that she was Spanish. He thought also +that under their outer wraps the ladies wore the mantilla, and +had that graceful carriage of the head which is only seen in the +Peninsula.</p> +<p>‘Thank you, mademoiselle, but I am making good progress +now. Can you see the ship?’</p> +<p>She rose and stood peering into the darkness ahead—a +graceful, swaying figure. A faint scent as of some flower +was wafted on the keen wind to Conyngham, who had already decided +with characteristic haste that this young person was as beautiful +as she was intrepid.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ she answered, ‘it is quite +close. They are also showing lights to guide us.’</p> +<p>She stood looking apparently over his head towards the +‘Granville,’ but when she spoke it would seem that +her thoughts had not been fixed on that vessel.</p> +<p>‘Is monsieur a sailor?’</p> +<p>‘No, but I fortunately have a little knowledge of such +matters—fortunate, since I have been able to turn it to the +use of these ladies.’</p> +<p>‘But you are travelling in the +“Granville.”’</p> +<p>‘Yes; I am travelling in the +“Granville.”’</p> +<p>Over his oars Conyngham looked hard at his interlocutrice, but +could discern nothing of her features. Her voice interested +him, however, and he wondered whether there were ever calms on +the coast of Spain at this time of the year.</p> +<p>‘Our sailors,’ said the young lady, ‘in +Spain are brave, but they are very cautious. I think none +of them would have done such a thing as you have just done for +us. We were in danger. I knew it. Was it not +so?’</p> +<p>‘The boat might have drifted against some ship at anchor +and been upset. You might also have been driven out to +sea. They had no boat on board the “Granville” +ready to put out and follow you.’</p> +<p>‘Yes; and you saved us. But you English are of a +great courage. And my mother, instead of thanking you, is +offering her gratitude to James and John the sons of Zebedee, as +if they had done it.’</p> +<p>‘I am no relation to Zebedee,’ said Conyngham with +a gay laugh. ‘Madame may rest assured of +that.’</p> +<p>‘Julia,’ said the elder lady severely, and in a +voice that seemed to emanate from a chest as deep and hollow as +an octave cask, ‘I shall tell Father Concha, who will +assuredly reprove you. The saints upon whom I called were +fishermen, and therefore the more capable of understanding our +great danger. As for monsieur, he knows that he shall +always be in my prayers.’</p> +<p>‘Thank you, madame,’ said Conyngham gravely.</p> +<p>‘And at a fitter time I hope to be able to tender him my +thanks.’</p> +<p>At this moment a voice from the ‘Granville’ hailed +the boat, asking whether all was well and Mr. Conyngham on +board. Being reassured on this point, the mate apparently +attended to another matter requiring his attention, the mingled +cries and expostulations of the cabin boy sufficiently indicating +its nature.</p> +<p>The boat, under Conyngham’s strong and steady strokes, +now came slowly and without mishap alongside the great black hull +of the vessel, and it soon became manifest that, although all +danger was past, there yet remained difficulty ahead; for when +the boat was made fast and the ladder lowered, the elder of the +two ladies firmly and emphatically denied her ability to make the +ascent. The French boatman, shivering in a borrowed great +coat, and with a vociferation which flavoured the air with +cognac, added his entreaties to those of the mate and +steward. In the small boat Conyngham, in French, and the +lady’s daughter, in Spanish, represented that at least half +of the heavenly host, having intervened to save her from so great +a peril as that safely passed through, could surely accomplish +this smaller feat with ease. But the lady still hesitated, +and the mate, having clambered down into the boat, grabbed +Conyngham’s arm with a large and not unkindly hand, and +pushed him forcibly towards the ladder.</p> +<p>‘You hadn’t got no business, Mr. Conyngham,’ +he said gruffly, ‘to leave the ship like that, and like as +not you’ve got your death of cold. Just you get +aboard and leave these women to me. You get to your bunk, +mister, and stooard’ll bring you something hot.’</p> +<p>There was nought but obedience in the matter, and Conyngham +was soon between the blankets, alternately shivering and burning +in the first stages of a severe chill.</p> +<p>The captain having come on board, the ‘Granville’ +presently weighed anchor, and on the bosom of an ebbing tide +turned her blunt prow towards the winter sea. The waves out +there beat high, and before the lights of Pauillac, then a mere +cluster of fishers’ huts, had passed away astern, the good +ship was lifting her bow with a sense of anticipation, while her +great wooden beams and knees began to strain and creak.</p> +<p>During the following days, while the sense of spring and +warmth slowly gave life to those who could breathe the air on +deck, Conyngham lay in his little cabin and heeded nothing; for +when the fever left him he was only conscious of a great +lassitude, and scarce could raise himself to take such +nourishment as the steward, with a rough but kindly skill, +prepared for him.</p> +<p>‘Why the deuce I ever came—why the deuce I ever +went overboard after a couple of señoras—I +don’t know,’ he repeated to himself during the hours +of that long watch below.</p> +<p>Why, indeed? except that youth must needs go forth into the +world and play the only stake it owns there. Nor is +Frederick Conyngham the first who, having no knowledge of the +game of life, throws all upon the board to wait upon the hazard +of a die.</p> +<h2><a name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +34</span>CHAPTER IV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">LE PREMIER PAS</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Be as one that knoweth and yet holdeth his +tongue.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> little town of Algeciras lies, +as many know, within sight of Gibraltar, and separated from that +stronghold by a broad bay. It is on the mainland of Spain, +and in direct communication by road with the great port of +Cadiz. Another road, little better than a bridle-path, runs +northward to Ximena and through the corkwood forests of that +plain towards the mountain ranges that rise between Ronda and the +sea.</p> +<p>By this bridle-path, it is whispered, a vast smuggled commerce +has ever found passage to the mainland, and scarce a boatman or +passenger lands at Algeciras from Gibraltar but carries somewhere +on his person as much tobacco as he may hope to conceal with +safety. Algeciras, with its fair white houses, its prim +church, and sleepy quay, where the blue waters lap and sparkle in +innocent sunlight, is, it is to be feared, a town of small virtue +and the habitation of scoundrels. For this is the +stronghold of those contrabandistas whom song and legend have +praised as the boldest, the merriest, and most romantic of +law-breakers. Indeed, in this country the man who can boast +of a smuggling ancestry holds high his head and looks down on +honest folk.</p> +<p>The ‘Granville’ having dropped anchor to the north +of the rough stone pier, was soon disburdened of her +passengers—the ladies going ashore with undisguised +delight, and leaving behind them many gracious messages of thanks +to the gentleman whose gallantry had resulted so disastrously; +for Conyngham was still in bed, though now nearly +recovered. Truth to tell, he did not hurry to make his +appearance in the general cabin, and came on deck a few hours +after the departure of the ladies, whose gratitude he desired to +avoid.</p> +<p>Two days of the peerless sunshine of these southern waters +completely restored him to health, and he prepared to go +ashore. It was afternoon when his boat touched the beach, +and the idlers, without whom no Mediterranean seaboard is +complete, having passed the heat of the day in a philosophic +apathy amounting in many cases to a siesta, now roused themselves +sufficiently to take a dignified and indifferent interest in the +new arrival. A number of boys, an old soldier, several +artillerymen from the pretty and absolutely useless fort, a +priest and a female vendor of oranges put themselves out so much +as to congregate in a little knot at the spot where Conyngham +landed.</p> +<p>‘Body of Bacchus!’ said the priest, with a pinch +of snuff poised before his long nose, ‘an +Englishman—see his gold watch chain.’</p> +<p>This remark called forth several monosyllabic sounds, and the +onlookers watched the safe discharge of Conyngham’s +personal effects with a characteristic placidity of demeanour +which was at once tolerant and gently surprised. That any +one should have the energy to come ashore when he was comfortable +on board, or leave the shore when amply provided there with +sunshine, elbowroom, and other necessaries of life, presented +itself to them as a fact worthy of note but not of +emulation. The happiest man is he who has reduced the +necessities of life to a minimum.</p> +<p>No one offered to assist Conyngham. In Spain the +onlooker keeps his hands in his pockets.</p> +<p>‘The English, see you, travel for pleasure,’ said +the old soldier, nodding his head in the direction of Gibraltar, +pink and shimmering across the bay.</p> +<p>The priest brushed some stray grains of snuff from the front +of his faded cassock—once black, but now of a greeny +brown. He was a singularly tall man, gaunt and grey, with +deep lines drawn downwards from eye to chin. His mouth was +large and tender, with a humorous corner ever awaiting a +jest. His eyes were sombre and deeply shaded by grey brows, +but one of them had a twinkle lurking and waiting, as in the +corner of his mouth.</p> +<p>‘Everyone stretches his legs according to the length of +his coverlet,’ he said, and, turning, he courteously raised +his hat to Conyngham, who passed at that moment on his way to the +hotel. The little knot of onlookers broke up, and the boys +wandered towards the fort, before the gate of which a game at +bowls was in progress.</p> +<p>‘The Padre has a hungry look,’ reflected +Conyngham. ‘Think I’ll invite him to +dinner.’</p> +<p>For Geoffrey Horner had succeeded in conveying more money to +the man who had taken his sins upon himself, and while Conyngham +possessed money he usually had the desire to spend it.</p> +<p>Conyngham went to the Fonda de la Marina, which stands +to-day—a house of small comfort and no great outward +cleanliness; but, as in most Spanish inns, the performance was +better than the promise, and the bedroom offered to the traveller +was nothing worse than bare and ill furnished. With what +Spanish he at this time possessed the Englishman made known his +wants, and inquired of the means of prosecuting his journey to +Ronda.</p> +<p>‘You know the Captain-General Vincente of Ronda?’ +he asked.</p> +<p>‘But . . . yes—by reputation. Who does not +in Andalusia?’ replied the host, a stout man, who had once +cooked for a military mess at Gibraltar, and professed himself +acquainted with the requirements of English gentlemen.</p> +<p>‘I have a letter to General Vincente, and must go to +Ronda as soon as possible. These are stirring times in +Spain.’</p> +<p>The man’s bland face suddenly assumed an air of cunning, +and he glanced over his shoulder to see that none overheard.</p> +<p>‘Your Excellency is right,’ he answered. +‘But for such as myself one side is as good as +another—is it not so? Carlist or Christino—the +money is the same.’</p> +<p>‘But here in the South there are no Carlists.’</p> +<p>‘Who knows?’ said the innkeeper with outspread +hands. ‘Anything that his Excellency requires shall +be forthcoming,’ he added grandiosely. ‘This is +the dining-room, and here at the side a little saloon where the +ladies sit. But at present we have only gentlemen in the +hotel—it being the winter time.’</p> +<p>‘Then you have other guests?’ inquired +Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘But . . . yes—always. In Algeciras there +are always travellers. Noblemen—like his +Excellency—for pleasure. Others—for commerce, +the Government—the politics.’</p> +<p>‘No flies enter a shut mouth, my friend,’ said a +voice at the door, and both turned to see standing in the doorway +the priest who had witnessed Conyngham’s arrival.</p> +<p>‘Pardon, señor,’ said the old man, coming +forward with his shabby hat in his hand. ‘Pardon my +interruption. I came at an opportune moment, for I heard +the word politics.’</p> +<p>He turned and shook a lean finger at the innkeeper, who was +backing towards the door with many bows.</p> +<p>‘Ah, bad Miguel,’ he said, ‘will you make it +impossible for gentlemen to put up at your execrable inn? +The man’s cooking is superior to his discretion, +señor. I, too, am a traveller, and for the moment a +guest here. I have the honour. My name is +Concha—the Padre Concha—a priest, as you +see.’</p> +<p>Conyngham nodded, and laughed frankly.</p> +<p>‘Glad to meet you,’ he said. ‘I saw +you as I came along. My name is Conyngham, and I am an +Englishman, as you hear. I know very little +Spanish.’</p> +<p>‘That will come—that will come,’ said the +priest, moving towards the window. ‘Perhaps too soon, +if you are going to stay any length of time in this +country. Let me advise you—do not learn our language +too quickly.’</p> +<p>He shook his head and moved towards the open window.</p> +<p>‘See to your girths before you mount, eh? Here is +the verandah, where it is pleasant in the afternoon. Shall +we be seated? That chair has but three legs—allow me! +this one is better.’</p> +<p>He spoke with the grave courtesy of his countrymen. For +every Spaniard, even the lowest muleteer, esteems himself a +gentleman, and knows how to act as such. The Padre Concha +had a pleasant voice, and a habit of gesticulating slowly with +one large and not too clean hand, that suggested the +pulpit. He had led the way to a spacious verandah, where +there were small tables and chairs, and at the outer corners +orange trees in square green boxes.</p> +<p>‘We will have a bottle of wine—is it not +so?—yes,’ he said, and gravely clapped his hands +together to summon the waiter—an Oriental custom still in +use in the Peninsula.</p> +<p>The wine was brought and duly uncorked, during which ceremony +the priest waited and watched with the preoccupied air of a host +careful for the entertainment of his guest. He tasted the +wine critically.</p> +<p>‘It might be worse,’ he said. ‘I beg +you to excuse it not being better.’</p> +<p>There was something simple in the old man’s manner that +won Conyngham’s regard.</p> +<p>‘The wine is excellent,’ he said. ‘It +is my welcome to Spain.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! Then this is your first visit to this +country,’ the priest said indifferently, his eyes wandering +to the open sea, where a few feluccas lay becalmed.</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>Conyngham turned and looked towards the sea also. It was +late in the afternoon, and a certain drowsiness of the atmosphere +made conversation, even between comparative strangers, a slower, +easier matter than with us in the brisk North. After a +moment the Englishman turned with, perhaps, the intention of +studying his companion’s face, only to find the deep grey +eyes fixed on his own.</p> +<p>‘Spain,’ said the Padre, ‘is a wonderful +country, rich, beautiful, with a climate like none in Europe; but +God and the devil come to closer quarters here than +elsewhere. Still for a traveller, for pleasure, I think +this country is second to none.’</p> +<p>‘I am not exactly a traveller for pleasure, my +father.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ and Concha drummed idly on the table with +his fingers.</p> +<p>‘I left England in haste,’ added Conyngham +lightly.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’</p> +<p>‘And it will be inexpedient for me to return for some +months to come. I thought of taking service in the army, +and have a letter to General Vincente, who lives at Ronda, as I +understand, sixty miles from here across the +mountains.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said the priest thoughtfully, ‘Ronda +is sixty miles from here—across the mountains.’</p> +<p>He was watching a boat which approached the shore from the +direction of Gibraltar. The wind having dropped, the +boatmen had lowered the sail and were now rowing, giving voice to +a song which floated across the smooth sea sleepily. It was +an ordinary Algeciras wherry built to carry a little cargo, and +perhaps a dozen passengers, a fishing boat that smelt strongly of +tobacco. The shore was soon reached, and the passengers, +numbering half a dozen, stepped over the gunwale on to a small +landing stage. One of them was better dressed than his +companions, a smart man with a bright flower in the buttonhole of +his jacket, carrying the flowing cloak brightly lined with +coloured velvet without which no Spaniard goes abroad at +sunset. He looked towards the hotel, and was evidently +speaking of it with a boatman whose attitude was full of promise +and assurance.</p> +<p>The priest rose and emptied his glass.</p> +<p>‘I must ask you to excuse me. Vespers wait for no +man, and I hear the bell,’ he said with a grave bow, and +went indoors.</p> +<p>Left to himself, Conyngham lapsed into the easy reflections of +a man whose habit it is to live for the present, leaving the +future and the past to take care of themselves. Perhaps he +thought, as some do, that the past dies—which is a +mistake. The past only sleeps, and we carry it with us +through life, slumbering. Those are wise who bear it gently +so that it may never be aroused.</p> +<p>The sun had set, and Gibraltar, a huge couchant lion across +the bay, was fading into the twilight of the East when a footstep +in the dining-room made Conyngham turn his head, half expecting +the return of Father Concha. But in the doorway, and with +the evident intention of coming towards himself, Conyngham +perceived a handsome dark-faced man of medium height, with a +smart moustache brushed upward, clever eyes, and the carriage of +a soldier. This stranger unfolded his cloak, for in Spain +it is considered ill-mannered to address a stranger and remain +cloaked.</p> +<p>‘Señor,’ he said, with a gesture of the +hat, courteous and yet manly enough to savour more of the camp +than the court, ‘señor, I understand you are +journeying to Ronda.’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘I, too, intended to go across the mountains, and hoped +to arrive here in time to accompany friends who I learn have +already started on their journey. But I have received +letters which necessitate my return to Malaga. You have +already divined that I come to ask a favour.’</p> +<p>He brought forward a chair and sat down, drawing from his +pocket a silver cigarette case, which he offered to the +Englishman. There was a certain picturesqueness in the +man’s attitude and manner. His face and movements +possessed a suggestion of energy which seemed out of place here +in the sleepy South, and stamped him as a native not of dreamy +Andalusia, but of La Mancha perhaps, where the wit of Spain is +concentrated, or of fiery Catalonia, where discontent and unrest +are in the very atmosphere of the brown hills. This was a +Spanish gentleman in the best sense of the word, as scrupulous in +personal cleanliness as any Englishman, polished, accomplished, +bright and fascinating, and yet carrying with him a subtle air of +melancholy and romance which lingers still among the men and +women of aristocratic Spain.</p> +<p>‘’Tis but to carry a letter,’ he explained, +‘and to deliver it into the hand of the person to whom it +is addressed. Ah, I would give five years of life to touch +that hand with my lips.’</p> +<p>He sighed, gave a little laugh which was full of meaning, and +yet quite free from self-consciousness, and lighted a fresh +cigarette. Then, after a little pause, he produced the +letter from an inner pocket and laid it on the table in front of +Conyngham. It was addressed, ‘To the Señorita +J. B.,’ and had a subtle scent of mignonette. The +envelope was of a delicate pink.</p> +<p>‘A love letter,’ said Conyngham bluntly.</p> +<p>The Spaniard looked at him and shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>‘Ah! you do not understand,’ he said, ‘in +that cold country of the North. If you stay in Spain, +perhaps some dark-eyed one will teach you. But,’ and +his manner changed with theatrical rapidity, as he laid his slim +hand on the letter, ‘if, when you see her you love her, I +will kill you.’</p> +<p>Conyngham laughed and held out his hand for the letter.</p> +<p>‘It is insufficiently addressed,’ he said +practically. ‘How shall I find the lady?’</p> +<p>‘Her name is Barenna, the Señorita Barenna; that +is sufficient in Ronda.’</p> +<p>Conyngham took up the letter and examined it. ‘It +is of importance?’ he said.</p> +<p>‘Of the utmost.’</p> +<p>‘And of value?’</p> +<p>‘Of the greatest value in the world to me.’</p> +<p>The Spaniard rose and took up his cloak, which he had thrown +over the back of the nearest chair, not forgetting to display a +picturesque corner of its bright lining.</p> +<p>‘You swear you will deliver it, only with your own hand, +only to the hand of the Señorita Barenna? +And—you will observe the strictest secrecy?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, yes,’ answered Conyngham carelessly, +‘if you like.’</p> +<p>The Spaniard turned, and, leaning one hand on the table, +looked almost fiercely into his companion’s face. +‘You are an Englishman,’ he said, ‘and an +Englishman’s word—is it not known all the world +over? In the North, in my country, where Wellington fought, +the peasants still say “word of an Englishman” +instead of an oath.’</p> +<p>He threw his cloak over his shoulder, and stood looking down +at his companion with a little smile as if he were proud of +him.</p> +<p>‘There!’ he said. ‘Adios. My +name is Larralde, but that is of no consequence. +Adios!’</p> +<p>With a courteous bow he took his leave, and Conyngham +presently saw him walking down to the landing stage. It +seemed that this strange visitor was about to depart as abruptly +as he had come. Conyngham rose and walked to the edge of +the verandah, where he stood watching the departure of the boat +in which his new friend had taken passage.</p> +<p>While he was standing there, the old priest came quietly out +of the open window of the dining room. He saw the letter +lying on the table where Conyngham had left it. He +approached, his shabby old shoes making no sound on the wooden +flooring, and read the address written on the pink and scented +envelope. When the Englishman at length turned, he was +alone on the verandah, with the wine bottle, the empty glasses, +and the letter.</p> +<h2><a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +48</span>CHAPTER V<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">CONTRABAND</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘What rights are his that dares not strike +for them?’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">An</span> hour before sunrise two horses +stood shuffling their feet and chewing their bits before the +hotel of the Marina at Algeciras, while their owner, a short and +thick-set man of an exaggeratedly villanous appearance, attended +to such straps and buckles as he suspected of latent flaws. +The horses were lean and loose of ear, with a melancholy +thoughtfulness of demeanour that seemed to suggest the deepest +misgivings as to the future. Their saddles and other +accoutrements were frankly theatrical, and would have been at +once the delight of an artist and the despair of a saddler. +Fringes and tassels of bright-coloured worsted depended from +points where fringes and tassels were distinctly out of +place. Where the various straps should have been strong +they looked weak, and scarce a buckle could boast an innocence of +knotted string. The saddles were of wood, and calculated to +inflict serious internal injuries to the rider in case of a +fall. They stood at least a foot above the horse’s +backbone, raised on a thick cushion upon the ribs of the animal, +and leaving a space in the middle for the secretion of tobacco +and other contraband merchandise.</p> +<p>‘I’ll take the smallest cut-throat of the +crew,’ Conyngham had said on the occasion of an informal +parade of guides the previous evening. And the host of the +Fonda, in whose kitchen the function had taken place, explained +to Concepçion Vara that the English Excellency had +selected him on his—the host’s—assurance that +Algeciras contained no other so honest.</p> +<p>‘Tell him,’ answered Concepçion with a +cigarette between his lips and a pardonable pride in his eyes, +‘that my grandfather was a smuggler and my father was shot +by the Guardia Civil near Algatocin.’</p> +<p>Concepçion, having repaired one girth and shaken his +head dubiously over another, lighted a fresh cigarette and gave a +little shiver, for the morning air was keen. He discreetly +coughed. He had seen Conyngham breakfasting by the light of +a dim oil lamp of a shape and make unaltered since the days of +Nebuchadnezzar, and, without appearing impatient, wished to +convey to one gentleman the fact that another awaited him.</p> +<p>Before long Conyngham appeared, having paid an iniquitous bill +with the recklessness that is only thoroughly understood by the +poor. He appeared as usual to be at peace with all men, and +returned his guide’s grave salutation with an easy nod.</p> +<p>‘These the horses?’ he inquired.</p> +<p>Concepçion Vara spread out his hands. ‘They +have no equal in Andalusia,’ he said.</p> +<p>‘Then I am sorry for Andalusia,’ answered +Conyngham with a pleasant laugh.</p> +<p>They mounted and rode away in the dim cool light of the +morning. The sea was of a deep blue, and rippled all over +as in a picture. Gibraltar, five miles away, loomed up like +a grey cloud against the pink of sunrise. The whole world +wore a cleanly look as if the night had been passed over its face +like a sponge, wiping away all that was unsightly or evil. +The air was light and exhilarating, and scented by the breath of +aromatic weeds growing at the roadside.</p> +<p>Concepçion sang a song as he rode—a song almost +as old as his trade—declaring that he was a smuggler +bold. And he looked it, every inch. The road to Ronda +lies through the cork woods of Ximena, leaving St. Roque on the +right hand—such at least was the path selected by +Conyngham’s guide; for there are many ways over the +mountains, and none of them to be recommended. Beguiling +the journey with cigarette and song, calling at every venta on +the road, exchanging chaff with every woman and a quick word with +all men, Concepçion faithfully fulfilled his contract, +and, as the moon rose over the distant snow-clad peaks of the +Sierra Nevada, pointed forward to the lights of Gaucin, a +mountain village with an evil reputation.</p> +<p>The dawn of the next day saw the travellers in the saddle +again, and the road was worse than ever. A sharp ascent led +them up from Gaucin to regions where foliage grew scarcer at +every step, and cultivation was unknown. At one spot they +turned to look back, and saw Gibraltar like a tooth protruding +from the sea. The straits had the appearance of a river, +and the high land behind Ceuta formed the farther bank of it.</p> +<p>‘There is Africa,’ said Concepçion gravely, +and after a moment turned his horse’s head uphill +again. The people of these mountain regions were as wild in +appearance as their country. Once or twice the travellers +passed a shepherd herding sheep or goats on the mountain side, +himself clad in goatskin, with a great brown cloak floating from +his shoulders—a living picture of Ishmael or those sons of +his who dwelt in the tents of Kedar. A few muleteers drew +aside to let the horses pass, and exchanged some words in an +undertone with Conyngham’s guide. Fine-looking +brigands were these, with an armoury of knives peeping from their +bright-coloured waistbands. The Andalusian peasant is for +six days in the week calculated to inspire awe by his clothing +and general appearance. Of a dark skin and hair, he usually +submits his chin to the barber’s office but once a week, +and the timid traveller would do well to take the road on Sundays +only. Towards the end of the week, and notably on a +Saturday, every passer-by is an unshorn brigand capable of the +darkest deeds of villany, while twenty-four hours later the land +will be found to be peopled by as clean and honest and smart, and +withal as handsome, a race of men as any on earth.</p> +<p>Before long all habitations were left behind, and the horses +climbed from rock to rock like cats. There was no +suggestion of pathway or landmark, and Concepçion paused +once or twice to take his bearings. It was about two in the +afternoon when, after descending the bed of a stream long since +dried up, Concepçion called a halt, and proposed to rest +the horses while he dined. As on the previous day, the +guide’s manner was that of a gentleman, conferring a high +honour with becoming modesty when he sat down beside Conyngham +and untied his small sack of provisions. These consisted of +dried figs and bread, which he offered to his companion before +beginning to eat. Conyngham shared his own stock of food +with his guide, and subsequently smoked a cigarette which that +gentleman offered him. They were thus pleasantly engaged +when a man appeared on the rocks above them in a manner and with +a haste that spoke but ill of his honesty. The guide looked +up knife in hand, and made answer to a gesture of the arm with +his own hand upraised.</p> +<p>‘Who is this?’ said Conyngham. ‘Some +friend of yours? Tell him to keep his distance, for I +don’t care for his appearance.’</p> +<p>‘He is no friend of mine, Excellency. But the man +is, I dare say, honest enough. In these mountains it is +only of the Guardia Civil that one must beware. They have +ever the finger on the trigger and shoot without +warning.’</p> +<p>‘Nevertheless,’ said the Englishman, now +thoroughly on the alert, ‘let him state his business at a +respectable distance. Ah! he has a comrade and two +mules.’</p> +<p>And indeed a second man of equally unprepossessing exterior +now appeared from behind a great rock leading a couple of heavily +laden mules.</p> +<p>Concepçion and the first traveller, who was now within +a dozen yards, were already exchanging words in a patois not +unlike the Limousin dialect, of which Conyngham understood +nothing.</p> +<p>‘Stop where you are,’ shouted the Englishman in +Spanish, ‘or else I shoot you! If there is anything +wrong, Señor Vara,’ he added to the guide, ‘I +shoot you first, understand that.’</p> +<p>‘He says,’ answered Concepçion with +dignity, ‘that they are honest traders on the road to +Ronda, and would be glad of our company. His Excellency is +at liberty to shoot if he is so disposed.’</p> +<p>Conyngham laughed.</p> +<p>‘No,’ he answered, ‘I am not anxious to kill +any man, but each must take care of himself in these +times.’</p> +<p>‘Not against an honest smuggler.’</p> +<p>‘Are these smugglers?’</p> +<p>‘They speak as such. I know them no more than does +his Excellency.’</p> +<p>The second new-comer was now within hail, and began at once to +speak in Spanish. The tale he told was similar in every way +to that translated by Concepçion from the Limousin +dialect.</p> +<p>‘Why should we not travel together to Ronda?’ he +said, coming forward with an easy air of confidence, which was of +better effect than any protestation of honesty. He had a +quiet eye, and the demeanour of one educated to loftier things +than smuggling tobacco across the Sierra, though indeed, he was +no better clad than his companion. The two guides +instinctively took the road together, Concepçion leading +his horse, for the way was such that none could ride over +it. Conyngham did the same, and his companion led the mule +by a rope, as is the custom in Andalusia.</p> +<p>The full glare of the day shone down on them, the bare rock +giving back a puff of heat that dried the throat. Conyngham +was tired and not too trustful of his companion, who, indeed, +seemed to be fully occupied with his own thoughts. They had +thus progressed a full half-hour when a shout from the rocks +above caused them to halt suddenly. The white linen head +coverings of the Guardia Civil and the glint of the sun on their +accoutrements showed at a glance that this was not a summons to +be disregarded.</p> +<p>In an instant Concepçion’s companion was leaping +from rock to rock with an agility only to be acquired in the hot +fear of death. A report rang out and echoed among the +hills. A bullet went ‘splat’ against a rock +near at hand, making a frayed blue mark upon the grey +stone. The man dodged from side to side in the +panic-stricken irresponsibility of a rabbit seeking covert where +none exists. There was not so much as to hide his +head. Conyngham looked up towards the foe in time to see a +puff of white smoke thrown up against the steely sky. A +second report, and the fugitive seemed to trip over a +stone. He recovered himself, stood upright for a moment, +gave a queer spluttering cough, and sat slowly down against a +boulder.</p> +<p>‘He is killed!’ said Concepçion, throwing +down his cigarette. ‘Mother of God! these Guardias +Civiles!’</p> +<p>The two guards came clambering down the face of the +rock. Concepçion glanced at his late companion +writhing in the sharpness of death.</p> +<p>‘Here or at Ronda, to-day, or to-morrow, what matters +it?’ muttered the quiet-eyed man at Conyngham’s +side. The Englishman turned and looked at him.</p> +<p>‘They will shoot me too, but not now.’</p> +<p>Concepçion sullenly awaited the arrival of the +guards. These men ever hunt in couples of a widely +different age, for the law has found that an old head and a young +arm form the strongest combination. The elder of the two +had the face of an old grey wolf. He muttered some order to +his companion, and went towards the mule. He cut away the +outer covering of the burden suspended from the saddle, and +nodded his head wisely. These were boxes of cartridges to +carry one thousand each. The grey old man turned and looked +at him who lay on the ground.</p> +<p>‘A la longa,’ he said with a grim smile. +‘In the long run, Antonio.’</p> +<p>The man gave a sickly grin and opened his mouth to speak, but +his jaw dropped instead, and he passed across that frontier which +is watched by no earthly sentinel.</p> +<p>‘This gentleman,’ said the quiet-eyed man, whose +guide had thus paid for his little mistake in refusing to halt at +the word of command, ‘is a stranger to me—an +Englishman, I think.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ answered Conyngham.</p> +<p>The old soldier looked from one to the other.</p> +<p>‘That may be,’ he said, ‘but he sleeps in +Ronda prison to-night. To-morrow the Captain-General will +see to it.’</p> +<p>‘I have a letter to the Captain-General,’ said +Conyngham, who drew from his pocket a packet of papers. +Among these was the pink scented envelope given to him by the man +called Larralde at Algeciras. He had forgotten its +existence, and put it back in his pocket with a smile. +Having found that for which he sought, he gave it to the soldier, +who read the address in silence and returned the letter.</p> +<p>‘You I know,’ he said, turning to the man at +Conyngham’s side, who merely shrugged his shoulders. +‘And Concepçion Vara, we all know him.’</p> +<p>Concepçion had lighted a cigarette, and was murmuring a +popular air with the indifferent patience and the wandering eye +of perfect innocence. The old soldier turned and spoke in +an undertone to his comrade, who went towards the dead man and +quietly covered his face with the folds of his own faja or +waistcloth. This he weighted at the corners with stones, +carrying out this simple office to the dead with a suggestive +indifference. To this day the Guardias Civiles have plenary +power to shoot whomsoever they think fit—flight and +resistance being equally fatal.</p> +<p>No more heeding the dead body of the man whom he had shot than +he would have heeded the carcase of a rat, the elder of the two +soldiers now gave the order to march, commanding +Concepçion to lead the way.</p> +<p>‘It will not be worth your while to risk a bullet by +running away,’ he said. ‘This time it is +probably a matter of a few pounds of tobacco only.’</p> +<p>The evening had fallen ere the silent party caught sight of +the town of Ronda, perched, as the Moorish strongholds usually +are, on a height. Ronda, as history tells, was the last +possession of the brave and gifted Moslems in Spain. The +people are half Moorish still, and from the barred windows look +out deep almond eyes and patient faces that have no European +feature. The narrow streets were empty as the travellers +entered the town, and the clatter of the mules slipping and +stumbling on the cobble stones brought but few to the doors of +the low-built houses. To enter Ronda from the south the +traveller must traverse the Moorish town, which is divided from +the Spanish quarter by a cleft in the great rock that renders the +town impregnable to all attack. Having crossed the bridge +spanning the great gorge into which the sun never penetrates even +at midday, the party emerged into the broader streets of the more +modern town, and, turning to the right through a high gateway, +found themselves in a barrack yard of the Guardias Civiles.</p> +<h2><a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +59</span>CHAPTER VI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">AT RONDA</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Le plus grand art d’un habile homme +est celui de savoir cacher son habileté.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Conyngham awoke after a night +conscientiously spent in that profound slumber which waits on an +excellent digestion and a careless heart, he found the prison +attendant at his bedside. A less easy-going mind would +perhaps have leapt to some nervous conclusion at the sight of +this fierce-visaged janitor, who, however, carried nothing more +deadly in his hand than a card.</p> +<p>‘It is the Captain-General,’ said he, ‘who +calls at this early hour. His Excellency’s letter has +been delivered, and the Captain-General scarce waited to swallow +his morning chocolate.’</p> +<p>‘Very much to the Captain-General’s credit,’ +returned Conyngham rising. ‘Cold water,’ he +went on, ‘soap, a towel, and my luggage—and then the +Captain-General.’</p> +<p>The attendant, with an odd smile, procured the necessary +articles, and when the Englishman was ready led the way +downstairs. He was a solemn man from Galicia, this, where +they do not smile.</p> +<p>In the patio of the great house, once a monastery, now +converted into a barrack for the Guardias Civiles, a small man of +fifty years or more stood smoking a cigarette. On +perceiving Conyngham he came forward with outstretched hand and a +smile which can only be described as angelic. It was a +smile at once sympathetic and humorous, veiling his dark eyes +between lashes almost closed, parting moustached lips to disclose +a row of pearly teeth.</p> +<p>‘My dear sir,’ said General Vincente in very +tolerable English, ‘I am at your feet. That such a +mistake should have been made in respect to the bearer of a +letter of introduction from my old friend General +Watterson—we fought together in Wellington’s +day—that such a mistake should have occurred overwhelms me +with shame.’</p> +<p>He pressed Conyngham’s hand in both of his, which were +small and white—looked up into his face, stepped back and +broke into a soft laugh. Indeed his voice was admirably +suited to a lady’s drawing-room, and suggested nought of +the camp or battle field. From the handkerchief which he +drew from his sleeve and passed across his white moustache a +faint scent floated on the morning air.</p> +<p>‘Are you General Vincente?’ asked Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘Yes—why not?’ And in truth the tone +of the Englishman’s voice had betrayed a scepticism which +warranted the question.</p> +<p>‘It is very kind of you to come so early. I have +been quite comfortable, and they gave me a good supper last +night,’ said Conyngham. ‘Moreover, the Guardias +Civiles are in no way to blame for my arrest. I was in bad +company, it seems.’</p> +<p>‘Yes; your companions were engaged in conveying +ammunition to the Carlists; we have wanted to lay our hands upon +them for some weeks. They have carried former journeys to a +successful termination.’</p> +<p>He laughed and shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>‘The guide, Antonio something-or-other, died, as I +understand.’</p> +<p>‘Well, yes; if you choose to put it that way,’ +admitted Conyngham.</p> +<p>The General raised his eyebrows in a gentle grimace expressive +of deprecation, with, as it were, a small solution of sympathy, +indicated by a moisture of the eye, for the family of Antonio +something-or-other in their bereavement.</p> +<p>‘And the other man? Seemed a nice enough fellow . +. .’ inquired Conyngham.</p> +<p>The General raised one gloved hand as if to fend off some +approaching calamity.</p> +<p>‘He died this morning—at six +o’clock.’</p> +<p>Conyngham looked down at this gentle soldier with a dawning +light of comprehension. This might after all be the General +Vincente whom he had been led to look upon as the fiercest of the +Spanish Queen’s adherents.</p> +<p>‘Of the same complaint?’</p> +<p>‘Of the same complaint,’ answered the General +softly. He slipped his hand within Conyngham’s arm, +and thus affectionately led him across the patio towards the +doorway where sentinels stood at attention. He acknowledged +the attitude of his subordinates by a friendly nod; indeed, this +rosy-faced warrior seemed to brim over with the milk of human +kindness.</p> +<p>‘The English,’ he said, pressing his +companion’s arm, ‘have been too useful to us for me +to allow one of them to remain a moment longer in +confinement. You say you were comfortable. I hope +they gave you a clean towel and all that.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, thanks,’ answered Conyngham, suppressing a +desire to laugh.</p> +<p>‘That is well. Ronda is a pleasant place, as you +will find. Most interesting—Moorish remains, you +understand. I will send my servant for your baggage, and of +course my poor house is at your disposal. You will stay +with me until we can find some work for you to do. You wish +to take service with us, of course?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ answered Conynghamn. ‘Rather +thought of it—if you will have me.’</p> +<p>The General glanced up at his stalwart companion with a +measuring eye.</p> +<p>‘My house,’ he said, in a conversational way, as +if only desirous of making matters as pleasant as possible in a +life which nature had intended to be peaceful and sunny, and +perhaps trifling, but which the wickedness of men had rendered +otherwise, ‘my house is, as you would divine, only an +official residence, but pleasant enough—pleasant +enough. The garden is distinctly tolerable; there are +orange trees now in bloom—so sweet of scent.’</p> +<p>The street into which they had now emerged was no less martial +in appearance than the barrack yard, and while he spoke the +General never ceased to dispense his kindly little nod on one +side or the other in response to military salutations.</p> +<p>‘We have quite a number of soldiers in Ronda at +present,’ he said, with an affectionate little pressure of +Conyngham’s arm, as if to indicate his appreciation of such +protection amid these rough men. ‘There is a great +talk of some rising in the South—in Andalusia—to +support Señor Cabrera, who continually threatens +Madrid. A great soldier, they tell me, this Cabrera, but +not—well, not perhaps quite, eh?—a caballero, a +gentleman. A pity, is it not?’</p> +<p>‘A great pity,’ answered Conyngham, taking the +opportunity at last afforded him of getting a word in.</p> +<p>‘One must be prepared,’ went on the General with a +good-natured little sigh, ‘for such measures. There +are so many mistaken enthusiasts—is it not so? Such +men as your countryman, Señor Flinter. There are so +many who are stronger Carlists than Don Carlos himself, +eh?’</p> +<p>The secret of conversational success is to defer to +one’s listener. A clever man imparts information by +asking questions, and obtains it without doing so.</p> +<p>‘This is my poor house,’ continued the soldier, +and as he spoke he beamed on the sentries at the door. +‘I am a widower, but God has given me a daughter who is now +of an age to rule my household. Estella will endeavour to +make you comfortable, and an Englishman—a +soldier—will surely overlook some small defects.’</p> +<p>He finished with a good-natured laugh. There was no +resisting the sunny good-humour of this little officer, or the +gladness of his face. His attitude towards the world was +one of constant endeavour to make things pleasant, and acquit +himself to his best in circumstances far beyond his merits or +capabilities. He was one who had had good fortune all his +days. Those who have greatness thrust upon them are never +much impressed by their burden. And General Vincente had +the air of constantly assuring his subordinates that they need +not mind him.</p> +<p>The house to which he conducted Conyngham stood on the broad +main street, immediately opposite a cluster of shops where +leather bottles were manufactured and sold. It was a large +gloomy house with a patio devoid of fountain and even of the +usual orange trees in green boxes.</p> +<p>‘Through there is the garden—most pleasant and +shady,’ said the General, indicating a doorway with the +riding-whip he carried.</p> +<p>A troop of servants awaited them at the foot of the broad +Moorish staircase open on one side to the patio and heavily +carved in balustrade and cornice. These gentlemen bowed +gravely—indeed, they were so numerous that the majority of +them must have had nothing to do but cultivate this dignified +salutation.</p> +<p>‘The señorita?’ inquired the General.</p> +<p>‘The señorita is in the garden, +Excellency,’ answered one with the air of a courtier.</p> +<p>‘Then let us go there at once,’ said General +Vincente, turning to Conyngham, and gripping his arm +affectionately.</p> +<p>They passed through a doorway whither two men had hurried to +open the heavy doors, and the scent of violets and mignonette, of +orange in bloom, and of a hundred opening buds swept across their +faces. The brilliant sunlight almost dazzled eyes that had +grown accustomed to the cool shade of the patio, for Ronda is one +of the sunniest spots on earth, and here the warmth is rarely +oppressive. The garden was Moorish, and running water in +aqueducts of marble, yellow with stupendous age, murmured in the +shade of tropical plants. A fountain plashed and chattered +softly, like the whispering of children. The pathways were +paved with a fine white gravel of broken marble. There was +no weed amid the flowers. It seemed a paradise to +Conyngham, fresh from the grey and mournful northern winter, and +no part of this weary, busy world. For here were rest and +silence, and that sense of eternity which is only conveyed by the +continuous voice of running or falling water. It was hard +to believe that this was real and earthly. Conyngham rubbed +his eyes and instinctively turned to look at his companion, who +was as unreal as his surroundings—a round-faced, chubby +little man, with a tender mouth and moist dark eyes looking +kindly out upon the world, who called himself General Vincente; +and the name was synonymous in all Spain with bloodthirstiness +and cruelty, with daring and an unsparing generalship.</p> +<p>‘Come,’ said he, ‘let us look for +Estella.’</p> +<p>He led the way along a path winding among almond and peach +trees in full bloom, in the shadow of the weird eucalyptus and +the feathery pepper tree. Then with a little word of +pleasure he hurried forward. Conyngham caught sight of a +black dress and a black mantilla, of fair golden hair, and a fan +upraised against the rays of the sun.</p> +<p>‘Estella, here is a guest: Mr. Conyngham, one of the +brave Englishmen who remember Spain in her time of +trouble.’</p> +<p>Conyngham bowed with a greater ceremony than we observe +to-day, and stood upright to look upon that which was for him +from that moment the fairest face in the world. As, to some +men, success or failure seems to come early and in one bound, so, +for some, Love lies long in ambush, to shoot at length a single +and certain shaft. Conyngham looked at Estella Vincente, +his gay blue eyes meeting her dark glance with a frankness which +was characteristic, and knew from that instant that his world +held no other woman. It came to him as a flash of lightning +that left his former life grey and neutral, and yet he was +conscious of no surprise, but rather of a feeling of having found +something which he had long sought.</p> +<p>The girl acknowledged his salutation with a little inclination +of the head and a smile which was only of the lips, for her eyes +remained grave and deep. She had all the dignity of +carriage famous in Castilian women, though her figure was +youthful still, and slight. Her face was a clean-cut oval, +with lips that were still and proud, and a delicately aquiline +nose.</p> +<p>‘My daughter speaks English better than I do,’ +went on the General in the garrulous voice of an exceedingly +domesticated man. ‘She has been at school in +England—at the suggestion of my dear friend +Watterson—with his daughters, in fact.’</p> +<p>‘And must have found it dull and grey enough compared +with Spain,’ said Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘Ah! Then you like Spain?’ said the General +eagerly. ‘It is so with all the English. We +have something in common, despite the Armada, eh? Something +in manner and in appearance, too; is it not so?’</p> +<p>He left Conyngham, and walked slowly on with one hand at his +daughter’s waist.</p> +<p>‘I was very happy in England,’ said Estella to +Conyngham, who walked at her other side; ‘but happier still +to get home to Spain.’</p> +<p>Her voice was rather low, and Conyngham had an odd sensation +of having heard it before.</p> +<p>‘Why did you leave your home?’ she continued in a +leisurely conversational way which seemed natural to the +environments.</p> +<p>The question rather startled the Englishman, for the only +answer seemed to be that he had quitted England in order to come +to Ronda and to her, following the path in life that fate had +assigned to him.</p> +<p>‘We have troubles in England also—political +troubles,’ he said, after a pause.</p> +<p>‘The Chartists,’ said the General +cheerfully. ‘We know all about them, for we have the +English newspapers. I procure them in order to have +reliable news of Spain.’</p> +<p>He broke off with a little laugh, and looked towards his +daughter.</p> +<p>‘In the evening Estella reads them to me. And it +was on account of the Chartists that you left England?’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, you are a Chartist, Mr. Conyngham.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ admitted the Englishman after a pause, and +he glanced at Estella.</p> +<h2><a name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +70</span>CHAPTER VII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">IN A MOORISH GARDEN</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘When love is not +a blasphemy, it is a religion.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> is perhaps a subtle +significance in the fact that the greatest, the cruellest, the +most barbarous civil war of modern days, if not of all time, owed +its outbreak and its long continuance to the influence of a +woman. When Ferdinand VII. of Spain died, in 1833, after a +reign broken and disturbed by the passage of that human cyclone, +Napoleon the Great, he bequeathed his kingdom, in defiance of the +Salic law, to his daughter Isabella. Ferdinand’s +brother Charles, however, claimed the throne under the very just +contention that the Salic law, by which women were excluded from +the heritage of the crown, had never been legally abrogated.</p> +<p>This was the spark that kindled in many minds ambition, +cruelty, bloodthirstiness, self-seeking and +jealousy—producing the <i>morale</i>, in a word, of the +Spain of sixty years ago. Some sided with the Queen Regent +Christina, and rallied round the child-queen because they saw +that that way lay glory and promotion. Others flocked to +the standard of Don Carlos because they were poor and of no +influence at Court. The Church as a whole raised its +whispering voice for the Pretender. For the rest, +patriotism was nowhere, and ambition on every side. +‘For five years we have fought the Carlists, hunger, +privation, and the politicians at Madrid! And the holy +saints only know which has been the worst enemy,’ said +General Vincente to Conyngham when explaining the above related +details.</p> +<p>And indeed the story of this war reads like a romance, for +there came from neutral countries foreign legions as in the olden +days. From England an army of ten thousand mercenaries +landed in Spain, prepared to fight for the cause of Queen +Christina, and very modestly estimating the worth of their +services at the sum of thirteenpence per diem. After all, +the value of a man’s life is but the price of his daily +hire.</p> +<p>‘We did not pay them much,’ said General Vincente +with a deprecating little smile, ‘but they did not fight +much. Their pay was generally in arrear, and they were +usually in the rear as well. What will you, my dear +Conyngham? You are a commercial people—you keep good +soldiers in the shop window, and when a buyer comes you serve him +with second-class goods from behind the counter.’</p> +<p>He beamed on Conyngham with a pleasant air of benign +connivance in a very legitimate commercial transaction.</p> +<p>This is no time or place to go into the history of the English +Legion in Spain, which, indeed, had quitted that country before +Conyngham landed there, horrified by the barbarities of a cruel +war where prisoners received no quarter and the soldiers on +either side were left without pay or rations. In a +half-hearted manner England went to the assistance of the Queen +Regent of Spain, and one error in statesmanship led to +many. It is always a mistake to strike gently.</p> +<p>‘This country,’ said General Vincente in his +suavest manner, ‘owes much to yours, my dear Conyngham; but +it would have been better for us both had we owed you a little +more.’</p> +<p>During the five years prior to Conyngham’s arrival at +Ronda the war had raged with unabated fury, swaying from the west +to the east coast as fortune smiled or frowned on the Carlist +cause. At one time it almost appeared certain that the +Christino forces were unable to stem the rising tide which bade +fair to spread over all Spain—so unfortunate were their +generals, so futile the best endeavours of the bravest and most +patient soldiers. General Vincente was not alone in his +conviction that had the gallant Carlist leader Zumalacarreguy +lived he might have carried all before him. But this great +leader at the height of his fame—beloved of all his +soldiers, worshipped by his subordinate officers—died +suddenly, by poison, as it was whispered, the victim of jealousy +and ambition. Almost at once there arose in the East of +Spain one, obscure in birth and unknown to fame, who flashed +suddenly to the zenith of military glory—the ruthless, the +wonderful Cabrera. The name is to this day a household word +in Catalonia, while the eyes of a few old men still living, who +fought with or against him, flash in the light of other days at +the mere mention of it.</p> +<p>Among the many leaders who had attempted in vain to overcome +by skill and patriotism the thousand difficulties placed in their +way by successive unstable, insincere Ministers of War, General +Vincente occupied an honoured place. This mild-mannered +tactician enjoyed the enviable reputation of being alike +unconquerable and incorruptible. His smiling presence on +the battlefield was in itself worth half a dozen battalions, +while at Madrid the dishonest politicians, who through those +years of Spain’s great trial systematically bartered their +honour for immediate gain, dreaded and respected him.</p> +<p>During the days that followed his arrival at Ronda and release +from the prison there, Frederick Conyngham learnt much from his +host and little of the man himself, for General Vincente had that +in him with which no great leader in any walk of life can well +dispense—an unsoundable depth.</p> +<p>Conyngham learnt also that the human heart is capable of +rising at one bound above differences of race or custom, creed +and spoken language. He walked with Estella in that quiet +garden between high walls on the trim Moorish paths, and often +the murmur of the running water which ever graced the Moslem +palaces was the only sound that broke the silence. For this +thing had come into the Englishman’s life suddenly, leaving +him dazed and uncertain. Estella, on the other hand, had a +quiet <i>savoir-faire</i> that sat strangely on her young +face. She was only nineteen, and yet had a certain air of +authority, handed down to her from two great races of noble men +and women.</p> +<p>‘Do all your countrymen take life thus gaily?’ she +asked Conyngham one day; ‘surely it is a more serious +affair than you think it.’</p> +<p>‘I have never found it very serious, +señorita,’ he answered. ‘There is +usually a smile in human affairs if one takes the trouble to look +for it.’</p> +<p>‘Have you always found it so?’</p> +<p>He did not answer at once, pausing to lift the branch of a +mimosa tree that hung in yellow profusion across the pathway.</p> +<p>‘Yes, señorita, I think so,’ he answered at +length, slowly. There was a sense of eternal restfulness in +this old Moorish garden which acted as a brake on the thoughts, +and made conversation halt and drag in an Oriental way that +Europeans rarely understand.</p> +<p>‘And yet you say you remember your father’s +death?’</p> +<p>‘He made a joke to the doctor, señorita, and was +not afraid.’</p> +<p>Estella smiled in a queer way, and then looked grave +again.</p> +<p>‘And you have always been poor, you say, sometimes +almost starving?’</p> +<p>‘Yes—always poor, deadly poor, +señorita,’ answered Conyngham with a gay laugh; +‘and since I have been on my own resources +frequently—well, very hungry. The appetite has been +large and the resources have been small. But when I get +into the Spanish army they will no doubt make me a general, and +all will be well.’</p> +<p>He laughed again, and slipped his hand into his jacket +pocket.</p> +<p>‘See here,’ he said, ‘your father’s +recommendation to General Espartero in a confidential +letter.’</p> +<p>But the envelope he produced was that pink one which the man +called Larralde had given him at Algeciras.</p> +<p>‘No—it is not that,’ he said, searching in +another pocket. ‘Ah! here it is—addressed to +General Espartero, Duke of Vittoria.’</p> +<p>He showed her the superscription, which she read with a little +inclination of the head, as if in salutation of the great name +written there. The greatest names are those that men have +made for themselves. Conyngham replaced the two letters in +his pocket and almost immediately asked:</p> +<p>‘Do you know anyone called Barenna in Ronda, +señorita?’ thereby proving that General Espartero +would do ill to give him an appointment requiring even the +earliest rudiments of diplomacy.</p> +<p>‘Julia Barenna is my cousin. Her mother was my +mother’s sister. Do you know them, Señor +Conyngham?’</p> +<p>‘Oh no,’ answered Conyngham, truthfully +enough. ‘I met a man who knows them. Do they +live in Ronda?’</p> +<p>‘No; their house is on the Cordova road, about half a +league from the Customs station.’</p> +<p>Estella was not by nature curious, and asked no +questions. Some who knew the Barennas would have been glad +to claim acquaintance with General Vincente and his daughter, but +could not do so. For the Captain-General moved in a circle +not far removed from the Queen Regent herself, and mixed but +little in the society of Ronda, where, for the time being, he +held a command.</p> +<p>Conyngham required no further information, and in a few +moments dismissed the letter from his mind. Events seemed +for him to have moved rapidly within the last few days, and the +world of roadside inns and casual acquaintance into which he had +stepped on his arrival in Spain was quite another from that in +which Estella moved at Ronda.</p> +<p>‘I must set out for Madrid in a few days at the +latest,’ he said a few moments afterwards; ‘but I +shall go against my will, because you tell me that you and your +father will not be coming North until the spring.’</p> +<p>Estella shook her head with a little laugh. This man was +different from the punctilious aides-de-camp and others who had +hitherto begged most respectfully to notify their admiration.</p> +<p>‘And three days ago you did not know of our +existence,’ she said.</p> +<p>‘In three days a man may be dead of an illness of which +he ignored the existence, señorita. In three days a +man’s life may be made miserable or happy—perhaps in +three minutes.’</p> +<p>And she looked straight in front of her in order to avoid his +eyes.</p> +<p>‘Yours will always be happy, I think,’ she said, +‘because you never seem to go below the surface, and on the +surface life is happy enough.’</p> +<p>He made some light answer, and they walked on beneath the +orange trees, talking of these and other matters—indulging +in those dangerous generalities which sound so safe, and in +reality narrow down to a little world of two.</p> +<p>They were thus engaged when the servant came to announce that +the horse which the General had placed at Conyngham’s +disposal was at the door in accordance with the +Englishman’s own order. He went away sorrowfully +enough, only half consoled by the information that Estella was +about to attend a service at the Church of Santa Maria, and could +not have stayed longer in the garden.</p> +<p>The hour of the siesta was scarce over, and as Conyngham rode +through the cleanly streets of the ancient town more than one +idler roused himself from the shadow of a doorway to see him +pass. There are few older towns in Andalusia than Ronda, +and scarce anywhere the habits of the Moors are so closely +followed. The streets are clean, the houses whitewashed +within and without. The trappings of the mules and much of +the costume of the people are Oriental in texture and +brilliancy.</p> +<p>Conyngham asked a passer-by to indicate the way to the Cordova +road, and the polite Spaniard turned and walked by his stirrup +until a mistake was no longer possible.</p> +<p>‘It is not the most beautiful approach to Ronda,’ +said this garrulous person, ‘but well enough in the summer, +when the flowers are in bloom and the vineyards green. The +road is straight and dusty until one arrives at the possession of +the Señora Barenna—a narrow road to the right +leading up into the mountain. One can perceive the +house—oh, yes—upon the hillside, once beautiful, but +now old and decayed. Mistake is now impossible. It is +a straight way. I wish you a good journey.’</p> +<p>Conyngham rode on, vaguely turning over in his mind a +half-matured plan of effecting a seemingly accidental entry to +the house of Señora Barenna, in the hope of meeting that +lady’s daughter in the garden or grounds. Once +outside the walls of the town he found the country open and bare, +consisting of brown hills, of which the lower slopes were dotted +with evergreen oaks. The road soon traversed a village +which seemed to be half deserted, for men and women alike were +working in the fields. On the balcony of the best house a +branch of palm bound against the ironwork balustrade indicated +the dwelling of the priest, and the form of that village despot +was dimly discernible in the darkened room behind. Beyond +the village Conyngham turned his horse’s head towards the +mountain, his mind preoccupied with a Macchiavellian scheme of +losing his way in this neighbourhood. Through the evergreen +oak and olive groves he could perceive the roof of an old grey +house which had once been a mere hacienda or semi-fortified +farm.</p> +<p>Conyngham did not propose to go direct to Señora +Barenna’s house, but described a semicircle, mounting from +terrace to terrace on his sure-footed horse.</p> +<p>When at length he came in sight of the high gateway where the +ten-foot oaken gates still swung, he perceived someone +approaching the exit. On closer inspection he saw that this +was a priest, and on nearing him recognised the Padre Concha, +whose acquaintance he had made at the Hotel of the Marina at +Algeciras.</p> +<p>The recognition was mutual, for the priest raised his shabby +old hat with a tender care for the insecurity of its brim.</p> +<p>‘A lucky meeting, Señor Englishman,’ he +said; ‘who would have expected to see you here?’</p> +<p>‘I have lost my way.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ And the grim face relaxed into a +smile. ‘Lost your way?’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘Then it is lucky that I have met you. It is so +easy to lose one’s way—when one is young.’</p> +<p>He raised his hand to the horse’s bridle.</p> +<p>‘You are most certainly going in the wrong +direction,’ he said; ‘I will lead you +right.’</p> +<p>It was said and done so quietly that Conyngham had found no +word to say before his horse was moving in the opposite +direction.</p> +<p>‘This is surely one of General Vincente’s +horses,’ said the priest; ‘we have few such barbs in +Ronda. He always rides a good horse, that Miguel +Vincente.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, it is one of his horses. Then you know the +General?’</p> +<p>‘We were boys together,’ answered the Padre; +‘and there were some who said that he should have been the +priest and I the soldier.’</p> +<p>The old man gave a little laugh.</p> +<p>‘He has prospered, however, if I have not. A great +man, my dear Miguel, and they say that his pay is duly handed to +him. My own—my princely twenty pounds a year—is +overdue. I am happy enough, however, and have a good +house. You noticed it, perhaps, as you passed through the +village, a branch of palm against the rail of the +balcony—my sign, you understand. The innkeeper next +door displays a branch of pine, which, I notice, is more +attractive. Every man his day. One does not catch +rabbits with a dead ferret. That is the church—will +you see it? No? Well, some other day. I will +guide you through the village. The walk will give me +appetite, which I sometimes require, for my cook is one whose +husband has left her.’</p> +<h2><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +82</span>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE LOVE LETTER</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘I must mix +myself with action lest I wither by despair.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘<span class="smcap">No</span> one,’ Conyngham +heard a voice exclaiming as he went into the garden on returning +from his fruitless ride, ‘no one knows what I have +suffered.’</p> +<p>He paused in the dark doorway, not wishing to intrude upon +Estella and her visitors; for he perceived the forms of three +ladies seated within a miniature jungle of bamboo, which grew in +feathery luxuriance around a fountain. It was not difficult +to identify the voice as that of the eldest lady, who was stout, +and spoke in deep, almost manly tones. So far as he was +able to judge, the suffering mentioned had left but small record +on its victim’s outward appearance.</p> +<p>‘Old lady seems to have stood it well,’ commented +the Englishman in his mind.</p> +<p>‘Never again, my dear Estella, do I leave Ronda, except +indeed for Toledo, where, of course, we shall go in the summer if +this terrible Don Carlos is really driven from the country. +Ah! but what suffering! My mind is never at ease. I +expect to wake up at night and hear that Julia is being murdered +in her bed. For me it does not matter; my life is not so +gay that it will cost me much to part from it. No one would +molest an old woman, you think? Well, that may be so; but I +know all the anxiety, for I was once beautiful—ah! more +beautiful than you or Julia; and my hands and feet—have you +ever noticed my foot, Estella?—even now—!’</p> +<p>And a sonorous sigh completed the sentence. Conyngham +stepped out of the doorway, the clank of his spurred heel on the +marble pavement causing the sigh to break off in a little +scream. He had caught the name of Julia, and hastily +concluded that these ladies must be no other than Madame Barenna +and her daughter. In the little bamboo grove he found the +elder lady lying back in her chair, which creaked ominously, and +asking in a faint voice whether he were Don Carlos.</p> +<p>‘No,’ answered Estella, with a momentary twinkle +in her grave, dark eyes; ‘this is Mr. Conyngham—my +aunt, Señora Barenna, and my cousin Julia.’</p> +<p>The ladies bowed.</p> +<p>‘You must excuse me,’ said Madame Barenna volubly, +‘but your approach was so sudden. I am a great +sufferer—my nerves, you know. But young people do not +understand.’</p> +<p>And she sighed heavily, with a side glance at her daughter, +who did not even appear to be trying to do so. Julia +Barenna was darker than her cousin, quicker in manner, with an +air of worldly capability which Estella lacked. Her eyes +were quick and restless, her face less beautiful, but expressive +of a great intelligence, which, if brought to bear upon men in +the form of coquetry, was likely to be infinitely dangerous.</p> +<p>‘It is always best to approach my mother with +caution,’ she said with a restless movement of her +hands. This was not a woman at her ease in the world or at +peace with it. She laughed as she spoke, but her eyes were +grave, even while her lips smiled, and watched the +Englishman’s face with an air almost of anxiety. +There are some faces that seem to be watching and waiting. +Julia Barenna’s had such a look.</p> +<p>‘Conyngham,’ said Madame Barenna +reflectively. ‘Surely I have heard that name +before. You are not the Englishman with whom Father Concha +is so angry—who sells forbidden books—the Bible, it +is said?’</p> +<p>‘No, señora,’ answered Conyngham with +perfect gravity; ‘I have nothing to sell.’</p> +<p>He laughed suddenly, and looked at the elder lady with that +air of good humour which won for him more friends than he ever +wanted; for this Irishman had a ray of sunshine in his heart +which shone upon his path through life, and made that uneven way +easier for his feet. He glanced at Julia, and saw in her +eyes the look of expectancy which was, in reality, always +there. The thought flashed through his mind that by some +means, or perhaps feminine intuition beyond his comprehension, +she knew that he possessed the letter addressed to her, and was +eagerly awaiting it. This letter seemed to have been +gaining in importance the longer he carried it, and this +opportunity of giving it to her came at the right moment. +He remembered Larralde’s words concerning the person to +whom the missive was addressed, and the high-flown sentiments of +that somewhat theatrical gentleman became in some degree +justified. Julia Barenna was a woman who might well awaken +a passionate love. Conyngham realised this, as from a +distance, while Julia’s mother spoke of some trivial matter +of the moment to unheeding ears. That distance seemed now +to exist between him and all women. It had come suddenly, +and one glance of Estella’s eyes had called it into +existence.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ Señora Barenna was saying, +‘Father Concha is very angry with the English. What a +terrible man! You do not know him, Señor +Conyngham?’</p> +<p>‘I think I have met him, señora.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, but you have never seen him angry. You have +never confessed to him! A little, little sin—no +larger than the eye of a fly—a little bite of a +calf’s sweetbread on Friday in mere forgetfulness, and +Sancta Maria! what a penance is required! What +suffering! It is a purgatory to have such a +confessor.’</p> +<p>‘Surely madame can have no sins,’ said Conyngham +pleasantly.</p> +<p>‘Not now,’ said Señora Barenna with a deep +sigh. ‘When I was young it was different.’</p> +<p>And the memory of her sinful days almost moved her to +tears. She glanced at Conyngham with a tragic air of mutual +understanding, as if drawing a veil over that blissful past in +the presence of Julia and Estella. ‘Ask me another +time,’ that glance seemed to say.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ the lady continued, ‘Father Concha is +very angry with the English. Firstly, because of these +bibles. Blessed Heaven! what does it matter? No one +can read them except the priests, and they do not want to do +so. Secondly, because the English have helped to overthrow +Don Carlos—’</p> +<p>‘You will have a penance,’ interrupted Miss Julia +Barenna quietly, ‘from Father Concha for talking +politics.’</p> +<p>‘But how will he know?’ asked Señora +Barenna sharply; and the two young ladies laughed.</p> +<p>Señora Barenna looked from one to the other, and +shrugged her shoulders. Like many women she was a strange +mixture of foolishness and worldly wisdom. She adjusted her +mantilla and mutely appealed to Heaven with a glance of her +upturned eyes. Conyngham, who was no diplomatist, nor +possessed any skill in concealing his thoughts, looked with some +interest at Julia Barenna, and Estella watched him. +‘Julia is right,’ Señora Barenna was saying, +though nobody heeded her; ‘one must not talk nor even think +politics in this country. You are no politician, I trust, +Señor Conyngham—Señor Conyngham, I ask you, +you are no politician?’</p> +<p>‘No, señora,’ replied Conyngham hastily; +‘no; and if I were, I should never understand Spanish +politics.’</p> +<p>‘Father Concha says that Spanish politics are the same +as those of any other country—each man for himself,’ +said Julia with a bitter laugh.</p> +<p>‘And he is, no doubt, right.’</p> +<p>‘Do you really think so?’ asked Julia Barenna, +with more earnestness than the question would seem to require; +‘are there not true patriots who sacrifice all—not +only their friends, but themselves—to the cause of their +country?’</p> +<p>‘Without the hope of reward?’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘There may be, señorita—a few,’ +answered Conyngham with a laugh, ‘but not in my +country. They must all be in Spain.’</p> +<p>She smiled and shook her head in doubt. But it was a +worn smile.</p> +<p>The Englishman turned away and looked through the trees. +He was wondering how he could get speech with Julia alone for a +moment.</p> +<p>‘You are admiring the garden,’ said that young +lady; and this time he knew that there had in reality been that +meaning in her eyes which he had imagined to be there.</p> +<p>‘Yes, señorita, I think it must be the most +beautiful garden in the world.’</p> +<p>He turned as he spoke, and looked at Estella, who met his +glance quietly. Her repose of manner struck him +afresh. Here was a woman having that air of decision which +exacts respect alike from men and women. Seen thus, with +the more vivacious Julia at her side, Estella gained suddenly in +moral strength and depth—suggesting a steady fire in +contrast with a flickering will-o’-the-wisp blown hither +and thither on every zephyr. Yet Julia Barenna would pass +anywhere as a woman of will and purpose.</p> +<p>Julia had risen, and was moving towards the exit of the little +grove in which they found themselves. Conyngham had never +been seated.</p> +<p>‘Are the violets in bloom, Estella? I must see +them,’ said the visitor. ‘We have none at home, +where all is dry and parched.’</p> +<p>‘So bad for the nerves—what suffering!—such +a dry soil that one cannot sleep at night,’ murmured Madame +Barenna, preparing to rise from her seat.</p> +<p>Julia and Conyngham naturally led the way. The paths +winding in and out among the palms and pepper trees were of a +width that allowed two to walk abreast.</p> +<p>‘Señorita, I have a letter for you.’</p> +<p>‘Not yet—wait!’</p> +<p>Señora Barenna was chattering in her deep husky tones +immediately behind them. Julia turned and looked up at the +windows of the house, which commanded a full view of the +garden. The dwelling rooms were as usual upon the first +floor, and the windows were lightly barred with curiously wrought +iron. Each window was curtained within with lace and +muslin.</p> +<p>The paths wound in and out among the trees, but none of these +were large enough to afford a secure screen from the eye of any +watcher within the house. There was neither olive nor ilex +in the garden to afford shelter with their heavy leaves. +Julia and Conyngham walked on, out-distancing the elder lady and +Estella. From these many a turn in the path hid them from +time to time, but Julia was distrustful of the windows and +hesitated, in an agony of nervousness. Conyngham saw that +her face was quite colourless, and her teeth closed convulsively +over her lower lip. He continued to talk of indifferent +topics, but the answers she made were incoherent and +broken. The course of true love did not seem to run smooth +here.</p> +<p>‘Shall I give you the letter? No one can see us, +señorita. Besides, I was informed that it was of no +importance except to yourself. You have doubtless had many +such before, unless the Spanish gentlemen are blind.’</p> +<p>He laughed and felt in his pocket.</p> +<p>‘Yes!’ she whispered. +‘Quickly—now.’</p> +<p>He gave her the letter in its romantic pink, scented envelope +with a half-suppressed smile at her eagerness. Would +anybody—would Estella—ever be thus agitated at the +receipt of a letter from himself? They were at the lower +end of the inclosure, which was divided almost in two by a +broader pathway leading from the house to the centre of the +garden, where a fountain of Moorish marble formed a sort of +carrefour, from which the narrower pathways diverged in all +directions.</p> +<p>Descending the steps into the garden from the house were two +men, one talking violently, the other seeking to calm him.</p> +<p>‘My uncle and the Alcalde—they have seen us from +the windows,’ said Julia quickly. All her nervousness +of manner seemed to have vanished, leaving her concentrated and +alert. Some men are thus in warfare—nervous until the +rifle opens fire, and then cool and ready.</p> +<p>‘Quick!’ whispered Julia. ‘Let us turn +back.’</p> +<p>She wheeled round, and Conyngham did the same.</p> +<p>‘Julia!’ they heard General Vincente call in his +gentle voice.</p> +<p>Julia, who was tearing the pink envelope, took no heed. +Within the first covering a second envelope appeared, bearing a +longer address. ‘Give that to the man whose address +it bears, and save me from ruin,’ said the girl, thrusting +the letter into Conyngham’s hand. She kept the pink +envelope.</p> +<p>When, a minute later, they came face to face with General +Vincente and his companion, a white-faced, fluttering man of +sixty years, Julia Barenna received them with a smile. +There are some men who, conscious of their own quickness of +resource, are careless of danger, and run into it from mere +heedlessness, trusting to good fortune to aid them should peril +arise. Frederick Conyngham was one of these. He now +suspected that this was no love letter which the man called +Larralde had given him in Algeciras.</p> +<p>‘Julia,’ said the General, ‘the Alcalde +desires to speak with you.’</p> +<p>Julia bowed with that touch of hauteur which in Spain the +nobles ever observe in their manner towards the municipal +authorities.</p> +<p>‘Mr. Conyngham,’ continued the General, +‘this is our brave Mayor, in whose hands rests the +well-being of the people of Ronda.’</p> +<p>‘Honoured to meet you,’ said Conyngham, holding +out his hand with that frankness of manner which he accorded to +great and small alike. The Alcalde, a man of immense +importance in his own estimation, hesitated before accepting +it.</p> +<p>‘General,’ he said, turning and bowing very low to +Señora Barenna and Estella, who now joined them, +‘General, I leave you to explain to your niece the painful +duties of my office.’</p> +<p>The General smiled and raised a deprecating shoulder.</p> +<p>‘Well, my dear,’ he said kindly to Julia, +‘it appears that our good Alcalde has news of a letter +which is at present passing from hand to hand in Andalusia. +It is a letter of some importance. Our good Mayor, who was +at the window a minute ago, saw Mr. Conyngham hand you a +letter. Between persons who only met in this garden five +minutes ago such a transaction had a strange air. Our good +friend, who is all zeal for Spain and the people of Ronda, merely +asks you if his eyes deceived him. It is a matter at which +we shall all laugh presently over a lemonade—is it not +so? A trifle, eh?’ He passed his handkerchief +across his moustache, and looked affectionately at his niece.</p> +<p>‘A letter!’ exclaimed Julia. ‘Surely +the Alcalde presumes. He takes too much upon +himself.’ The official stepped forward.</p> +<p>‘Señorita,’ he said, ‘I must be +allowed to take that risk. Did this gentleman give you a +letter three minutes ago?’</p> +<p>Julia laughed and shrugged her shoulders.</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘May I ask the nature of the letter?’</p> +<p>‘It was a love letter.’</p> +<p>Conyngham bit his lip and looked at Estella.</p> +<p>The Alcalde looked doubtful, with the cunning lips of a cheap +country lawyer.</p> +<p>‘A love letter from a gentleman you have never seen +before?’ he said with a forced laugh.</p> +<p>‘Pardon me, Señor Alcalde, this gentleman +travelled in the same ship with my mother and myself from +Bordeaux to Algeciras, and he saved my life.’</p> +<p>She cast a momentary glance at Conyngham; which would have +sealed his fate had the fiery Mr. Larralde been there to see +it. The Prefect paused, somewhat taken aback. There +was a momentary silence, and every moment gave Julia and +Conyngham time to think. Then the Alcalde turned to +Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘It will give me the greatest pleasure,’ he said, +‘to learn that I have been mistaken. I have only to +ask this gentleman’s confirmation of what the +señorita has said. It is true, señor, that +you surreptitiously handed to the Señorita Barenna a +letter expressing your love?’</p> +<p>‘Since the señorita has done me the honour of +confessing it, I must ask you to believe it,’ answered +Conyngham steadily and coldly.</p> +<h2><a name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +94</span>CHAPTER IX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A WAR OF WIT</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘La +discrétion est l’art du mensonge.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Alcalde blew out his cheeks and +looked at General Vincente. Señora Barenna would +with small encouragement have thrown herself into +Conyngham’s arms; but she received none whatever, and +instead frowned at Julia. Estella was looking haughtily at +her father, and would not meet Conyngham’s glance.</p> +<p>‘I feel sure,’ said General Vincente in his most +conciliating manner, ‘that my dear Julia will see the +necessity of satisfying the good Alcalde by showing him the +letter—with, of course, the consent of my friend +Conyngham.’</p> +<p>He laughed, and slipped his hand within Conyngham’s +arm.</p> +<p>‘You see, my dear friend,’ he said in English, +‘these local magnates are a trifle inflated; local +magnitude is a little inclined to inflate, eh? Ha! +ha! And it is so easy to conciliate them. I always +try to do so myself. Peace at any price—that is my +motto.’</p> +<p>And he turned aside to arrange his sword, which dragged on the +ground.</p> +<p>‘Tell her, my dear Conyngham, to let the old gentleman +read the letter.’</p> +<p>‘But it is nothing to do with me, General.’</p> +<p>‘I know that, my friend, as well as you do,’ said +Vincente with a sudden change of manner, which gave the +Englishman an uncomfortable desire to know what he meant. +But General Vincente, in pursuit of that peace which had earned +him such a terrible reputation in war, turned to Señora +Barenna with his most reassuring smile.</p> +<p>‘It is nothing, my dear Iñez,’ he +said. ‘In these times of trouble the officials are so +suspicious, and our dear Alcalde knows too much. He +remembers dear Julia’s little affair with Esteban Larralde, +now long since lived down and forgotten. Larralde is, it +appears, a malcontent, and on the wrong side of the wall. +You need have no uneasiness. Ah! your nerves—yes, I +know! A great sufferer—yes, I remember. +Patience, dear Iñez, patience!’</p> +<p>And he patted her stout white hand affectionately.</p> +<p>The Alcalde was taking snuff with a stubborn air of disbelief, +glancing the while suspiciously at Conyngham, who had eyes for +none but Estella.</p> +<p>‘Alcalde,’ said General Vincente, ‘the +incident is past, as we say in the diplomatic service; a lemonade +now?’</p> +<p>‘No, General, the incident is not past, and I will not +have a lemonade.’</p> +<p>‘Oh!’ exclaimed General Vincente in gentle +horror.</p> +<p>‘Yes, this young lady must give me the letter, or I call +in my men.’</p> +<p>‘But your men could not touch a lady, my dear +Alcalde.’</p> +<p>‘You may be the Alcalde of Ronda,’ said Conyngham +cheerfully, in continuation of the General’s argument; +‘but if you offer such an insult to Señorita +Barenna, I throw you into the fountain, in the deepest part, +where it is wettest, just there by the marble dolphin.’</p> +<p>And Conyngham indicated the exact spot with his +riding-whip.</p> +<p>‘Who is this gentleman?’ asked the Alcalde. +The question was in the first place addressed to space and the +gods—after a moment the speaker turned to General +Vincente.</p> +<p>‘A prospective aide-de-camp of General +Espartero.’</p> +<p>At the mention of the great name the Mayor of Ronda became +beautifully less and half bowed to Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘I must do my duty,’ he said with the stubbornness +of a small mind.</p> +<p>‘And what do you conceive that to be, my dear +Alcalde?’ inquired the General.</p> +<p>‘To place the Señorita Barenna under arrest +unless she will hand to me the letter she has in her +possession.’ Julia looked at him with a smile. +She was a brave woman, playing a dangerous game with consummate +courage, and never glanced at Conyngham, who with an effort kept +his hand away from the pocket where the letter lay +concealed. The manner in which she trusted him unreservedly +and entirely was in itself cunning enough, for it appealed to +that sense of chivalry which is not yet dead in men.</p> +<p>‘Place me under arrest, Señor Alcalde,’ she +said indifferently, ‘and when you have satisfied me that +you have a right to inspect a lady’s private correspondence +I will submit to be searched—but not before.’</p> +<p>She made a little signal to Conyngham not to interfere.</p> +<p>Señora Barenna took this opportunity of asserting +herself and her nerves. She sat heavily down on a stone +seat and wept. She could hardly have done better, for she +was a countess in her own right, and the sight of high-born tears +distinctly unnerved the Alcalde.</p> +<p>‘Well,’ he said, ‘the señorita has +made her own choice. In these times’ (he glanced +nervously at the weeping lady) ‘one must do one’s +duty.’</p> +<p>‘My dear Julia,’ protested the General, ‘you +who are so sensible—’</p> +<p>Julia shrugged her shoulders and laughed. She not only +trusted Conyngham but relied upon his intelligence. It is +as a rule safer to confide in the honesty of one’s +neighbour than in his wit; better still, trust in neither. +Conyngham, who was quick enough when the moment required it, knew +that she was fostering the belief that the letter at that moment +in his pocket was in her possession. He suspected also that +he and Julia Barenna were playing with life and death. +Further, he recognised her and her voice. This was the +woman who had showed discrimination and calmness in face of a +great danger on the Garonne. Had this Englishman, owning as +he did to a strain of Irish blood, turned his back on her and +danger at such a moment he would assuredly have proved himself +untrue to the annals of that race which has made a mark upon the +world that will never be wiped out. He looked at the +Alcalde and smiled, whereupon that official turned and made a +signal with his hand to a man who, dressed in a quiet uniform, +had appeared in the doorway of the house.</p> +<p>‘What the deuce we are all trying to do I don’t +know,’ reflected Conyngham, who indeed was sufficiently at +sea to awake the most dormant suspicions.</p> +<p>The Alcalde, now thoroughly aroused, protested his inability +to neglect a particle of his duty at this troubled period of +Spain’s history, and announced his intention of placing +Julia Barenna under surveillance until she handed him the letter +she had received from Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘I am quite prepared,’ he added, ‘to give +this caballero the benefit of the doubt, and assume that he has +been in this matter the tool of unscrupulous persons. +Seeing that he is a friend of General Vincente’s, and has +an introduction to his Excellency the Duke of Vittoria, he is +without the pale of my jurisdiction.’</p> +<p>The Alcalde made Conyngham a profound bow and proceeded to +conduct Julia and her indignant mother to their carriage.</p> +<p>‘There goes,’ said General Vincente with his most +optimistic little chuckle, ‘a young woman whose head will +always be endangered by her heart.’ And he nodded +towards Julia’s retreating form.</p> +<p>Estella turned and walked away by herself.</p> +<p>‘Come,’ said the General to Conyngham, ‘let +us sit down. I have news for you. But what a +susceptible heart—my dear young friend—what a +susceptible heart! Julia is, I admit, a very pretty +girl—<i>la beauté du diable</i>, eh! But on so +short an acquaintance—rather rapid, rather +rapid!’</p> +<p>As he spoke he was searching among some letters which he had +produced from his pocket, and at length found an official +envelope that had already been opened.</p> +<p>‘I have here,’ he said, ‘a letter from +Madrid. You have only to proceed to the capital, and there +I hope a post awaits you. Your duties will at present be of +a semi-military character, but later I hope we can show you some +fighting. This pestilential Cabrera is not yet quelled, and +Morella still holds out. Yes, there will be +fighting.’</p> +<p>He closed the letter and looked at Conyngham. ‘If +that is what you want,’ he added.</p> +<p>‘Yes, that is what I want.’</p> +<p>The General nodded and rose, pausing to brush a few grains of +dust from his dapper riding-breeches.</p> +<p>‘Come,’ he said, ‘I have seen a horse which +will suit you at the cavalry quarters in the Calle de +Bobadilla. Shall we go and look at him?’</p> +<p>Conyngham expressed his readiness to do as the General +proposed.</p> +<p>‘When shall I start for Madrid?’ he asked.</p> +<p>‘Oh, to-morrow morning will be time enough,’ was +the reply, uttered in an easy-going, indolent tone, ‘if you +are early astir. You see, it is now nearly five +o’clock, and you could scarcely be in saddle before +sunset.’</p> +<p>‘No,’ laughed Conyngham, ‘scarcely, +considering that I have not yet bought the saddle or the +horse.’</p> +<p>The General led the way into the house, and Conyngham thought +of the letter in his pocket. He had not yet read the +address. Julia relied upon him to deliver it, and her +conduct towards the Alcalde had the evident object of gaining +time for him to do so. She had unhesitatingly thrust +herself into a position of danger to screen him and further her +own indomitable purpose. He thought of her—still as +from a distance at which Estella had placed him—and knew +that she not only had a disquieting beauty, but cleverness and +courage, which are qualities that outlast beauty and make a woman +powerful for ever.</p> +<p>When he and his companion emerged from the great doorway of +the house into the sunlight of the Calle Mayor, a man came +forward from the shade of a neighbouring porch. It was +Concepçion Vara, leisurely and dignified, twirling a +cigarette between his brown fingers. He saluted the General +with one finger to the brim of his shabby felt hat as one great +man might salute another. He nodded to Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘When does his Excellency take the road again?’ he +said. ‘I am ready. The Guardia Civil was +mistaken this time—the judge said there was no stain on my +name.’</p> +<p>He shrugged his shoulders and waved away the slight with the +magnanimity of one who can forgive and forget.</p> +<p>‘I take the road to-morrow; but our contract ceased at +Ronda. I had no intention of taking you on.’</p> +<p>‘You are not satisfied with me?’ inquired +Concepçion, offering his interlocutor the cigarette he had +just made.</p> +<p>‘Oh, yes.’</p> +<p>‘Buen! We take the road together.’</p> +<p>‘Then there is nothing more to be said?’ inquired +Conyngham with a good-natured laugh.</p> +<p>‘Nothing, except the hour at which your Excellency +starts.’</p> +<p>‘Six o’clock,’ put in General Vincente +quietly. ‘Let me see, your name is Concepçion +Vara.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, Excellency—of Algeciras.’</p> +<p>‘It is well. Then serve this gentleman well, or +else—’ The General paused, and laughed in his +most deprecating manner.</p> +<p>Concepçion seemed to understand, for he took off his +hat and turned gravely away. The General and Conyngham +walked rapidly through the streets of Ronda, than which there are +none cleaner in the whole world, and duly bought a great black +horse at a price which seemed moderate enough to the Englishman, +though the vendor explained that the long war had made horseflesh +rise in value. Conyngham, at no time a keen bargainer, +hurried the matter to an end, and scarce examined the +saddle. He was anxious to get back to the garden of the +great house in the Calle Mayor before the cool of evening came to +drive Estella indoors.</p> +<p>‘You will doubtless wish to pack your +portmanteau,’ said the General rather breathlessly, as he +hurried along with small steps beside Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ answered the Englishman ingenuously, +‘yes, of course.’</p> +<p>‘Then I will not detain you,’ said General +Vincente. ‘I have affairs at headquarters. We +meet at dinner, of course.’</p> +<p>He waved a little salutation with his whip and took a side +turning.</p> +<p>The sun had not set when Conyngham with a beating heart made +his way through the house into the garden. He had never +been so serious about anything in his life. Indeed, his +life seemed only to have begun in that garden. Estella was +there. He saw her black dress and mantilla through the +trees, and the gleam of her golden hair made his eyes almost +fierce for the moment.</p> +<p>‘I am going to-morrow morning,’ he said bluntly +when he reached her where she sat in the shade of a mimosa.</p> +<p>She raised her eyes for a moment—deep velvet eyes with +something in them that made his heart leap within his breast.</p> +<p>‘And I love you, Estella,’ he added. +‘You may be offended—you may despise me—you may +distrust me. But nothing can alter me. I love +you—now and ever.’</p> +<p>She drew a deep breath and sat motionless.</p> +<p>‘How many women does an Englishman love at once?’ +she asked coldly at length.</p> +<p>‘Only one, señorita.’</p> +<p>He stood looking at her for a moment. Then she rose and +walked past him into the house.</p> +<h2><a name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +105</span>CHAPTER X<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE CITY OF DISCONTENT</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘En paroles ou en +actions, être discret, c’est +s’abstenir.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘<span class="smcap">There</span> is,’ observed +Frederick Conyngham to himself as he climbed into the saddle in +the grey dawn of the following morning, ‘there is a certain +picturesqueness about these proceedings which pleases +me.’</p> +<p>Concepçion Vara indeed supplied a portion of this +romantic atmosphere, for he was dressed in the height of +contrabandista fashion, with a bright-coloured handkerchief +folded round his head underneath his black hat, a scarlet +waistcloth, a spotless shirt, and a flower in the ribbon of his +hat.</p> +<p>He was dignified and leisurely, but so far forgot himself as +to sing as he threw his leg across his horse. A dark-eyed +maiden had come to the corner of the Calle Vieja, and stood there +watching him with mournful eyes. He waved her a salutation +as he passed.</p> +<p>‘It is the waiting-maid at the venta where I stay in +Ronda—what will you?’ he explained to Conyngham with +a modest air as he cocked his hat farther on one side.</p> +<p>The sun rose as they emerged from the narrow streets into the +open country that borders the road to Bobadilla. A pastoral +country this, where the land needs little care to make it give +more than man requires for his daily food. The evergreen +oak studded over the whole plain supplies food for countless pigs +and shade where the herdsmen may dream away the sunny days. +The rich soil would yield two or even three crops in the year, +were the necessary seed and labour forthcoming. +Underground, the mineral wealth outvies the richness of the +surface, but national indolence leaves it unexplored.</p> +<p>‘Before General Vincente one could not explain +oneself,’ said Concepçion, urging his horse to keep +pace with the trot of Conyngham’s huge mount.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’</p> +<p>‘No,’ pursued Concepçion. ‘And +yet it is simple. In Algeciras I have a wife. It is +well that a man should travel at times. So,’ he +paused and bowed towards his companion with a gesture of infinite +condescension, ‘so—we take the road +together.’</p> +<p>‘As long as you are pleased, Señor Vara,’ +said Conyngham, ‘I am sure I can but feel honoured. +You know I have no money.’</p> +<p>The Spaniard shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>‘What matter?’ he said. ‘What +matter? We can keep an account—a mere piece of +paper—so: “Concepçion Vara, of Algeciras, in +account current with F. Conyngham; Englishman. One +month’s wages at one hundred pesetas.” It is +simple.’</p> +<p>‘Very,’ acquiesced Conyngham. ‘It is +only when pay-day comes that things will get +complicated.’</p> +<p>Concepçion laughed.</p> +<p>‘You are a caballero after my own heart,’ he +said. ‘We shall enjoy ourselves in Madrid. I +see that.’</p> +<p>Conyngham did not answer. He had remembered the letter +and Julia Barenna’s danger. He rose in his stirrups +and looked behind him. Ronda was already hidden by +intervening hills, and the bare line of the roadway was unbroken +by the form of any other traveller.</p> +<p>‘We are not going to Madrid yet,’ said +Conyngham. ‘We are going to Xeres, where I have +business. Do you know the road to Xeres?’</p> +<p>‘As well that as any other, Excellency.’</p> +<p>‘What do you mean?’</p> +<p>‘I know no roads north of Ronda. I am of +Andalusia, I,’ replied Concepçion easily, and he +looked round about him with an air of interest which was more to +the credit of his intelligence as a traveller than his +reliability as a guide.</p> +<p>‘But you engaged to guide me to Madrid.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, Excellency—by asking the way,’ replied +Concepçion with a light laugh, and he struck a sulphur +match on the neck of his horse to light a fresh cigarette.</p> +<p>Thus with an easy heart Frederick Conyngham set out on his +journey, having for companion one as irresponsible as +himself. He had determined to go to Xeres, though that town +of ill repute lay far to the westward of his road towards the +capital. It would have been simple enough to destroy the +letter entrusted to him by Julia Barenna, a stranger whom he was +likely never to see again—simple enough and infinitely +safer as he suspected, for the billet-doux of Mr. Larralde smelt +of grimmer things than love. But Julia Barenna wittingly, +or in all innocence, appealed to that sense of chivalry which is +essentially the quality of lonely men who have never had sisters, +and Conyngham was ready to help Julia where he would have refused +his assistance to a man, however hard pressed.</p> +<p>‘Cannot leave the girl in a hole,’ he said to +himself, and proceeded to act upon this resolution with a +steadiness of purpose for which some may blame him.</p> +<p>It was evening when the two travellers reached Xeres after +some weary hours of monotonous progress through the vine-clad +plains of this country.</p> +<p>‘It is no wonder,’ said Concepçion, +‘that the men of Xeres are malcontents, when they live in a +country as flat as the palm of my hand.’</p> +<p>It happened to be a fête day, which in Spain, as in +other countries farther North, is synonymous with mischief. +The men of Xeres had taken advantage of this holiday to +demonstrate their desire for more. They had marched through +the streets with banner and song, arrayed in their best clothes, +fostering their worst thoughts. They had consumed +marvellous quantities of that small Amontillado which is as it +were a thin fire to the blood, heating and degenerating at +once. They had talked much nonsense and listened to +more. Carlist or Christino—it was all the same to +them, so long as they had a change of some sort. In the +meantime they had a desire to break something, if only to assert +their liberty.</p> +<p>A few minutes before Conyngham and his guide rode into the +market-place, which in Xeres is as long as a street, some of the +free sons of Spain had thought fit to shout insulting remarks to +a passer-by. With a fire too bright for his years this old +gentleman, with fierce white moustache and imperial, had turned +on them, calling them good-for-nothings and sons of pigs.</p> +<p>Conyngham rode up just in time to see the ruffians rise as one +man and rush at the victim of their humour. The old man +with his back to the wall repelled his assailants with a sort of +fierce joy in his attitude which betokened the soldier.</p> +<p>‘Come on, Concepçion!’ cried Conyngham, +with a dig of the spurs that made his tired horse leap into the +air. He charged down upon the gathering crowd, which +scattered right and left before the wild onslaught. But he +saw the flash of steel, and knew that it was too late. The +old man, with an oath and a gasp of pain, sank against the wall +with the blood trickling through the fingers clasped against his +breast. Conyngham would have reined in, but +Concepçion on his heels gave the charger a cut with his +heavy whip that made him bound forward and would have unseated a +short-stirruped rider.</p> +<p>‘Go on,’ cried the Spaniard; ‘it is no +business of ours. The police are behind.’</p> +<p>And Conyngham, remembering the letter in his pocket, rode on +without looking back. In the day of which the present +narrative treats, the streets of Xeres were but ill paved, and +the dust lay on them to the depth of many inches, serving to +deaden the sound of footsteps and facilitate the commission of +such deeds of violence as were at this time of daily occurrence +in Spain. Riding on at random, Conyngham and his companion +soon lost their way in the narrow streets, and were able to +satisfy themselves that none had followed them. Here in a +quiet alley Conyngham read again the address of the letter of +which he earnestly desired to rid himself without more ado.</p> +<p>It was addressed to Colonel Monreal at No. 84 Plaza de +Cadiz.</p> +<p>‘Let his Excellency stay here and drink a glass of wine +at this venta,’ said Concepçion. ‘Alone, +I shall be able to get information without attracting +attention. And then, in the name of the saints, let us +shake the dust of Xeres off our feet. The first thing we +see is steel, and I do not like it. I have a wife in +Algeciras to whom I am much attached, and I am afraid—yes, +afraid. A gentleman need never hesitate to say +so.’</p> +<p>He shook his head forebodingly as he loosened his girths and +called for water for the horses.</p> +<p>‘I could eat a cocida,’ he went on, sniffing the +odours of a neighbouring kitchen, ‘with plenty of onions +and the mutton as becomes the springtime—young and +tender. Dios! this quick travelling and an empty stomach, +it kills one.’</p> +<p>‘When I have delivered my letter,’ replied +Conyngham, ‘we shall eat with a lighter heart.’</p> +<p>Concepçion went away in a pessimistic humour. He +was one of those men who are brave enough on good wine and +victuals, but lack the stamina to fight when hungry. He +returned presently with the required information. The Plaza +de Cadiz was, it appeared, quite close. Indeed, the town of +Xeres is not large, though the intricacies of its narrow streets +may well puzzle a new-comer. No. 84 was the house of the +barber, and on his first floor lived Colonel Monreal, a retired +veteran who had fought with the English against Napoleon’s +armies.</p> +<p>During his servant’s absence, Conyngham had written a +short note in French, conveying, in terms which she would +understand, the news that Julia Barenna doubtless awaited with +impatience; namely, that her letter had been delivered to him +whose address it bore.</p> +<p>‘I have ordered your cocida and some good wine,’ +he said to Concepçion. ‘Your horse is +feeding. Make good use of your time, for when I return I +shall want you to take the road again at once. You must +make ten miles before you sleep to-night, and then an early start +in the morning.’</p> +<p>‘For where, señor?’</p> +<p>‘For Ronda.’</p> +<p>Concepçion shrugged his shoulders. His life had +been spent upon the road, his wardrobe since childhood had been +contained in a saddle-bag, and Spaniards, above all people, have +the curse of Ishmael. They are a homeless race, and lay +them down to sleep, when fatigue overtakes them, under a tree or +in the shade of a stone wall. It often happens that a +worker in the fields will content himself with the lee side of a +haystack for his resting-place when his home is only a few +hundred yards up the mountain side.</p> +<p>‘And his Excellency?’ inquired +Concepçion.</p> +<p>‘I shall sleep here to-night and proceed to Madrid +to-morrow, by way of Cordova, where I will wait for you. I +have a letter here which you must deliver to the Señorita +Barenna at Ronda without the knowledge of anyone. It will +be well that neither General Vincente nor any other who knows you +should catch sight of you in the streets of Ronda.’</p> +<p>Concepçion nodded his head with much philosophy.</p> +<p>‘Ah! these women,’ he said, turning to the +steaming dish of mutton and vegetables which is almost universal +in the South, ‘these women, what shoe leather they cost +us!’</p> +<p>Leaving his servant thus profitably employed, Conyngham set +out to find the barber’s shop in the Plaza de Cadiz. +This he did without difficulty, but on presenting himself at the +door of Colonel Monreal’s apartment learnt that that +gentleman was out.</p> +<p>‘But,’ added the servant, ‘the Colonel is a +man of regular habits. He will return within the next +fifteen minutes, for he dines at five.’</p> +<p>Conyngham paused. He had no desire to make Colonel +Monreal’s acquaintance, indeed preferred to remain without +it, for he rightly judged that Señor Larralde was engaged +in affairs best left alone.</p> +<p>‘I have a letter for the Colonel,’ he said to the +servant, a man of stupid countenance. ‘I will place +it here upon his table, and can no doubt trust you to see that he +gets it.’</p> +<p>‘That you can, Excellency,’ replied the man, with +a palm already half extended to receive a gratuity.</p> +<p>‘If the Colonel fails to receive the letter I shall +certainly know of it,’ said Conyngham, stumbling down the +dark staircase, and well pleased to have accomplished his +mission.</p> +<p>He returned with all speed to the inn in the quiet alley where +he had elected to pass the night, and found Concepçion +still at table.</p> +<p>‘In half an hour I take the road,’ said the +Spaniard. ‘The time for a cup of coffee, and I am +ready to ride all night.’</p> +<p>Having eaten, Concepçion was in a better frame of mind, +and now cheerfully undertook to carry out his master’s +instructions. In little more than half an hour he was in +the saddle again, and waved an airy adieu to Conyngham as he +passed under the swinging oil lamp that hung at the corner of the +street.</p> +<p>It was yet early in the evening, and Conyngham, having dined, +set out to explore the streets of Xeres, which were quiet enough +now, as the cafes were gayer and safer than the gloomy +thoroughfares where a foe might lurk in every doorway. In +the market-place, between rows of booths and tents, a dense crowd +walked backwards and forwards with that steady sense of +promenading which the Spaniard understands above all other +men. The dealers in coloured handkerchiefs from Barcelona +or mantillas from Seville were driving a great trade, and the +majority of them had long since shouted themselves hoarse. +A few quack dentists were operating upon their victims under the +friendly covert of a big drum and a bassoon. Dealers in +wonderful drugs and herbs were haranguing the crowd, easily +gaining the attention of the simple peasants by handling a live +snake or a crocodile which they allowed to crawl upon their +shoulders.</p> +<p>Conyngham lingered in the crowd, which was orderly enough, and +amused himself by noting the credulity of the country folk, until +his attention was attracted by a solemn procession passing up the +market-place behind the tents. He inquired of a bystander +what this might be.</p> +<p>‘It is the police carrying to his apartment the body of +Colonel Monreal, who was murdered this afternoon in the Plaza +Mayor,’ was the answer.</p> +<p>Conyngham made his way between two tents to the deserted side +of the market-place, and, running past the procession, reached +the barber’s shop before it. In answer to his summons +a girl came to the door of the Colonel’s apartment. +She was weeping and moaning in great mental distress.</p> +<p>Without explanation Conyngham pushed past her into the room +where he had deposited the letter. The room was in +disorder, and no letter lay upon the table.</p> +<p>‘It is,’ sobbed the girl, ‘my husband, who, +having heard that the good Colonel had been murdered, stole all +his valuables and papers and has run away from me.’</p> +<h2><a name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +117</span>CHAPTER XI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A TANGLED WEB</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘Wherein I am +false, I am honest—not true to be true.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘<span class="smcap">And</span>—would you believe +it?—there are soldiers in the house, at the very door of +Julia’s apartments.’ Señora Barenna, who +made this remark, heaved a sigh and sat back in her canework +chair with that jerkiness of action which in elderly ladies +usually betokens impatience with the ways of young people.</p> +<p>‘Policemen—policemen, not soldiers,’ +corrected Father Concha patiently, as if it did not matter +much. They were sitting in the broad vine-clad verandah of +the Casa Barenna, that grim old house on the Bobadilla road, two +miles from Ronda. The priest had walked thither, as the +dust on his square-toed shoes and black stockings would +testify. He had laid aside his mournful old hat, long since +brown and discoloured, and was wiping his forehead with a cheap +pocket-handkerchief of colour and pattern rather loud for his +station in life.</p> +<p>‘Well, they have swords,’ persisted the lady.</p> +<p>‘Policemen,’ said Father Concha, in a stern and +final voice, which caused Señora Barenna to cast her eyes +upwards with an air of resigned martyrdom.</p> +<p>‘Ah, that Alcalde!’ she whispered between her +teeth.</p> +<p>‘A little dog, when it is afraid, growls,’ said +Concha philosophically. ‘The Alcalde is a very small +dog, and he is at his wit’s end. Such a thing has not +occurred in Ronda before, and the Alcalde’s world is +Ronda. He does not know whether his office permits him to +inspect young ladies’ love letters or not.’</p> +<p>‘Love letters!’ ejaculated Señora +Barenna. She evidently had a keen sense of the romantic, +and hoped for something more tragic than a mere flirtation +begotten of idleness at sea.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Concha, crossing his legs and looking +at his companion with a queer cynicism. ‘Young people +mostly pass that way.’</p> +<p>He had had a tragedy, this old man. One of those grim +tragedies of the cassock which English people rarely +understand. And his tragedy sat beside him on the cane +chair, stout and eminently worldly, while he had journeyed on the +road of life with all his illusions, all his half-fledged +aspirations, untouched by the cold finger of reality. He +despised the woman now, the contempt lurked in his cynical smile, +but he clung with a half-mocking, open-eyed sarcasm to his +memories.</p> +<p>‘But,’ he said reassuringly, ‘Julia is a +match for the Alcalde, you may rest assured of that.’</p> +<p>Señora Barenna turned with a gesture of her plump hand +indicative of bewilderment.</p> +<p>‘I do not understand her. She laughs at the +soldiers—the policemen, I mean. She laughs at +me. She laughs at everything.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, it is the hollow hearts that make most noise in +the world,’ said Concha, folding his handkerchief upon his +knee. He was deadly poor, and had a theory that a folded +handkerchief remains longer clean. His whole existence was +an effort to do without those things that make life worth +living.</p> +<p>‘Why did you send for me?’ he asked.</p> +<p>‘But to advise me—to help me. I have been, +all my life, cast upon the world alone. No one to help +me—no one to understand. No one knows what I have +suffered—my husband—’</p> +<p>‘Was one of the best and most patient of mortals, and is +assuredly in heaven, where I hope there are a few mansions +reserved for men only.’</p> +<p>Señora Barenna fetched one of her deepest sighs. +She had a few lurking in the depth of her capacious being, +reserved for such occasions as this. It was, it seemed, no +more than her life had led her to expect.</p> +<p>‘You have had,’ went on her spiritual adviser, +‘a life of ease and luxury, a husband who denied you +nothing. You have never lost a child by death, which I +understand is—one of the greatest sorrows that God sends to +women. You are an ungrateful female.’</p> +<p>Señora Barenna, whose face would have graced one of the +very earliest of the martyrs, sat with folded hands waiting until +the storm should pass.</p> +<p>‘Do you wish me to see Julia?’ asked Concha +abruptly.</p> +<p>‘Yes—yes! And persuade her to conciliate the +Alcalde—to tell him some story or another. It does +not surely matter if it be not the strict truth. Anything +to get these men out of the house. My maid Maria is so +flighty. Ah—these young people! What a +trial—my dear Padre, what a trial!’</p> +<p>‘Of course,’ said Father Concha. ‘But +what a dull world it would be if our neighbour knew how to manage +his own affairs! Shall we go to Julia?’</p> +<p>The perturbed lady preferred that the priest should see her +daughter alone. A military-looking individual in white +trousers and a dark green tunic stood guard over the door of +Julia’s apartment, seeking by his attitude and the curl of +his moustache to magnify his office in the eyes of a maid who +happened to have an unusual amount of cleaning to do in that +particular corridor.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Father Concha, by no means abashed by +the sentinel’s sword. ‘Ah, it is you, +Manuel. Your wife tells me you have objections to the +christening of that last boy of yours, number five, I +think. Bring number five on Sunday, after +vespers—eh? You understand—and a little +something for the poor. It is pay day on Saturday. +And no more nonsense about religion, Manuel, eh?’</p> +<p>He shook his lean finger in the official’s face and +walked on unchallenged.</p> +<p>‘May I come in?’ he said, tapping at the door; and +Julia’s voice bade him enter.</p> +<p>He closed the door behind him and laid aside his hat. +Then he stood upright, and slowly rubbing his hands together +looked at Julia with the humorous twinkle lurking in his eye and +its companion dimple twitching in his lean cheek. Then he +began to feel his pockets, passing his hands down his worn +cassock.</p> +<p>‘Let me see, I had a love letter—was it from Don +Carlos? At all events, I have lost it!’</p> +<p>He laughed, made a perfunctory sign of the cross and gave her +his blessing. Then, his face having become suddenly grave +as if by machinery at the sound of the solemn Latin benediction, +he sat down.</p> +<p>Julia looked worn and eager. Her eyes seemed to search +his face for news.</p> +<p>‘Yes, my dear child,’ he said. +‘Politics are all very well as a career. But without +a distinct profit they are worth the attention of few men, and +never worth the thought of a woman.’</p> +<p>He looked at her keenly, and she turned to the window, which +was open to admit the breath of violets and other flowers of the +spring. She shrugged her shoulders and gave a sharp +sigh.</p> +<p>‘See here, my child,’ said Padre Concha +abruptly. ‘For reasons which concern no one, I take a +great interest in your happiness. You resemble some one +whose welfare was once more important to me than my own. +That was long ago, and I now consider myself first, as all wise +men should. I am your friend, Julia, and much too old to be +over-scrupulous. I peep and pry into my neighbours’ +affairs, and I am uneasy about you, my child.’</p> +<p>He shook his head and drummed upon the table with his dirty +fingers.</p> +<p>‘Thank you,’ answered the girl with her defiant +little laugh, ‘but I can manage my own affairs.’</p> +<p>The priest nodded reflectively.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is natural that +you should say that. One of the chief blessings of youth is +self confidence. Heaven forbid that I should shake +yours. But, you see, there are several people who happen to +be anxious that this little affair should blow over and be +forgotten. The Alcalde is a mule, we know that, and +anything that serves to magnify himself and his office is likely +to be prolonged. Do not play into his hand. As I tell +you, there are some who wish to forget this incident, and one of +them is coming to see you this afternoon.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said the girl indifferently.</p> +<p>‘General Vincente.’</p> +<p>Julia changed colour and her eyelids flickered for a moment as +she looked out of the open window.</p> +<p>‘A good friend,’ continued Concha, +‘but—’</p> +<p>He finished the phrase with an eloquent little gesture of the +hand. At this moment they both heard the sound of an +approaching carriage.</p> +<p>‘He is coming now,’ said Concha. ‘He +is driving, so Estella is with him.’</p> +<p>‘Estella is of course jealous.’</p> +<p>The priest looked at her with a slow wise smile and said +nothing.</p> +<p>‘She—’ began Julia, and then closed her +lips—true to that <i>esprit de sexe</i> which has ruled +through all the ages. Then Julia Barenna gave a sharp sigh +as her mind reverted from Estella’s affairs to her own.</p> +<p>Sitting thus in silence, the two occupants of the quiet room +heard the approach of steps and the clink of spurs in the +corridor.</p> +<p>‘It is the reverendo who visits the +señorita,’ they heard the voice of the sentinel +explain deprecatingly.</p> +<p>The priest rose and went to the door, which he opened.</p> +<p>‘Only as a friend,’ he said. ‘Come in, +General.’</p> +<p>General Vincente entered the room followed by Estella. +He nodded to Concha and kissed his niece affectionately.</p> +<p>‘Still obdurate?’ he said, with a semi-playful tap +on her shoulder. ‘Still obdurate? My dear +Julia, in peace and war the greatest quality in the strong is +mercy. You have proved yourself strong—you have +worsted that unfortunate Alcalde—be merciful to him now, +and let this incident finish.’</p> +<p>He drew forward a chair, the others being seated, and laid +aside his gloves. The sword which he held upright between +his knees, with his two hands resting on the hilt, looked +incongruously large and reached the level of his eyes. He +gave a little chuckling laugh.</p> +<p>‘I saw him last night at the Café Real—the +poor man had the air of a funeral, and took his wine as if it +were sour. Ah! these civilians, they amuse one—they +take life so seriously.’</p> +<p>He laughed and looked round at those assembled as if inviting +them to join him in a gayer and easier view of existence. +The Padre’s furrowed face answered the summons in a sudden +smile, but it was with grave eyes that he looked searchingly at +the most powerful man in Andalusia; for General Vincente’s +word was law south of the Tagus.</p> +<p>The two men sat side by side in strong contrast. Fate +indeed seems to shake men together in a bag, and cast them out +upon the world heedless where they may fall; for here was a +soldier in the priest’s habit, and one carrying a sword who +had the keen heart and sure sympathy for joy or sorrow that +should ever be found within a black coat if the Master’s +work is to be well done.</p> +<p>General Vincente smiled at Estella with <i>sang-froid</i> and +an unruffled good nature, while the Padre Concha, whose place it +surely was to take the lead in such woman’s work as this, +slowly rubbed his bony hands together, at a loss and incompetent +to meet the urgency of the moment.</p> +<p>‘Our guest left us yesterday morning,’ said the +General, ‘and of course the Alcalde placed no hindrance on +his departure.’</p> +<p>He did not look at Julia, who drew a deep breath and glanced +at Estella.</p> +<p>‘I do not know if Señor Conyngham left any +message for you with Estella—to me he said nothing,’ +continued Estella’s father; and that young lady shook her +head.</p> +<p>‘No,’ she put in composedly.</p> +<p>‘Then it remains for us to close this foolish incident, +my dear Julia; and for me to remind you, seeing that you are +fatherless, that there are in Spain many adventurers who come +here seeking the sport of love or war, who will ride away when +they have had their fill of either.’</p> +<p>He ceased speaking with a tolerant laugh, as one who, being a +soldier himself, would beg indulgence for the failings of his +comrades, examined the hilt of his sword, and then looked blandly +round on three faces which resolutely refused to class the absent +Englishman in this category.</p> +<p>‘It remains, my dear niece, to satisfy the +Alcalde—a mere glance at the letter—sufficient to +satisfy him as to the nature of its contents.’</p> +<p>‘I have no letter,’ said Julia quietly, with her +level red lips set hard.</p> +<p>‘Not in your possession, but perhaps concealed in some +place near at hand—unless it is destroyed.’</p> +<p>‘I have destroyed no letter, I have concealed no letter, +and I have no letter,’ said the girl quietly. Estella +moved uneasily in the chair. Her face was colourless and +her eyes shone. She watched her cousin’s face +intently, and beneath his shaggy brows the old priest’s +eyes went from one fair countenance to the other.</p> +<p>‘Then,’ cried the General, rising to his feet with +an air of relief, ‘you have but to assure the Alcalde of +this, and the whole incident is terminated. Blown over, my +dear Concha—blown over!’</p> +<p>He tapped the priest on the shoulder with great good +nature. Indeed, the world seemed sunny enough and free from +cares when General Vincente had to deal with it.</p> +<p>‘Yes—yes,’ said the Padre, snuff-box in +hand. ‘Blown over—of course.’</p> +<p>‘Then I may send the Alcalde to you, Julia—and you +will tell him what you have told us? He cannot but take the +word of a lady.’</p> +<p>‘Yes—if you like,’ answered Julia.</p> +<p>The General’s joy knew no bounds.</p> +<p>‘That is well,’ he cried, ‘I knew we could +safely rely upon your good sense. Kiss me, Julia—that +is well! Come, Estella—we must not keep the horses +waiting.’</p> +<p>With a laugh and a nod he went towards the door. +‘Blown over, my dear Concha,’ he said over his +shoulder.</p> +<p>A few minutes later the priest walked down the avenue of +walnut trees alone. The bell was ringing for vespers, but +the Padre was an autocratic shepherd and did not hurry towards +his flock. The sun had set, and in the hollows of the +distant mountains the shades of night already lay like a blue +veil.</p> +<p>The priest walked on and presently reached the high +road. A single figure was upon it—the figure of a man +sitting in the shadow of an ilex tree half a mile up the road +towards Bobadilla. The man crouched low against a heap of +stones and had the air of a wanderer. His face was +concealed in the folds of his cloak.</p> +<p>‘Blown over,’ muttered the Padre as he turned his +back upon Bobadilla and went on towards his church. +‘Blown over, of course; but what is Concepçion Vara +doing in the neighbourhood of Ronda to-night?’</p> +<h2><a name="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +129</span>CHAPTER XII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ON THE TOLEDO ROAD</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘Une bonne +intention est une échelle trop courte.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Conyngham</span> made his way without +difficulty or incident from Xeres to Cordova, riding for the most +part in front of the clumsy diligencia wherein he had bestowed +his luggage. The road was wearisome enough, and the last +stages, through the fertile plains bordering the Guadalquivir, +dusty and monotonous.</p> +<p>At Cordova the traveller found comfortable quarters in an old +inn overlooking the river. The ancient city was then, as it +is now, a great military centre, and the headquarters of the +picturesque corps of horse-tamers, the ‘Remonta,’ who +are responsible for the mounting of the cavalry and the artillery +of Spain. Conyngham had, at the suggestion of General +Vincente, made such small changes in his costume as would serve +to allay curiosity and prevent that gossip of the stable and +kitchen which may follow a traveller to his hurt from one side of +a continent to the other.</p> +<p>‘Wherever you may go learn your way in and out of every +town, and you will thus store up knowledge most useful to a +soldier,’ the General had said in his easy way.</p> +<p>‘See you,’ Concepçion had observed, wagging +his head over a cigarette; ‘to go about the world with the +eyes open is to conquer the world.’</p> +<p>From his guide, moreover, whose methods were those that Nature +teaches to men who live their daily lives in her company, +Conyngham learnt much of that road craft which had raised +Concepçion Vara to such a proud eminence among the rascals +of Andalusia. Cordova was a good object upon which to +practise, for Roman and Goth, Moor and Christian, have combined +to make its tortuous streets well-nigh incomprehensible to the +traveller’s mind.</p> +<p>Here Conyngham wandered, or else he sat somnolently on a seat +in the Paseo del Gran Capitan in the shade of the orange trees, +awaiting the arrival of Concepçion Vara. He made a +few acquaintances, as every traveller who is not a bear must +needs do in a country where politeness and hospitality and a +grave good fellowship are the natural habit of high and low +alike. A bullfighter or two, who beguiled the long winter +months, when the rings are closed, by a little innocent horse +dealing, joined him quietly in the streets and offered him a +horse—as between gentlemen of undoubted honour—at a +price much below the current value. Or it was perhaps a +beggar who came to him on the old yellow marble seat under the +orange trees, and chatted affably about his business as being bad +in these times of war. Once, indeed, it was a white-haired +gentleman, who spoke in English, and asked some very natural +questions as to the affairs that brought an Englishman to the +town of Cordova. This sweet-spoken old man explained that +strangers would do well to avoid all questions of politics and +religion, which he classed together in one dangerous whole. +Nevertheless, Conyngham thought that he perceived his ancient +friend the same evening hurrying up the steps of the Jesuit +College of La Campania.</p> +<p>Two days elapsed and Concepçion Vara made neither +appearance nor sign. On the second evening Conyngham +decided to go on alone, prosecuting his journey through the +sparsely populated valley of the Alcadia to Ciudad Real, Toledo, +and Madrid.</p> +<p>‘You will ride,’ the innkeeper told him, +‘from the Guadalquivir to the Guadiana, and if there is +rain you may be a month upon the road.’</p> +<p>Conyngham set out in the early morning, and as he threw his +leg across the saddle the sun rose over the far misty hills of +Ronda, and Concepçion Vara awoke from his night’s +rest under the wall of an olive terrace above the Bobadilla road, +to begin another day of patient waiting and watching to get +speech with the maid or the mistress; for he had already +inaugurated what he lightly called ‘an affair’ with +Julia’s flighty attendant. The sun rose also over the +plains of Xeres, and lighted up the picturesque form of Esteban +Larralde, in the saddle this hour and more, having learnt that +Colonel Monreal’s death took place an hour before +Conyngham’s arrival in the town of Xeres de la +Frontera. The letter, therefore, had not been delivered to +Colonel Monreal, and was still in Conyngham’s +possession.</p> +<p>Larralde bestrode a shocking steed, and had but an indifferent +seat in the saddle. Nevertheless, the dust rose beneath his +horse’s feet, and his spurs flashed in the sunlight as this +man of many parts hurried on towards Utrera and Cordova.</p> +<p>In the old Moorish palace in Ronda, General Vincente, summoned +to a great council of war at Madrid, was making curt military +preparations for his journey and the conveyance of his household +to the capital. Señora Barenna was for the moment +forgetful of her nerves in the excitement of despatching servants +in advance to Toledo, where she owned a summer residence. +Julia was nervously anxious to be on the road again, and showed +by every word and action that restlessness of spirit which is the +inheritance of hungry hearts. Estella, quiet and +self-contained, attended to the details of moving a vast and +formal household with a certain eagerness which in no way +resembled Julia’s feverish haste. Estella seemed to +be one of those happy people who know what they want.</p> +<p>Thus Frederick Conyngham, riding northward alone, seemed to be +a pilot to all these persons into whose lives he had suddenly +stepped as from a side issue, for they were one and all making +ready to follow him to the colder plains of Castile, where +existence was full of strife and ambition, of war and those inner +wheels that ever jar and grind where politicians contend together +for the mastery of a moment.</p> +<p>As he rode on, Conyngham left a message from time to time for +his self-appointed servant. At the offices of the +diligencias in various towns on the great road from Cordova to +Madrid he left word for Concepçion Vara to follow, should +the spirit of travel be still upon him, knowing that at these +places where travellers were ever passing, the tittle-tattle of +the road was on the tongue of every ostler and stable help. +And truly enough there followed one who made careful inquiries as +to the movements of the Englishman, and heard his messages with a +grim smile. But this was not Concepçion Vara.</p> +<p>It was late one evening when Conyngham, who had quitted Toledo +in the morning, began to hunger for the sight of the towers and +steeples of Madrid. He had ridden all day through the bare +country of Cervantes, where to this day Spain rears her wittiest +men and plainest women. The sun had just set behind the +distant hills of Old Castile, and from the east, over Aranjuez, +where the great river cuts Spain in two parts from its centre to +the sea, a grey cloud—a very shade of night—was +slowly rising. The aspect of the brown plains was dismal +enough, and on the horizon the rolling unbroken land seemed to +melt away into eternity and infinite space.</p> +<p>Conyngham reined in and looked around him. So far as eye +could reach, no house arose to testify to the presence of +man. No labourer toiled home to his lonely hut. For, +in this country of many wars and interminable strife, it has, +since the days of Nebuchadnezzar, been the custom of the people +to congregate in villages and small townships, where a common +danger secured some protection against a lawless foe. The +road rose and fell in a straight line across the table-land +without tree or hedge, and Madrid seemed to belong to another +world, for the horizon, which was distant enough, bore no sign of +cathedral spire or castle height.</p> +<p>Conyngham turned in his saddle to look back, and there, not a +mile away, the form of a hurrying horseman broke the bare line of +the dusty road. There was something weird and disturbing in +this figure, a suggestion of pursuit in every line. For +this was not Concepçion Vara. Conyngham would have +known him at once. This was one wearing a better coat; +indeed Concepçion preferred to face life and the chances +of the world in shirt sleeves.</p> +<p>Conyngham sat in his saddle awaiting the new-comer. To +meet on such a road in Spain without pausing to exchange a +salutation would be a gratuitous insult, to ride in solitude +within hail of another traveller were to excite or betray the +deepest distrust. It was characteristic of Conyngham that +he already waved his hand in salutation, and was prepared to hail +the new-comer as the jolliest companion in the world.</p> +<p>Esteban Larralde, seeing the salutation, gave a short laugh, +and jerked the reins of his tired horse. He himself wore a +weary look, as if the fight he had in hand were an uphill +one. He had long recognised Conyngham; indeed the chase had +been one of little excitement, but rather an exercise of patience +and dogged perseverance. He raised his hat to indicate that +the Englishman’s gay salutations were perceived, and pulled +the wide brim well forward again.</p> +<p>‘He will change his attitude when it becomes apparent +who I am,’ he muttered.</p> +<p>But Conyngham’s first word would appear to suggest that +Esteban Larralde was a much less impressive person than he +considered himself.</p> +<p>‘Why, it’s the devout lover!’ he +cried. ‘Señor Larralde, you remember me, +Algeciras, and your pink love letter—deuced fishy love +letter, that; nearly got me into a devil of a row, I can tell +you. How are you, eh?’</p> +<p>And the Englishman rode forward with a jolly laugh and his +hand held out. Larralde took it without enthusiasm. +It was rather difficult to pick a picturesque quarrel with such a +person as this. Moreover, the true conspirator never +believes in another man’s honesty.</p> +<p>‘Who would have expected to meet you here?’ went +on Conyngham jovially.</p> +<p>‘It is not so surprising as you think.’</p> +<p>‘Oh!’</p> +<p>There was no mistaking Larralde’s manner, and the +Englishman’s gay blue eyes hardened suddenly and rather +surprisingly.</p> +<p>‘No, I have followed you. I want that +letter.’</p> +<p>‘Well, as it happens, Señor Larralde, I have not +got your letter, and if I had I am not quite sure that I would +give it to you. Your conduct in the matter has not been +over-nice, and, to tell you the truth, I don’t think much +of a man who gets strangers and women to do his dirty work for +him.’</p> +<p>Larralde stroked his moustache with a half-furtive air of +contempt.</p> +<p>‘I should have given the confounded letter to the +Alcalde of Ronda if it had not been that a lady would have +suffered for it, and let you take your chance, Señor +Larralde.’</p> +<p>Larralde shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>‘You would not have given it to the Alcalde of +Ronda,’ he said in a sneering voice, ‘because you +want it yourself. You require it in order to make your +peace with Estella Vincente.’</p> +<p>‘We are not going to talk of Señorita +Vincente,’ said Conyngham quietly. ‘You say you +followed me because you wanted that letter. It is not in my +possession. I left it in the house of Colonel Monreal at +Xeres. If you are going on to Madrid, I think I will sit +down here and have a cigarette. If, on the other hand, you +propose resting here, I shall proceed, as it is getting +late.’</p> +<p>Conyngham looked at his companion with a nod and a smile which +was not in the least friendly and at the same time quite +cheerful. He seemed to recognise the necessity of +quarrelling, but proposed to do so as light-heartedly as +possible. They were both on horseback in the middle of the +road, Larralde a few paces in the direction of Madrid.</p> +<p>Conyngham indicated the road with an inviting wave of the +hand.</p> +<p>‘Will you go on?’ he asked.</p> +<p>Larralde sat looking at him with glittering eyes, and said +nothing.</p> +<p>‘Then I will continue my journey,’ said the +Englishman, touching his horse lightly with the spur. The +horse moved on and passed within a yard of the other. At +this moment Larralde rose in his stirrups and flung himself on +one side.</p> +<p>Conyngham gave a sharp cry of pain and threw back his +head. Larralde had stabbed him in the back. The +Englishman swayed in the saddle as if trying to balance himself, +his legs bent back from the knee in the sharpness of a biting +pain. The heavy stirrups swung free. Then, slowly, +Conyngham toppled forward and rolled out of the saddle, falling +to the road with a thud.</p> +<p>Larralde watched him with a white face and staring eyes. +Then he looked quickly round over the darkening landscape. +There was no one in sight. This was one of the waste places +of the world. Larralde seemed to remember the Eye that +seeth even there, and crossed himself as he slipped from the +saddle to the ground. He was shaking all over. His +face was ashen, for it is a terrible thing to kill a man and be +left alone with him.</p> +<p>Conyngham’s eyes were closed. There was blood on +his lips. With hands that shook like leaves Esteban +Larralde searched the Englishman, found nothing, and cursed his +ill fortune. Then he stood upright, and in the dim light +his face shone as if he had dipped it in water. He crept +into the saddle and rode on towards Madrid.</p> +<p>It was quite dark when Conyngham recovered +consciousness. In turning him over to search his pockets +Larralde had perhaps, unwittingly, saved his life by placing him +in a position that checked the internal hæmorrhage. +What served to bring back the Englishman’s wandering senses +was the rumbling of heavy wheels and the crack of a great whip as +a cart laden with hay and drawn by six mules approached him from +the direction of Toledo.</p> +<p>The driver of the team was an old soldier, as indeed were most +of the Castilians at this time, and knew how to handle wounded +men. With great care and a multitude of oaths he lifted +Conyngham on to his cart and proceeded with him to Madrid.</p> +<h2><a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +140</span>CHAPTER XIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A WISE IGNORAMUS</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘God help me! I know nothing—can +but pray.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was Father Concha’s custom +to attend, at his church between the hours of nine and ten in the +morning, to such wants spiritual or temporal as individual +members of his flock chose to bring to him.</p> +<p>Thus it usually happened that the faithful found the old +priest at nine o’clock sunning himself at the front door of +the sacred edifice, smoking a reflective cigarette and exchanging +the time of day with passers-by or such as had leisure to pause a +moment.</p> +<p>‘Whether it is body or soul that is in +trouble—come to me,’ he would say. ‘For +the body I can do a little—a very little. I have +twenty pounds a year, and it is not always paid to me, but I +sometimes have a trifle for charity. For the soul I can do +a little more.’ After a storm of wind and rain, such +as come in the winter-time, it was no uncommon sight to see the +priest sweeping the leaves and dust from the church steps and +using the strongest language at the bootmaker over the way whose +business this was supposed to be.</p> +<p>‘See!’ he would cry to some passer-by. +‘See!—it is thus that our sacristan does his +work. It is for this that the Holy Church pays him +fifteen—or is it twenty?—pesetas each +year.’</p> +<p>And the bootmaker would growl and shake his head over his +last; for, like most who have to do with leather, he was a man of +small humour.</p> +<p>Here, too, mothers would bring their children—little +girls cowering under their bright handkerchiefs, the mantilla of +the poor, and speak with the Padre of the Confirmation and first +Communion which had lately begun to hang like a cloud over the +child’s life. Father Concha would take the child upon +his knee as he sat on the low wall at the side of the steps, and +when the mother had left them, would talk quietly with the lines +of his face wonderfully softened, so that before long the little +girl would run home quite happy in mind and no longer afraid of +the great unknown. Here, in the spring time, came the young +men with thoughts appropriate to the season, and sheepish +exceedingly; for they knew that Father Concha knew all about +them, and would take an unfair advantage of his opportunities, +refusing probably to perform the ceremony until he was satisfied +as to the ways and means and prudence of the contracting +parties—which of course he had no right to do. Here +came the halt, the lame, the blind, the poor, and also the +rich. Here came the unhappy. They came naturally and +often. Here, so the bootmaker tells, came one morning a +ruined man, who after speaking a few words to the Padre, produced +a revolver and tried to shoot himself. And the Padre fell +on him like a wild beast. And they fought, and fell, and +rolled down the steps together into the road, where they still +fought till they were white like millers with dust. Then at +last the Padre got the strong man under him and took the revolver +away and threw it into the ditch. Then he fell to +belabouring the would-be suicide with his fists, until the big +man cried for mercy and received it not.</p> +<p>‘You saved his life,’ the people said.</p> +<p>‘It was his soul that I was caring for,’ replied +the Padre with his grim smile.</p> +<p>Concha was not a clever man, but he was wise. Of +learning he had but little. It is easy, however, to be wise +without being learned. It is easier still to be learned +without being wise. The world is full of such persons +to-day when education is too cheap. Concha steered his +flock as best he could through the stormy paths of insurrection +and civil war. He ruled with a rod of iron whom he could, +and such as were beyond his reach he influenced by ridicule and a +patient tolerance. True to his cloth, he was the enemy of +all progress and distrusted every innovation.</p> +<p>‘The Padre,’ said the barber, who was a talker and +a radical, ‘would have the world stand still.’</p> +<p>‘The Padre,’ replied Concha, tenderly drying his +chin with a towel, ‘would have all barbers attend to their +razors. Many are so busy shouting “Advance!” +that they have no breath to ask whither they are +going.’</p> +<p>On the whole, perhaps, his autocratic rule was a beneficent +one, and contributed to the happiness of the little northern +suburb of Ronda over which it extended. At all events, he +was a watchful guardian of his flock, and knew every face in his +parish.</p> +<p>It thus happened one morning that a strange woman, who had +come quietly into church to pray, attracted his attention as he +passed out after matins. She was a mere peasant and ill +clad. The child seated on a chair by her side and staring +with wondering eyes at the simple altar and stained-glass window +had a hungry look.</p> +<p>Concha sat down on the low wall without the doors and awaited +the exit of this devotee who was not of his flock. For +though, as he often said, the good God had intended him for a +soldier, his own strong will and simple faith had in time +produced a very passable priest who, with a grim face, went about +doing good.</p> +<p>The woman presently lifted the heavy leathern curtain and let +out into the sunlight a breath of cool, incense-laden air.</p> +<p>She curtsied and paused as if expecting recognition. +Concha threw away his cigarette and raised his hand to his +hat. He had not lifted it except to ladies of the highest +quality for some years, out of regard to symptoms of senile decay +which had manifested themselves at the junction of the brim and +the crown.</p> +<p>‘Have I not seen your face before, my child?’ he +said.</p> +<p>‘Yes, reverendo. I am of Ronda but have been +living in Xeres.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! then your husband is no doubt a +malcontent?’</p> +<p>The woman burst into tears, burying her face in her hands and +leaning against the wall in an attitude that was still +girlish. She had probably been married at fifteen.</p> +<p>‘No, reverendo! He is a thief.’</p> +<p>Concha merely nodded his head. He never had been a man +to betray much pious horror when he heard of ill-doing.</p> +<p>‘The two are almost identical,’ he said +quietly. ‘One does what the other fears to do. +And is your husband in prison? Is that why you have come +back? Ah! you women—in foolishness you almost equal +the men!’</p> +<p>‘No, reverendo. I am come back because he has left +me. Sebastian has run away, and has stolen all his +master’s property. It was the Colonel Monreal of +Xeres—a good man, reverendo, but a politician.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’</p> +<p>‘Yes, and he was murdered, as your reverence has no +doubt seen in the newspapers. A week ago it was—the +day that the Englishman came with a letter.’</p> +<p>‘What Englishman was that?’ inquired Father +Concha, brushing some grains of snuff from his sleeve. +‘What Englishman was that, my child?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, I do not know! His name is unknown to me, but +I could tell he was English from his manner of speaking. +The Colonel had an English friend who spoke so—one engaged +in the sherry in Xeres.’</p> +<p>‘Ah yes! And this Englishman, what was he +like?’</p> +<p>‘He was very tall and straight, like a soldier, and had +a moustache quite light in colour, like straw.’</p> +<p>‘Ah yes. The English are so. And he left a +letter?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, reverendo.’</p> +<p>‘A rose-coloured letter—?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said the woman, looking at him with +surprise.</p> +<p>‘And tell me what happened afterwards. I may +perhaps be able to help you, my child, if you tell me all you +know.’</p> +<p>‘And then, reverendo, the police brought back the +Colonel who had been murdered in the streets—and I who had +his Excellency’s dinner on the table waiting for +him!’</p> +<p>‘And—’</p> +<p>‘And Sebastian ate the dinner, reverendo.’</p> +<p>‘Your husband appears to be a man of action,’ said +Concha with a queer smile. ‘And +then—’</p> +<p>‘Sebastian sent me on a message to the town, and when I +came back he was gone and all his Excellency’s possessions +were gone—his papers and valuables.’</p> +<p>‘Including the letter which the Englishman had left for +the Colonel?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, reverendo. Sebastian knew that in these +times the papers of a politician may perhaps be sold for +money.’</p> +<p>Concha nodded his head reflectively and took a pinch of snuff +with infinite deliberation and enjoyment.</p> +<p>‘Yes—assuredly, Sebastian is one of those men who +get on in the world—up to a certain point—and at that +point they get hanged. There is in the universe a +particular spot for each man—where we all think we should +like to go if we had the money. For me it is Rome. +Doubtless Sebastian had some such spot, of which he spoke when he +was intoxicated. Where is Sebastian’s earthly +paradise, think you, my child?’</p> +<p>‘He always spoke of Madrid, reverendo.’</p> +<p>‘Yes—yes, I can imagine he would.’</p> +<p>‘And I have no money to follow him,’ sobbed the +woman, breaking into tears again. ‘So I came to +Ronda, where I am known, to seek it.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, foolish woman!’ exclaimed the priest +severely, and shaking his finger at her. ‘Foolish +woman to think of following such a person. More foolish +still is it to weep for a worthless husband, especially in +public, thus, on the church steps, where all may see. All +the other women will be so pleased. It is their greatest +happiness to think that their neighbour’s husband is worse +than their own. Failure is the royal road to +popularity. Dry your tears, foolish one, before you make +too many friends.’</p> +<p>The woman obeyed him mechanically with a sort of dumb +hopelessness.</p> +<p>At this moment a horseman clattered past, coming from Ronda +and hastening in the direction of Bobadilla or perhaps to the +Casa Barenna. He wore his flat-brimmed hat well forward +over the eyes, and kept his gaze fixed upon the road in +front. There was a faint suggestion of assumed absorption +in his attitude, as if he knew that the priest was usually at the +church door at this hour, and had no desire to meet his +eye. It was Larralde.</p> +<p>A few minutes later Julia Barenna, who was sitting at her +window watching and waiting—her attitude in +life—suddenly rose with eyes that gleamed and trembling +hands. She stood and gazed down into the valley below, her +attention fixed on the form of a horseman slowly making his way +through the olive groves. Then breathlessly she turned to +her mirror.</p> +<p>‘At last!’ she whispered, her fingers busy with +her hair and mantilla, a thousand thoughts flying through her +brain, her heart throbbing in her breast. In a moment the +aspect of the whole world had changed—in a moment Julia +herself was another woman. Ten years seemed to have rolled +away from her heart, leaving her young and girlish and hopeful +again. She gave one last look at herself and hurried to the +door.</p> +<p>It was yet early in the day, and the air beneath the gnarled +and ancient olive trees was cool and fresh as Julia passed under +them to meet her lover. He threw himself out of the saddle +when he saw her, and, leaving his horse loose, ran to meet +her. He took her hands and raised her fingers to his lips +with a certain fervour which was sincere enough. For +Larralde loved Julia according to his lights, though he had +another mistress, Ambition, who was with him always and filled +his thoughts, sleeping or waking. Julia, her face all +flushed, her eyes aglow, received his gallant greeting with a +sort of breathless eagerness. She knew she had not +Larralde’s whole heart, and, woman-like, was not content +with half.</p> +<p>‘I have not seen you for nearly a fortnight,’ she +said.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ answered Larralde, who had apparently not +kept so strict an account of the days. ‘Ah! +yes—I know. But, dearest, I have been burning the +high-roads. I have been almost to Madrid. Ah! Julia, +why did you make such a mistake?’</p> +<p>‘What mistake?’ she asked with a sudden light of +coquetry in her eyes. She thought he was about to ask her +why she loved him. In former days he had had a pretty turn +for such questions.</p> +<p>‘In giving the letter to that scoundrel +Conyngham—he has betrayed us, and Spain is no longer safe +for me.’</p> +<p>‘Are you sure of this?’ asked Julia, alert. +Had she possessed Larralde’s whole heart she would have +been happy enough to take part in his pursuits.</p> +<p>Larralde gave a short laugh and shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>‘Heaven only knows where the letter is now,’ he +answered. Julia unfolded a note and handed it to him. +She had received it three weeks earlier from Concepçion +Vara, and it was from Conyngham, saying that he had left her note +at the house of the Colonel.</p> +<p>‘The Colonel was dead before Conyngham arrived at +Xeres,’ said Larralde shortly. ‘And I do not +believe he ever left the letter. I suspected that he had +kept it as a little recommendation to the Christinos under whom +he takes service. It would have been the most natural thing +to do. But I have satisfied myself that the letter is not +in his possession.’</p> +<p>‘How?’ asked Julia with a sudden fear that +blanched her face.</p> +<p>Larralde smiled in rather a sickly way and made no +answer. He turned and looked down the avenue.</p> +<p>‘I see Father Concha approaching,’ he said; +‘let us go towards the house.’</p> +<h2><a name="page151"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +151</span>CHAPTER XIV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A WEIGHT OF EVIDENCE</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘The woman who +loves you is at once your detective and accomplice.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> old priest was walking +leisurely up the avenue towards the Casa Barenna when the +branches of a dwarf ilex were pushed aside, and there came to him +from their leafy concealment, not indeed a wood-nymph, but +Señora Barenna, with her finger at her lips.</p> +<p>‘Hush!’ she said; ‘he is here.’</p> +<p>And from the anxious and excited expression of her face it +became apparent that madame’s nerves were astir.</p> +<p>‘Who is here?’</p> +<p>‘Why, Esteban Larralde, of course.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Concha patiently. ‘But need +we for that hide behind the bushes and walk on the flower +borders? Life would be much simpler, señora, if +people would only keep to the footpath. Less picturesque, I +allow you, but simpler. Shall I climb up a tree?’</p> +<p>The lady cast her eyes up to heaven and heaved an exaggerated +sigh.</p> +<p>‘Ah—what a tragedy life is!’ she whispered, +apparently to the angels, but loud enough for her companion to +hear.</p> +<p>‘Or a farce,’ said Concha, ‘according to our +reading of the part. Where is Señor +Larralde?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, he has gone to the fruit garden with +Julia—there is a high wall all round, and one cannot +see. She may be murdered by this time. I knew he was +coming from the manner in which she ran downstairs. She +walks at other times.’</p> +<p>Concha smiled rather grimly.</p> +<p>‘She is not the first to do that,’ he said, +‘and many have stumbled on the stairs in their +haste.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! You are a hard man—a terrible man with +no heart. And I have no one to sympathise with me. No +one knows what I suffer. I never sleep at night—not a +wink—but lie and think of my troubles. Julia will not +obey me. I have warned her not to rouse me to +anger—and she laughs at me. She persists in seeing +this terrible Esteban Larralde—a Carlist, if you +please.’</p> +<p>‘We are all as God made us,’ said +Concha—’with embellishments added by the Evil +One,’ he added, in a lower tone.</p> +<p>‘And now I am going to see General Vincente. I +shall tell him to send soldiers. This man’s presence +is intolerable—I am not obeyed in my own house,’ +cried the lady. ‘I have ordered the carriage to meet +me at the lower gate. I dare not drive away from my own +door. Ah! what a tragedy!’</p> +<p>‘I will go with you, since you are determined to +go,’ said Concha.</p> +<p>‘What! And leave Julia here with that terrible +man?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ answered the priest. ‘Happiness +is a dangerous thing to meddle with. There is so little of +it in the world, and it lasts so short a time.’</p> +<p>Señora Barenna indicated by a sigh and her attitude +that she had had no experience in the matter. As a simple +fact, she had been enabled all through her life to satisfy her +own desires—the subtlest form of misfortune.</p> +<p>‘Then you would have Julia marry this terrible +man,’ said the lady, shielding her face from the sun with +the black fan which she always carried.</p> +<p>‘I am too old and too stupid to take any active part in +my neighbours’ affairs. It is only the young and +inexperienced who are competent to do that,’ answered the +priest.</p> +<p>‘But you say you are fond of Julia.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said the priest quietly.</p> +<p>‘I wonder why.’</p> +<p>‘So do I,’ he said in a tone that Señora +Barenna never understood.</p> +<p>‘You are always kinder to her than you are to me,’ +went on the lady in her most martyred manner. ‘Her +penances are always lighter than mine. You are patient with +her and not with me. And I am sure I have never done you +any injury—’</p> +<p>The old Padre smiled. Perhaps he was thinking of those +illusions which she had during the years pulled down one by +one—for the greater peace of his soul.</p> +<p>‘There is the carriage,’ he said. ‘Let +us hasten to General Vincente—if you wish to see +him.’</p> +<p>In a few minutes they were rattling along the road, while +Esteban Larralde and Julia sat side by side in the shade of the +great wall that surrounded the fruit garden. And one at +least of them was gathering that quick harvest of love which is +like the grass of the field, inasmuch as to-day it is, and +to-morrow is not.</p> +<p>General Vincente was at home. He was one of those men +who are happy in finding themselves where they are wanted. +So many have, on the contrary, the misfortune to be always absent +when they are required, and the world soon learns to progress +without them.</p> +<p>‘That man—that Larralde is in Ronda,’ said +Señora Barenna, bursting in on the General’s +solitude. Vincente smiled, and nevertheless exchanged a +quick glance with Concha, who confirmed the news by a movement of +his shaggy eyebrows.</p> +<p>‘Ah, these young people!’ exclaimed the General +with a gay little sigh. ‘What it is to be young and +in love! But be seated, Iñez—be seated. +Padre—a chair.’</p> +<p>‘What do you propose to do?’ asked Señora +Barenna breathlessly, for she was stout and agitated and had +hurried up the steps.</p> +<p>‘When, my dear Iñez—when?’</p> +<p>‘But now—with this man in Ronda. You know +quite well he is dangerous. He is a Carlist. It was +only the other day that you received an anonymous letter saying +that your life was in danger. Of course it was from the +Carlists, and Larralde has something to do with it; or that +Englishman—that Señor Conyngham with the blue +eyes. A man with blue eyes—bah! Of course he is +not to be trusted.’</p> +<p>The receiver of the anonymous warning seemed to be amused.</p> +<p>‘A little sweeping, your statements, my dear +Iñez. Is it not so? Now, a lemonade! the +afternoon is warm.’</p> +<p>He rose and rang the bell.</p> +<p>‘My nerves,’ whispered the Señora to +Concha. ‘My nerves—they are so easily +upset.’</p> +<p>‘The liqueurs,’ said the General to the servant +with perfect gravity.</p> +<p>‘You must take steps at once,’ urged Señora +Barenna when they were alone again. She was endowed with a +magnificent imagination without much wisdom to hold it in check, +and at times persuaded herself that she was in the midst, and +perhaps the leader, of a dangerous whirl of political events.</p> +<p>‘I will, my dear Iñez; I will. And we will +take a little maraschino, to collect ourselves, eh?’</p> +<p>And his manner quite indicated that it was he and not Madame +Barenna who was upset. The lady consented, and proceeded to +what she took to be a consultation, which in reality was a +monologue. During this she imparted a vast deal of +information, and received none in return, which is the habit of +voluble people, and renders them exceedingly dangerous to +themselves and useful to others.</p> +<p>Presently the two men conducted her to her carriage, with many +reassurances.</p> +<p>‘Never fear, Iñez; never fear. He will be +gone before you return,’ said the General, with a wave of +the hand. He had consented to invite Julia to accompany +Estella and himself to Madrid, where she would be out of +harm’s way.</p> +<p>The two men then returned to the General’s study, and +sat down in that silence which only grows to perfection on the +deep soil of a long-standing friendship. Vincente was the +first to speak.</p> +<p>‘I have had a letter from Madrid,’ he said, +looking gravely at his companion. ‘My correspondent +tells me that Conyngham has not yet presented his letter of +introduction, and, so far as is ascertainable, has not arrived in +the capital. He should have been there six weeks +ago.’</p> +<p>The Padre took a pinch of snuff, and held the box out towards +his companion, who waved it aside. The General was too +dainty a man to indulge in such a habit.</p> +<p>‘He possessed no money, so he cannot have fallen a +victim to thieves,’ said Concha.</p> +<p>‘He was accompanied by a good guide, and an honest +enough scoundrel, so he cannot have lost his way,’ observed +the General, with a queer expression of optimistic distress on +his face.</p> +<p>‘His movements were not always above +suspicion—’ the priest closed his snuff-box and +laboriously replaced it in the pocket of his cassock.</p> +<p>‘That letter—it was a queer business!’ and +the General laughed.</p> +<p>‘Most suspicious.’</p> +<p>There was a silence, during which Concha sneezed twice with +enjoyment and more noise than is usually considered +necessary.</p> +<p>‘And your letter,’ he said, carefully folding his +handkerchief into squares; ‘that anonymous letter of +warning that your life is threatened—is that true? It +is the talk of Ronda.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, that!’ laughed Vincente. ‘Yes, it +is true enough. It is not the first time—a mere +incident, that is all.’</p> +<p>‘That which the Señora Barenna said just +now,’ observed the priest slowly, ‘about our English +friend—may be true. Sometimes thoughtless people +arrive at a conclusion which eludes more careful +minds.’</p> +<p>‘Yes—my dear Padre—yes.’</p> +<p>The two grey-headed men looked at each other for a moment in +silence.</p> +<p>‘And yet you trust him,’ said Concha.</p> +<p>‘Despite myself, despite my better judgment, my dear +friend.’</p> +<p>The priest rose and went to the window which overlooked the +garden.</p> +<p>‘Estella is in the garden?’ he asked, and received +no answer.</p> +<p>‘I know what you are thinking,’ said the +General. ‘You are thinking that we should do well to +tell Estella of these distressing suspicions.’</p> +<p>‘For you it does not matter,’ replied the +priest. ‘It is a mere incident, as you say. +Your life has been attempted before, and you killed both the men +with your own hand, if I recollect aright.’</p> +<p>Vincente shrugged his shoulders and looked rather +embarrassed.</p> +<p>‘But a woman,’ went on Concha, ‘cannot +afford to trust a man against her better judgment.’</p> +<p>By way of reply the General rose and rang the bell, requesting +the servant when he answered the summons to ask the +señorita to spare a few moments of her time.</p> +<p>They exchanged no further words until Estella came hurrying +into the room with a sudden flush on her cheeks and something in +her dark eyes that made her father say at once—</p> +<p>‘It is not bad news that we have, my child.’</p> +<p>Estella glanced at Concha and said nothing. His wise old +eyes rested for a moment on her face with a little frown of +anxiety.</p> +<p>‘We have had a visit from the Señora +Barenna,’ went on the General, ‘and she is anxious +that we should invite Julia to go to Madrid with us. It +appears that Esteban Larralde is still attempting to force his +attentions on Julia, and is at present in Ronda. You will +not object to her coming with us?’</p> +<p>‘Oh no,’ said Estella without much interest.</p> +<p>‘We have also heard rather disquieting news about our +pleasant friend, Mr. Conyngham,’ said the General, +examining the tassel of his sword. ‘And I think it is +only right to tell you that I fear we have been deceived in +him.’</p> +<p>There was silence for a few moments, and then Vincente spoke +again.</p> +<p>‘In these times, one is almost compelled to suspect +one’s nearest friends. Much harm may be done by being +over-trustful, and appearances are so consistently against Mr. +Conyngham that it would be folly to ignore them.’</p> +<p>The General waited for Estella to make some comment, and after +a pause continued:</p> +<p>‘He arrived in Ronda under singularly unfortunate +circumstances, and I was compelled to have his travelling +companion shot. Then occurred that affair of the letter, +which he gave to Julia—an affair which has never been +explained. Conyngham would have to show me that letter +before I should be quite satisfied. I obtained for him an +introduction to General Espartero in Madrid. That was six +or seven weeks ago. The introduction has not been +presented, nor has Conyngham been seen in Madrid. In +England, on his own confession, he was rather a scamp; why not +the same in Spain?’</p> +<p>The General spread out his hands in his favourite gesture of +deprecation. He had not made the world, and while deeply +deploring that such things could be, he tacitly admitted that the +human race had not been, creatively speaking, a complete +success.</p> +<p>Father Concha was brushing invisible grains of snuff from his +cassock sleeve and watching Estella with anxious eyes.</p> +<p>‘I only tell you, my dear,’ continued the General, +‘so that we may know how to treat Mr. Conyngham should we +meet him in Madrid. I liked him. I like a roving +man—and many Englishmen are thus wanderers—but +appearances are very much against him.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ admitted Estella quietly. +‘Yes.’</p> +<p>She moved towards the door, and there turning looked at +Concha.</p> +<p>‘Does the Padre stay to dinner?’ she asked.</p> +<p>‘No, my child, thank you. No; I have affairs at +home.’</p> +<p>Estella went out of the room, leaving a queer silence behind +her.</p> +<p>Presently Concha rose.</p> +<p>‘I, too, am going to Madrid,’ he said. +‘It is an opportunity to press my claim for the payment of +my princely stipend, now two years overdue.’</p> +<p>He walked home on the shady side of the street, exchanging +many salutations, pausing now and then to speak to a +friend. Indeed, nearly every passer-by counted himself as +such. In his bare room, where the merest necessities of +life scarce had place, he sat down thoughtfully. The +furniture, the few books, his own apparel, bespoke the direst +poverty. This was one who in his simplicity read his +Master’s words quite literally, and went about his work +with neither purse nor scrip. The priest presently rose and +took from a shelf an old wooden box quaintly carved and studded +with iron nails. A search in the drawer of the table +resulted in the finding of a key and the final discovery of a +small parcel at the bottom of the box which contained letters and +other papers.</p> +<p>‘The rainy day—it comes at last,’ said the +Padre Concha, counting out his little stock of silver with the +care that only comes from the knowledge that each coin represents +a self-denial.</p> +<h2><a name="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +163</span>CHAPTER XV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">AN ULTIMATUM</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘I do believe yourself against +yourself.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Neither</span> Estella nor her father had +a great liking for the city of Madrid, which indeed is at no time +desirable. In the winter it is cold, in the summer +exceedingly hot, and during the changes of the seasons of a +treacherous weather difficult to surpass. The social +atmosphere was no more genial at the period with which we +deal. For it blew hot and cold, and treachery marked every +change.</p> +<p>Although the Queen Regent seemed to be nearing at last a +successful issue to her long and eventful struggle against Don +Carlos, she had enemies nearer home whose movements were equally +dangerous to the throne of the child queen.</p> +<p>‘I cannot afford to have an honest soldier so far +removed from the capital,’ said Christina, who never laid +aside the woman while playing the Queen, as Vincente kissed her +hand on presenting himself at Court. The General smiled and +shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>‘What did she say? What did she say?’ the +intriguers whispered eagerly as the great soldier made his way +towards the door, with the haste of one who was no +courtier. But they received no answer.</p> +<p>The General had taken a suite of rooms in one of the hotels on +the Puerta del Sol, and hurried thither, well pleased do have +escaped so easily from a palace where self-seeking—the grim +spirit that haunts the abodes of royalty—had long reigned +supreme. There was, the servants told him, a visitor in the +salon—one who had asked for the General, and on learning of +his absence had insisted on being received by the +señorita.</p> +<p>‘That sounds like Conyngham,’ muttered the +General, unbuckling his sword—for he had but one weapon, +and wore it in the presence of the Queen and her enemies +alike.</p> +<p>It was indeed Conyngham, whose gay laugh Vincente heard before +he crossed the threshold of Estella’s drawing-room. +The Englishman was in uniform, and stood with his back turned +towards the door by which the General entered.</p> +<p>‘It is Señor Conyngham,’ said Estella at +once, in a quiet voice, ‘who has been wounded and six weeks +in the hospital.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Conyngham. ‘But I am well +again now! And I got my appointment while I was still in +the Sisters’ care.’</p> +<p>He laughed, though his face was pale and thin, and approached +the General with extended hand. The General had come to +Madrid with the intention of refusing to take that hand, and +those who knew him said that this soldier never swerved from his +purpose. He looked for a moment into Conyngham’s +eyes, and then shook hands with him. He did not disguise +the hesitation, which was apparent to both Estella and the +Englishman.</p> +<p>‘How were you wounded?’ he asked.</p> +<p>‘I was stabbed in the back on the Toledo road, ten miles +from here.’</p> +<p>‘Not by a robber—not for your money?’</p> +<p>‘No one ever hated me or cared for me on that +account,’ laughed Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘Then who did it?’ asked General Vincente, +unbuttoning his gloves.</p> +<p>Conyngham hesitated.</p> +<p>‘A man with whom I quarrelled on the road,’ he +made reply; but it was no answer at all, as hearers and speaker +alike recognised in a flash of thought.</p> +<p>‘He left me for dead on the road, but a carter picked me +up and brought me to Madrid, to the hospital of the Hermanas, +where I have been ever since.’</p> +<p>There were flowers on the table, and the General stooped over +them with a delicate appreciation of their scent. He was a +great lover of flowers, and indeed had a sense of the beautiful +quite out of keeping with the colour of his coat.</p> +<p>‘You must beware,’ he said, ‘now that you +wear the Queen’s uniform. There is treachery abroad, +I fear. Even I have had an anonymous letter of +warning.’</p> +<p>‘I should like to know who wrote it,’ exclaimed +Conyngham, with a sudden flash of anger in his eyes. The +General laughed pleasantly.</p> +<p>‘So should I,’ he said. ‘Merely as a +matter of curiosity.’</p> +<p>And he turned towards the door, which was opened at this +moment by a servant.</p> +<p>‘A gentleman wishing to see me—an Englishman, as +it would appear,’ he continued, looking at the card.</p> +<p>‘By the way,’ said Conyngham, as the General moved +away, ‘I am instructed to inform you that I am attached to +your staff as extra aide-de-camp during your stay in +Madrid.’</p> +<p>The General nodded and left Estella and Conyngham alone in the +drawing-room. Conyngham turned on Estella.</p> +<p>‘So that I have a right to be near you,’ he said, +‘which is all that I want.’</p> +<p>He spoke lightly enough, as was his habit; but Estella, who +was wise in those matters that women know, preferred not to meet +his eyes, which were grave and deep.</p> +<p>‘Such things are quickly said,’ Estella +retorted.</p> +<p>‘Yes—and it takes a long time to prove +them.’</p> +<p>The General had left his gloves on the table. Estella +took them up and appeared to be interested in them. +‘Perhaps a lifetime,’ she suggested.</p> +<p>‘I ask no less, señorita.’</p> +<p>‘Then you ask much.’</p> +<p>‘And I give all—though that is little +enough.’</p> +<p>They spoke slowly—not bandying words but exchanging +thoughts. Estella was grave. Conyngham’s +attitude was that which he ever displayed to the +world—namely, one of cheerful optimism, as behoved a strong +man who had not yet known fear.</p> +<p>‘Is it too little, señorita?’ he asked.</p> +<p>She was sitting at the table and would not look +up—neither would she answer his question. He was +standing quite close to her—upright in his bright uniform, +his hand on his sword—and all her attention was fixed on +the flowers which had called forth the General’s unspoken +admiration. She touched them with fingers hardly lighter +than his.</p> +<p>‘Now that I think of it,’ said Conyngham after a +pause, ‘what I give is nothing.’</p> +<p>Estella’s face wore a queer little smile, as of a deeper +knowledge.</p> +<p>‘Nothing at all,’ continued the Englishman. +‘For I have nothing to give, and you know nothing of +me.’</p> +<p>‘Three months ago,’ answered Estella, ‘we +had never heard of you—and you had never seen me,’ +she added, with a little laugh.</p> +<p>‘I have seen nothing else since,’ Conyngham +replied deliberately; ‘for I have gone about the world a +blind man.’</p> +<p>‘In three months one cannot decide matters that affect a +whole lifetime,’ said the girl.</p> +<p>‘This matter decided itself in three minutes, so far as +I am concerned, señorita, in the old palace at +Ronda. It is a matter that time is powerless to affect one +way or the other.’</p> +<p>‘With some people; but you are hasty and +impetuous. My father said it of you—and he is never +mistaken.’</p> +<p>‘Then you do not trust me, señorita?’</p> +<p>Estella had turned away her face so that he could only see her +mantilla and the folds of her golden hair gleaming through the +black lace. She shrugged her shoulders.</p> +<p>‘It is not due to yourself, nor to all who know you in +Spain, if I do,’ she said.</p> +<p>‘All who know me?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ she continued; ‘Father Concha, +Señora Barenna, my father, and others at Ronda.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! And what leads them to mistrust +me?’</p> +<p>‘Your own actions,’ replied Estella.</p> +<p>And Conyngham was too simple-minded, too inexperienced in such +matters, to understand the ring of anxiety in her voice.</p> +<p>‘I do not much mind what the rest of the world thinks of +me,’ he said; ‘I have never owed anything to the +world nor asked anything from it. They are welcome to think +what they like. But with you it is different. Is it +possible, señorita, to make you trust me?’</p> +<p>Estella did not answer at once. After a pause she gave +an indifferent jerk of the head.</p> +<p>‘Perhaps,’ she said.</p> +<p>‘If it is possible, I will do it.’</p> +<p>‘It is quite easy,’ she answered, raising her head +and looking out of the window with an air that seemed to indicate +that her interests lay without and not in this room at all.</p> +<p>‘How can I do it?’</p> +<p>She gave a short, hard laugh, which to experienced ears would +have betrayed her instantly.</p> +<p>‘By showing me the letter you wrote to Julia +Barenna,’ she said.</p> +<p>‘I cannot do that.’</p> +<p>‘No,’ she said significantly. A woman +fighting for her own happiness is no sparing adversary.</p> +<p>‘Will nothing else than the sight of that letter satisfy +you, señorita?’</p> +<p>Her profile was turned towards him—delicate and proud, +with the perfect chiselling of outline that only comes with a +long descent, and bespeaks the blood of gentle ancestors. +For Estella Vincente had in her veins blood that was counted +noble in Spain—the land of a bygone glory.</p> +<p>‘Nothing,’ she answered. ‘Though the +question of my being satisfied is hardly of importance. You +asked me to trust you, and you make it difficult by your +actions. In return I ask a proof, that is all.’</p> +<p>‘Do you want to trust me?’</p> +<p>He had come a little closer to her, and was grave enough +now.</p> +<p>‘Why do you ask that?’ she inquired in a low +voice.</p> +<p>‘Do you want to trust me?’ he asked, and it is to +be supposed that he was able to detect an infinitesimal +acquiescent movement of her head.</p> +<p>‘Then, if that letter is in existence, you shall have +it,’ he said. ‘You say that my actions have +borne evidence against me. I shall trust to action and not +to words to refute that evidence. But you must give me +time—will you do that?’</p> +<p>‘You always ask something.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, señorita, from you; but from no one else in +the world.’</p> +<p>He gave a sudden laugh and walked to the window, where he +stood looking at her.</p> +<p>‘I suppose,’ he said, ‘I shall be asking all +my life from you. Perhaps that is why we were created, +señorita—I to ask, you to give. Perhaps that +is happiness, Estella.’</p> +<p>She raised her eyes but did not meet his, looking past him +through the open window. The hotel was situated at the +lower end of the Puerta del Sol—the quiet end, and farthest +removed from the hum of the market and the busy sounds of +traffic. These only came in the form of a distant hum, like +the continuous roar of surf upon an unseen shore. Below the +windows a passing waterseller plied his trade, and his monotonous +cry of ‘Agua-a-a! Agua-a-a!’ rose like a +wail—like the voice of one crying in that human wilderness +where solitude reigns as surely as in the desert.</p> +<p>For a moment Estella glanced at Conyngham gravely, and his +eyes were no less serious. They were not the first, but +only two out of many millions, to wonder what happiness is and +where it hides in this busy world.</p> +<p>They had not spoken or moved when the door was again opened by +a servant, who bowed towards Conyngham and then stood aside to +allow ingress to one who followed on his heels. This was a +tall man, white-haired, and white of face. Indeed, his +cheeks had the dead pallor of paper, and seemed to be drawn over +the cheekbones at such tension as gave to the skin a polish like +that of fine marble. One sees many such faces in London +streets, and they usually indicate suffering, either mental or +physical.</p> +<p>The stranger came forward with a perfect lack of +embarrassment, which proved him to be a man of the world. +His bow to Estella clearly indicated that his business lay with +Conyngham. He was the incarnation of the Continental ideal +of the polished cold Englishman, and had the air of a diplomate +such as this country sends to foreign Courts to praise or blame, +to declare friendship or war with the same calm suavity and +imperturbable politeness.</p> +<p>‘I come from General Vincente,’ he said to +Conyngham, ‘who will follow in a moment, when he has +despatched some business which detains him. I have a letter +to the General, and am, in fact, in need of his +assistance.’</p> +<p>He broke off, turning to Estella, who was moving towards the +door.</p> +<p>‘I was especially instructed,’ he said quickly to +her, ‘to ask you not to leave us. You were, I +believe, at school with my nieces in England, and when my +business, which is of the briefest, is concluded, I have messages +to deliver to you from Mary and Amy Mainwaring.’</p> +<p>Estella smiled a little and resumed her seat. Then the +stranger turned to Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘The General told me,’ he went on in his cold +voice, without a gleam of geniality or even of life in his eyes, +‘that if I followed the servant to the drawing-room I +should find here an English aide-de-camp who is fully in his +confidence, and upon whose good-nature and assistance I could +rely.’</p> +<p>‘I am for the time General Vincente’s +aide-de-camp, and I am an Englishman,’ answered +Conyngham.</p> +<p>The stranger bowed.</p> +<p>‘I did not explain my business to General +Vincente,’ said he, ‘who asked me to wait until he +came, and then tell the story to you both at one time. In +the meantime I was to introduce myself to you.’</p> +<p>Conyngham waited in silence.</p> +<p>‘My name is Sir John Pleydell,’ said the stranger +quietly.</p> +<h2><a name="page174"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +174</span>CHAPTER XVI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">IN HONOUR</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘He makes no friend who never made a +foe.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Conyngham</span> remembered the name of +Pleydell well enough, and glanced sharply at Estella, +recollecting that the General received the ‘Times’ +from London. Before he had time to make an answer, and +indeed he had none ready, the General came into the room.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Vincente in his sociable manner, +‘I see you know each other already—so an introduction +is superfluous. And now we will have Sir John’s +story. Be seated, my dear sir. But first—a +little refreshment. It is a dusty day—a +lemonade?’</p> +<p>Sir John declined, his manner strikingly cold and reserved +beside the genial <i>empressement</i> of General Vincente. +In truth the two men seemed to belong to opposite poles—the +one of cold and the other of heat. Sir John had the chill +air of one who had mixed among his fellow men only to see their +evil side; for the world is a cold place to those that look on it +with a chilling glance. General Vincente, on the other +hand, whose life had been passed in strife and warfare, seemed +ready to welcome all comers as friends and to hold out the hand +of good-fellowship to rich and poor alike.</p> +<p>Conyngham shrugged his shoulders with a queer smile. +Here was a quandary requiring a quicker brain than his. He +did not even attempt to seek a solution to his difficulties, and +the only thought in his mind was a characteristic determination +to face them courageously. He drew forward a chair for Sir +John Pleydell, his heart stirred with that sense of exhilaration +which comes to some in moments of peril.</p> +<p>‘I will not detain you long,’ began the new-comer, +with an air slightly suggestive of the law court, ‘but +there are certain details which I am afraid I must inflict upon +you, in order that you may fully understand my +actions.’</p> +<p>The remark was addressed to General Vincente, although the +speaker appeared to be demanding Conyngham’s attention in +the first instance. The learned gentlemen of the Bar thus +often address the jury through the ears of the judge.</p> +<p>General Vincente had seated himself at the table and was +drawing his scented pocket-handkerchief across his moustache +reflectively. He was not, it was obvious, keenly +interested, although desirous of showing every politeness to the +stranger. In truth, such Englishmen as brought their +affairs to Spain at this time were not as a rule highly desirable +persons or a credit to their country. Estella was sitting +near the window, rather behind her father, and Conyngham stood by +the fireplace, facing them all.</p> +<p>‘You perhaps know something of our English +politics,’ continued Sir John Pleydell, and the General +making a little gesture indicative of a limited but sufficient +knowledge, went on to say—‘of the Chartists more +particularly?’</p> +<p>The General bowed. Estella glanced at Conyngham, who was +smiling.</p> +<p>‘One cannot call them a party, as I have heard them +designated in Spain,’ said Sir John parenthetically. +‘They are quite unworthy of so distinguished a name. +These Chartists consist of the most ignorant people in the +land—the rabble, in fact, headed by a few scheming +malcontents: professional agitators who are not above picking the +pockets of the poor. Many capitalists and landowners have +suffered wrong and loss at the hands of these disturbers of the +peace, none—’ He paused and gave a sharp sigh +which seemed to catch him unawares, and almost suggested that the +man had, after all, or had at one time possessed, a heart. +‘None more severely than myself,’ he concluded.</p> +<p>The General’s face instantly expressed the utmost +concern.</p> +<p>‘My dear sir,’ he murmured.</p> +<p>‘For many years,’ continued Sir John hurriedly, as +if resenting anything like sympathy, as all good Britons do, +‘the authorities acted in an irresolute and foolish manner, +not daring to put down the disturbances with a firm hand. +At length, however, a riot of a more serious character at a town +in Wales necessitated the interference of the military. The +ringleaders were arrested, and for some time the authorities were +in considerable doubt as to what to do to them. I +interested myself strongly in the matter—having practised +the law in my younger days—and was finally enabled to see +my object carried out. These men were arraigned, not as +mere brawlers and rioters, but under a charge of high +treason—a much more serious affair for them.’</p> +<p>He broke off with a harsh laugh, which was only a matter of +the voice, for his marble face remained unchanged, and probably +had not at any time the power of expressing mirth.</p> +<p>‘The ringleaders of the Newport riots were sentenced to +long terms of imprisonment, which served my purpose +excellently.’</p> +<p>Sir John Pleydell spoke with that cynical frankness which +seems often to follow upon a few years devoted to practice at the +Common Law Bar, where men in truth spend their days in dissecting +the mental diseases of their fellow creatures, and learn to +conclude that a pure and healthy mind is possessed by none. +He moved slightly in his chair, and seemed to indicate that he +had made his first point.</p> +<p>‘I hope,’ he said, addressing Conyngham directly, +‘that I am not fatiguing you?’</p> +<p>‘Not at all,’ returned the younger Englishman +coolly; ‘I am much interested.’</p> +<p>The General was studying the texture of his +pocket-handkerchief. Estella’s face had grown cold +and set. Her eyes from time to time turned towards +Conyngham. Sir John Pleydell was not creating a good +impression.</p> +<p>‘I will now come to the more personal part of my +story,’ went on that gifted speaker, ‘and proceed to +explain my reason for inflicting it upon you.’</p> +<p>He still spoke directly to Conyngham, who bowed his head in +silence, with the queer smile still hovering on his lips. +Estella saw it and drew a sharp breath. In the course of +her short life, which had almost been spent in the midst of +warfare, she had seen men in danger more than once, and perhaps +recognised that smile.</p> +<p>‘I particularly beg your attention,’ explained Sir +John to Conyngham, ‘because I understand from General +Vincente that you are in reality attached to the staff of General +Espartero, and it is to him that I look for help.’</p> +<p>Sir John paused again. He had established another +point. One almost expected to see him raise his hand to his +shoulder to throw back the silken gown.</p> +<p>‘Some months ago,’ he went on, ‘these +Chartists attacked my house in the North of England, and killed +my son.’</p> +<p>There was a short silence, and the General muttered a curt and +polite Spanish oath under his breath. But somehow the +speaker had failed to make that point, and he hurried on.</p> +<p>‘It was not, technically speaking, a murder; my boy, who +had a fine spirit, attacked the rioters, and a clever counsel +might have got a verdict for the scoundrel who actually struck +the blow. I knew this, and awaited events. I did not +even take steps against the man who killed my son—an only +son and child. It was not, from a legal point of view, +worth while.’</p> +<p>He laughed his unpleasant laugh again and presently went +on.</p> +<p>‘Fortune, however, favoured me. The trouble grew +worse, and the Newport riots at last aroused the +Government. The sentence upon the ringleaders gave me my +opportunity. It was worth while to hunt down the murderer +of my son when I could ensure him sixteen or twenty years’ +penal servitude.’</p> +<p>‘Quite,’ said the General; +‘quite.’ And he smiled. He seemed to fail +to realise that Sir John Pleydell was in deadly earnest, and +really harboured the implacable spirit of revenge with which he +cynically credited himself.</p> +<p>‘I traced my man to Gibraltar, and thence he appears to +have come north,’ continued Sir John Pleydell. +‘He has probably taken service under Espartero—many +of our English outlaws wear the Spanish Queen’s +uniform. He is, of course, bearing an assumed name; but +surely it would be possible to trace him?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, yes,’ answered Conyngham, ‘I think you +will be able to find him.’</p> +<p>Sir John’s eyes had for a moment a gleam of life in +them.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ he said, ‘I am glad to hear you say +that. For that is my object in coming to this country; and +although I have during the course of my life had many objects of +ambition or desire, none of them has so entirely absorbed my +attention as this one. Half a dozen men have gone to penal +servitude in order that I might succeed in my purpose.’</p> +<p>There was a cold deliberation in this statement which was more +cruel than cynicism, for it was sincere. Conyngham looked +at Estella. Her face had lost all colour, her eyes were +burning—not with the dull light of fear, for the blood that +ran in her veins had no taint of that in it—but with +anger. She knew who it was that Sir John Pleydell +sought. She looked at Conyngham, and his smile of cool +intrepidity made her heart leap within her breast. This +lover of hers was at all events a brave man—and that which +through all the ages reaches the human heart most surely is +courage. The coward has no friends.</p> +<p>Sir John Pleydell had paused, and was seeking something in his +pocket. General Vincente preserved his attitude of slightly +bored attention.</p> +<p>‘I have here,’ went on the baronet, ‘a list +of the English officers serving in the army of General Espartero +at the time of my quitting England. Perhaps you will, at +your leisure, be kind enough to cast your eye over it, and make a +note of such men as are personally unknown to you, and may +therefore be bearing assumed names.’</p> +<p>Conyngham took the paper, and, holding it in his hand, spoke +without moving from the mantelpiece against which he leant.</p> +<p>‘You have not yet made quite clear your object in coming +to Spain,’ he said. ‘There exists between Spain +and England no extradition treaty; and even if such were to come +in force I believe that persons guilty of political offences +would be exempt from its action. You propose to arraign +this man for high treason—a political offence according to +the law of many countries.’</p> +<p>‘You speak like a lawyer,’ said Sir John, with a +laugh.</p> +<p>‘You have just informed us,’ retorted Conyngham, +‘that all the English in the Spanish service are +miscreants. None know the law so intimately as those who +have broken it.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ laughed Sir John again, with a face of +stone. ‘There are exceptions to all rules—and +you, young sir, are an exception to that which I laid down as +regards our countrymen in Spain, unless my experience of faces +and knowledge of men play me very false. But your +contention is a just one. I am not in a position to seek +the aid of the Spanish authorities in this matter. I am +fully aware of the fact. You surely did not expect me to +come to Spain with such a weak case as that?’</p> +<p>‘No,’ answered Conyngham slowly, ‘I did +not.’</p> +<p>Sir John Pleydell raised his eyes and looked at his fellow +countryman with a dawning interest. The General also looked +up, from one face to the other. The atmosphere of the room +seemed to have undergone a sudden change, and to be dominated by +the personality of these two Englishmen. The one will, +strong on the surface, accustomed to assert itself and dominate, +seemed suddenly to have found itself faced by another as strong +and yet hidden behind an easy smile and indolent manner.</p> +<p>‘You are quite right,’ he went on in his cold +voice. ‘I have a better case than that, and one +eminently suited to a country such as Spain, where a long war has +reduced law and order to a somewhat low ebb. I at first +thought of coming here to await my chance of shooting this +man—his name, by the way, is Frederick Conyngham; but +circumstances placed a better vengeance within my grasp—one +that will last longer.’</p> +<p>He paused for a moment to reflect upon this long-drawn-out +expiation.</p> +<p>‘I propose to get my man home to England, and let him +there stand his trial. The idea is not my own; it has, in +fact, been carried out successfully before now. Once in +England I shall make it my business to see that he gets twenty +years’ penal servitude.’</p> +<p>‘And how do you propose to get him to England?’ +asked Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘Oh! that is simple enough. Only a matter of +paying a couple of such scoundrels as I understand abound in +Spain at this moment—a little bribing of officials, a heavy +fee to some English ship-captain. I propose, in short, to +kidnap Frederick Conyngham. But I do not ask you to help me +in that. I only ask you to put me on his track—to +help me to find him, in fact. Will you do it?’</p> +<p>‘Certainly,’ said Conyngham, coming forward with a +card in his hand. ‘You could not have come to a +better man.’</p> +<p>Sir John Pleydell read the card, and had himself in such +control that his face hardly changed. His teeth closed over +his lower lip for a second; then he rose. The perspiration +stood out on his face—the grey of his eyes seemed to have +faded to the colour of ashes. He looked hard at Conyngham, +and then, taking up his hat, went to the door with curious, +uneven steps. On the threshold he turned.</p> +<p>‘Your insolence,’ he said breathlessly, ‘is +only exceeded by your—daring.’</p> +<p>As the door closed behind him there came, from that part of +the room where General Vincente sat, a muffled click of steel, as +if a sword half out of its scabbard had been sent softly home +again.</p> +<h2><a name="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +185</span>CHAPTER XVII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">IN MADRID</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘Some keepeth +silence knowing his time.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘<span class="smcap">Who</span> travels slowly may +arrive too late,’ said the Padre Concha, with a pessimistic +shake of the head, as the carrier’s cart in which he had +come from Toledo drew up in the Plazuela de la Cebada at +Madrid. The careful penury of many years had not, indeed, +enabled the old priest to travel by the quick diligences, which +had often passed him on the road with a cloud of dust and the +rattle of six horses. The great journey had been +accomplished in the humbler vehicles plying from town to town, +that ran as often as not by night in order to save the +horses.</p> +<p>The priest, like his fellow-travellers, was white with +dust. Dust covered his cloak so that its original hue of +rusty black was quite lost. Dust coated his face and +nestled in the deep wrinkles of it. His eyebrows were lost +to sight, and his lashes were like those of a miller.</p> +<p>As he stood in the street the dust arose in whirling columns +and enveloped all who were abroad; for a gale was howling across +the tableland, which the Moors of old had named +‘Majerit’—a draught of wind. The +conductor, who, like a good and jovial conductor, had never +refused an offer of refreshment on the road, was now muddled with +drink and the heat of the sun. He was, in fact, engaged in +a warm controversy with a passenger. So the Padre found his +own humble portmanteau, a thing of cardboard and canvas, and +trudged up the Calle de Toledo, bearing the bag in one hand and +his cloak in the other—a lean figure in the sunlight.</p> +<p>Father Concha had been in Madrid before, though he rarely +boasted of it, or indeed of any of his travels.</p> +<p>‘The wise man does not hang his knowledge on a +hook,’ he was in the habit of saying.</p> +<p>That this knowledge was of that useful description which is +usually designated as knowing one’s way about, soon became +apparent; for the dusty traveller passed with unerring steps +through the narrower streets that lie between the Calle de Toledo +and the street of Segovia. Here dwell the humbler citizens +of Madrid, persons engaged in the small commerce of the +market-place, for in the Plazuela de la Cebada a hundred yards +away is held the corn market, which, indeed, renders the dust in +this quarter particularly trying to the eyes. Once or twice +the priest was forced to stop at the corner of two streets and +there do battle with the wind.</p> +<p>‘But it is a hurricane,’ he muttered; ‘a +hurricane.’</p> +<p>With one hand he held his hat, with the other clung to his +cloak and portmanteau.</p> +<p>‘But it will blow the dust from my poor old capa,’ +he added, giving the cloak an additional shake.</p> +<p>He presently found himself in a street which, if narrower than +its neighbours, smelt less pestiferous. The open drain that +ran down the middle of it pursued its varied course with a quite +respectable speed. In the middle of the street Father +Concha paused and looked up, nodding as if to an old friend at +the sight of a dingy piece of palm bound to the ironwork of a +balcony on the second floor.</p> +<p>‘The time to wash off the dust,’ he muttered as he +climbed the narrow stairs, ‘and then to work.’</p> +<p>An hour later he was afoot again in a quarter of the city +which was less known to him—namely, in the Calle Preciados, +where he sought a venta more or less suspected by the +police. The wind had risen, and was now blowing with the +force of a hurricane. It came from the north-west with a +chill whistle which bespoke its birthplace among the peaks of the +Gaudarramas. The streets were deserted; the oil lamps swung +on their chains at the street corners, casting weird shadows that +swept over the face of the houses with uncanny +irregularity. It was an evening for evil deeds, except that +when Nature is in an ill-humour human nature is mostly cowed, and +those who have bad consciences cannot rid their minds of thoughts +of the hereafter.</p> +<p>The priest found the house he sought, despite the darkness of +the street and the absence of any from whom to elicit +information. The venta was on the ground-floor, and above +it towered storey after storey, built with the quaint fantasy of +the middle ages, and surmounted by a deep, overhanging gabled +roof. The house seemed to have two staircases of stone and +two doors—one on each side of the venta. There is a +Spanish proverb which says that the rat which has only one hole +is soon caught. Perhaps the architect remembered this, and +had built his house to suit his tenants. It was on the +fifth floor of this tenement that Father Concha, instructed by +Heaven knows what priestly source of information, looked to meet +with Sebastian, the whilom bodyservant of the late Colonel +Monreal of Xeres.</p> +<p>It was known among a certain section of the Royalists that +this man had papers and perchance some information of value to +dispose of, and more than one respectable, black-clad elbow had +brushed the greasy walls of this staircase. Sebastian, it +was said, passed his time in drinking and smoking. The +boasted gaieties of Madrid had, it would appear, diminished to +this sordid level of dissipation.</p> +<p>The man was, indeed, thus occupied when the old priest opened +the door of his room.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ he answered in a thick voice, ‘I am +Sebastian of Xeres, and no other; the man who knows more of the +Carlist plots than any other in Madrid.’</p> +<p>‘Can you read?’</p> +<p>‘No.’</p> +<p>‘Then you know nothing,’ said the Padre. +‘You have, however, a letter in a pink envelope which a +friend of mine desires to possess. It is a letter of no +importance, of no political value—a love letter, in +fact.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, yes! Ah, yes! That may be, +reverendo. But there are others who want it—your love +letter.’</p> +<p>‘I offer you, on the part of my friend, a hundred +pesetas for this letter.’</p> +<p>The priest’s wrinkled face wore a grim smile. It +was so little—a hundred pesetas, the price of a dinner for +two persons at one of the great restaurants on the Puerta del +Sol. But to Father Concha the sum represented five hundred +cups of black coffee denied to himself in the evening at the +café—five hundred packets of cigarettes, so-called +of Havana, unsmoked—two new cassocks in the course of +twenty years—a hundred little gastronomic delights sternly +resisted season after season.</p> +<p>‘Not enough, your hundred pesetas, reverendo, not +enough,’ laughed the man. And Concha, who could drive +as keen a bargain as any market-woman of Ronda, knew by the +manner of saying it that Sebastian only spoke the truth when he +said that he had other offers.</p> +<p>‘See, reverendo,’ the man went on, leaning across +the table and banging a dirty fist upon it, ‘come to-night +at ten o’clock. There are others coming at the same +hour to buy my letter in the pink envelope. We will have an +auction, a little auction, and the letter goes to the highest +bidder. But what does your reverence want with a love +letter, eh?’</p> +<p>‘I will come,’ said the Padre, and, turning, he +went home to count his money once more.</p> +<p>There are many living still who remember the great gale of +wind which was now raging, and through which Father Concha +struggled back to the Calle Preciados as the city clocks struck +ten. Old men and women still tell how the theatres were +deserted that night and the great cafés wrapt in +darkness. For none dare venture abroad amid such whirl and +confusion. Concha, however, with that lean strength that +comes from a life of abstemiousness and low-living, crept along +in the shadow of the houses and reached his destination +unhurt. The tall house in the alley leading from the Calle +Preciados to the Plazuela Santa Maria was dark, as indeed were +most of the streets of Madrid this night. A small moon +struggled, however, through the riven clouds at times, and cast +streaks of light down the narrow streets. Concha caught +sight of the form of a man in the alley before him. The +priest carried no weapon, but he did not pause. At this +moment a gleam of light aided him.</p> +<p>‘Señor Conyngham!’ he said. +‘What brings you here?’</p> +<p>And the Englishman turned sharply on his heel.</p> +<p>‘Is that you—Father Concha, of Ronda?’ he +asked.</p> +<p>‘No other, my son.’</p> +<p>Standing in the doorway Conyngham held out his hand with that +air of good-fellowship which he had not yet lost amid the more +formal Spaniards.</p> +<p>‘Hardly the night for respectable elderly gentlemen of +your cloth to be in the streets,’ he said; whereat Concha, +who had a keen appreciation of such small pleasantries, laughed +grimly.</p> +<p>‘And I have not even the excuse of my cloth. I am +abroad on worldly business, and not even my own. I will be +honest with you, Señor Conyngham. I am here to buy +that malediction of a letter in a pink envelope. You +remember—in the garden at Ronda, eh?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, I remember; and why do you want that +letter?’</p> +<p>‘For the sake of Julia Barenna.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! I want it for the sake of Estella +Vincente.’</p> +<p>Concha laughed shortly.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is only up to the +age of twenty-five that men imagine themselves to be the rulers +of the world. But we need not bid against each other, my +son. Perhaps a sight of the letter before I destroy it +would satisfy the señorita.’</p> +<p>‘No, we need not bid against each other,’ began +Conyngham; but the priest dragged him back into the doorway with +a quick whisper of ‘Silence!’</p> +<p>Someone was coming down the other stairway of the tall house, +with slow and cautious steps. Conyngham and his companion +drew back to the foot of the stairs and waited. It became +evident that he who descended the steps did so without a +light. At the door he seemed to stop, probably making sure +that the narrow alley was deserted. A moment later he +hurried past the door where the two men stood. The moon was +almost clear, and by its light both the watchers recognised +Larralde in a flash of thought. The next instant Esteban +Larralde was running for his life with Frederick Conyngham on his +heels.</p> +<p>The lamp at the corner of the Calle Preciados had been +shattered against the wall by a gust of wind, and both men +clattered through a slough of broken glass. Down the whole +length of the Preciados but one lamp was left alight, and the +narrow street was littered with tiles and fallen bricks, for many +chimneys had been blown down, and more than one shutter lay in +the roadway, torn from its hinges by the hurricane. It was +at the risk of life that any ventured abroad at this hour and +amid the whirl of falling masonry. Larralde and Conyngham +had the Calle Preciados to themselves—and Larralde cursed +his spurs, which rang out at each footfall, and betrayed his +whereabouts.</p> +<p>A dozen times the Spaniard fell, but before his pursuer could +reach him, the same obstacle threw Conyngham to the ground. +A dozen times some falling object crashed to earth on the +Spaniard’s heels, and the Englishman leapt aside to escape +the rebound. Larralde was fleet of foot despite his meagre +limbs, and leapt over such obstacles as he could perceive, with +the agility of a monkey. He darted into the lighted +doorway—the entrance to the palatial mansion of an upstart +politician. The large doors were thrown open, and the +hall-porter stood in full livery awaiting the master’s +carriage. Larralde was already in the patio, and Conyngham +ran through the marble-paved entrance hall, before the porter +realised what was taking place. There was no second exit as +the fugitive had hoped—so it was round the patio and out +again into the dark street, leaving the hall-porter +dumfoundered.</p> +<p>Larralde turned sharply to the right as soon as he gained the +Calle Preciados. It was a mere alley running the whole way +round a church—and here again was solitude, but not +silence, for the wind roared among the chimneys overhead as it +roars through a ship’s rigging at sea. The Calle +Preciados again! and a momentary confusion among the tables of a +café that stood upon the pavement, amid upturned chairs +and a fallen, flapping awning. The pace was less killing +now, but Larralde still held his own—one hand clutched over +the precious letter regained at last—and Conyngham was +conscious of a sharp pain where the Spaniard’s knife had +touched his lung.</p> +<p>Larralde ran mechanically with open mouth and staring +eyes. He never doubted that death was at his heels, should +he fail to distance the pursuer. For he had recognised +Conyngham in the patio of the great house, and as he ran the +vague wonder filled his mind whether the Englishman carried a +knife. What manner of death would it be if that long arm +reached him? Esteban Larralde was afraid. His own +life—Julia’s life—the lives of a whole Carlist +section were at stake. The history of Spain, perhaps of +Europe, depended on the swiftness of his foot.</p> +<p>The little crescent moon was shining clearly now between the +long-drawn rifts of the rushing clouds. Larralde turned to +the right again, up a narrow street which seemed to promise a +friendly darkness. The ascent was steep, and the Spaniard +gasped for breath as he ran—his legs were becoming +numb. He had never been in this street before, and knew not +whither it led. But it was at all events dark and +deserted. Suddenly he fell upon a heap of bricks and +rubbish, a whole stack of chimneys. He could smell the +soot. Conyngham was upon him, touched him, but failed to +get a grip. Larralde was afoot in an instant, and fell +heavily down the far side of the barricade. He gained a few +yards again, and, before Conyngham’s eyes, was suddenly +swallowed up in a black mass of falling masonry. It was +more than a chimney this time; nothing less than a whole house +carried bodily to the ground by the fall of the steeple of the +church of Santa Maria del Monte. Conyngham stopped dead, +and threw his arms over his head. The crash was terrific, +deafening—and for a few moments the Englishman was +stunned. He opened his eyes and closed them again, for the +dust and powdered mortar whirled round him like smoke. +Almost blinded, he crept back by the way he had come, and the +street was already full of people. In the Calle Preciados +he sat down on a door-step, and there waited until he had gained +mastery over his limbs, which shook still. Presently he +made his way back to the house where he had left Concha.</p> +<p>The man Sebastian had, a week earlier, seen and recognised +Conyngham as the bearer of the letter addressed to Colonel +Monreal, and left at that officer’s lodging in Xeres at the +moment of his death in the streets. Sebastian approached +Conyngham, and informed him that he had in his possession sundry +papers belonging to the late Colonel Monreal, which might be of +value to a Royalist. This was, therefore, not the first +time that Conyngham had climbed the narrow stairs of the tall +house with two doors.</p> +<p>He found Concha busying himself by the bedside, where +Sebastian lay in the unconsciousness of deep drink.</p> +<p>‘He has probably been drugged,’ said the +priest. ‘Or, he may be dying. What is more +important to us is, that the letter is not here. I have +searched. Larralde escaped you?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; and of course has the letter.’</p> +<p>‘Of course, amigo.’</p> +<p>The priest looked at the prostrate man with a face of profound +contempt, and, shrugging his shoulders, went towards the +door.</p> +<p>‘Come,’ he said, ‘I must return to Toledo +and Julia. It is thither that this Larralde always returns, +and she, poor woman, believes in him. Ah, my +friend’—he paused and shook his long finger at +Conyngham. ‘When a woman believes in a man she makes +him or mars him; there is no medium.’</p> +<h2><a name="page197"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +197</span>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">IN TOLEDO</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Meddle not with many matters; for if thou +meddle much thou shalt not be innocent.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Café of the Ambassadeurs +in the Calle de la Montera was at this time the fashionable +resort of visitors to the city of Madrid. Its tone was +neither political nor urban, but savoured rather of the +cosmopolitan. The waiters at the first-class hotels +recommended the Café of the Ambassadeurs, and stepped +round to the manager’s office at the time of the New Year +to mention the fact.</p> +<p>Sir John Pleydell had been rather nonplussed by his encounter +with Conyngham, and, being a man of the world as well as a +lawyer, sat down, as it were, to think. He had come to +Spain in the first heat of a great revenge, and such men as he +take, like the greater volcanoes, a long time to cool down. +He had been prepossessed in the favour of the man who +subsequently owned to being Frederick Conyngham. And the +very manner in which this admission was made redounded in some +degree to the honour of the young Englishman. Here, at +least, was one who had no fear, and fearlessness appeals to the +heart of every Briton from the peer to the navvy.</p> +<p>Sir John took a certain cold interest in his surroundings, and +in due course was recommended to spend an evening at the +Café des Ambassadeurs, as it styled itself, for the habit +of preferring French to Spanish designations for places of +refreshment had come in since the great revolution. Sir +John went, therefore, to the café, and with characteristic +scorn of elemental disturbance chose to resort thither on the +evening of the great gale. The few other occupants of the +gorgeous room eyed his half-bottle of claret with a grave and +decorous wonder, but made no attempt to converse with this +chill-looking Englishman. At length, about ten +o’clock or a few minutes later, entered one who bowed to +Sir John with an air full of affable promise. This was +Larralde, who called a waiter and bade him fetch a +coat-brush.</p> +<p>‘Would you believe it, sir?’ he said, addressing +Sir John in broken English, ‘but I have just escaped a +terrible death.’</p> +<p>He shrugged his shoulders, spread out his hands, and laughed +good-humouredly, after the manner of one who has no foes.</p> +<p>‘The fall of a chimney—so—within a metre of +my shoulder.’ He threw back his cloak with a graceful +swing of the arm and handed it to the waiter. Then he drew +forward a chair to the table occupied by Sir John, who sipped his +claret and bowed coldly.</p> +<p>‘You must not think that Madrid is always like +this,’ said Larralde. ‘But perhaps you know the +city—’</p> +<p>‘No—this is my first visit.’</p> +<p>Larralde turned aside to give his order to the waiter. +His movements were always picturesque, and in the presence of +Englishmen he had a habit of accentuating those characteristics +of speech and manner which are held by our countrymen to be +native to the Peninsula. There is nothing so disarming as +conventionality—and nothing less suspicious. Larralde +seemed ever to be a typical Spaniard—indolently polite, +gravely indifferent—a cigarette-smoking nonentity.</p> +<p>They talked of topics of the day, and chiefly of that great +event, the hurricane, which was still raging. Larralde, +whose habit it was to turn his neighbour to account—a seed +of greatness this!—had almost concluded that the Englishman +was useless when the conversation turned, as it was almost bound +to turn between these two, upon Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘There are but few of your countrymen in Madrid at the +moment,’ Larralde had said.</p> +<p>‘I know but one,’ was the guarded reply.</p> +<p>‘And I also,’ said Larralde, flicking the ash from +his cigarette. ‘A young fellow who has made himself +somewhat notorious in the Royalist cause—a cause in which I +admit I have no sympathy. His name is Conyngham.’</p> +<p>Then a silence fell upon the two men, and over raised glasses +they glanced surreptitiously at each other.</p> +<p>‘I know him,’ said Sir John at length, and the +tone of his voice made Larralde glance up with a sudden gleam in +his eyes. There thus sprang into existence between them the +closest of all bonds—a common foe.</p> +<p>‘The man has done me more than one ill-turn,’ said +Larralde after a pause, and he drummed on the table with his +cigarette-stained fingers.</p> +<p>Sir John, looking at him, coldly gauged the Spaniard with the +deadly skill of his calling. He noted that Larralde was +poor and ambitious—qualities that often raise the devil in +a human heart when fate brings them there together. He was +not deceived by the picturesque manner of Julia’s lover, +but knew exactly how much was assumed of that air of simple +vanity to which Larralde usually treated strangers. He +probably gauged at one glance the depth of the man’s power +for good or ill, his sincerity, his possible usefulness. In +the hands of Sir John Pleydell, Larralde was the merest tool.</p> +<p>They sat until long after midnight, and before they parted Sir +John Pleydell handed to his companion a roll of notes, which he +counted carefully and Larralde accepted with a grand air of +condescension and indifference.</p> +<p>‘You know my address,’ said Sir John, with a +slight suggestion of masterfulness which had not been noticeable +before the money changed hands. ‘I shall remain at +the same hotel.’</p> +<p>Larralde nodded his head.</p> +<p>‘I shall remember it,’ he said. ‘And +now I go to take a few hours’ rest. I have had a hard +day, and am as tired as a shepherd’s dog.’</p> +<p>And indeed the day had been busy enough. Señor +Larralde hummed an air between his teeth as he struggled against +the fierce wind.</p> +<p>Before dawn the gale subsided, and daylight broke with a +clear, calm freshness over the city, where sleep had been almost +unknown during the night. The sun had not yet risen when +Larralde took the road on his poor, thin black horse. He +rode through the streets, still littered with the +<i>débris</i> of fallen chimneys, slates, and shutters, +with his head up and his mind so full of the great schemes which +gave him no rest, that he never saw Concepçion Vara going +to market with a basket on his arm and a cigarette, unlighted, +between his lips. Concepçion turned and watched the +horseman, shrugged his shoulders, and quietly followed until the +streets were left behind and there could no longer be any doubt +that Larralde was bound for Toledo.</p> +<p>Thither, indeed, he journeyed throughout the day with a +leisureliness begotten of the desire to enter the ancient city +after nightfall only. Toledo was at this time the +smouldering hotbed of those political intrigues which some years +later burst into flame, and resulted finally in the expulsion of +the Bourbons from the throne of Spain. Larralde was +sufficiently dangerous to require watching, and, like many of his +kind, considered himself of a greater importance than his enemies +were pleased to attach to him. The city of Toledo is, as +many know, almost surrounded by the rapid Tagus, and entrance to +its narrow confine is only to be gained by two gates. To +pass either of these barriers in open day would be to court a +publicity singularly undesirable at this time, for Esteban +Larralde was slipping down the social slope, which gradual +progress is the hardest to arrest. If one is mounting there +are plenty to help him—those from above seeking to make +unto themselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness; those +from below hoping to tread in the footsteps he may leave. +Each step, however, of the upward progress has to be gained at +the expense of another. But on the descent there are none +to stay and many to push behind, while those in front make room +readily enough. Larralde had for the first time accepted a +direct monetary reward for his services. That this had been +offered and accepted in a polite Spanish manner as an advance of +expenses to be incurred was, of course, only natural under the +circumstances, but the fact remained that Esteban Larralde was no +longer a picturesque conspirator, serving a failing cause with +that devotion which can only be repaid later by high honours, and +a post carrying with it emoluments of proportionate value. +He had, in fact, been paid in advance; which is the surest sign +of distrust upon one side or the other.</p> +<p>The Barennas had been established at their house in Toledo +some weeks, and, for Julia, life had been dull enough. She +had hastened northward, knowing well that her lover’s +intrigues must necessarily bring him to the neighbourhood of the +capital—perhaps to Toledo itself. Larralde had, +however, hitherto failed to come near her, and the news of the +day reported an increasing depression in the ranks of the +Carlists. Indeed, that cause seemed now at such a low ebb +that the franker mercenaries were daily drifting away to more +promising scenes of warfare, while some cynically accepted +commissions in the army of Espartero.</p> +<p>‘I always said that Don Carlos would fail if he employed +such men—as—well, as he does,’ Madame Barenna +took more than one opportunity of observing at this time, and her +emphatic fan rapped the personal application home.</p> +<p>She had just made this remark for perhaps the sixth time one +evening when the door of the patio where she and Julia sat was +thrown open, and Larralde—the person indirectly referred +to—came towards the ladies. He was not afraid of +Madame Barenna, and his tired face lightened visibly at the sight +of Julia. Concha was right. According to his lights +Larralde loved Julia. She, who knew every expression, noted +the look in his face, and her heart leapt within her +breast. She had long secretly rejoiced over the failure of +the Carlist cause. Such, messieurs, is the ambition of a +woman for the man she really loves.</p> +<p>Señora Barenna rose and held out her hand with a +beaming smile. She was rather bored that evening, and it +was pleasant to imagine herself in the midst of great political +intrigues.</p> +<p>‘We were wondering if you would come,’ she +said.</p> +<p>‘I am here—there—everywhere—but I +always come back to the Casa Barenna,’ he said +gallantly.</p> +<p>‘You look tired,’ said Julia quietly. +‘Where are you from?’</p> +<p>‘At the moment I am from Madrid. The city has been +wrecked by a tornado—I myself almost perished.’</p> +<p>He paused, shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>‘What will you?’ he added carelessly. +‘What is life—a single life—in Spain +to-day?’</p> +<p>Julia winced. It is marvellous how an intelligent woman +may blind herself into absolute belief in one man. +Señora Barenna shuddered.</p> +<p>‘Blessed Heaven!’ she whispered. ‘Why +does not someone do something?’</p> +<p>‘One does one’s best,’ answered Larralde, +with his hand at his moustache.</p> +<p>‘But yes!’ said Madame eagerly. She had a +shrewd common sense, as many apparently foolish women have, and +probably put the right value on Señor Larralde’s +endeavours. Father Concha and the General were, however, +far away, and all women are time-servers.</p> +<p>Larralde spoke of general news, and when he at length proposed +to Julia that they should take a ‘paseo’ in the +garden the elder lady made no objection. For some moments +Julia was quite happy. She had schooled herself into a sort +of contentment in the hope that her turn would come when ambition +failed. Perhaps this moment had arrived. At all +events, Larralde acquitted himself well, and seemed sincere +enough in his joy at seeing her again.</p> +<p>‘Do you love me?’ he asked suddenly.</p> +<p>Julia gave a little laugh. Heaven has been opened by +such a laugh ere now, and men have seen for a moment the +brightness of it.</p> +<p>‘Enough to leave Spain for ever and live in another +country?’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘Enough to risk something now for my sake?’</p> +<p>‘Enough to risk everything,’ she answered.</p> +<p>‘I have tried to gain a great position for you,’ +went on Larralde, ‘and fortune has been against me. I +have failed. The Carlist cause is dead, Julia. Our +chief has failed us—that is the truth of it. We set +him up as a king, but unless we hold him upright he falls. +He is a man of straw. We are making one last effort, as you +know, but it is a dangerous one, and we have had +misfortunes. This pestilential Englishman! No one may +say how much he knows. He has had the letter too long in +his possession for our safety. But I have outwitted him +this time.’</p> +<p>Larralde paused, and drew from his pocket the letter in the +pink envelope—somewhat soiled by its passage through the +hands of Colonel Monreal’s servant.</p> +<p>‘It requires two more signatures and will then be +complete,’ said the upholder of Don Carlos. ‘We +shall then make our “coup,” but we cannot move while +Conyngham remains in Spain. It would never do for me +to—well, to get shot at this moment.’</p> +<p>Julia breathed hard.</p> +<p>‘And that is what Mr. Conyngham is endeavouring to bring +about. In the first place he wants this letter to show to +Estella Vincente—some foolish romance. In the second +place he hates me, and seeks promotion in the Royalist +ranks. These Englishmen are unscrupulous. He tried to +take my life—only last night. I bear him no +ill-feeling. <i>A la guerre comme à la +guerre</i>. My only intention is to get him quietly out of +Spain. It can be managed easily enough. Will you help +me—to save my own life?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ answered Julia.</p> +<p>‘I want you to write a letter to Conyngham saying that +you are tired of political intrigue.’</p> +<p>‘Heaven knows that would be true enough,’ put in +Julia.</p> +<p>‘And that you will give him the letter he desires on the +condition that he promises to show it to no one but Estella +Vincente and return it to you. That you will also swear +that it is the identical letter that he handed to you in the +General’s garden at Ronda. If Conyngham agrees, he +must meet you at the back of the Church of Santo Tome in the +Calle Pedro Martir here, in Toledo, next Monday evening at seven +o’clock. Will you write this letter, +Julia?’</p> +<p>‘And Estella Vincente?’ inquired Julia.</p> +<p>‘She will forget him in a week,’ laughed +Larralde.</p> +<h2><a name="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +208</span>CHAPTER XIX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">CONCEPÇION TAKES THE +ROAD</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘Who knows? the +man is proven by the hour.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">After</span> the great storm came a calm +almost as startling. It seemed indeed as if Nature stood +abashed and silent before the results of her sudden rage. +Day after day the sun glared down from a cloudless sky, and all +Castile was burnt brown as a desert. In the streets of +Madrid there arose a hot dust and the subtle odour of warm earth +that rarely meets the nostrils in England. It savoured of +India and other sun-steeped lands where water is too precious to +throw upon the roads.</p> +<p>Those who could, remained indoors or in their shady patios +until the heat of the day was past; and such as worked in the +open lay unchallenged in the shade from midday till three +o’clock. During those days military operations were +almost suspended, although the heads of departments were busy +enough in their offices. The confusion of war, it seemed, +was past, and the sore-needed peace was immediately turned to +good account. The army of the Queen Regent was indeed in an +almost wrecked condition, and among the field officers jealousy +and backbiting, which had smouldered through the war-time, broke +out openly. General Vincente was rarely at home, and +Estella passed this time in quiet seclusion. Coming as she +did from Andalusia, she was accustomed to an even greater heat, +and knew how to avoid the discomfort of it.</p> +<p>She was sitting one afternoon, with open windows and closed +jalousies, during the time of the siesta, when the servant +announced Father Concha.</p> +<p>The old priest came into the room wiping his brow with simple +ill manners.</p> +<p>‘You have been hurrying and have no regard for the +sun,’ said Estella.</p> +<p>‘You need not find shelter for an old ox,’ replied +Concha, seating himself. ‘It is the young ones that +expose themselves unnecessarily.’</p> +<p>Estella glanced at him sharply but said nothing. He sat, +handkerchief in hand, and stared at a shaft of sunlight that lay +across the floor from a gap in the jalousies. From the +street under the windows came the distant sounds of traffic and +the cries of the vendors of water, fruit, and newspapers.</p> +<p>Father Concha looked puzzled, and seemed to be seeking his way +out of a difficulty. Estella sat back in her chair, half +hidden by her slow-waving, black fan. There is no pride so +difficult as that which is unconscious of its own existence, no +heart so hard to touch as that which has thrown its stake and +asks neither sympathy nor admiration from the outside +world. Concha glanced at Estella and wondered if he had +been mistaken. There was in the old man’s heart, as +indeed there is in nearly all human hearts, a thwarted +instinct. How many are there with maternal instincts who +have no children; how many a poet has been lost by the crying +need of hungry mouths! It was a thwarted instinct that made +the old priest busy himself with the affairs of other people, and +always of young people.</p> +<p>‘I came hoping to see your father,’ he said at +length, blandly untruthful. ‘I have just seen +Conyngham, in whom we are all interested, I think. His lack +of caution is singular. I have been trying to persuade him +not to do something most rash and imprudent. You remember +the incident in your garden at Ronda—a letter which he gave +to Julia?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ answered Estella quietly, ‘I +remember.’</p> +<p>‘For some reason which he did not explain I understand +that he is desirous of regaining possession of that letter, and +now Julia, writing from Toledo, tells him that she will give it +to him if he will go there and fetch it. The Toledo road, +as you will remember, is hardly to be recommended to Mr. +Conyngham.’</p> +<p>‘But Julia wishes him no harm,’ said Estella.</p> +<p>‘My child, rarely trust a political man and never a +political woman. If Julia wished him to have the letter she +could have sent it to him by post. But Conyngham, who is +all eagerness, must needs refuse to listen to any argument, and +starts this afternoon for Toledo—alone. He has not +even his servant Concepçion Vara, who has suddenly +disappeared, and a woman who claims to be the scoundrel’s +wife from Algeciras has been making inquiries at +Conyngham’s lodging. A hen’s eyes are where her +eggs lie. I offered to go to Toledo with Conyngham, but he +laughed at me for a useless old priest, and said that the saddle +would gall me.’</p> +<p>He paused, looking at her beneath his shaggy brows, knowing, +as he had always known, that this was a woman beyond his +reach—cleverer, braver, of a higher mind than her +sisters—one to whom he might perchance tender some small +assistance, but nothing better. For women are wiser in +their generation than men, and usually know better what is for +their own happiness. Estella returned his glance with +steady eyes.</p> +<p>‘He has gone,’ said Concha. ‘I have +not been sent to tell you that he is going.’</p> +<p>‘I did not think that you had,’ she answered.</p> +<p>‘Conyngham has enemies in this country,’ continued +the priest, ‘and despises them—a mistake to which his +countrymen are singularly liable. He has gone off on this +foolish quest without preparation or precaution. Toledo is, +as you know, a hotbed of intrigue and dissatisfaction. All +the malcontents in Spain congregate there, and Conyngham would do +well to avoid their company. Who lies down with dogs gets +up with fleas.’</p> +<p>He paused, tapping his snuffbox, and at that moment the door +opened to admit General Vincente.</p> +<p>‘Oh! the Padre!’ cried the cheerful soldier. +‘But what a sun, eh? It is cool here, however, and +Estella’s room is always a quiet one.’</p> +<p>He touched her cheek affectionately, and drew forward a low +chair wherein he sat, carefully disposing of the sword that +always seemed too large for him.</p> +<p>‘And what news has the Padre?’ he asked, daintily +touching his brow with his pocket-handkerchief.</p> +<p>‘Bad,’ growled Concha, and then told his tale over +again in a briefer, blunter manner. ‘It all +arises,’ he concluded, ‘from my pestilential habit of +interfering in the affairs of other people.’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said General Vincente; ‘it arises from +Conyngham’s pestilential habit of acquiring friends +wherever he goes.’</p> +<p>The door was opened again, and a servant entered.</p> +<p>‘Excellency,’ he said, ‘a man called +Concepçion Vara, who desires a moment.’</p> +<p>‘What did I tell you?’ said the General to +Concha. ‘Another of Conyngham’s friends. +Spain is full of them. Let Concepçion Vara come to +this room.’</p> +<p>The servant looked slightly surprised, and retired. If, +however, this manner of reception was unusual, Concepçion +was too finished a man of the world to betray either surprise or +embarrassment. By good fortune he happened to be wearing a +coat. His flowing unstarched shirt was as usual spotless, +he wore a flower in the ribbon of the hat carried jauntily in his +hand, and about his person in the form of handkerchief and faja +were those touches of bright colour by means of which he so +irresistibly attracted the eye of the fair.</p> +<p>‘Excellency,’ he murmured, bowing on the +threshold; ‘Reverendo,’ with one step forward and a +respectful semi-religious inclination of the head towards Concha; +‘Señorita!’ The ceremony here concluded +with a profound obeisance to Estella full of gallantry and grave +admiration. Then he stood upright, and indicated by a +pleasant smile that no one need feel embarrassed, that in fact +this meeting was most opportune.</p> +<p>‘A matter of urgency, Excellency,’ he said +confidentially to Vincente. ‘I have reason to suspect +that one of my friends—in fact, the Señor Conyngham, +with whom I am at the moment in service—happens to be in +danger.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! what makes you suspect that, my friend?’</p> +<p>Concepçion waved his hand lightly, as if indicating +that the news had been brought to him by the birds of the +air.</p> +<p>‘When one goes into the café,’ he said, +‘one is not always so particular—one associates with +those who happen to be there—muleteers, diligencia-drivers, +bull-fighters, all and sundry, even contrabandistas.’</p> +<p>He made this last admission with a face full of pious +toleration, and Father Concha laughed grimly.</p> +<p>‘That is true, my friend,’ said the General, +hastening to cover the priest’s little lapse of good +manners, ‘and from these gentlemen—honest enough in +their way, no doubt—you have learnt—?’</p> +<p>‘That the Señor Conyngham has enemies in +Spain.’</p> +<p>‘So I understand; but he has also friends?’</p> +<p>‘He has one,’ said Vara, taking up a fine, +picturesque attitude, with his right hand at his waist where the +deadly knife was concealed in the rolls of his faja.</p> +<p>‘Then he is fortunate,’ said the General, with his +most winning smile; ‘why do you come to me, my +friend.’</p> +<p>‘I require two men,’ answered Concepçion +airily, ‘that is all.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! What sort of men. Guardias +Civiles?’</p> +<p>‘The Holy Saints forbid! Honest soldiers, if it +please your Excellency. The Guardia Civil! See you, +Excellency.’</p> +<p>He paused, shaking his outspread hand from side to side, palm +downwards, fingers apart, as if describing a low level of +humanity.</p> +<p>‘A brutal set of men,’ he continued; ‘with +the finger ever on the trigger and the rifle ever loaded. +Pam! and a life is taken—many of my friends—at least, +many persons I have met—in the café!’</p> +<p>‘It is better to give him his two men,’ put in +Father Concha, in his atrocious English, speaking to the +General. ‘The man is honest in his love of Conyngham, +if in nothing else.’</p> +<p>‘And if I accord you these two men, my friend,’ +said the General, from whose face Estella’s eyes had never +moved, ‘will you undertake that Mr. Conyngham comes to no +harm?’</p> +<p>‘I will arrange it,’ replied Concepçion, +with an easy shrug of the shoulders. ‘I will arrange +it, never fear.’</p> +<p>‘You shall have two men,’ said General Vincente, +drawing a writing-case towards himself and proceeding to write +the necessary order. ‘Men who are known to me +personally. You can rely upon them at all times.’</p> +<p>‘Since they are friends of his +Excellency’s,’ interrupted Concepçion with +much condescension, ‘that suffices.’</p> +<p>‘He will require money,’ said Estella in +English—her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. For +she came of a fighting race, and her repose of manner, the +dignity which sat rather strangely on her slim young shoulders, +were only signs of that self-control which had been handed down +to her through the ages.</p> +<p>The General nodded as he wrote.</p> +<p>‘Take that to headquarters,’ he said, handing the +papers to Concepçion, ‘and in less than half an hour +your men will be ready. Mr. Conyngham is a friend of mine, +as you know, and any expenses incurred on his behalf will be +defrayed by myself—’</p> +<p>Concepçion held up his hand.</p> +<p>‘It is unnecessary, Excellency,’ he said. +‘At present Mr. Conyngham has funds. Only yesterday +he gave me money. He liquidated my little account. It +has always been a jest between us—that little +account.’</p> +<p>He laughed pleasantly, and moved towards the door.</p> +<p>‘Vara,’ said Father Concha.</p> +<p>‘Yes, reverendo.’</p> +<p>‘If I meet your wife in Madrid, what shall I say to +her?’</p> +<p>Concepçion turned and looked into the smiling face of +the old priest.</p> +<p>‘In Madrid, reverendo? How can you think of such a +thing? My wife lives in Algeciras, and at times, see +you—’ he stopped, casting his eyes up to the ceiling +and fetching an exaggerated sigh, ‘at times my heart +aches. But now I must get to the saddle. What a thing +is Duty, reverendo! Duty! God be with your +Excellencies.’</p> +<p>And he hurried out of the room.</p> +<p>‘If you would make a thief honest, trust him,’ +said Concha, when the door was closed.</p> +<p>In less than an hour Concepçion was on the road +accompanied by two troopers, who were ready enough to travel in +company with a man of his reputation. For in Spain, if one +cannot be a bull-fighter it is good to be a smuggler. At +sunset the great heat culminated in a thunderstorm, which drew a +veil of heavy cloud across the sky, and night fell before its +time.</p> +<p>The horsemen had covered two-thirds of their journey when he +whom they followed came in sight of the lights of Toledo, set +upon a rock like the jewels in a lady’s ring, and almost +surrounded by the swift Tagus. Conyngham’s horse was +tired, and stumbled more than once on the hill by which the +traveller descends to the great bridge and the gate that Wamba +built thirteen hundred years ago.</p> +<p>Through this gate he passed into the city, which was a city of +the dead, with its hundred ruined churches, its empty palaces and +silent streets. Ichabod is written large over all these +tokens of a bygone glory; where the Jews flying from Jerusalem +first set foot; where the Moor reigned unmolested for nearly four +hundred years; where the Goth and the Roman and the great +Spaniard of the middle ages have trod on each other’s +heels. Truly these worn stones have seen the greatness of +the greatest nations of the world.</p> +<p>A single lamp hung slowly swinging in the arch of +Wamba’s Gate, and the streets were but ill lighted with an +oil lantern at an occasional corner. Conyngham had been in +Toledo before, and knew his way to the inn under the shadow of +the great Alcazar, now burnt and ruined. Here he left his +horse; for the streets of Toledo are so narrow and tortuous, so +ill-paved and steep, that wheel traffic is almost unknown, while +a horse can with difficulty keep his feet on the rounded cobble +stones. In this city men go about their business on foot, +which makes the streets as silent as the deserted houses.</p> +<p>Julia had selected a spot which was easy enough to find, and +Conyngham, having supped, made his way thither without asking for +directions.</p> +<p>‘It is at all events worth trying,’ he said to +himself, ‘and she can scarcely have forgotten that I saved +her life on the Garonne as well as at Ronda.’</p> +<p>But there is often in a woman’s life one man who can +make her forget all. The streets were deserted, for it was +a cold night, and the cafés were carefully closed against +the damp air. No one stirred in the Calle Pedro Martir, and +Conyngham peered into the shadow of the high wall of the Church +of San Tome in vain. Then he heard the soft tread of +muffled feet, and turning on his heel realised Julia’s +treachery in a flash of thought. He charged to meet the +charge of his assailants. Two of them went down like felled +trees, but there were others—four others—who fell on +him silently like hounds upon a fox, and in a few moments all was +quiet again in the Calle Pedro Martir.</p> +<h2><a name="page220"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +220</span>CHAPTER XX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ON THE TALAVERA ROAD</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘Les +barrières servent à indiquer où il faut +passer.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">An</span> hour’s ride to the west of +Toledo, on the road to Torrijos and Talavera, and in the +immediate neighbourhood of the village of Galvez, two men sat in +the shadow of a great rock, and played cards. They played +quietly and without vociferation, illustrating the advantages of +a minute coinage. They had gambled with varying fortune +since the hour of the siesta, and a sprinkling of cigarette ends +on the bare rocks around them testified to the indulgence in a +kindred vice.</p> +<p>The elder of the two men glanced from time to time over his +shoulder, and down towards the dusty high road which lay across +the arid plain beneath them like a tape. The country here +is barren and stone-ridden, but to the west, where Torrijos +gleamed whitely on the plain, the earth was green with lush corn +and heavy blades of maize, now springing into ear. Where +the two soldiers sat the herbage was scant and of an aromatic +scent, as it mostly is in hot countries and in rocky +places. That these men belonged to a mounted branch of the +service was evident from their equipment, and notably from the +great rusty spurs at their heels. They were clad in +cotton—dusky white breeches, dusky blue tunics—a sort +of undress, tempered by the vicissitudes of a long war and the +laxity of discipline engendered by political trouble at home.</p> +<p>They had left their horses in the stable of a venta, hidden +among ilex trees by the roadside, and had clambered to this point +of vantage above the highway, to pass the afternoon after the +manner of their race. For the Spaniard will be found +playing cards amid the wreck of the world and in the intervals +between the stupendous events of the last day.</p> +<p>‘He comes,’ said the elder man at length, as he +leisurely shuffled the greasy cards. ‘I hear his +horse’s hoofs.’</p> +<p>And, indeed, the great silence which seems to brood over the +uplands of Spain—the silence, as it were, of an historic +past and a dead present—was broken by the distant regular +beat of hoofs.</p> +<p>The trooper who had spoken was a bullet-headed Castilian, with +square jaw and close-set eyes. His companion, a younger +man, merely nodded his head, and studied the cards which had just +been dealt to him. The game progressed, and +Concepçion Vara, on the Toledo road, approached at a +steady trot. This man showed to greater advantage on +horseback and beneath God’s open sky than in the streets of +a city. Here, in the open and among the mountains, he held +his head erect and faced the world, ready to hold his own against +it. In the streets he wore a furtive air, and glanced from +left to right fearing recognition.</p> +<p>He now took his tired horse to the stable of the little venta, +where, with his usual gallantry, he assisted a hideous old hag to +find a place in the stalls. While uttering a gay +compliment, he deftly secured for his mount a feed of corn which +was much in excess of that usually provided for the money.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ he said, as he tipped the measure; ‘I +can always tell when a woman has been pretty; but with you, +señora, no such knowledge is required. You will have +your beauty for many years yet.’</p> +<p>Thus Vara and his horse fared ever well upon the road. +He lingered at the stable door, knowing perhaps that corn poured +into the manger may yet find its way back to the bin, and then +turned his steps towards the mountain.</p> +<p>The cards were still falling with a whispering sound upon the +rock selected as a table, and, with the spirit of a true +sportsman, Concepçion waited until the hand was played out +before imparting his news.</p> +<p>‘It is well,’ he said at length. ‘A +carriage has been ordered from a friend of mine in Toledo to take +the road to-night to Talavera—and Talavera is on the way to +Lisbon. What did I tell you?’</p> +<p>The two soldiers nodded. One was counting his gains, +which amounted to almost threepence. The loser wore a brave +air of indifference, as behoved a reckless soldier taking loss or +gain in a Spartan spirit.</p> +<p>‘There will be six men,’ continued +Concepçion. ‘Two on horseback, two on the box, +two inside the carriage with their prisoner—my +friend.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said the younger soldier thoughtfully.</p> +<p>Concepçion looked at him.</p> +<p>‘What have you in your mind?’ he asked.</p> +<p>‘I was wondering how three men could best kill +six.’</p> +<p>‘Out of six,’ said the older man, ‘there is +always one who runs away. I have found it so in my +experience.’</p> +<p>‘And of five there is always one who cannot use his +knife,’ added Concepçion.</p> +<p>Still the younger soldier, who had medals all across his +chest, shook his head.</p> +<p>‘I am afraid,’ he said. ‘I am always +afraid before I fight.’</p> +<p>Concepçion looked at the man whom General Vincente had +selected from a brigade of tried soldiers, and gave a little +upward jerk of the head.</p> +<p>‘With me,’ he said, ‘it is +afterwards—when all is over. Then my hand shakes, and +the wet trickles down my face.’</p> +<p>He laughed, and spread out his hands.</p> +<p>‘And yet,’ he said gaily, ‘it is the best +game of all—is it not so?’</p> +<p>The troopers shrugged their shoulders. One may have too +much of even the best game.</p> +<p>‘The carriage is ordered for eight o’clock,’ +continued the practical Concepçion, rolling a cigarette, +which he placed behind his ear where a clerk would carry his +pen. ‘Those who take the road when the night-birds +come abroad have something to hide. We will see what they +have in their carriage, eh? The horses are hired for the +journey to Galvez, where a relay is doubtless ordered. It +will be a fine night for a journey. There is a half moon, +which is better than the full for those who use the knife; but +the Galvez horses will not be required, I think.’</p> +<p>The younger soldier, upon whose shoulder gleamed the stars of +a rapid promotion, looked up to the sky, where a few fleecy +clouds were beginning to gather above the setting sun like sheep +about a gate.</p> +<p>‘A half moon for the knife and a full moon for +firearms,’ he said.</p> +<p>‘Yes; and they will shoot quick enough if we give them +the chance,’ said Concepçion. ‘They are +Carlists! There is a river between this and Galvez—a +little stream such as we have in Andalusia—so small that +there is only a ford and no bridge. The bed of the river is +soft; the horses will stop, or, at all events, must go at the +walking pace. Across the stream are a few trees’ (he +paused, illustrating his description with rapid gestures and an +imaginary diagram drawn upon the rock with the forefinger), +‘ilex, and here, to the left, some pines. The stream +runs thus from north-east to south-west. This bank is high, +and over here are low-lying meadows where pigs feed.’</p> +<p>He looked up, and the two soldiers nodded. The position +lay before them like a bird’s-eye view; and +Concepçion, in whom Spain had perhaps lost a guerilla +general, had only set eyes on the spot once as he rode past +it.</p> +<p>‘This matter is best settled on foot; is it not +so? We cross the stream, and tie our horses to the pine +trees. I will recross the water, and come back to meet the +carriage at the top of the hill—here. The horsemen +will be in advance. We will allow them to cross the +stream. The horses will come out of the water slowly, or I +know nothing of horses. As they step up the incline, you +take their riders, and remember to give them the chance of +running away. In midstream I will attack the two on the +box, pulling him who is not driving into the water by his legs, +and giving him the blade in the right shoulder above the +lung. He will think himself dead, but should recover. +Then you must join me. We shall be three to three, unless +the Englishman’s hands are loose; then we shall be four to +three, and need do no man any injury. The Englishman is as +strong as two, and quick with it, as big men rarely +are.’</p> +<p>‘Do you take a hand?’ asked the Castilian, +fingering the cards.</p> +<p>‘No; I have affairs. Continue your +game.’</p> +<p>So the sun went down, and the two soldiers continued their +game, while Concepçion sat beside them and slowly, +lovingly sharpened his knife on a piece of slate which he carried +in his pocket for the purpose.</p> +<p>After sunset there usually arises a cold breeze which blows +across the table-lands of Castile quite gently and +unobtrusively. A local proverb says of this wind that it +will extinguish a man but not a candle. When this arose, +the three men descended the mountain-side and sat down to a +simple if highly-flavoured meal provided by the ancient mistress +of the venta. At half-past eight, when there remained +nothing of the day but a faint greenish light in the western sky, +the little party mounted their horses and rode away towards +Galvez.</p> +<p>‘’Tis better,’ said Concepçion, with +a meaning and gallant bow to the hostess. ‘’Tis +for my peace of mind. I am but a man.’</p> +<p>Then he haggled over the price of the supper.</p> +<p>They rode forward to the ford described by Concepçion, +and there made their preparations—carefully and +coolly—as men recognising the odds against them. The +half moon was just rising as the soldiers splashed through the +water leading Concepçion’s horse, he remaining on +the Toledo side of the river.</p> +<p>‘The saints protect us!’ said the nervous soldier, +and his hand shook on the bridle. His companion smiled at +the recollection of former fights passed through together. +It is well, in love and war, to beware of him who says he is +afraid.</p> +<p>Shortly after nine o’clock the silence of that deserted +plain was broken by a distant murmur, which presently shaped +itself into the beat of horses’ feet. To this was +added soon the rumble of wheels. The elder soldier put a +whole cigarette into his mouth and chewed it. The younger +man made no movement now. They crouched low at their posts +one on each side of the ford. Concepçion was across +the river, but they could not see him. In Andalusia they +say that a contrabandist can conceal himself behind half a +brick.</p> +<p>The two riders were well in front of the carriage, and, as had +been foreseen, the horses lingered on the rise of the bank as if +reluctant to leave the water without having tasted it. In a +moment the younger soldier had his man out of the saddle, raising +his own knee sharply as the man fell, so that the falling head +and the lifted knee came into deadly contact. It was a +trick well known to the trooper, who let the insensible form roll +to the ground, and immediately darted down the bank to the +stream. The other soldier was chasing his opponent up the +hill, shelling him, as he rode away, with oaths and stones.</p> +<p>In mid-stream the clumsy travelling carriage had come to a +standstill. The driver on the box, having cast down his +reins, was engaged in imploring the assistance of a black-letter +saint, upon which assistance he did not hesitate to put a price, +in candles. There was a scurrying in the water, which was +about two feet deep, where Concepçion was settling +accounts with the man who had been seated by the driver’s +side. A half-choked scream of pain appeared to indicate +that Concepçion had found the spot he sought, above the +right lung, and that amiable smuggler now rose dripping from the +flood and hurried to the carriage.</p> +<p>‘Conyngham!’ he shouted, laying aside that +ceremony upon which he never set great store.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ answered a voice from within. +‘Is that you, Concepçion?’</p> +<p>‘Of course; throw them out.’</p> +<p>‘But the door is locked,’ answered Conyngham in a +muffled voice. And the carriage began to rock and crack +upon its springs, as if an earthquake were taking place inside +it.</p> +<p>‘The window is good enough for such rubbish,’ said +Concepçion. As he spoke a man, violently propelled +from within, came head foremost, and most blasphemously +vociferous, into Concepçion’s arms, who immediately, +and with the rapidity of a terrier, had him by the throat and +forced him under water.</p> +<p>‘You have hold of my leg—you, on the other +side,’ shouted Conyngham from the turmoil within.</p> +<p>‘A thousand pardons, señor!’ said the +soldier, and took a new grip of another limb.</p> +<p>Concepçion, holding his man under water, heard the +sharp crack of another head upon the soldier’s kneecap, and +knew that all was well.</p> +<p>‘That is all?’ he inquired.</p> +<p>‘That is all,’ replied the soldier, who did not +seem at all nervous now. ‘And we have killed no +one.’</p> +<p>‘Put a knife into that son of a mule who prays upon the +box there,’ said Concepçion judicially. +‘This is no time for prayer. Just where the neck +joins the shoulder—that is a good place.’</p> +<p>And a sudden silence reigned upon the box.</p> +<p>‘Pull the carriage to the bank,’ commanded +Concepçion. ‘There is no need for the English +Excellency to wet his feet. He might catch a +cold.’</p> +<p>They all made their way to the bank, where, in the dim +moonlight, one man sat nursing his shoulder while another lay, at +length, quite still, upon the pebbles.</p> +<p>The young soldier laid a second victim to the same deadly +trick beside him, while Concepçion patted his foe kindly +on the back.</p> +<p>‘It is well,’ he said, ‘you have swallowed +water. You will be sick, and then you will be well. +But if you move from that spot I will let the water out another +way.’</p> +<p>And, laughing pleasantly at this delicate display of humour, +he turned to help Conyngham, who was clambering out of the +carriage window.</p> +<p>‘Whom have you with you?’ asked Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘Two honest soldiers of General Vincente’s +division. You see, señor, you have good +friends.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, I see that.’</p> +<p>‘One of them,’ said Concepçion meaningly, +‘is at Toledo at the moment, journeying after you.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’</p> +<p>‘The Señor Pleydell.’</p> +<p>‘Then we will go back to meet him.’</p> +<p>‘I thought so,’ said Concepçion.</p> +<h2><a name="page231"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +231</span>CHAPTER XXI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A CROSS-EXAMINATION</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘Wherein I am +false I am honest—not true to be true.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘I <span class="smcap">will</span> sing you a +contrabandista song,’ said Concepçion, as the party +rode towards Toledo in the moonlight. ‘The song +we—they sing when the venture has been successful. +You may hear it any dark night in the streets of +Gaucin.’</p> +<p>‘Sing,’ said the older soldier, ‘if it is in +your lungs. For us—we prefer to travel +silent.’</p> +<p>Conyngham, mounted on the horse from which the Carlist rider +had been dragged unceremoniously enough, rode a few paces in +front. The carriage had been left behind at the venta, +where no questions were asked, and the injured men revived +readily enough.</p> +<p>‘It is well,’ answered Concepçion, in no +way abashed. ‘I will sing. In Andalusia we can +all sing. The pigs sing better there than the men of +Castile.’</p> +<p>It was after midnight when the party rode past the Church of +the Cristo de la Vega, and faced the long hill that leads to the +gate Del Cambron. Above them towered the city of +Toledo—silent and dreamlike. Concepçion had +ceased singing now, and the hard breathing of the horses alone +broke the silence. The Tagus, emerging here from rocky +fastness, flowed noiselessly away to the west—a gleaming +ribbon laid across the breast of the night. In the summer +it is no uncommon thing for travellers to take the road by night +in Spain, and although many doubtless heard the clatter of +horses’ feet on the polished cobble stones of the city, +none rose from bed to watch the horsemen pass.</p> +<p>At that time Toledo possessed, and indeed to the present day +can boast of, but one good inn—a picturesque old house in +the Plaza de Zocodover, overhung by the mighty Alcazar. +Here Cervantes must have eaten and Lazarillo de Tormes no doubt +caroused. Here those melancholy men and mighty humorists +must have delighted the idler by their talk. +Concepçion soon aroused the sleeping porter, and the great +doors being thrown open, the party passed into the courtyard +without quitting the saddle.</p> +<p>‘It is,’ said Concepçion, ‘an English +Excellency and his suite.’</p> +<p>‘We have another such in the house,’ answered the +sleepy doorkeeper, ‘though he travels with but one +servant.’</p> +<p>‘We know that, my friend, which is the reason why we +patronise your dog-hole of an inn. See that the two +Excellencies breakfast together at a table apart in the +morning.’</p> +<p>‘You will have matters to speak about with the +Señor Pleydell in the morning,’ said +Concepçion, as he unpacked Conyngham’s luggage a few +minutes later.</p> +<p>‘Yes, I should like to speak to Señor +Pleydell.’</p> +<p>‘And I,’ said Concepçion, turning round +with a brush in his hand, ‘should like a moment’s +conversation with Señor Larralde.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’</p> +<p>‘Yes, Excellency, he is in this matter too. But +the Señor Larralde is so modest—so modest! He +always remains in the background.’</p> +<p>In the tents of Kedar men sleep as sound as those who lie on +soft pillows, and Conyngham was late astir the next +morning. Sir John Pleydell was, it transpired, already at +his breakfast, and had ordered his carriage for an early hour to +take the road to Talavera. It was thus evident that Sir +John knew nothing of the arrival of his fellow-countryman at +midnight.</p> +<p>The cold face of the great lawyer wore a look of satisfaction +as he sat at a small table in the patio of the hotel and drank +his coffee. Conyngham watched him for a moment from the +balcony of the courtyard, himself unseen, while Concepçion +stood within his master’s bedroom, and rubbed his brown +hands together in anticipation of a dramatic moment. +Conyngham passed down the stone steps and crossed the patio with +a gay smile. Sir John recognised him as he emerged from the +darkness of the stairway, but his face betrayed neither surprise +nor fear. There was a look in the grey eyes, however, that +seemed to betoken doubt. Such a look a man might wear who +had long travelled with assurance upon a road which he took to be +the right one, and then at a turning found himself in a strange +country with no landmark to guide him.</p> +<p>Sir John Pleydell had always outwitted his fellows. He +had, in fact, been what is called a successful man—a little +cleverer, a little more cunning than those around him.</p> +<p>He looked up now at Conyngham, who was drawing forward a chair +to the neighbouring table, and the cold eye, which had been the +dread of many a criminal, wavered.</p> +<p>‘The waiter has set my breakfast near to yours,’ +said Conyngham, unconcernedly seating himself.</p> +<p>And Concepçion in the balcony above cursed the English +for a cold-blooded race. This was not the sort of meeting +he had anticipated. He could throw a knife very prettily, +and gave a short sigh of regret as he turned to his peaceful +duties.</p> +<p>Conyngham examined the simple fare provided for him, and then +looked towards his companion with that cheerfulness which is too +rare in this world; for it is born of a great courage, and +outward circumstances cannot affect it. Sir John Pleydell +had lost all interest in his meal, and was looking keenly at +Conyngham—dissecting, as it were, his face, probing his +mind, searching through the outward manner of the man, and +running helplessly against a motive which he failed to +understand.</p> +<p>‘I have in my long experience found that all men may be +divided into two classes,’ he said acidly.</p> +<p>‘Fools and knaves?’ suggested Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘You have practised at the Bar,’ +parenthetically.</p> +<p>Conyngham shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>‘Unsuccessfully—anybody can do that.’</p> +<p>‘Which are you—a fool or a knave?’ asked Sir +John.</p> +<p>And suddenly Conyngham pitied him. For no man is proof +against the quick sense of pathos aroused by the sight of man, or +dumb animal, baffled. At the end of his life Sir John had +engaged upon the greatest quest of it—an unworthy quest, no +doubt, but his heart was in it—and he was an old man, +though be bore his years well enough.</p> +<p>‘Perhaps that is the mistake you have always +made,’ said Conyngham gravely. ‘Perhaps men are +not to be divided into two classes. There may be some who +only make mistakes, Sir John.’</p> +<p>Unconsciously he had lapsed into the advocate, as those who +have once played the part are apt to do. This was not his +own cause, but Geoffrey Horner’s. And he served his +friend so thoroughly that for the moment he really was the man +whose part he had elected to play. Sir John Pleydell was no +mean foe. Geoffrey Horner had succeeded in turning aside +the public suspicion, and in the eternal march of events, of +which the sound is louder as the world grows older and hollower, +the murder of Alfred Pleydell had been forgotten by all save his +father. Conyngham saw the danger, and never thought to +avoid it. What had been undertaken half in jest would be +carried out in deadly earnest.</p> +<p>‘Mistakes,’ said Sir John sceptically. In +dealing with the seamy side of life men come to believe that it +is all stitches.</p> +<p>‘Which they may pass the rest of their lives in +regretting.’</p> +<p>Sir John looked sharply at his companion, with suspicion +dawning in his eyes again. It was Conyngham’s +tendency to overplay his part. Later, when he became a +soldier, and found that path in life for which he was best +fitted, his superior officers and the cooler tacticians +complained that he was over-eager, and in battle outpaced the men +he led.</p> +<p>‘Then you see now that it was a mistake?’ +suggested Sir John. In cross-examinations the suggestions +of Sir John Pleydell are remembered in certain courts of justice +to this day.</p> +<p>‘Of course.’</p> +<p>‘To have mixed yourself in such an affair at +all?’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>Sir John seemed to be softening, and Conyngham began to see a +way out of this difficulty which had never suggested itself to +him before.</p> +<p>‘Such mistakes have to be paid for—and the law +assesses the price.’</p> +<p>Conyngham shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>‘It is easy enough to say you are sorry—the law +can make no allowance for regret.’</p> +<p>Conyngham turned his attention to his breakfast, deeming it +useless to continue the topic.</p> +<p>‘It was a mistake to attend the meeting at +Durham—you admit that?’ continued Sir John.</p> +<p>‘Yes—I admit that, if it is any satisfaction to +you.’</p> +<p>‘Then it was worse than a mistake to actually lead the +men out to my house for the purpose of breaking the +windows. It was almost a crime. I would suggest to +you, as a soldier for the moment, to lead a charge up a steep +hill against a body of farm labourers and others entrenched +behind a railing.’</p> +<p>‘That is a mere matter of opinion.’</p> +<p>‘And yet you did that,’ said Sir John. +‘If you are going to break the law you should insure +success before embarking on your undertaking.’</p> +<p>Conyngham made no answer.</p> +<p>‘It was also a stupid error, if I may say so, to make +your way back to Durham by Ravensworth, where you were seen and +recognised. You see I have a good case against you, Mr. +Conyngham.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, I admit you have a good case against me, but you +have not caught me yet.’</p> +<p>Sir John Pleydell looked at him coldly.</p> +<p>‘You do not even take the trouble to deny the facts I +have named.’</p> +<p>‘Why should I, when they are true?’ asked +Conyngham carelessly.</p> +<p>Sir John Pleydell leant back in his chair.</p> +<p>‘I have classified you,’ he said with a queer +laugh.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ answered Conyngham, suddenly uneasy.</p> +<p>‘Yes—as a fool.’</p> +<p>He leant forward with a deprecating gesture of his thin white +hand.</p> +<p>‘Do not be offended,’ he said, ‘and do not +reproach yourself for having given your case away. You +never had a case, Mr. Conyngham. Chartists are not made of +your material at all. As soon as you gave me your card in +Madrid, I had a slight suspicion. I thought you were +travelling under a false name. It was plain to the merest +onlooker that you were not the man I sought. You are too +easy-going, too much of a gentleman to be a Chartist. You +are screening somebody else. You have played the part well, +and with an admirable courage and fidelity. I wish my boy +Alfred had had a few such friends as you. But you are a +fool, Mr. Conyngham. No man on earth is worth the sacrifice +that you have made.’</p> +<p>Conyngham slowly stirred his coffee. He was +meditating.</p> +<p>‘You have pieced together a very pretty tale,’ he +said at length. ‘Some new scheme to get me within the +reach of the English law, no doubt.’</p> +<p>‘It is a pretty tale—too pretty for practical +life. And if you want proofs I will mention the fact that +the Chartist meeting was at Chester-le-Street, not Durham; that +my house stands in a hollow and not on a hill; that you could not +possibly go to Durham <i>viâ</i> Ravensworth, for they lie +in opposite directions. No, Mr. Conyngham, you are not the +man I seek. And, strange to say, I took a liking to you +when I first saw you. I am no believer in instinct, or +mutual sympathy, or any such sentimental nonsense. I do not +believe in much, Mr. Conyngham, and not in human nature at +all. I know too much about it for that. But there +must have been something in that liking for you at first +sight. I wish you no harm, Mr. Conyngham. I am like +Balaam—I came to curse, and now stay to bless. Or, +perhaps, I am more like Balaam’s companion and +adviser—I bray too much.’</p> +<p>He sat back again with a queer smile.</p> +<p>‘You may go home to England to-morrow if you care +to,’ he added, after a pause, ‘and if that affair is +ever raked up against you I will be your counsel, if you will +have me.’</p> +<p>‘Thank you.’</p> +<p>‘You do not want to go home to England?’ suggested +Sir John, whose ear was as quick as his eye.</p> +<p>‘No, I have affairs in Spain.’</p> +<p>‘Or—perhaps a castle here. Beware of +such—I once had one.’</p> +<p>And the cold grey face softened for an instant. It +seemed at times as if there were after all a man behind that +marble casing.</p> +<p>‘A man who can secure such a friendship as yours has +proved itself to be,’ said Sir John after a short silence, +‘can scarcely be wholly bad. He may, as you say, have +made a mistake. I promise nothing; but perhaps I will make +no further attempts to find him.’</p> +<p>Conyngham was silent. To speak would have been to +admit.</p> +<p>‘So far as I am concerned,’ said Sir John, rising, +‘you are safe in this or any country. But I warn +you—you have a dangerous enemy in Spain.’</p> +<p>‘I know,’ answered Conyngham, with a laugh, +‘Mr. Esteban Larralde. I once undertook to deliver a +letter for him. It was not what he represented it to be, +and after I had delivered it he began to suspect me of having +read it. He is kind enough to consider me of some +importance in the politics of this country owing to the +information I am supposed to possess. I know nothing of the +contents of the letter, but I want to regain it—if only for +a few moments. That is the whole story, and that is how +matters stand between Larralde and myself.’</p> +<h2><a name="page242"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +242</span>CHAPTER XXII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">REPARATION</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘Il s’en +faut bien que l’innocence trouve autant de protection que +le crime.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">For</span> those minded to leave Spain at +this time, there was but one route, namely, the south, for the +northern exits were closed by the Carlists, still in power there, +though thinning fast. Indeed, Don Carlos was now +illustrating the fact, which any may learn by the study of the +world’s history, that it is not the great causes, but the +great men, who have made and destroyed nations. Nearly half +of Spain was for Don Carlos. The Church sided with him, and +the best soldiers were those who, unpaid, unfed, and half clad, +fought on the southern slopes of the Pyrenees for a man who dared +not lead them.</p> +<p>Sir John Pleydell had intended crossing the frontier into +Portugal, following the carriage conveying his prisoner to the +seaport of Lisbon, where he anticipated no difficulty in finding +a ship captain who would be willing to carry Conyngham to +England. All this, however, had been frustrated by so +unimportant a person as Concepçion Vara, and the carriage +ordered for nine o’clock to proceed to Talavera now stood +in the courtyard of the hotel, while the Baronet in his lonely +apartment sat and wondered what he should do next. He had +dealt with justice all his life, and had ensued it not from love, +but as a matter of convenience and a means of livelihood. +From the mere habit, he now desired to do justice to +Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘See if you can find out for me the whereabouts of +General Vincente at the moment, and let the carriage wait,’ +he said to his servant, a valet-courier of taciturn habit.</p> +<p>The man was absent about half an hour, and returned with a +face that promised little.</p> +<p>‘There is a man in the hotel, sir,’ he said, +‘the servant of Mr. Conyngham, who knows, but will not tell +me. I am told, however, that a lady living in Toledo, a +Contessa Barenna, will undoubtedly have the information. +General Vincente was lately in Madrid, but his movements are so +rapid and uncertain, that he has become a by-word in +Spain.’</p> +<p>‘So I understand. I will call on this Contessa +this afternoon, unless you can get the information elsewhere +during the morning. I shall not want the +carriage.’</p> +<p>Sir John walked slowly to the window, deep in thought. +He was interested in Conyngham, despite himself. It is +possible that he had not hitherto met a man capable of so far +forgetting his own interests as to undertake a foolish and +dangerous escapade without anything in the nature of gain or +advantage to recommend it. The windows of the hotel of the +Comercio in Toledo look out upon the market-place, and Sir John, +who was an indoor man, and mentally active enough to be intensely +bored at times, frequently used this opportunity of studying +Spanish life.</p> +<p>He was looking idly through the vile panes, when an old priest +passed by, and glanced up beneath shaggy brows.</p> +<p>‘Seen that man before,’ said Sir John.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ muttered Father Concha, as he hurried on +towards the Palazzo Barenna. ‘So far, so good. +Where the fox is, will be found the stolen fowl.’</p> +<p>Concepçion Vara, who was saddling his horse in the +stable yard of the inn, saw the Padre pass.</p> +<p>‘Ah, clever one!’ he muttered, ‘with your +jokes about my wife. Now you may make a false journey for +all the help you receive from me.’</p> +<p>And a few minutes later Concepçion rode across the +Bridge of Alcantara, some paces behind Conyngham, who deemed it +wise to return to his duties at Madrid without delay.</p> +<p>Despite the great heat on the plains, which, indeed, made it +almost dangerous to travel at midday, the streets of Toledo were +cool and shady enough, as Sir John Pleydell traversed them in +search of the Palazzo Barenna. The Contessa was in, and the +Englishman was ushered into a vast room, which even the taste of +the day could not entirely deprive of its mediæval +grandeur. Sir John explained to the servant in halting +Spanish that his name was unknown to the Señora Barenna, +but that—a stranger in some slight difficulty—he had +been recommended to seek her assistance.</p> +<p>Sir John was an imposing-looking man, with that grand air +which enables some men not only to look, but to get over a wall +while an insignificant wight may not so much as approach the +gate. The señora’s curiosity did the +rest. In a few minutes the rustle of silk made Sir John +turn from the contemplation of a suit of armour.</p> +<p>‘Madame speaks French?’</p> +<p>‘But yes, señor.’</p> +<p>Madame Barenna glanced towards a chair, which Sir John +hastened to bring forward. He despised her already, and she +admired his manner vastly.</p> +<p>‘I have taken the immense liberty of intruding myself +upon your notice, Madame.’</p> +<p>‘Not to sell me a Bible?’ exclaimed Señora +Barenna, with her fan upheld in warning.</p> +<p>‘A Bible! I believe I have one at home, in +England, Madame, but—’</p> +<p>‘It is well,’ said Madame sinking back and fanning +herself rather faintly. ‘Excuse my fears. But +there is an Englishman—what is his name? I +forget.’</p> +<p>‘Borrow.’</p> +<p>‘Yes; that is it, Borrow. And he sells Bibles; and +Father Concha, my confessor, a bear, but a holy man—a holy +bear, as one might say—has forbidden me to buy one. I +am so afraid of disobeying him, by heedlessness or +forgetfulness. There are, it appears, some things in the +Bible which one ought not to read, and one +naturally—’</p> +<p>She finished the sentence with a shrug, and an expressive +gesture of the fan.</p> +<p>‘One naturally desires to read them,’ suggested +Sir John. ‘The privilege of all Eve’s +daughters, Madame.’</p> +<p>Señora Barenna treated the flatterer to what the French +call a <i>fin sourire</i>, and wondered how long Julia would stay +away. This man would pay her a compliment in another +moment.</p> +<p>‘I merely called on the excuse of a common friendship, +to ask if you can tell me the whereabouts of General +Vincente,’ said Sir John, stating his business in haste and +when the opportunity presented itself.</p> +<p>‘Is it politics?’ asked the lady, with a hasty +glance round the room.</p> +<p>‘No, it is scarcely politics; but why do you ask? +You are surely too wise, Madame, to take part in such. It +is a woman’s mission to please—and when it is so +easy!’</p> +<p>He waved his thin white hand in completion of a suggestion +which made his hearer bridle her stout person.</p> +<p>‘No, no,’ she whispered, glancing over her +shoulder at the door. ‘No; it is my daughter. +Ah! señor, you can scarce imagine what it is to live upon +a volcano!’</p> +<p>And she pointed to the oaken floor with her fan. Sir +John deemed it wise to confine his display of sympathy to a +glance of the deepest concern.</p> +<p>‘No,’ he said; ‘it is merely a personal +matter. I have a communication to make to my friend General +Vincente or to his daughter.’</p> +<p>‘To Estella?’</p> +<p>‘To the Señorita Estella.’</p> +<p>‘Do you think her beautiful? Some do, you +know. Eyes—I admit—yes, lovely.’</p> +<p>‘I admire the señorita exceedingly.’</p> +<p>‘Ah yes, yes. You have not seen my daughter, have +you, señor? Julia—she rather resembles +Estella.’</p> +<p>Señora Barenna paused and examined her fan with a +careless air.</p> +<p>‘Some say,’ she went on, apparently with +reluctance, ‘that Julia is—well—has some +advantages over Estella. But <i>I</i> do not, of +course. I admire Estella, excessively—oh yes, +yes.’</p> +<p>And the señora’s dark eyes searched Sir +John’s face. They might have found more in sculptured +marble.</p> +<p>‘Do you know where she is?’ asked Sir John, almost +bluntly. Like a workman who has mistaken his material, he +was laying aside his finer conversational tools.</p> +<p>‘Well, I believe they arrive in Toledo this +evening. I cannot think why. But with General +Vincente one never knows. He is so pleasant, so +playful—such a smile—but you know him. Well, +they say in Spain that he is always where he is wanted. +Ah!’ Madame paused and cast her eyes up to the ceiling, +‘what it is to be wanted somewhere, +señor.’</p> +<p>And she gave him the benefit of one of her deepest +sighs. Sir John mentally followed the direction of her +glance, and wondered what the late Count thought about it.</p> +<p>‘Yes, I am deeply interested in Estella—as indeed +is natural, for she is my niece. She has no mother, and the +General has such absurd ideas. He thinks that a girl is +capable of choosing a husband for herself. But to +you—an Englishman—such an idea is naturally not +astonishing. I am told that in your country it is the girls +who actually propose marriage.’</p> +<p>‘Not in words, Madame—not more in England than +elsewhere.’</p> +<p>‘Ah,’ said Madame, looking at him doubtfully, and +thinking, despite herself, of Father Concha.</p> +<p>Sir John rose from the chair he had taken at the +señora’s silent invitation.</p> +<p>‘Then I may expect the General to arrive at my hotel +this evening,’ he said. ‘I am staying at the +Comercio, the only hotel, as I understand, in Toledo.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, he will doubtless descend there. Do you know +Frederick Conyngham, señor?’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘But everyone knows him!’ exclaimed the lady +vivaciously. ‘Tell me how it is. A most +pleasant young man, I allow you—but without introductions +and quite unconnected. Yet he has friends +everywhere.’</p> +<p>She paused and, closing her fan, leant forward in an attitude +of intense confidence and secrecy.</p> +<p>‘And how about his little affair?’ she +whispered.</p> +<p>‘His little affair, Madame?’</p> +<p>‘De cœur,’ explained the lady, tapping her +own breast with an eloquent fan.</p> +<p>‘Estella,’ she whispered after a pause.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Sir John, as if he knew too much about +it to give an opinion. And he took his leave.</p> +<p>‘That is the sort of woman to break one’s heart in +the witness box,’ he said as he passed out into the +deserted street, and Señora Barenna, in the great room +with the armour, reflected complacently that the English lord had +been visibly impressed.</p> +<p>General Vincente and Estella arrived at the hotel in the +evening, but did not of course appear in the public rooms. +The dusty old travelling carriage was placed in a quiet corner of +the courtyard of the hotel, and the General appeared on this, as +on all occasions, to court retirement and oblivion. Unlike +many of his brothers-in-arms, he had no desire to catch the +public eye.</p> +<p>‘There is doubtless something astir,’ said the +waiter, who, in the intervals of a casual attendance on Sir John, +spoke of these things, cigarette in mouth. ‘There is +doubtless something astir, since General Vincente is on the +road. They call him the Stormy Petrel, for when he appears +abroad there usually follows a disturbance.’</p> +<p>Sir John sent his servant to the General’s apartment +about eight o’clock in the evening asking permission to +present himself. In reply, the General himself came to Sir +John’s room.</p> +<p>‘My dear sir,’ he cried, taking both the +Englishman’s hands in an affectionate grasp, ‘to +think that you were in the hotel and that we did not dine +together. Come, yes, come to our poor apartment, where +Estella awaits the pleasure of renewing your +acquaintance.’</p> +<p>‘Then the señorita,’ said Sir John, +following his companion along the dimly-lighted passage, +‘has her father’s pleasant faculty of forgetting any +little <i>contretemps</i> of the past?’</p> +<p>‘Ask her,’ exclaimed the General in his cheery +way. ‘Ask her.’ And he threw open the +door of the dingy salon they occupied.</p> +<p>Estella was standing with her back to the window, and her +attitude suggested that she had not sat down since she had heard +of Sir John’s presence in the hotel.</p> +<p>‘Señorita,’ said the Englishman, with that +perfect knowledge of the world which usually has its firmest +basis upon indifference to criticism, ‘señorita, I +have come to avow a mistake and to make my excuses.’</p> +<p>‘It is surely unnecessary,’ said Estella, rather +coldly.</p> +<p>‘Say rather,’ broke in the General in his +smoothest way, ‘that you have come to take a cup of coffee +with us and to tell us your news.’</p> +<p>Sir John took the chair which the General brought forward.</p> +<p>‘At all events,’ he said, still addressing +Estella, ‘it is probably a matter of indifference to you, +as it is merely an opinion expressed by myself which I wish to +retract. When I first had the pleasure of meeting you, I +took it upon myself to speak of a guest in your father’s +house, fortunately in the presence of that guest himself, and I +now wish to tell you that what I said does not apply to Frederick +Conyngham himself, but to another whom Conyngham is +screening. He has not confessed so much to me, but I have +satisfied myself that he is not the man I seek. You, +General, who know more of the world than the señorita, and +have been in it almost as long as I have, can bear me out in the +statement that the motives of men are not so easy to discern as +younger folks imagine. I do not know what induced Conyngham +to undertake this thing; probably he entered into it in a spirit +of impetuous and reckless generosity, which would only be in +keeping with his character. I only know that he has carried +it out with a thoroughness and daring worthy of all praise. +If such a tie were possible between an old man and a young, I +should like to be able to claim Mr. Conyngham as a friend. +There, señorita—thank you, I will take coffee. +I made the accusation in your presence. I retract it before +you. It is, as you see, a small matter.’</p> +<p>‘But it is of small matters that life is made up,’ +put in the General in his deferential way. ‘Our +friend,’ he went on after a pause, ‘is unfortunate in +misrepresenting himself. We also have a little grudge +against him—a little matter of a letter which has not been +explained. I admit that I should like to see that +letter.’</p> +<p>‘And where is it?’ asked Sir John.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ replied Vincente, with a shrug of the +shoulders and a gay little laugh, ‘who can tell? +Perhaps in Toledo, my dear sir—perhaps in +Toledo.’</p> +<h2><a name="page254"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +254</span>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">LARRALDE’S PRICE</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘It is as +difficult to be entirely bad as it is to be entirely +good.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">To</span> those who say that there is no +Faith, Spain is in itself a palpable answer. No country in +the world can show such cathedrals as those of Granada, Cordova, +Seville, Toledo, Burgos. In any other land any one of these +great structures would suffice. But in Spain these huge +monuments to that Faith which has held serenely through war and +fashion, through thought and thoughtlessness, are to be found in +all the great cities. And the queen of them all is +Toledo.</p> +<p>Father Concha, that sour-visaged philosopher, had a queer +pride in his profession and in the history of that Church which +is to-day seen in its purest form in the Peninsula, while it is +so entangled with the national story of Spain that the two are +but one tale told from a different point of view. As a +private soldier may take pleasure in standing on a great +battlefield noting each spot of interest—here a valley of +death, there the scene of a cavalry charge of which the thunder +will echo down through all the ages—so Concha, a mere +country priest, liked to pace the aisles of a great cathedral, +indulging the while in a half-cynical pride. He was no +great general, no leader, of no importance in the ranks. +But he was of the army, and partook in a minute degree in those +victories that belonged to the past. It was his habit thus +to pay a visit to Toledo Cathedral whensoever his journeys led +him to Castile. It was, moreover, his simple custom to +attend the early mass which is here historical; and, indeed, to +walk through the church, grey and cool, with the hush that seems +to belong only to buildings of stupendous age, is in itself a +religious service.</p> +<p>Concha was passing across the nave, hat in hand, a gaunt, +ill-clad, and somewhat pathetic figure, when he caught sight of +Sir John Pleydell. The Englishman paused involuntarily and +looked at the Spaniard. Concha bowed.</p> +<p>‘We met,’ he said, ‘for a moment in the +garden of General Vincente’s house at Ronda.’</p> +<p>‘True,’ answered Sir John. ‘Are you +leaving the Cathedral? We might walk a little way +together. One cannot talk idly—here.’</p> +<p>He paused and looked up at the great oak screen—at the +towering masonry.</p> +<p>‘No,’ answered Concha gravely. ‘One +cannot talk idly here.’</p> +<p>Concha held back the great leathern <i>portière</i>, +and the Englishman passed out.</p> +<p>‘This is a queer country, and you are a queer +people,’ he said presently. ‘When I was at +Ronda I met a certain number of persons—I can count them on +my fingers. General Vincente, his daughter, Señora +Barenna, Señorita Barenna, the Englishman Conyngham, +yourself, Señor Concha. I arrived in Toledo +yesterday morning; in twenty-four hours I have caught sight of +all the persons mentioned, here in Toledo.’</p> +<p>‘And here, in Toledo, is another of whom you have not +caught sight,’ said Concha.</p> +<p>‘Ah?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; Señor Larralde.’</p> +<p>‘Is he here?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Concha.</p> +<p>They walked on in silence for some minutes.</p> +<p>‘What are we all doing here, Padre?’ inquired Sir +John, with his cold laugh.</p> +<p>‘What are you doing here, señor?’</p> +<p>Sir John did not answer at once. They were walking +leisurely. The streets were deserted, as indeed the streets +of Toledo usually are.</p> +<p>‘I am putting two and two together,’ the great +lawyer answered at length. ‘I began doing so in +idleness, and now I have become interested.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’</p> +<p>‘Yes. I have become interested. They say, +Padre, that a pebble set in motion at the summit of a mountain +may gather other pebbles and increase in bulk and speed until, in +the form of an avalanche, it overwhelms a city in the +valley.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, señor.’</p> +<p>‘And I have conceived the strange fancy that Frederick +Conyngham, when he first came to this country, set such a pebble +in motion at the summit of a very high mountain. It has +been falling and falling silently ever since, and it is gaining +in bulk. And you, and General Vincente, and Estella +Vincente, and Señorita Barenna, and Frederick Conyngham, +and in a minor degree myself, are on the slope in the track of +the avalanche, and are sliding down behind it. And the +General and Estella, and yourself and Conyngham, are trying to +overtake it and stop it. And, reverendo, in the valley +below is the monarchy of Spain—the Bourbon +cause.’</p> +<p>Father Concha, remembering his favourite maxim that no flies +enter a shut mouth, was silent.</p> +<p>‘The pebble was a letter,’ said Sir John.</p> +<p>‘And Larralde has it,’ he added after a +pause. ‘And that is why you are all in +Toledo—why the air is thick with apprehension, and why all +Spain seems to pause and wait breathlessly. Will the +avalanche be stopped, or will it not? Will the +Bourbons—than whom history has known no more interesting +and more unsatisfactory race, except our own Stuarts—will +the Bourbons fall, Señor Padre?’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Concha, whose furrowed face and +pessimistic glance betrayed nothing. ‘Ah!’</p> +<p>‘You will not tell me, of course. You know much +that you will not tell me, and I merely ask you from +curiosity. You perhaps know one thing, and that I wish to +learn from you—not out of curiosity, but because I, too, +would fain overtake the avalanche and stop it. I am no +politician, señor, though of course I have my views. +When a man has reached my age, he knows assuredly that politics +merely mean self-aggrandisement, and nothing else. +No—the Bourbons may fall; Spain may follow the lead of +France and make an exhibition of herself before the world as a +Republic. I am indifferent to these events. But I +wish to do Frederick Conyngham a good turn, and I ask you to tell +me where I shall find Larralde—you who know everything, +Señor Padre.’</p> +<p>Concha reflected while they walked along on the shady side of +the narrow street. It happened to be the street where the +saddlers live, and the sharp sound of their little hammers on +leather and wood came from almost every darkened doorway. +The Padre had a wholesome fear of Esteban Larralde, and an +exaggerated estimation of that schemer’s ability. He +was a humble-minded old man, and ever hesitated to pit his own +brain against that of another. He knew that Sir John was a +cleverer man than Larralde, deeper versed in that side of human +nature where the seams are and the knots and the unsightly +stitches; older, more experienced, and probably no more +scrupulous.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said the priest, ‘I can tell you +that. Larralde lodges in the house of a malcontent, one +Lamberto, a scribbling journalist, who is hurt because the world +takes him at its own valuation and not at his. The house is +next to the little synagogue in the Calle de Madrid, a small +stationer’s shop, where one may buy the curse of this +generation—pens and paper.’</p> +<p>‘Thank you,’ said Sir John, civilly and +simply. This man has no doubt been ill-painted, but some +may have seen that with different companions he wore a different +manner. He was, as all successful men are, an unconscious +actor, and in entering into the personality of the companion of +the moment he completely sank his own. He never sought to +be all things to all men, and yet he came near to the +accomplishment of that hard task. Sir John was not a +sympathetic man; he merely mistook life for a court of justice, +and arraigned all human nature in the witness-box, with the +inward conviction that this should by rights be exchanged for the +felon’s dock.</p> +<p>With Concha he was as simple, as direct, and as +unsophisticated as the old priest himself, and now took his leave +without attempting to disguise the fact that he had accomplished +a foreset purpose.</p> +<p>Without difficulty he found the small stationer’s shop +next to the synagogue in the Calle de Madrid, and bade the +stationer—a spectacled individual with upright hair and the +air of seeking something in the world which is not usually behind +a counter—take his card to Señor Larralde. At +first the stationer pretended ignorance of the name, but on +discovering that Sir John had not sufficient Spanish to conduct a +conversation of intrigue, disappeared into a back room, whence +emanated a villanous smell of cooking.</p> +<p>While Sir John waited in the little shop, Father Concha walked +to the Plazuela de l’Iglesia Vieja, which small square, +overhanging the Tagus and within reach of its murmuring voice, is +deserted except at midday, when the boys play at bull-fighting +and a few workmen engage in a grave game of bowls. Concha +sat, book in hand, opened honestly at the office of the day and +hour, and read no word. Instead, he stared across the gorge +at the brown bank of land which commands the city and renders it +useless as a fortress in the days of modern artillery. He +sat and stared grimly, and thought perhaps of those secret +springs within the human heart that make one man successful and +unhappy, while another, possessing brains and ability and energy, +fails in life, yet is perhaps the happier of the two. For +it had happened to Father Concha, as it may happen to writer and +reader at any moment, to meet one who in individuality bears a +resemblance to that self which we never know and yet are ever +conscious of.</p> +<p>Sir John Pleydell, a few hundred yards away, obeyed the +shopman’s invitation to step upstairs with something +approaching alacrity.</p> +<p>Larralde was seated at a table strewn with newspapers and +soiled by cigarette ash. He had the unkempt and pallid look +of one who has not seen the sun or breathed fresh air for +days. For, as Concepçion had said, this was a +conspirator who preferred to lurk in friendly shelter while +others played the bolder game at the front. Larralde had, +in fact, not stirred abroad for nearly a week.</p> +<p>‘Well, señor,’ he said, with a false air of +bravado. ‘How fares it with your little +undertaking?’</p> +<p>‘That,’ replied Sir John, ‘is past—and +paid for. And I have another matter for your +consideration. Conyngham is not, after all, the man I +seek.’</p> +<p>Sir John’s manner had changed. He spoke as one +having authority. And Larralde shrugged his shoulders, +remembering a past payment.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ he said, rolling a cigarette with a fine air +of indifference.</p> +<p>‘On the one hand,’ continued Sir John judicially, +‘I come to make you an offer which can only be beneficial +to you; on the other hand, Señor Larralde, I know enough +to make things particularly unpleasant for you.’</p> +<p>Larralde raised his eyebrows and sought the matchbox. +His thoughts seemed to amuse him.</p> +<p>‘I have reason to assume that a certain letter is now in +your possession again. I do not know the contents of this +letter, and I cannot say that I am at all interested in it. +But a friend of mine is particularly anxious to have possession +of it for a short space of time. I have, unasked, taken +upon myself the office of intermediary.’</p> +<p>Larralde’s eyes flashed through the smoke.</p> +<p>‘You are about to offer me money; be careful, +señor,’ he said hotly, and Sir John smiled.</p> +<p>‘Be careful, that it is enough,’ he +suggested. ‘Keep your grand airs for your fellows, +Señor Larralde. Yes, I am about to offer you two +hundred pounds—say three thousand pesetas—for the +loan of that letter for a few hours only. I will guarantee +that it is read by one person only, and that a lady. This +lady will probably glance at the first lines, merely to satisfy +herself as to the nature of its contents. Three thousand +pesetas will enable you to escape to Cuba if your schemes +fail. If you succeed, three thousand pesetas will always be +of use, even to a member of a Republican Government.’</p> +<p>Larralde reflected. He had lately realised the fact that +the Carlist cause was doomed. There is a time in the +schemes of men, and it usually comes just before the crisis, when +the stoutest heart hesitates and the most reckless conspirator +thinks of his retreat. Esteban Larralde had begun to think +of Cuba during the last few days, and the mention of that haven +for Spanish failures almost unnerved him.</p> +<p>‘In a week,’ suggested Sir John again, ‘it +may be—well—settled one way or the other.’</p> +<p>Larralde glanced at him sharply. This Englishman was +either well-informed or very cunning. He seemed to have +read the thought in Larralde’s mind.</p> +<p>‘No doubt,’ went on the Englishman, ‘you +have divined for whom I want the letter and who will read +it. We have both mistaken our man. We both owe +Conyngham a good turn—I, in reparation, you, in gratitude; +for he undoubtedly saved the Señorita Barenna from +imprisonment for life.’</p> +<p>Larralde shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>‘Each man,’ he said, ‘must fight for +himself.’</p> +<p>‘And the majority of us for a woman as well,’ +amended Sir John. ‘At least, in Spain, chivalry is +not dead.’</p> +<p>Larralde laughed. He was vain, and Sir John knew +it. He had a keen sight for the breach in his +opponent’s armour.</p> +<p>‘You have put your case well,’ said the Spaniard +patronisingly, ‘and I do not see why, at the end of a week, +I should not agree to your proposal. It is, as you say, for +the sake of a woman.’</p> +<p>‘Precisely.’</p> +<p>Larralde leant back in his chair, remembering the legendary +gallantry of his race, and wearing an appropriate expression.</p> +<p>‘For a woman,’ he repeated with an eloquent +gesture.</p> +<p>‘Precisely.’</p> +<p>‘Then I will do it, señor. I will do +it.’</p> +<p>‘For two hundred pounds?’ inquired Sir John +coldly.</p> +<p>‘As you will,’ answered the Spaniard, with a noble +indifference to such sordid matters.</p> +<h2><a name="page265"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +265</span>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">PRIESTCRAFT</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘No man I fear can effect great benefits for +his country without some sacrifice of the minor +virtues.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Señora Barenna was a +leading social light in Toledo, insomuch as she never refused an +invitation.</p> +<p>‘One has one’s duties towards society,’ she +would say with a sigh. ‘Though the saints know that I +take no pleasure in these affairs.’</p> +<p>Then she put on her best Seville mantilla and bustled off to +some function or another, where she talked volubly and without +discretion.</p> +<p>Julia had of late withdrawn more and more from that life of +continued and mild festivity of which it is to be feared the +existence of many women is composed. This afternoon she sat +alone in the great gloomy house in Toledo, waiting for +Larralde. For she, like thousands of her sisters, loved an +unworthy object—<i>faute de mieux</i>—with open eyes +and a queer philosophy that bade her love Larralde rather than +love none. She had lately spent a large part of her +existence in waiting for Larralde, who, indeed, was busy enough +at this time, and rarely stirred abroad while the sun was up.</p> +<p>‘Julia,’ said Señora Barenna to Concha, +‘is no longer a companion to me. She does not even +attempt to understand my sensitive organisation. She is a +mere statue, and thinks of nothing but politics.’</p> +<p>‘For her, Madame, as for all women, there would be no +politics if there were no politicians,’ the priest +replied.</p> +<p>This afternoon Julia was more restless than ever. +Larralde had not been to see her for many days, and had only +written a hurried note from time to time in answer to her urgent +request, telling her that he was well and in no danger.</p> +<p>She now no longer knew whether he was in Toledo or not, but +had sufficient knowledge of the schemes in which he was engaged +to be aware of the fact that these were coming to a crisis. +Esteban Larralde had indeed told her more than was either +necessary or discreet, and it was his vanity that led him into +this imprudence. We are all ready enough to impart +information which will show our neighbours that we are more +important than we appear.</p> +<p>After a broiling day the sun was now beginning to lose a +little of his terrific power, and, in the shade of the patio upon +which the windows of Julia’s room opened, the air was quite +cool and pleasant. A fountain plashed continuously in a +little basin that had been white six centuries ago, when the +Moors had brought the marble across the Gulf of Lyons to build +it. The very sound of the water was a relief to +overstrained nerves, and seemed to diminish the tension of the +shimmering atmosphere.</p> +<p>Julia was alone, and barely made pretence to read the book she +held in her hand. From her seat she could see the bell +suspended on the opposite wall of the courtyard, of which the +deep voice at any time of day or night had the power of stirring +her heart to a sudden joy. At last the desired sound broke +the silence of the great house, and Julia stood breathless at the +window while the servant leisurely crossed the patio and threw +open the great door, large enough to admit a carriage and +pair. It was not Larralde, but Father Concha, brought +hither by a note he had received from Sir John Pleydell earlier +in the afternoon.</p> +<p>‘I shall have the letter in a week from now,’ the +Englishman had written.</p> +<p>‘Which will be too late,’ commented Concha +pessimistically.</p> +<p>The señora was out, they told him, but the +señorita had remained at home.</p> +<p>‘It is the señorita I desire to see.’</p> +<p>And Julia, at the window above, heard the remark with a +sinking heart. The air seemed to be weighted with the +suggestion of calamity. Concha had the manner of one +bringing bad news. She forgot that this was his usual +mien.</p> +<p>‘Ah, my child,’ he said, coming into the room a +minute later and sitting down rather wearily.</p> +<p>‘What?’ she asked, her two hands at her +breast.</p> +<p>He glanced at her beneath his brows. The wind was in the +north-east, dry and tingling. The sun had worn a coppery +hue all day. Such matters affect women and those who are in +mental distress. After such a day as had at last worn to +evening, the mind is at a great tension, the nerves are +strained. It is at such times that men fly into sudden +anger and whip out the knife. At such times women are +reckless, and the stories of human lives take sudden turns.</p> +<p>Concha knew that he had this woman at a disadvantage.</p> +<p>‘What?’ he echoed. ‘I wish I +knew. I wish at times I was no priest.’</p> +<p>‘Why?’</p> +<p>‘Because I could help you better. Sometimes it is +the man and not the priest who is the truest friend.’</p> +<p>‘Why do you speak like this?’ she cried. +‘Is there danger? What has happened?’</p> +<p>‘You know best, my child, if there is danger; you know +what is likely to happen.’</p> +<p>Julia stood looking at him with hard eyes—the eyes of +one in mortal fear.</p> +<p>‘You have always been my friend,’ she said slowly, +‘my best friend.’</p> +<p>‘Yes. A woman’s lover is never her best +friend.’</p> +<p>‘Has anything happened to Esteban?’</p> +<p>The priest did not answer at once, but paused, reflecting, and +dusting his sleeve, where there was always some snuff requiring +attention at such moments.</p> +<p>‘I know so little,’ he said. ‘I am no +politician. What can I say? What can I advise you +when I am in the dark? And the time is slipping +by—slipping by.’</p> +<p>‘I cannot tell you,’ she answered, turning away +and looking out of the window.</p> +<p>‘You cannot tell the priest—tell the +man.’</p> +<p>Then, suddenly, she reached the end of her endurance. +Standing with her back towards him, she told her story, and +Concha listened with a still, breathless avidity as one who, +having long sought knowledge, finds it at last when it seemed out +of reach. The little fountain plashed in the courtyard +below; a frog in the basin among the water-lilies croaked +sociably while the priest and the beautiful woman in the room +above made history. For it is not only in kings’ +palaces nor yet in Parliaments that the story of the world is +shaped.</p> +<p>Concha spoke no word, and Julia, having begun, left nothing +unsaid, but told him every detail in a slow mechanical voice, as +if bidden thereto by a stronger will than her own.</p> +<p>‘He is all the world to me,’ she said simply, in +conclusion.</p> +<p>‘Yes; and the happiest women are those who live in a +small world.’</p> +<p>A silence fell upon them. The old priest surreptitiously +looked at his watch. He was essentially a man of +action.</p> +<p>‘My child,’ he said, rising, ‘when you are +an old woman with children to harass you and make your life worth +living, you will probably look back with thankfulness to this +moment. For you have done that which was your only chance +of happiness.’</p> +<p>‘Why do you always help me?’ she asked, as she had +asked a hundred times.</p> +<p>‘Because happiness is so rare that I hate to see it +wasted,’ he answered, going towards the door with a grim +laugh.</p> +<p>He passed out of the room and crossed the patio slowly. +Then, when the great door had closed behind him, he gathered up +the skirts of his cassock and hurried down the narrow +street. In such thoroughfares as were deserted he ran with +the speed and endurance of a spare, hard-living man. +Woman-like, Julia had, after all, done things by half. She +had timed her confession too late.</p> +<p>At the hotel they told the Padre that General Vincente was at +dinner and could not be disturbed.</p> +<p>‘He sees no one,’ the servant said.</p> +<p>‘You do not know who I am,’ said Concha, in an +irony which, under the circumstances, he alone could enjoy. +Then he passed up the stairs and bade the waiter begone.</p> +<p>‘But I carry the General’s dessert,’ +protested the man.</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Concha half to himself, ‘I have +that.’</p> +<p>Vincente was indeed at table with Estella. He looked up +as the priest entered, fingering a cigarette delicately.</p> +<p>‘How soon can you take the road?’ asked Concha +abruptly.</p> +<p>‘Ten minutes—the time for a cup of coffee,’ +was the answer, given with a pleasant laugh.</p> +<p>‘Then order your carriage.’</p> +<p>Vincente looked at his old friend, and the smile never left +his lips, though his eyes were grave enough. It was hard to +say whether aught on earth could disturb this man’s +equanimity. Then the General rose and went to the window +which opened upon the courtyard. In the quiet corner near +the rain-tank, where a vine grows upon trellis-work, the dusty +travelling-carriage stood, and upon the step of it, eating a +simple meal of bread and dried figs, sat the man who had the +reputation of being the fastest driver in Spain.</p> +<p>‘In ten minutes, my good Manuel,’ said the +General.</p> +<p>‘Bueno,’ grumbled the driver, with his mouth +full—a man of few words.</p> +<p>‘Is it to go far?’ asked the General, turning on +his heel and addressing Concha.</p> +<p>‘A long journey.’</p> +<p>‘To take the road, Manuel,’ cried Vincente, +leaning out. He closed the window before resuming his +seat.</p> +<p>‘And now, have you any more orders?’ he asked with +a gay carelessness. ‘I counted on sleeping in a bed +to-night.’</p> +<p>‘You will not do that,’ replied Concha, +‘when you hear my news.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’</p> +<p>‘But first you must promise me not to make use of the +information I give you against any suspected persons—to +take, in fact, only preventive measures.’</p> +<p>‘You have only to name it, my friend. +Proceed.’</p> +<p>The old priest paused and passed his hand across his +brow. He was breathless still, and looked worn.</p> +<p>‘It is,’ he said, ‘a very grave +matter. I have not had much experience in such things, for +my path has always lain in small parochial affairs—dealings +with children and women.’</p> +<p>Estella was already pouring some wine into a glass. With +a woman’s instinct she saw that the old man was overwrought +and faint. It was a Friday, and in his simple way there was +no more austere abstinent than Father Concha, who had probably +touched little food throughout the long hot day.</p> +<p>‘Take your time, my friend; take your time,’ said +the General, who never hurried and was never too late. +‘A pinch of snuff now—it stimulates the +nerves.’</p> +<p>‘It is,’ said Concha at length—breaking a +biscuit in his long bony fingers and speaking unembarrassedly +with his mouth full—’it is that I have by the merest +accident lighted upon a matter of political +importance.’</p> +<p>The General nodded, and held his wine up to the light.</p> +<p>‘There are matters of much political importance,’ +he said, ‘in the air just now.’</p> +<p>‘A plot,’ continued Concha, ‘spreading over +all Spain; the devil is surely in it, and I know the Carlists +are. A plot, believe me, to assassinate and rob and +kidnap.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said the General with his tolerant little +smile. ‘Yes, my dear Padre. Some men are so +bloodthirsty; is it not so?’</p> +<p>‘This plot is directed against the little Queen; against +the Queen Regent; against many who are notable Royalists +occupying high posts in the Government or the army.’</p> +<p>He glanced at Estella, and then looked meaningly at the +General, who could scarcely fail to comprehend. ‘Let +us deal with the Queen and the Queen Regent,’ said +Vincente; ‘the others are probably able to take care of +themselves.’</p> +<p>‘None can guard himself against +assassination.’</p> +<p>The General seemed for a moment inclined to dispute this +statement, but shrugged his shoulders and finally passed it +by.</p> +<p>‘The Queen,’ he said. ‘What of +her?’</p> +<p>In response, Concha took a newspaper from his pocket and +spread it out on the table. After a brief search up and +down the ill-printed columns, he found the desired paragraph, and +read aloud:</p> +<p>‘The Queen is in Madrid. The Queen Regent journeys +from Seville to rejoin her daughter in the capital, prosecuting +her journey by easy stages and accompanied by a small +guard. Her Majesty sleeps at Ciudad Real to-night, and at +Toledo to-morrow night.’</p> +<p>‘This,’ said Concha, folding the newspaper, +‘is a Carlist and revolutionary rag whose readers are +scarcely likely to be interested for a good motive in the +movements of the Queen Regent.’</p> +<p>‘True, my dear Padre—true,’ admitted +Vincente, half reluctantly.</p> +<p>‘Many kiss hands they would fain see chopped off. +In the streets and on the Plaza I have seen many reading this +newspaper and talking over it with unusual interest. Like a +bad lawyer, I am giving the confirmation of the argument before +the argument itself.’</p> +<p>‘No matter—no matter.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! but we have no time to do things ill or +carelessly,’ said the priest. ‘My story is a +long one, but I will tell it as quickly as I can.’</p> +<p>‘Take your time,’ urged the General +soothingly. ‘This great plot, you say, which is to +spread over all Spain—’</p> +<p>‘Is for to-morrow night, my friend.’</p> +<h2><a name="page276"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +276</span>CHAPTER XXV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">SWORDCRAFT</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>‘Rien n’est plus courageux qu’un +cœur patient, rien n’est plus sûr de soi +qu’un ésprit doux.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> General set down his glass, and +a queer light came into his eyes, usually so smiling and +pleasant.</p> +<p>‘Ah! Then you are right, my friend. Tell us +your story as quickly as possible.’</p> +<p>‘It appears,’ said Concha, ‘that there has +been in progress for many months a plot to assassinate the Queen +Regent and to seize the person of the little Queen, expelling her +from Spain, and bringing in, not Don Carlos, who is a spent +firework, but a Republic—a more dangerous firework, that +usually bursts in the hands of those that light it. This +plot has been finally put into shape by a +letter—’</p> +<p>He paused, tapped on the table with his bony fingers, and +glanced at Estella.</p> +<p>‘A letter which has been going the round of all the +malcontents in the Peninsula. Each faction-leader, to show +that he has read it and agrees to obey its commands, initials the +letter. It has then been returned to an intermediary, who +sends it to the next—never by post, because the post is +watched—always by hand, and usually by the hand of a person +innocent of its contents.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ murmured the General absently, and there +was a queer little smile on Estella’s lips.</p> +<p>‘To think,’ cried Concha, with a sudden fire less +surprising in Spain than in England, ‘to think that we have +all seen it—have touched it! Name of a saint! I +had it under my hand in the hotel at Algeciras, and I left it on +the table. And now it has been the round, and all the +initials are placed upon it, and it is for to-morrow +night.’</p> +<p>‘Where have you learnt this?’ asked the General in +a voice that made Estella look at him. She had never seen +him as his enemies had seen him, and even they confessed that he +was always visible enough in action. Perhaps there was +another man behind the personality of this deprecating, +pleasant-spoken little sybarite—a man who only appeared (oh +<i>rara avis</i>!) when he was wanted.</p> +<p>‘No matter,’ replied Concha, in a voice as hard +and sharp.</p> +<p>‘No; after all, it is of no matter, so long as your +information is reliable.’</p> +<p>‘You may stake your life on that,’ said Concha, +and remembered the words ever after. ‘It has been +decided to make this journey from Seville to Madrid the +opportunity of assassinating the Queen Regent.’</p> +<p>‘It will not be the first time they have tried,’ +put in the General.</p> +<p>‘No. But this time they will succeed, and it is to +be here—to-morrow night—in Toledo. After the +Queen Regent’s death, and in the confusion that will +supervene, the little Queen will disappear, and then upon the +rubbish-heap will spring up the mushrooms as they did in France; +and this rubbish-heap, like the other, will foul the whole air of +Europe.’</p> +<p>He shook his head pessimistically till the long, wispy grey +hair waved from side to side, and his left hand, resting on the +wrist-bone on the table, made an indescribable gesture that +showed a fœtid air tainted by darksome growths.</p> +<p>There was a silence in the room broken by no outside sound but +the chink of champed bits as the horses stood in their traces +below. Indeed, the city of Toledo seemed strangely still +this evening, and the very air had a sense of waiting in +it. The priest sat and looked at his lifelong friend, his +furrowed face the incarnation of cynical hopelessness. +‘What is, is worst,’ he seemed to say. His +yellow, wise old eyes watched the quick face with the air of one +who, having posed an insoluble problem, awaits with a sarcastic +humour the admission of failure.</p> +<p>General Vincente, who had just finished his wine, wiped his +moustache delicately with his table-napkin. He was +thinking—quickly, systematically, as men learn to think +under fire. Perhaps, indeed, he had the thoughts half +matured in his mind—as the greatest general the world has +seen confessed that he ever had—that he was never taken +quite by surprise. Vincente smiled as he thought: a habit +he had acquired on the field, where a staff, and perhaps a whole +army, took its cue from his face and read the turn of fortune +there. Then he looked up straight at Estella, who was +watching him.</p> +<p>‘Can you start on a journey, now—in five +minutes?’ he asked.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ she answered, rising and going towards the +door.</p> +<p>‘Have you a white mantilla among your travelling +things?’ he asked again.</p> +<p>Estella turned at the doorway and nodded. +‘Yes,’ she said again.</p> +<p>‘Then take it with you, and a cloak, but no heavy +luggage.’</p> +<p>Estella closed the door.</p> +<p>‘You can come with us?’ said the General to +Concha, half command, half interrogation.</p> +<p>‘If you wish it.’</p> +<p>‘You may be wanted. I have a plan—a little +plan,’ and he gave a short laugh. ‘It may +succeed.’</p> +<p>He went to a side table, where some cold meats still stood, +and, taking up a small chicken daintily with a fork, he folded it +in a napkin.</p> +<p>‘It will be Saturday,’ he said simply, +‘before we have reached our journey’s end, and you +will be hungry. Have you a pocket?’</p> +<p>‘Has a priest a pocket?’ asked Concha, with a grim +humour, and he slipped the provisions into the folds of his +cassock. He was still eating a biscuit hurriedly.</p> +<p>‘I believe you have no money?’ said the General +suddenly.</p> +<p>‘I have only enough,’ admitted the old man, +‘to take me back to Ronda; whither, by the way, my duty +calls me.’</p> +<p>‘I think not. Your Master can spare you for a +while; my mistress cannot do without you.’</p> +<p>At this moment Estella came back into the room ready for her +journey. The girl had changed of late. Her face had +lost a little roundness and had gained exceedingly in +expression. Her eyes, too, were different. That +change had come to them which comes to all women between the ages +of twenty and thirty, quite irrespective of their state. A +certain restlessness, or a quiet content, are what one usually +sees in a woman’s face. Estella’s eyes wore +that latter look, which seems to indicate a knowledge of the +meaning of life and a contentment that it should be no +different.</p> +<p>Vincente was writing at the table.</p> +<p>‘We shall want help,’ he said, without looking +up. ‘I am sending for a good man.’</p> +<p>And he smiled as he shook the small sand-castor over the +paper.</p> +<p>‘May one ask,’ said Concha, ‘where we are +going?’</p> +<p>‘We are going to Ciudad Real, my dear friend, since you +are so curious. But we shall come back—we shall come +back.’</p> +<p>He was writing another despatch as he spoke, and at a sign +from him Estella went to the door and clapped her hands, the only +method of summoning a servant in general use at that time in +Spain. The call was answered by an orderly, who stood at +attention in the doorway for a full five minutes while the +General wrote further orders in his neat, small +calligraphy. There were half a dozen letters in +all—curt military despatches without preamble and without +mercy. For this soldier conducted military matters in a +singularly domestic way, planning his campaigns by the fireside +and bringing about the downfall of an enemy while sitting in his +daughter’s drawing-room. Indeed, Estella’s +blotting-book bore the impress of more than one death warrant or +an order as good as such, written casually on her stationery and +with her pen.</p> +<p>‘Will you have the goodness to despatch these at +once?’ was the message taken by the orderly to the +General’s aide-de-camp, and the gallopers, who were always +in readiness, smiled as they heard the modest request.</p> +<p>‘It will be pleasant to travel in the cool of the +evening, provided that one guards against a chill,’ said +the General, making his final preparations. ‘I +require but a moment to speak to my faithful aide-de-camp, and +then we embark.’</p> +<p>The moon was rising as the carriage rattled across the Bridge +of Alcantara, and Larralde, taking the air between Wamba’s +Gate and the little fort that guards the entrance to the city, +recognised the equipage as it passed him. He saw also the +outline of Concha’s figure in the darkest corner of the +carriage, with his back to the horses, his head bowed in +meditation. Estella he saw and recognised, while two +mounted attendants clattering in the rear of the carriage +testified by their presence to the fact that the General had +taken the road again.</p> +<p>‘It is well,’ said Larralde to himself. +‘They are all going back to Ronda, and Julia will be rid of +their influence. Ronda will serve as well as Toledo so far +as Vincente is concerned. But I will wait to make sure that +they are not losing sight of him.’</p> +<p>So Señor Larralde, cloaked to the eyebrows, leant +gracefully against the wall, and, like many another upon the +bridge after that breathless day, drank in the cool air that rose +from the river. Presently—indeed, before the sound of +the distant wheels was quite lost—two horsemen, cloaked and +provided with such light luggage as the saddle can accommodate, +rode leisurely through the gateway and up the incline that makes +a short cut to the great road running southward to Ciudad +Real. Larralde gave a little nod of self-confidence and +satisfaction, as one who, having conceived and built up a great +scheme, is pleased to see each component part of it act +independently, and slip into its place.</p> +<p>The General’s first thought was for Estella’s +comfort, and he utilised the long hill which they had to ascend +on leaving the town to make such arrangements as space would +allow for their common ease.</p> +<p>‘You must sleep, my child,’ he said. +‘We cannot hope to reach Ciudad Real before midday +to-morrow, and it is as likely as not that we shall have but a +few hours’ rest there.’</p> +<p>And Estella, who had travelled vast distances over vile roads +so long as her memory went back, who had never known what it is +to live in a country that is at peace, leant back in her corner +and closed her eyes. Had she really been disposed to sleep, +however, she could scarcely have done it, for the General’s +solicitude manifested itself by a hundred little devices for her +greater repose. For her comfort he made Concha move.</p> +<p>‘An old traveller like you must shift for +yourself,’ he said gaily.</p> +<p>‘No need to seek shelter for an old ox,’ replied +Concha, moving into the other corner, where he carefully unfolded +his pocket-handkerchief and laid it over his face, where his long +nose, protruding, caused it to fall into fantastic folds. +He clasped his hands upon his hat, which lay on his knee, and, +leaning back, presently began to snore gently and +regularly—a peaceful, sleep-inducing sound, and an +excellent example. The General, whose sword seemed to take +up half the carriage, still watched Estella, and if the air made +her mantilla flutter, drew up the window with the solicitude of a +lover and a maternal noiselessness. Then, with one hand on +hers, and the other grasping his sword, he leant back, but did +not close his eyes.</p> +<p>Thus they travelled on through the luminous night. The +roads were neither worse nor better than they are to-day in +Spain—than they were in England in the Middle +Ages—and their way lay over the hill ranges that lie +between the watersheds of the Tagus and the Guadiana. At +times they passed through well-tended valleys, where corn and +olives and vines seemed to grow on the same soil, but for the +greater part of the night they ascended and descended the upper +slopes, where herds of goats, half awakened as they slept in a +ring about their guardian, looked at them with startled +eyes. The shepherds and goatherds, who, like those of old, +lay cloaked upon the ground, and tended their flocks by night, +did not trouble to raise their heads.</p> +<p>Concha alone slept, for the General had a thousand thoughts +that kept him awake and bright-eyed, while Estella knew from her +father’s manner and restlessness that these were no small +events that now stirred Spain, and seemed to close men’s +mouths, so that near friends distrusted one another, and brother +was divided against brother. Indeed, others were on the +road that night, and horsemen passed the heavy carriage from time +to time.</p> +<p>In the early morning a change of horses was effected at a +large inn near the summit of a pass above Malagon, and here an +orderly, who seemed to recognise the General, was climbing into +the saddle as the Vincentes quitted their carriage and passed +into the common room of the venta for a hasty cup of coffee.</p> +<p>‘It is the Queen’s courier,’ said the +innkeeper grandly, ‘who takes the road before her Majesty +in order to secure horses.’</p> +<p>‘Ah,’ said the General, breaking his bread and +dropping it into his cup. ‘Is that so? The +Queen Regent, you mean?’</p> +<p>‘Queen or Queen Regent, she requires four horses this +evening, Excellency—that is all my concern.’</p> +<p>‘True, my friend; true. That is well said. +And the horses will be forthcoming, no doubt.’</p> +<p>‘They will be forthcoming,’ said the man. +‘And the Excellency’s carriage is ready.’</p> +<p>In the early morning light they drove on, now descending +towards the great valley of the Guadiana, and at midday, as +Vincente had foreseen, gained a sight of the ancient city of +Ciudad Real lying amid trees below them. Ciudad Real is +less interesting than its name, and there is little that is royal +about its dirty streets and ill-kept houses. No one gave +great heed to the travelling-carriage, for this is a great centre +where travellers journeying east or west, north or south, must +needs pause for a change of horses. At the inn there were +vacant rooms, and that hasty welcome accorded to the traveller at +wayside houses where none stay longer than they can help.</p> +<p>‘No,’ said the landlord, in answer to the +General’s query. ‘We are not busy, though we +expect a lady who will pass the hour of the siesta here and then +proceed northward.’</p> +<h2><a name="page287"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +287</span>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">WOMANCRAFT</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘Il est rare que +la tête des rois soit faite à la mesure de leur +couronne.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the best room of the inn where +Vincente and his tired companions sought a few hours’ rest +there sat alone, and in thought, a woman of middle age. +Somewhat stout, she yet had that air which arouses the attention +without being worthy of the name of beauty. This lady had +doubtless swayed men’s hearts by a word or a glance, for +she still carried herself with assurance, and a hundred little +details of her dress would have told another woman that she still +desired to please. She wore a white mantilla.</p> +<p>The hour of the siesta was over, and after the great heat of +the day a cool air was swinging down on the bosom of the river to +the parched lowlands. It stirred the leaves of a climbing +heliotrope which encircled the open windows, and wafted into the +ill-furnished room a scent of stable-yard and dust.</p> +<p>The lady, sitting with her chin resting in the palm of her +small white hand, seemed to have lately roused herself from +sleep, and now had the expectant air of one who awaits a carriage +and is about to set out on a long journey. Her eyes were +dark and tired-looking, and their expression was not that of a +good woman. A sensual man is usually weak, but women are +different; and this face, with its faded complexion and tired +eyes, this woman of the majestic presence and beautiful hands, +was both strong and sensual. This, in a word, was a Queen +who never forgot that she was a woman. As it was said of +the Princess Christina, so it has been spoken of the Queen, that +many had killed themselves for hopeless love of her. For +this was the most dangerous of the world’s +creatures—a royal coquette. Such would our own Queen +Bess have been had not God, for the good of England, given her a +plain face and an ungainly form. For surely the devil is in +it when a woman can command both love and men. Queen +Christina, since the death of a husband who was years older than +herself (and, as some say, before that historic event), had +played a woman’s game with that skill which men only half +recognise, and had played it with the additional incentive that +behind her insatiable vanity lay the heavier stake of a +crown.</p> +<p>She was not the first to turn the strong current of +man’s passion to her own deliberate gain—nay, +ninety-nine out of a hundred women do it. But the majority +only play for a suburban villa and a few hundred pounds a year; +Queen Christina of Spain handled her cards for a throne and the +continuance of an ill-starred dynasty.</p> +<p>As she sat in the hotel chamber in Ciudad Real—that +forlornest of royal cities—her face wore the pettish look +of one who, having passed through great events, having tasted of +great passions and moved amid the machinery of life and death, +finds the ordinary routine of existence intolerably +irksome. Many faces wear such a look in this country; every +second beautiful face in London has it. And these +women—heaven help them—find the morning hours dull, +because every afternoon has not its great event and every evening +the excitement of a social function.</p> +<p>The Queen was travelling incognita, and that fact alone robbed +her progress of a sense of excitement. She had to do +without the shout of the multitude—the passing admiration +of the man in the street. She knew that she was yet many +hours removed from Madrid, where she had admirers, and the next +best possession—enemies. Ciudad Real was intolerably +dull and provincial. A servant knocked at the door.</p> +<p>‘General Vincente, your Majesty, craves the favour of a +moment.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ exclaimed the Queen, the light returning to +her eyes, a faint colour flushing her cheek. ‘In five +minutes I will receive him.’</p> +<p>And there is no need to say how the Queen spent those +minutes.</p> +<p>‘Your Majesty,’ said the General, bending over her +hand, which he touched with his lips, ‘I have news of the +greatest importance.’</p> +<p>The suggestion of a scornful smile flickered for a moment in +the royal eyes. It was surely news enough for any man that +she was a woman—beautiful still—possessing still that +intangible and fatal gift of pleasing. The woman slowly +faded from her eyes as they rested on the great soldier’s +face, and the Queen it was who, with a gracious gesture, bade him +be seated. But the General remained standing. He +alone perhaps of all the men who had to deal with her—of +all those military puppets with whom she played her royal +game—had never crossed that vague boundary which many had +overstepped to their own inevitable undoing.</p> +<p>‘It concerns your Majesty’s life,’ said +Vincente bluntly, and calm in the certainty of his own theory +that good blood, whether it flow in the veins of man or woman, +assuredly carries a high courage.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said the Queen Regent, whose humour still +inclined towards those affairs which interested her before the +affairs of State. ‘But with men such as you about me, +my dear General, what need I fear?’</p> +<p>‘Treachery, Madame,’ he answered, with his sudden +smile and a bow. ‘Treachery.’</p> +<p>She frowned. When a Queen stoops to dalliance a subject +must not be too practical.</p> +<p>‘Ah! What is it that concerns my life? +Another plot?’ she inquired shortly.</p> +<p>‘Another plot, but one of greater importance than those +that exist in the republican cafés of every town in your +Majesty’s kingdom. This is a widespread conspiracy, +and I fear that many powerful persons are concerned in it; but +that, your Majesty, is not my department nor concern.’</p> +<p>‘What is your concern, General?’ she asked, +looking at him over her fan.</p> +<p>‘To save your Majesty’s life to-night.’</p> +<p>‘To-night!’ she echoed, her coquetry gone.</p> +<p>‘To-night.’</p> +<p>‘But how and where?’</p> +<p>‘Assassination, Madame, in Toledo. You are three +hours late in your journey. But all Toledo will be astir +awaiting you, though it be till dawn.’</p> +<p>The Queen Regent closed her fan slowly. She was, as the +rapid events of her reign and regency have proved, one of those +women who rise to the occasion.</p> +<p>‘Then one must act at once,’ she said.</p> +<p>The General bowed.</p> +<p>‘What have you done?’ she asked.</p> +<p>‘I have sent to Madrid for a regiment that I know; they +are as my own children. I have killed so many of them that +the remainder love me. I have travelled from Toledo to meet +your Majesty on the road, or here.’</p> +<p>‘And what means have you of preventing this +thing?’</p> +<p>‘I have brought the means with me, Madame.’</p> +<p>‘Troops?’ asked the Queen doubtfully, knowing +where the canker-worm lay hidden.</p> +<p>‘A woman and a priest, Madame.’</p> +<p>‘And—’</p> +<p>‘And I propose that your Majesty journey to Madrid in my +carriage, attended only by my orderlies, by way of +Aranjuez. You will be safe in Madrid, where the Queen will +require her mother’s care.’</p> +<p>‘Yes. And the remainder of your plan?’</p> +<p>‘I will travel back to Toledo in your Majesty’s +carriage with the woman and the priest and your +bodyguard—just as your Majesty is in the habit of +travelling. Toledo wants a fight; nothing else will satisfy +them. They shall have it—before dawn. The very +best I have to offer them.’</p> +<p>And General Vincente gave a queer, cheery little laugh, as if +he were arranging a practical joke.</p> +<p>‘But the fight will be round my +carriage—’</p> +<p>‘Possibly. I would rather that it took place in +the Calle de la Ciudad, or around the Casa del Ayuntamiento, +where your Majesty is expected to sleep to-night.’</p> +<p>‘And these persons—this woman who risks her life +to save mine—who is she?’</p> +<p>‘My daughter,’ answered the General gravely.</p> +<p>‘She is here—in the hotel now?’</p> +<p>The General bowed.</p> +<p>‘I have heard that she is beautiful,’ said the +Queen, with a quick glance towards her companion. +‘How is it that you have never brought her to Court, you +who come so seldom yourself?’</p> +<p>Vincente made no reply.</p> +<p>‘However, bring her to me now.’</p> +<p>‘She has travelled far, Madame, and is not prepared for +presentation to her Queen.’</p> +<p>‘This is no time for formalities. She is about to +run a great risk for my sake, a greater risk than I could ever +ask her to run. Present her as one woman to another, +General.’</p> +<p>But General Vincente bowed gravely and made no reply. +The colour slowly rose to the Queen Regent’s face—a +dull red. She opened her fan, closed it again, and sat with +furtive downcast eyes. Suddenly she looked up and met his +gaze.</p> +<p>‘You refuse,’ she said, with an insolent air of +indifference. ‘You think that I am unworthy +to—meet your daughter.’</p> +<p>‘I think only of the exigency of the moment,’ was +his reply. ‘Every minute we lose is a gain to our +enemies. If our trick is discovered Aranjuez will be no +safer for your Majesty than is Toledo. You must be safely +in Madrid before it is discovered in Toledo that you have taken +the other route, and that the person they have mistaken for you +is in reality my daughter.’</p> +<p>‘But she may be killed,’ exclaimed the Queen.</p> +<p>‘We may all be killed, Madame,’ he replied +lightly. ‘I beg that you will start at once in my +carriage with your chaplain and the holy lady who is doubtless +travelling with you.’</p> +<p>The Queen glanced sharply at him. It was known that +although her own life was anything but exemplary, she loved to +associate with women who, under the cloak of religion and an +austere virtue, intrigued with all parties and condoned the +Queen’s offences.</p> +<p>‘I cannot understand you,’ she said, with that +sudden lapse into familiarity which had led to the undoing of +more than one ambitious courtier. ‘You seem to +worship the crown and despise the head it rests on.’</p> +<p>‘So long as I serve your Majesty +faithfully—’</p> +<p>‘But you have no right to despise me,’ she +interrupted passionately.</p> +<p>‘If I despised you, should I be here now—should I +be doing you this service?’</p> +<p>‘I do not know. I tell you I do not understand +you.’</p> +<p>And the Queen looked hard at the man who, for this very +reason, interested one who had all her life dealt and intrigued +with men of obvious motive and unblushing ambition.</p> +<p>So strong is a ruling passion that even in sight of death (for +the Queen Regent knew that Spain was full of her enemies and +rendered callous to bloodshed by a long war) vanity was alert in +this woman’s breast. Even while General Vincente, +that unrivalled strategist, detailed his plans, she kept harking +back to the question that puzzled her, and but half listened to +his instructions.</p> +<p>Those desirous of travelling without attracting attention in +Spain are wise to time their arrival and departure for the +afternoon. At this time, while the sun is yet hot, all +shutters are closed, and the business of life, the haggling in +the market-place, the bustle of the barrack yard, the leisurely +labour of the fields, are suspended. It was about four +o’clock—indeed, the city clocks were striking that +hour—when the two carriages in the inn yard at Ciudad Real +were made ready for the road. Father Concha, who never took +an active part in passing incidents while his old friend and +comrade was near, sat in a shady corner of the patio and smoked a +cigarette. An affable ostler had in vain endeavoured to +engage him in conversation. Two small children had begged +of him, and now he was left in meditative solitude.</p> +<p>‘In a short three minutes,’ said the ostler, +‘and the Excellencies can then depart. In which +direction, reverendo, if one may ask?’</p> +<p>‘One may always ask, my friend,’ replied the +priest. ‘Indeed, the holy books are of opinion that +it cannot be overdone. That chin strap is too +tight.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, I see the reverendo knows a horse.’</p> +<p>‘And an ass,’ added Concha.</p> +<p>At this moment the General emerged from the shadow of the +staircase, which was open and of stone. He was followed by +Estella, as it would appear, and they hurried across the +sunlighted patio, the girl carrying her fan to screen her +face.</p> +<p>‘Are you rested, my child?’ asked Concha at the +carriage door.</p> +<p>The lady lowered the fan for a moment and met his eyes. +A quick look of surprise flashed across Concha’s face and +he half bowed. Then he repeated his question in a louder +voice:</p> +<p>‘Are you rested, my child, after our long +journey?’</p> +<p>‘Thank you, my father, yes.’</p> +<p>And the ostler watched with open-mouthed interest.</p> +<p>The other carriage had been drawn up to that side of the +courtyard where the open stairway was, and here also the bustle +of departure and a hurrying female form, anxious to gain the +shade of the vehicle, were discernible. It was all done so +quickly, with such a military completeness of detail, that the +carriages had passed through the great doorway and the +troopers—merely a general’s escort—had +clattered after them before the few onlookers had fully realised +that these were surely travellers of some note.</p> +<p>The ostler hurried to the street to watch them go.</p> +<p>‘They are going to the north,’ he said to himself, +as he saw the carriages turn in the direction of the river and +the ancient Puerta de Toledo. ‘They go to the +north—and assuredly the General has come to conduct her to +Toledo.’</p> +<p>Strange to say, although it was the hour of rest, many +shutters in the narrow street were open, and more than one +peeping face was turned towards the departing carriages.</p> +<h2><a name="page298"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +298</span>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A NIGHT JOURNEY</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘Let me but bear +your love, I’ll bear your cares.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">At</span> the cross-roads on the northern +side of the river the two carriages parted company, the dusty +equipage of General Vincente taking the road to Aranjuez that +leads to the right and mounts steadily through olive +groves. The other carriage—which, despite its plain +and sombre colours, still had an air of grandeur and almost of +royalty, with its great wheels and curved springs—turned to +the left and headed for Toledo. Behind it clattered a dozen +troopers, picked men, with huge swinging swords and +travel-stained clothes. The dust rose in a cloud under the +horses’ feet and hovered in the sullen air. There was +no breath of wind, and the sun shone through a faint haze which +seemed only to add to the heat.</p> +<p>Concha lowered the window and thrust forward his long +inquiring nose.</p> +<p>‘What is it?’ asked the General.</p> +<p>‘Thunder—I smell it. We shall have a storm +to-night.’ He looked out mopping his brow. +‘Name of a saint! how thick the air is.’</p> +<p>‘It will be clear before the morning,’ said +Vincente the optimist.</p> +<p>And the carriage rattled on towards the city of strife, where +Jew, Goth and Roman, Moor and Inquisitor, have all had their +day. Estella was silent, drooping with fatigue. The +General alone seemed unmoved and heedless of the heat—a man +of steel, as bright and ready as his own sword.</p> +<p>There is no civilised country in the world so bare as Spain, +and no part of the Peninsula so sparsely populated as the +Castiles. The road ran for the most part over brown and +barren uplands, with here and there a valley where wheat and +olives and vineyards graced the lower slopes. The crying +need of all nature was for shade; for the ilex is a small-leaved +tree giving a thin shadow with no cool depths amid the +branches. All was brown and barren and parched. The +earth seemed to lie fainting and awaiting the rain. The +horses trotted with extended necks and open mouths, their coats +wet with sweat. The driver—an Andalusian, with a face +like a Moorish pirate—kept encouraging them with word and +rein, jerking and whipping only when they seemed likely to fall +from sheer fatigue and sun-weariness. At last the sun began +to set in a glow like that of a great furnace, and the reflection +lay over the land in ruddy splendour.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Concha, looking out, ‘it will be +a great storm—and it will soon come.’</p> +<p>Vast columns of cloud were climbing up from the sunset into a +sullen sky, thrown up in spreading mares’ tails by a +hundred contrary gusts of wind, as if there were explosive matter +in the great furnace of the west.</p> +<p>‘Nature is always on my side,’ said Vincente, with +his chuckling laugh. He sat, watch in hand, noting the +passage of the kilometres.</p> +<p>At last the sun went down behind a distant line of +hill—the watershed of the Tagus—and immediately the +air was cool. Without stopping, the driver wrapped his +cloak round him, and the troopers followed his example. A +few minutes later a cold breeze sprung up suddenly, coming from +the north and swirling the dust high in the air.</p> +<p>‘It is well,’ said Vincente, who assuredly saw +good in everything; ‘the wind comes first, and therefore +the storm will be short.’</p> +<p>As he spoke the thunder rolled among the hills.</p> +<p>‘It is almost like guns,’ he added, with a queer +look in his eyes suggestive of some memory.</p> +<p>Then, preceded by a rushing wind, the rain came, turning to +hail, and stopping suddenly in a breathless pause, only to +recommence with a renewed and splashing vigour. Concha drew +up the windows, and the water streamed down them in a continuous +ripple. Estella, who had been sleeping, roused +herself. She looked fresh, and her eyes were bright with +excitement. She had brought home with her from her English +school that air of freshness and a dainty vigour which makes +Englishwomen different from all other women in the world, and an +English schoolgirl one of the brightest, purest, and sweetest of +God’s creatures.</p> +<p>Concha looked at her with his grim smile—amused at a +youthfulness which could enable her to fall asleep at such a time +and wake up so manifestly refreshed.</p> +<p>A halt was made at a roadside venta, where the travellers +partook of a hurried meal. Darkness came on before the +horses were sufficiently rested, and by the light of an +ill-smelling lamp the General had his inevitable cup of +coffee. The rain had now ceased, but the sky remained +overcast and the night was a dark one. The travellers took +their places in the carriage, and again the monotony of the road, +the steady trot of the horses, the sing-song words of +encouragement of their driver, monopolised the thoughts of sleepy +minds. It seemed to Estella that life was all journeys, and +that she had been on the road for years. The swing of the +carriage, the little varieties of the road, but served to add to +her somnolence. She only half woke up when, about ten +o’clock, a halt was made to change horses, and the General +quitted the carriage for a few minutes to talk earnestly with two +horsemen, who were apparently awaiting their arrival. No +time was lost here, and the carriage went forward with an +increased escort. The two new-comers rode by the carriage, +one on either side.</p> +<p>When Estella woke up, the moon had risen and the carriage was +making slow progress up a long hill. She noticed that a +horseman was on either side, close by the carriage window.</p> +<p>‘Who is that?’ she asked.</p> +<p>‘Conyngham,’ replied the General.</p> +<p>‘You sent for him?’ inquired Estella, in a hard +voice.</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>Estella was wakeful enough now, and sat upright, looking +straight in front of her. At times she glanced towards the +window, which was now open, where the head of Conyngham’s +charger appeared. The horse trotted steadily, with a queer +jerk of the head and that willingness to do his best which gains +for horses a place in the hearts of all who have to do with +them.</p> +<p>‘Will there be fighting?’ asked Estella +suddenly.</p> +<p>The General shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>‘One cannot call it fighting. There may be a +disturbance in the streets,’ he answered.</p> +<p>Concha, quiet in his corner, with his back to the horses, +watched the girl, and saw that her eyes were wide with anxiety +now—quite suddenly. She, who had never thought of +fear till this moment. She moved uneasily in her seat, +fidgeting as the young ever do when troubled. It is only +with years that we learn to bear a burden quietly.</p> +<p>‘Who is that?’ she asked shortly, pointing to the +other window, which was closed.</p> +<p>‘Concepçion Vara—Conyngham’s +servant,’ replied the General, who for some reason was +inclined to curtness in his speech.</p> +<p>They were approaching Toledo, and passed through a village +from time to time, where the cafés were still lighted up, +and people seemed to be astir in the shadow of the houses. +At last, in the main thoroughfare of a larger village within a +stage of Toledo, a final halt was made to change horses. +The street, dimly lighted by a couple of oil lamps swinging from +gibbets at the corners of a crossroad, seemed to be peopled by +shadows surreptitiously lurking in doorways. There was a +false air of quiet in the houses, and peeping eyes looked out +from behind the bars that covered every window, for even modern +Spanish houses are barred as if for a siege, and in the ancient +villages every man’s house is indeed his castle.</p> +<p>The driver had left the box, and seemed to be having some +trouble with the ostlers and stable-helps; for his voice could be +heard raised in anger and urging them to greater haste.</p> +<p>Conyngham, motionless in the saddle, touched his horse with +his heel, advancing a few paces so as to screen the window. +Concepçion, on the other side, did the same, so that the +travellers in the interior of the vehicle saw but the dark shape +of the horses and the long cloaks of their riders. They +could perceive Conyngham quickly throw back his cape in order to +have a free hand. Then there came the sound of scuffling +feet and an indefinable sense of strife in the very air.</p> +<p>‘But we will see—we will see who is in the +carriage!’ cried a shrill voice, and a hoarse shout from +many bibulous throats confirmed the desire.</p> +<p>‘Quick!’ said Conyngham’s voice. +‘Quick—take your reins—never mind the +lamps.’</p> +<p>And the carriage swayed as the man leapt to his place. +Estella made a movement to look out of the window, but Concha had +stood up against it, opposing his broad back alike to curious +glances or a knife or a bullet. At the other window the +General, better versed in such matters, held the leather cushion +upon which he had been sitting across the sash. With his +left hand he restrained Estella.</p> +<p>‘Keep still,’ he said. ‘Sit +back. Conyngham can take care of himself.’</p> +<p>The carriage swayed forward, and a volley of stones rattled on +it like hail. It rose jerkily on one side, and bumped over +some obstacle.</p> +<p>‘One who has his quietus,’ said Concha; +‘these royal carriages are heavy.’</p> +<p>The horses were galloping now. Concha sat down rubbing +his back. Conyngham was galloping by the window, and they +could see his spur flashing in the moonlight as he used it. +The reins hung loose, and both his hands were employed elsewhere, +for he had a man half across the saddle in front of him, who held +to him with one arm thrown round his neck, while the other was +raised and a gleam of steel was at the end of it. +Concepçion, from the other side, threw a knife over the +roof of the carriage—he could hit a cork at twenty paces +but he missed this time.</p> +<p>The General, from within, leant across Estella, sword in hand, +with gleaming eyes. But Conyngham seemed to have got the +hold he desired, for his assailant came suddenly swinging over +the horse’s neck, and one of his flying heels crashed +through the window by Concha’s head, making that +ecclesiastic swear like any layman. The carriage was lifted +on one side again, and bumped heavily.</p> +<p>‘Another,’ said Concha, looking for broken glass +in the folds of his cassock. ‘That is a pretty trick +of Conyngham’s.’</p> +<p>‘And the man is a horseman,’ added the General, +sheathing his sword—‘a horseman. It warms the +heart to see it.’</p> +<p>Then he leant out of the window and asked if any were +hurt.</p> +<p>‘I am afraid, Excellency, that I hurt one,’ +answered Vara. ‘Where the neck joins the +shoulder. It is a pretty spot for the knife—nothing +to turn a point.’</p> +<p>He rubbed a sulphur match on the leg of his trouser, and +lighted a cigarette as he rode along.</p> +<p>‘On our side no accidents,’ continued Vara, with a +careless grandeur, ‘unless the reverendo received a kick in +the face.’</p> +<p>‘The reverendo received a stone in the small of the +back,’ growled Concha pessimistically, ‘where there +was already a corner of lumbago.’</p> +<p>Conyngham, standing in his stirrups, was looking back. A +man lay motionless on the road, and beyond, at the cross-roads, +another was riding up a hill to the right at a hand gallop.</p> +<p>‘It is the road to Madrid,’ said +Concepçion, noting the direction of the Englishman’s +glance.</p> +<p>The General, leaning out of the carriage window, was also +looking back anxiously.</p> +<p>‘They have sent a messenger to Madrid, Excellency, with +the news that the Queen is on the road to Toledo,’ said +Concepçion.</p> +<p>‘It is well,’ answered Vincente, with a laugh.</p> +<p>As they journeyed, although it was nearly midnight, there +appeared from time to time, and for the most part in the +neighbourhood of a village, one who seemed to have been awaiting +their passage, and immediately set out on foot or horseback by +one of the shorter bridle-paths that abound in Spain. No +one of these spies escaped the notice of Concepçion, whose +training amid the mountains of Andalusia had sharpened his +eyesight and added keenness to every sense.</p> +<p>‘It is like a cat walking down an alley full of +dogs,’ he muttered.</p> +<p>At last the lights of Toledo hove in sight, and across the +river came the sound of the city clocks tolling the hour.</p> +<p>‘Midnight,’ said Concha. ‘And all +respectable folk are in their beds. At night all cats are +grey.’</p> +<p>No one heeded him. Estella was sitting upright, +bright-eyed and wakeful. The General looked out of the +window at every moment. Across the river they could see +lights moving, and many houses that had been illuminated were +suddenly dark.</p> +<p>‘See,’ said the General, leaning out of the window +and speaking to Conyngham, ‘they have heard the sound of +our wheels.’</p> +<p>At the farther end of the Bridge of Alcantara, on the road +which now leads to the railway station, two horsemen were +stationed, hidden in the shadow of the trees that border the +pathway.</p> +<p>‘Those should be Guardias Civiles,’ said +Concepçion, who had studied the ways of those gentry all +his life. ‘But they are not. They have horses +that have never been taught to stand still.’</p> +<p>As he spoke the men vanished, moving noiselessly in the thick +dust which lay on the Madrid road.</p> +<p>The General saw them go—and smiled. These men +carried word to their fellows in Madrid for the seizure of the +little Queen. But before they could reach the capital the +Queen Regent herself would be there—a woman in a thousand, +of inflexible nerve, of infinite resource.</p> +<p>The carriage rattled over the narrow bridge which rings hollow +to the sound of wheels. It passed under the gate that Wamba +built and up the tree-girt incline to the city. The streets +were deserted, and no window showed a light. A watchman in +his shelter, at the corner by the synagogue, peered at them over +the folds of his cloak, and noting the clank of scabbard against +spur, paid no further heed to a traveller who took the road with +such outward signs of authority.</p> +<p>‘It is still enough—and quiet,’ said Concha, +looking out.</p> +<p>‘As quiet as a watching cat,’ replied +Vincente.</p> +<h2><a name="page309"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +309</span>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE CITY OF STRIFE</span></h2> + +<blockquote><p> ‘What +lot is mine<br /> +Whose foresight preaches peace, my heart so slow<br /> +To feel it!’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Through</span> these quiet streets the +party clattered noisily enough, for the rain had left the rounded +stones slippery, and the horses were too tired for a sure +step. There were no lights at the street corners, for all +had been extinguished at midnight, and the only glimmer of a lamp +that relieved the darkness was shining through the stained-glass +windows of the Cathedral, where the sacred oil burnt night and +day.</p> +<p>The Queen was evidently expected at the Casa del Ayuntamiento, +for at the approach of the carriage the great doors were thrown +open and a number of servants appeared in the patio, which was +but dimly lighted. By the General’s orders the small +body-guard passed through the doors, which were then closed, +instead of continuing their way to the barracks in the +Alcazar.</p> +<p>This Casa del Ayuntamiento stands, as many travellers know, in +the Plaza of the same name, and faces the Cathedral, which is +without doubt the oldest, as it assuredly is the most beautiful, +church in the world. The mansion-house of Toledo, in +addition to some palatial halls which are of historic renown, has +several suites of rooms used from time to time by great +personages passing through or visiting the city. The house +itself is old, as we esteem age in England, while in comparison +to the buildings around it it is modern. Built, however, at +a period when beauty of architecture was secondary to power of +resistance, the palace is strong enough, and General Vincente +smiled happily as the great doors were closed. He was the +last to look out into the streets and across the little Plaza del +Ayuntamiento, which was deserted and looked peaceful enough in +the light of a waning moon.</p> +<p>The carriage door was opened by a lacquey, and Conyngham gave +Estella his hand. All the servants bowed as she passed up +the stairs, her face screened by the folds of her white +mantilla. There was a queer hush in this great house, and +in the manner of the servants. The cathedral clock rang out +the half-hour. The General led the way to the room on the +first floor that overlooks the Plaza del Ayuntamiento. It +is a vast apartment, hung with tapestries and pictures such as +men travel many miles to see. The windows, which are large +in proportion to the height of the room, open upon a stone +balcony, which runs the length of the house and looks down upon +the Plaza and across this to the great façade of the +Cathedral. Candles, hurriedly lighted, made the room into a +very desert of shadows. At the far end, a table was spread +with cold meats and lighted by high silver candelabra.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Concha, going towards the +supper-table.</p> +<p>Estella turned, and for the first time met Conyngham’s +eyes. His face startled her. It was so grave.</p> +<p>‘Were you hurt?’ she asked sharply.</p> +<p>‘Not this time, señorita.’</p> +<p>Then she turned with a sudden laugh towards her father. +‘Did I play my part well?’ she asked.</p> +<p>‘Yes, my child.’ And even he was grave.</p> +<p>‘Unless I am mistaken,’ he continued, glancing at +the shuttered windows, ‘we have only begun our +task.’ He was reading, as he spoke, some despatches +which a servant had handed to him.</p> +<p>‘There is one advantage in a soldier’s +life,’ he said, smiling at Conyngham, ‘which is not, +I think, sufficiently recognised—namely, that one’s +duty is so often clearly defined. At the present moment it +is a question of keeping up the deception we have practised upon +these good people of Toledo sufficiently long to enable the Queen +Regent to reach Madrid. In order to make certain of this we +must lead the people to understand that the Queen is in this +house until, at least, daylight. Given so much advantage, I +think that her Majesty can reach the capital an hour before any +messenger from Toledo. Two horsemen quitted the Bridge of +Alcantara as we crossed it, riding towards Madrid; but they will +not reach the capital—I have seen to that.’</p> +<p>He paused and walked to one of the long windows, which he +opened. The outer shutters remained closed, and he did not +unbar them, but stood listening.</p> +<p>‘All is still as yet,’ he said, returning to the +table, where Father Concha was philosophically cutting up a cold +chicken. ‘That is a good idea of yours,’ he +said. ‘We may all require our full forces of mind and +body before the dawn.’</p> +<p>He drew forward a chair, and Estella, obeying his gesture, sat +down and so far controlled her feelings as to eat a little.</p> +<p>‘Do queens always feed on old birds such as this?’ +asked Concha discontentedly; and Vincente, spreading out his +napkin, laughed with gay good humour.</p> +<p>‘Before the dawn,’ he said to Conyngham, ‘we +may all be great men, and the good Concha here on the high road +to a bishopric.’</p> +<p>‘He would rather be in bed,’ muttered the priest, +with his mouth full.</p> +<p>It was a queer scene, such as we only act in real life. +The vast room, with its gorgeous hangings, the flickering +candles, the table spread with delicacies, and the strange party +seated at it—Concha eating steadily, the General looking +round with his domesticated little smile, Estella with a new +light in her eyes and a new happiness on her face, Conyngham, a +giant among these southerners, in his dust-laden +uniform—all made up a picture that none forgot.</p> +<p>‘They will probably attack this place,’ said the +General, pouring out a glass of wine; ‘but the house is a +strong one. I cannot rely on the regiments stationed at +Toledo, and have sent to Madrid for cavalry. There is +nothing like cavalry—in the streets. We can stand a +siege—till the dawn.’</p> +<p>He turned, looking over his shoulder towards the door; for he +had heard a footstep unnoticed by the others. It was +Concepçion Vara who came into the room, coatless, his face +grey with dust, adding a startling and picturesque incongruity to +the scene.</p> +<p>‘Pardon, Excellency,’ he said, with that easy +grasp of the situation which always made an utterly unabashed +smuggler of him, ‘but there is one in the house whom I +think his Excellency should speak with.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’</p> +<p>‘The Señorita Barenna.’</p> +<p>The General rose from the table.</p> +<p>‘How did she get in here?’ he asked sharply.</p> +<p>‘By the side door in the Calle de la Ciudad. The +keeper of that door, Excellency, is a mule. The +señorita forced him to admit her. The sex can do so +much,’ he added, with a tolerant shrug of the +shoulders.</p> +<p>‘And the other—this Larralde?’</p> +<p>Concepçion raised his hand with outspread fingers, and +shook it slowly from side to side from the wrist, with the palm +turned towards his interlocutor—a gesture which seemed to +indicate that the subject was an unpleasant, almost an +indelicate, one.</p> +<p>‘Larralde, Excellency,’ he said, ‘is one of +those who are never found at the front. He will not be in +Toledo to-night—that Larralde.’</p> +<p>‘Where is the Señorita Barenna?’ asked the +General.</p> +<p>‘She is downstairs—commanding his +Excellency’s soldiers to let her pass.’</p> +<p>‘You go down, my friend, and bring her here. Then +take that door yourself.’</p> +<p>Concepçion bowed ceremoniously and withdrew. He +might have been an ambassador, and his salutation was worthy of +an Imperial Court.</p> +<p>A moment later Julia Barenna came into the room, her dark eyes +wide with terror, her face pale and drawn.</p> +<p>‘Where is the Queen Regent?’ she asked, looking +from one face to the other, and seeing all her foes assembled as +if by magic before her.</p> +<p>‘Her Majesty is on the road between Aranjuez and +Madrid—in safety, my dear Julia,’ replied the General +soothingly.</p> +<p>‘But they think she is here. The people are in the +streets. Look out of the window. They are in the +Plaza.’</p> +<p>‘I know it, my dear,’ said the General.</p> +<p>‘They are armed—they are going to attack this +house.’</p> +<p>‘I am aware of it.’</p> +<p>‘Their plan is to murder the Queen.’</p> +<p>‘So we understand,’ said the General gently. +He had a horror of anything approaching sensation or a scene, a +feeling which Spaniards share with Englishmen. ‘That +is the Queen for the time being,’ added Vincente, pointing +to Estella.</p> +<p>Julia stood looking from one to the other—a +self-contained woman made strong by love. For there is +nothing in life or human experience that raises and strengthens +man or woman so much as a great and abiding love. But Julia +Barenna was driven and almost panic-stricken. She held +herself in control by an effort that was drawing lines in her +face never to be wiped out.</p> +<p>‘But you will tell them? I will do it. Let +me go to them. I am not afraid.’</p> +<p>‘No one must leave this house now,’ said the +General. ‘You have come to us, my dear, you must now +throw in your lot with ours.’</p> +<p>‘But Estella must not take this risk,’ exclaimed +Julia. ‘Let me do it.’</p> +<p>And some woman’s instinct sent her to Estella’s +side—two women alone in that great house amid this +man’s work, this strife of reckless politicians.</p> +<p>‘And you, and Señor Conyngham,’ she cried, +‘you must not run this great risk.’</p> +<p>‘It is what we are paid for, my dear Julia,’ +answered the General, holding out his arm and indicating the gold +stripes upon it.</p> +<p>He walked to the window and opened the massive shutters, which +swung back heavily. Then he stepped out on to the balcony +without fear or hesitation.</p> +<p>‘See,’ he said, ‘the square is full of +them.’</p> +<p>He came back into the room, and Conyngham, standing beside +him, looked down into the moonlit Plaza. The square was, +indeed, thronged with dark and silent shadows, while others, +stealing from the doorways and narrow alleys with which Toledo +abounds, joined the groups with stealthy steps. No one +spoke, though the sound of their whispering arose in the still +night air like the murmur of a breeze through reeds. A +hundred faces peered upwards through the darkness at the two +intrepid figures on the balcony.</p> +<p>‘And these are Spaniards, my dear Conyngham,’ +whispered the General. ‘A hundred of them against one +woman. Name of God! I blush for them.’</p> +<p>The throng increased every moment, and withal the silence +never lifted, but brooded breathlessly over the ancient +town. Instead of living men, these might well have been the +shades of the countless and forgotten dead who had come to a +violent end in the streets of a city where Peace has never found +a home since the days of Nebuchadnezzar. Vincente came back +into the room, leaving shutter and window open.</p> +<p>‘They cannot see in,’ he said, ‘the building +is too high. And across the Plaza there is nothing but the +Cathedral, which has no windows accessible without +ladders.’</p> +<p>He paused, looking at his watch.</p> +<p>‘They are in doubt,’ he said, speaking to +Conyngham. ‘They are not sure that the Queen is +here. We will keep them in doubt for a short time. +Every minute lost by them is an inestimable gain to us. +That open window will whet their curiosity, and give them +something to whisper about. It is so easy to deceive a +crowd.’</p> +<p>He sat down and began to peel a peach. Julia looked at +him, wondering wherein this man’s greatness lay, and yet +perceiving dimly that, against such as he, men like Esteban +Larralde could do nothing.</p> +<p>Concha, having supped satisfactorily, was now sitting back in +his chair seeking for something in the pockets of his +cassock.</p> +<p>‘It is to be presumed,’ he said, ‘that one +may smoke—even in a palace.’</p> +<p>And under their gaze he quietly lighted a cigarette with the +deliberation of one in whom a long and solitary life had bred +habits only to be broken at last by death.</p> +<p>Presently the General rose and went to the window again.</p> +<p>‘They are still doubtful,’ he said, returning, +‘and I think their numbers have decreased. We cannot +allow them to disperse.’</p> +<p>He paused, thinking deeply.</p> +<p>‘My child,’ he said suddenly to Estella, +‘you must show yourself on the balcony.’</p> +<p>Estella rose at once; but Julia held her back.</p> +<p>‘No,’ she said; ‘let me do it. Give me +the white mantilla.’</p> +<p>There was a momentary silence while Estella freed herself from +her cousin’s grasp. Conyngham looked at the woman he +loved while she stood, little more than a child, with something +youthful and inimitably graceful in the lines of her throat and +averted face. Would she accept Julia’s offer? +Conyngham bit his lip and awaited her decision. Then, as if +divining his thought, she turned and looked at him gravely.</p> +<p>‘No,’ she said; ‘I will do it.’</p> +<p>She went towards the window. Her father and Conyngham +had taken their places, one on each side, as if she were the +Queen indeed. She stood for a moment on the threshold, and +then passed out into the moonlight, alone. Immediately +there arose the most terrifying of all earthly sounds—the +dull, antagonistic roar of a thousand angry throats. +Estella walked to the front of the balcony and stood, with an +intrepidity which was worthy of the royal woman whose part she +played, looking down on the upturned faces. A red flash +streaked the darkness of a far corner of the square, and a bullet +whistled through the open window into the woodwork of a +mirror.</p> +<p>‘Come back,’ whispered General Vincente. +‘Slowly, my child—slowly.’</p> +<p>Estella stood for a moment looking down with a royal +insolence, then turned, and with measured steps approached the +window. As she passed in she met Conyngham’s eyes, +and that one moment assuredly made two lives worth living.</p> +<h2><a name="page320"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +320</span>CHAPTER XXIX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">MIDNIGHT AND DAWN</span></h2> +<blockquote><p> ‘I have +set my life upon a cast<br /> +And I will stand the hazard of the die.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>‘<span class="smcap">Excellency</span>,’ reported +a man who entered the room at this moment, ‘they are +bringing carts of fuel through the Calle de la Ciudad to set +against the door and burn it.’</p> +<p>‘To set against which door, my honest friend?’</p> +<p>‘The great door on the Plaza, Excellency; the other is +an old door of iron.’</p> +<p>‘And they cannot burn it or break it open?’</p> +<p>‘No, Excellency. And, besides, there are loopholes +in the thickness of the wall at the side.’</p> +<p>The General smiled on this man as being after his own +heart.</p> +<p>‘One may not shoot to-night, my friend. I have +already given the order.’</p> +<p>‘But one may prick them with the sword, +Excellency?’ suggested the trooper, with a sort of +suppressed enthusiasm.</p> +<p>The General shrugged his shoulders, wisely tolerant.</p> +<p>‘Oh yes,’ he answered, ‘I suppose one may +prick them with the sword.’</p> +<p>Conyngham, who had been standing half in and half out of the +open window, listening to this conversation, now came +forward.</p> +<p>‘I think,’ he said, ‘that I can clear the +Plaza from time to time if you give me twenty men. We can +thus gain time.’</p> +<p>‘Street-fighting,’ answered the General +gravely. ‘Do you know anything of it? It is +nasty work.’</p> +<p>‘I know something of it. One has to shout very +loud. I studied it—at Dublin University.’</p> +<p>‘To be sure—I forgot.’</p> +<p>Julia and Estella watched and listened. Their lot had +been cast in the paths of war, and since childhood they had +remembered naught else. But neither had yet been so near to +the work, nor had they seen and heard men talk and plan with a +certain grim humour—a curt and deliberate scorn of haste or +excitement—as these men spoke and planned now. +Conyngham and Concepçion Vara were altered by these +circumstances—there was a light in their eyes which women +rarely see, but the General was the same little man of peace and +of a high domestic virtue, who seemed embarrassed by a sword +which was obviously too big for him. Yet in all their +voices there rang alike a queer note of exultation. For man +is a fighting animal, and from St. Paul down to the humblest +little five-foot-one recruit, would find life a dull affair were +there no strife in it.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said the General, after a moment’s +reflection, ‘that is a good idea, and will gain time. +But let them first bring their fuel and set it up. Every +moment is a gain.’</p> +<p>At this instant some humorist in the crowd threw a stone in at +the open window. The old priest picked up the missile and +examined it curiously.</p> +<p>‘It is fortunate,’ he said, ‘that the stones +are fixed in Toledo. In Xeres they are loose, and are +always in the air. I wonder if I can hit a +citizen.’ And he threw the stone back.</p> +<p>‘Close the shutters,’ said the General. +‘Let us avoid arousing ill-feeling.’</p> +<p>The priest drew the jalousies together, but did not quite shut +them. Vincente stood and looked out through the aperture at +the moonlit square and the dark shadows moving there.</p> +<p>‘I wish they would shout,’ he said. +‘It is unnatural. They are like children. When +there is noise there is little mischief.’</p> +<p>Then he remained silent for some minutes, watching +intently. All in the room noted his every movement. +At length he turned on his heel.</p> +<p>‘Go, my friend,’ he said to Conyngham. +‘Form your men in the Calle de la Ciudad, and charge round +in line. Do not place yourself too much in advance of your +men, or you will be killed, and remember—the point! +Resist the temptation to cut—the point is best.’</p> +<p>He patted Conyngham on the arm affectionately, as if he were +sending him to bed with a good wish, and accompanied him to the +door.</p> +<p>‘I knew,’ he said, returning to the window and +rubbing his hands together, ‘that that was a good man the +first moment I saw him.’</p> +<p>He glanced at Estella, and then, turning, opened another +window, setting the shutters ajar so as to make a second point of +observation.</p> +<p>‘My poor child,’ he whispered, as she went to the +window and looked out, ‘it is an ill-fortune to have to do +with men whose trade this is.’</p> +<p>Estella smiled—a little whitely—and said +nothing. The moon was now shining from an almost cloudless +sky. The few fleecy remains of the storm sailing towards +the east only added brightness to the night. It was almost +possible to see the faces of the men moving in the square below, +and to read their expressions. The majority stood in a +group in the centre of the Plaza, while a daring few, reckoning +on the Spanish aversion to firearms, ran forward from time to +time and set a bundle of wood or straw against the door beneath +the balcony.</p> +<p>Some, who appeared to be the leaders, looked up constantly and +curiously at the windows, wondering if any resistance would be +made. Had they known that General Vincente was in that +silent house they would probably have gone home to bed, and the +crowd would have dispersed like smoke.</p> +<p>Suddenly there arose a roar to the right hand of the square +where the Calle de la Ciudad was situated, and Conyngham appeared +for a moment alone, running towards the group, with the moonlight +flashing on his sword. At his heels an instant later a +single line of men swung round the corner and charged across the +square.</p> +<p>‘Dear, dear,’ muttered the General; ‘too +quick, my friend, too quick!’</p> +<p>For Conyngham was already among the crowd, which broke and +surged back towards the Cathedral. He paused for a moment +to draw his sword out of a dark form that lay upon the ground, as +a cricketer draws a stump. He had, at all events, +remembered the point. The troopers swept across the square +like a broom, sending the people as dust before them, and leaving +the clean, moonlit square behind. They also left behind one +or two shadows, lying stark upon the around. One of these +got upon its knees and crawled painfully away, all one-sided, +like a beetle that has been trodden underfoot. Those +watching from the windows saw with a gasp of horror that part of +him—part of an arm—had been left behind, and a sigh +of relief went up when he stopped crawling and lay quite +still.</p> +<p>The troopers were now retreating slowly towards the Calle de +la Ciudad.</p> +<p>‘Be careful, Conyngham,’ shouted the General from +the balcony. ‘They will return.’</p> +<p>And as he spoke a rattling fire was opened upon them from the +far corner of the square, where the crowd had taken refuge in the +opening of the Calle del Arco. Immediately, the people, +having noted that the troopers were few in number, charged down +upon them. The men fought in line, retreating step by step, +their swords gleaming in the moonlight. Estella, hearing +footsteps in the room behind her, turned in time to see her +father disappearing through the doorway. Concepçion +Vara, coatless, as he loved to work, his white shirtsleeves +fluttering as his arm swung, had now joined the troopers, and was +fighting by Conyngham’s side.</p> +<p>Estella and Julia were out on the balcony now, leaning over +and forgetting all but the breathless interest of battle. +Concha stood beside them, muttering and cursing like any +soldier.</p> +<p>They saw Vincente appear at the corner of the Calle de la +Ciudad and throw away his scabbard as he ran.</p> +<p>‘Now, my children!’ he cried in a voice that +Estella had never heard before, which rang out across the square, +and was answered by a yell that was nothing but a cry of sheer +delight. The crowd swayed back as if before a gust of wind, +and the General, following it, seemed to clear a space for +himself as a reaper clears away the standing corn before +him. It was, however, only for a moment. The crowd +surged back, those in front against their will, and on to the +glittering steel—those behind shouting encouragement.</p> +<p>‘Name of God!’ shouted Concha, and was gone. +They saw him a minute later appear in the square, having thrown +aside his cassock. He made a strange lean figure of a man +with his knee-breeches and dingy purple stockings, his grey +flannel shirt, and the moonlight shining on his tonsured +head. He fought without skill, and heedless of danger, +swinging a great sword that he had picked up from the hand of a +fallen trooper, and each blow that he got home killed its +victim. The metal of the man had suddenly shown itself +after years of suppression. This, as Vincente had +laughingly said, was no priest, but a soldier. +Concepçion, in the thick of it, using the knife now with a +deadly skill, looked over his shoulder and laughed.</p> +<p>Suddenly the crowd swayed. The faint sound of a distant +bugle came to the ears of all.</p> +<p>‘It is nothing,’ shouted Concha, in English. +‘It is nothing. It is I who sent the bugler +round.’</p> +<p>And his great sword whistled into a man’s brain. +In another moment the square was empty, for the politicians who +came to murder a woman had had enough steel. The sound of +the bugle, intimating, as they supposed, the arrival of troops, +completed the work of demoralisation which the recognition of +General Vincente had begun.</p> +<p>The little party—the few defenders of the Casa del +Ayuntamiento—were left in some confusion in the Plaza, and +Estella saw with a sudden cold fear that Conyngham and Concha +were on their knees in the midst of a little group of hesitating +men. It was Concha who rose first and held up his hand to +the watchers on the balcony, bidding them stay where they +were. Then Conyngham rose to his feet slowly, as one +bearing a burden. Estella looked down in a sort of dream, +and saw her lover carrying her father towards the house, her mind +only half comprehending, in that semi-dreamlike reception of +sudden calamity which is one of Heaven’s deepest +mercies.</p> +<p>It was Concepçion who came into the room first, his +white shirt dyed with blood in great patches like the colour on a +piebald horse. A cut in his cheek was slowly +dripping. He went straight to a sofa covered in gorgeous +yellow satin, and set the cushions in order.</p> +<p>‘Señorita,’ he said, and spread out his +hands. The tears were in his eyes, ‘Half of +Spain,’ he added, ‘would rather that it had been the +Queen—and the world is poorer.’</p> +<p>A moment later Concha came into the room dragging on his +cassock.</p> +<p>‘My child, we are in God’s hand,’ he said, +with a break in his gruff voice.</p> +<p>And then came the heavy step of one carrying sorrow.</p> +<p>Conyngham laid his burden on the sofa. General Vincente +was holding his handkerchief to his side, and his eyes, which had +a thoughtful look, saw only Estella’s face.</p> +<p>‘I have sent for a doctor,’ said Conyngham. +‘Your father is wounded.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Vincente immediately; ‘but I am +in no pain, my dear child. There is no reason, surely, for +us to distress ourselves.’</p> +<p>He looked round and smiled.</p> +<p>‘And this good Conyngham,’ he added, +‘carried me like a child.’</p> +<p>Julia was on her knees at the foot of the sofa, her face +hidden in her hands.</p> +<p>‘My dear Julia,’ he said, ‘why this +distress?’</p> +<p>‘Because all of this is my doing,’ she answered, +lifting her drawn and terror-stricken face.</p> +<p>‘No, no!’ said Vincente, with a characteristic +pleasantry. ‘You take too much upon yourself. +All these things are written down for us beforehand. We +only add the punctuation—delaying a little or hurrying a +little.’</p> +<p>They looked at him silently, and assuredly none could mistake +the shadows that were gathering on his face. Estella, who +was holding his hand, knelt on the floor by his side, quiet and +strong, offering silently that sympathy which is woman’s +greatest gift.</p> +<p>Concepçion, who perhaps knew more of this matter than +any present, looked at Concha and shook his head. The +priest was buttoning his cassock, and began to seek something in +his pocket.</p> +<p>‘Your breviary?’ whispered Concepçion; +‘I saw it lying out there—among the dead.’</p> +<p>‘It is a comfort to have one’s duty clearly +defined,’ said the General suddenly, in a clear +voice. He was evidently addressing Conyngham. +‘One of the advantages of a military life. We have +done our best, and this time we have succeeded. +But—it is only deferred. It will come at length, and +Spain will be a republic. It is a failing +cause—because, at the head of it, is a bad +woman.’</p> +<p>Conyngham nodded, but no one spoke. No one seemed +capable of following his thoughts. Already he seemed to +look at them as from a distance, as if he had started on a +journey and was looking back. During this silence there +came a great clatter in the streets, and a sharp voice cried +‘Halt!’ The General turned his eyes towards the +window.</p> +<p>‘The cavalry,’ said Conyngham, ‘from +Madrid.’</p> +<p>‘I did not expect—them,’ said Vincente +slowly, ‘before the dawn.’</p> +<p>The sound of the horses’ feet and the clatter of arms +died away as the troop passed on towards the Calle de la Ciudad, +and the quiet of night was again unbroken.</p> +<p>Then Concha, getting down on to his knees, began reciting from +memory the office—which, alas! he knew too well.</p> +<p>When it was finished, and the gruff voice died away, Vincente +opened his eyes.</p> +<p>‘Every man to his trade,’ he said, with a little +laugh.</p> +<p>Then suddenly he made a grimace.</p> +<p>‘A twinge of pain,’ he said deprecatingly, as if +apologising for giving them the sorrow of seeing it. +‘It will pass—before the dawn.’</p> +<p>Presently he opened his eyes again and smiled at Estella, +before he moved with a tired sigh and turned his face towards +that Dawn which knows no eventide.</p> +<h2><a name="page331"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +331</span>CHAPTER XXX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE DAWN OF PEACE</span></h2> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">‘Quien no ama, no +vive.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> fall of Morella had proved to +be, as many anticipated, the knell of the Carlist cause. +Cabrera, that great general and consummate leader, followed Don +Carlos, who had months earlier fled to France. General +Espartero—a man made and strengthened by +circumstances—was now at the height of his fame, and for +the moment peace seemed to be assured to Spain. It was now +a struggle between Espartero and Queen Christina. But with +these matters the people of Spain had little to do. Such +warfare of the council-chamber and the boudoir is carried on +quietly, and the sound of it rarely reaches the ear, and never +the heart, of the masses. Politics, indeed, had been the +daily fare of the Spaniards for so long that their palates were +now prepared to accept any sop so long as it was flavoured with +peace. Aragon was devastated, and the northern provinces +had neither seed nor labourers for the coming autumn. The +peasants who, having lost faith in Don Carlos, rallied round +Cabrera, now saw themselves abandoned by their worshipped leader, +and turned hopelessly enough homewards. Thus gradually the +country relapsed into quiet, and empty garners compelled many to +lay aside the bayonet and take up the spade who, having tasted +the thrill of battle, had no longer any taste for the ways of +peace.</p> +<p>Frederick Conyngham was brought into sudden prominence by the +part he played in the disturbance at Toledo—which +disturbance proved, as history tells, to be a forerunner of the +great revolution a year later in Madrid. Promotion was at +this time rapid, and the Englishman made many strides in a few +months. Jealousy was so rife among the Spanish leaders, +Christinos distrusted so thoroughly the reformed Carlists, that +one who was outside these petty considerations received from both +sides many honours on the sole recommendation of his +neutrality.</p> +<p>‘And besides,’ said Father Concha, sitting in the +sunlight on his church steps at Ronda, reading to the barber, and +the shoemaker, and other of his parishioners, the latest +newspaper, ‘and besides—he is clever.’</p> +<p>He paused, slowly taking a pinch of snuff.</p> +<p>‘Where the river is deepest it makes least noise,’ +he added.</p> +<p>The barber wagged his head after the manner of one who will +never admit that he does not understand an allusion. And +before any could speak the clatter of horses in the narrow street +diverted attention. Concha rose to his feet.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ he said, and went forward to meet Conyngham, +who was riding with Concepçion at his side.</p> +<p>‘So you have come, my son,’ he said, shaking +hands. He looked up into the Englishman’s face, which +was burnt brown by service under a merciless sun. Conyngham +looked lean and strong, but his eyes had no rest in them. +This was not a man who had all he wanted.</p> +<p>‘Are you come to Ronda, or are you passing +through?’ asked the priest.</p> +<p>‘To Ronda. As I passed the Casa Barenna I made +inquiries. The ladies are in the town, it +appears.’</p> +<p>‘Yes; they are with Estella in the house you +know—unless you have forgotten it.’</p> +<p>‘No,’ answered Conyngham getting out of the +saddle. ‘No; I have forgotten nothing.’</p> +<p>Concepçion came forward and led the horse away.</p> +<p>‘I will walk to the Casa Vincente. Have you the +time to accompany me?’ said Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘I have always time—for my neighbour’s +business,’ replied Concha. And they set off +together.</p> +<p>‘You walk stiffly,’ said Concha. ‘Have +you ridden far?’</p> +<p>‘From Osuna—forty miles since daybreak.’</p> +<p>‘You are in a hurry.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, I am in a hurry.’</p> +<p>Without further comment he extracted from inside his smart +tunic a letter—the famous letter in a pink +envelope—which he handed to Concha.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said the priest, turning it over. +‘You and I first saw this in the Hotel de la Marina at +Algeciras, when we were fools not to throw it into the nearest +brazier. We should have saved a good man’s life, my +friend.’</p> +<p>He handed the letter back, and thoughtfully dusted his cassock +where it was worn and shiny with constant dusting, so that the +snuff had nought to cling to.</p> +<p>‘And you have got it—at last. Holy +saints—these Englishmen! Do you always get what you +want, my son?’</p> +<p>‘Not always,’ replied Conyngham, with an uneasy +laugh. ‘But I should be a fool not to try.’</p> +<p>‘Assuredly,’ said Concha, ‘assuredly. +And you have come to Ronda—to try?’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>They walked on in silence, on the shady side of the street, +and presently passed and saluted a priest—one of +Concha’s colleagues in this city of the South.</p> +<p>‘There walks a tragedy,’ said Concha, in his curt +way. ‘Inside every cassock there walks a +tragedy—or a villain.’</p> +<p>After a pause it was Concha who again broke the silence. +Conyngham seemed to be occupied with his own thoughts.</p> +<p>‘And Larralde—?’ said the priest.</p> +<p>‘I come from him—from Barcelona,’ answered +Conyngham, ‘where he is in safety. Catalonia is full +of such as he. Sir John Pleydell, before leaving Spain, +bought this letter for two hundred pounds—a few months +ago—when I was a poor man and could not offer a price for +it. But Larralde disappeared when the plot failed, and I +have only found him lately in Barcelona.’</p> +<p>‘In Barcelona?’ echoed Concha.</p> +<p>‘Yes; where he can take a passage to Cuba, and where he +awaits Julia Barenna.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Concha, ‘so he also is +faithful—because life is not long, my son. That is +the only reason. How wise was the great God when He made a +human life short! ‘</p> +<p>‘I have a letter,’ continued Conyngham, +‘from Larralde to the Señorita Barenna.’</p> +<p>‘So you parted friends in Barcelona—after +all—when his knife has been between your +shoulders?’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘God bless you, my son!’ said the priest, in +Latin, with his careless, hurried gesture of the Cross.</p> +<p>After they had walked a few paces he spoke again.</p> +<p>‘I shall go to Barcelona with her,’ he said, +‘and marry her to this man. When one has no affairs +of one’s own there always remain—for old women and +priests—the affairs of one’s neighbour. Tell +me—’ he paused and looked fiercely at him under +shaggy brows—‘tell me why you came to +Spain.’</p> +<p>‘You want to know who and what I am—before we +reach the Calle Mayor?’ said Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘I know what you are, <i>amigo mio</i>, better than +yourself, perhaps.’</p> +<p>As they walked through the narrow streets Conyngham told his +simple history, dwelling more particularly on the circumstances +preceding his departure from England, and Concha listened with no +further sign of interest than a grimace or a dry smile here and +there.</p> +<p>‘The mill gains by going, and not by standing +still,’ he said, and added, after a pause, ‘But it is +always a mistake to grind another’s wheat for +nothing.’</p> +<p>They were now approaching the old house in the Calle Mayor, +and Conyngham lapsed into a silence which his companion +respected. They passed under the great doorway into the +patio, which was quiet and shady at this afternoon hour. +The servants, of whom there are a multitude in all great Spanish +houses, had apparently retired to the seclusion of their own +quarters. One person alone was discernible amid the orange +trees and in the neighbourhood of the murmuring fountain. +She was asleep in a rocking-chair, with a newspaper on her +lap. She preferred the patio to the garden, which was too +quiet for one of her temperament. In the patio she found +herself better placed to exchange a word with those engaged in +the business of the house, to learn, in fact, from the servants +the latest gossip, to ask futile questions of them, and to sit in +that idleness which will not allow others to be employed. +In a word, this was the Señora Barenna, and Concha, seeing +her, stood for a moment in hesitation. Then, with a signal +to Conyngham, he crept noiselessly across the tessellated +pavement to the shadow of the staircase. They passed up the +broad steps without sound and without awaking the sleeping +lady. In the gallery above, the priest paused and looked +down into the courtyard, his grim face twisted in a queer +smile. Then, at the woman sitting there—at life and +all its illusions, perhaps—he shrugged his shoulders and +passed on.</p> +<p>In the drawing-room they found Julia, who leapt to her feet +and hurried across the floor when she saw Conyngham. She +stood looking at him breathlessly, her whole history written in +her eyes.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ she whispered, as if he had called +her. ‘Yes—what is it? Have you come to +tell me—something?’</p> +<p>‘I have come to give you a letter, +señorita,’ he answered, handing her Larralde’s +missive. She held out her hand, and never took her eyes +from his face.</p> +<p>Concha walked to the window—the window whence the +Alcalde of Ronda had seen Conyngham hand Julia Barenna another +letter. The old priest stood looking down into the garden, +where, amid the feathery foliage of the pepper trees and the +bamboos, he could perceive the shadow of a black dress. +Conyngham also turned away, and thus the two men who held this +woman’s happiness in the hollow of their hands stood +listening to the crisp rattle of the paper as she tore the +envelope and unfolded her lover’s letter. A great +happiness and a great sorrow are alike impossible of +realisation. We only perceive their extent when their +importance has begun to wane.</p> +<p>Julia Barenna read the letter through to the end, and it is +possible (for women are blind in such matters) failed to perceive +the selfishness in every line of it. Then, with the message +of happiness in her hand, she returned to the chair she had just +quitted, with a vague wonder in her mind, and the very human +doubt that accompanies all possession, as to whether the price +paid has not been too high.</p> +<p>Concha was the first to move. He turned and crossed the +room towards Conyngham.</p> +<p>‘I see,’ he said, ‘Estella in the +garden.’</p> +<p>And they passed out of the room together, leaving Julia +Barenna alone with her thoughts. On the broad stone balcony +Concha paused.</p> +<p>‘I will stay here,’ he said. He looked over +the balustrade. Señora Barenna was still asleep.</p> +<p>‘Do not awake her,’ he whispered. ‘Let +all sleeping things sleep.’</p> +<p>Conyngham passed down the stairs noiselessly, and through the +doorway into the garden.</p> +<p>‘And at the end—the Gloria is chanted,’ said +Concha, watching him go.</p> +<p>The scent of the violets greeted Conyngham as he went forward +beneath the trees planted there in the Moslems’ day. +The running water murmured sleepily as it hurried in its narrow +channel towards the outlet through the grey wall, whence it leapt +four hundred feet into the Tajo below.</p> +<p>Estella was seated in the shade of a gnarled fig tree, where +tables and chairs indicated the Spanish habit of an out-of-door +existence. She rose as he came towards her, and met his +eyes gravely. A gleam of sun glancing through the leaves +fell on her golden hair, half hidden by the mantilla, and showed +that she was pale with some fear or desire.</p> +<p>‘Señorita,’ he said, ‘I have brought +you the letter.’ He held it out, and she took it, +turning over the worn envelope absent-mindedly.</p> +<p>‘I have not read it myself, and am permitted to give it +to you on one condition—namely, that you destroy it as soon +as you have read it.’</p> +<p>She looked at it again.</p> +<p>‘It contains the lives of many men—their lives and +the happiness of those connected with them,’ said +Conyngham. ‘That is what you hold in your hand, +señorita—as well as my life and +happiness.’</p> +<p>She raised her dark eyes to his for a moment, and their +tenderness was not of earth or of this world at all. Then +she tore the envelope and its contents slowly into a hundred +pieces, and dropped the fluttering papers into the stream pacing +in its marble bed towards the Tajo and the oblivion of the +sea.</p> +<p>‘There—I have destroyed the letter,’ she +said, with a thoughtful little smile. Then, looking up, she +met his eyes.</p> +<p>‘I did not want it. I am glad you gave it to +me. It will make a difference to our lives. +Though—I never wanted it.’</p> +<p>Then she came slowly towards him.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">Printed by <span +class="smcap">Ballantyne</span>, <span +class="smcap">Hanson</span> & <span +class="smcap">Co</span>.<br /> +Edinburgh & London</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN KEDAR'S TENTS***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 5987-h.htm or 5987-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/9/8/5987 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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