Before I could pluck up my depressed spirits sufficiently to ask Father Rocus the thousand and one questions about my lady which for months I had been longing to have answered, the Governor-General rose from the table with an abruptness that surprised us. Though by now somewhat informed as to the Spanish-Mexican custom of the siesta, we had supposed that at a formal dinner, served in the usual mode, there would be some lingering over the wine.
We had sat scarcely an hour, all told. Yet His Excellency led us into the sala, and awaited our adieus with a manner which, though urbane, did not encourage extended farewells. As his bearing toward myself was markedly less gracious than toward Pike and Malgares, I for one was not so ill-pleased as I might have been over this hurried leave-taking.
In the outer gateway Malgares for the second time excused himself to gallop off to his señora, while we returned afoot across the plaza with the ubiquitous Walker. Upon reaching his quarters, the latter invited us to recline on the mattresses which had been provided for us by old Cæsar. He himself preferred one of the long net hammocks such as are used among the Spaniards of the tropical coast lands. We chatted a few minutes over our cigarros, and then Walker dropped asleep.
Pike at once informed me that Salcedo had taken possession of all the papers in his little despatch trunk other than the letters from Mrs. Pike. These last, prompted by the same chivalry which had induced Allencaster to restore me my treasures, the Governor-General had permitted my friend to pocket without examination, upon the statement that they were from a lady. But that all the really valuable papers, such as our charts, astronomical observations, and journals, would be retained the Lieutenant now had little doubt.
"However," he concluded, "worse come to worse, we have your copy of the courses and distances, covering everything except that side excursion to the Platte and down the Upper Arkansas."
"And there is your keen eye and retentive memory," I added. "We have already seen enough of New Spain for the information to more than offset the loss of the papers—if they really are lost. Had we headed straight for the Red from the Rio del Norte, we should have saved the papers, but should have gone home as ignorant of New Spain as we came."
"And you without seeing your señorita!"
"Ah, that!" I murmured. "It may be I shall pay dearly for the venture. You saw how Salcedo varied his manner toward me. But it is worth the risk. I could not have done otherwise!"
"I believe you, John. I myself caught a glimpse of your lady. I no longer wonder! But if Salcedo really is ill-disposed toward you, the sooner you get in touch with the señorita and her people the better. It may be they have influence."
"I shall make every effort to do so before the day is over," I said. "The difficulty is this Walker."
"He is an informer," said Pike. "Of that I have no doubts. I propose to give him enough and to spare of material for his tale-bearing."
"Good!" I cried. "A bold front is the best. Salcedo is bound to release you; while as for myself, if they garrotte me, they shall not have the satisfaction of saying that I cringed. No! we will tell this informer what we think of matters Spanish."
Before Pike could reply, we were startled by a sudden out-clanging of bells in the towers of the Parroquia. Walker started up and stared at us. Pike yawned, stretched, and remarked to me, in a casual tone: "You're right. This government is one fit only for masters and slaves."
"You mean, a master and slaves," I returned.
"No—one master here and one in Old Spain."
"Why not put it, a master there and an overseer here? The comparison is in point between this arrangement and that of one of our Virginia or Carolina plantation-owners who lives in town and leaves his estate under the care of an overseer. You could hardly call the overseer a master."
"The difference is that he drives people of a race born for slavery, while here—"
"Here," broke in Walker, his face quivering—"here some who were not born to slavery fall into it unawares!"
"What!" I said. "Do you, who voluntarily joined the cavalry of New Spain, complain of the Government to which you owe allegiance?"
"Voluntarily?—No, gentlemen. New Orleans is not Chihuahua, nor was it so even under Spanish rule. I did not realize what I was venturing when I entered this service. I have attempted to withdraw, but they refuse to accept my resignation."
"Ah, well," said Pike, "since it seems we are to be your guests, lieutenant, I am pleased that you understand and share our opinion of this despotic Government. Discontent is a hopeful sign when tyranny is rampant. Only let a few of the bolder spirits among you pluck up courage to seek open redress for your wrongs, and Mexico will soon fling off the yoke of Spain, as our glorious States broke their bondage to Britain."
I saw our host's eyes begin to widen. To keep the ball rolling, I chimed in along the same line. Walker did not again speak, but sat staring in open amazement at our audacity,—of course with both ears wide. Having started off at such a pace, we were almost out of material when Cæsar thrust in his woolly head and announced Señor Vallois. Walker promptly called out a floridly complimentary invitation for the visitor to enter.
Don Pedro came in, every inch the gentleman and grand haciendado. As he straightened from his bows to our host, I had time only to observe that since our parting his face had lost several shades of tan and gained many deep lines of anxiety. A moment later he gripped my hand and shook it with cordial heartiness. But at the end, instead of releasing his clasp, he slipped his left arm around my waist and pressed himself to me until our cheeks touched. It was the first time I had either seen or experienced this curious custom of the country, and it so surprised me that I stood unbending to his embrace.
"How is this, Don Juan?" he demanded. "Are your friends so soon forgot?"
"No, no, Don Pedro! It is only that I did not look for so warm a greeting from you. You must be aware that I am here under a cloud."
"The more reason for your friends to support you!" he protested with generous fervor.
"Señor, I should have known that so noble a gentleman as yourself could have done none else!"
We bowed together, and I then introduced him to Pike, adding for Walker's benefit that the don was an acquaintance I had met in Washington. So far we had held to the French. Now the don delighted Pike by addressing him in English: "Sir, I am more than pleased to meet you. I have heard rumors of your extraordinary trip to the headwaters of the Mississippi."
"You are kind, sir. But it was nothing worth mentioning. The soldiers of the Republic are accustomed to doing their duty."
"But this present expedition!" added the don. "I understand that you crossed the Sangre de Cristo in February."
"It was cross over—or perish."
"Madre de Dios! That is the point. It seems that you and Don Juan did cross over when most men would have perished. Do you then marvel that my wife is desirous of meeting two such heroes?" He turned to Walker with a bow. "With your kind permission, Lieutenant Walker, I will borrow your guests for the evening."
"Ah—yes—indeed—" hesitated Walker.
"My sincerest regrets, sir," broke in Pike. "You will pardon my declining the kind invitation. This long ride from Santa Fe and the heat have fatigued me more than I realized."
"Santisima Virgen!" exclaimed Don Pedro, unfeignedly disappointed. "Yet as you need rest, I must console myself with the hope that you will honor us with your presence in the near future. As to this evening, however, I must urge Don Juan to accompany me."
"By all means!" I assented.
This, as was plainly evident from his manner, put Walker into a quandary. To have ordered me to remain would have exposed the hand of the Governor-General. Yet how could he watch both Pike and myself if we separated? It was an impossibility. He hesitated for a long moment, and then bowed to Don Pedro: "With your kind permission, señor, I will pay respects to Señora Vallois. Lieutenant Don Montgomery should be allowed to repose in quiet."
"Your pleasure is mine, señor," replied Don Pedro, with a punctilious note in his politeness that told me he was not altogether pleased at Walker's self-invitation.
It occurred to me that the Governor-General might have as much or more reason to spy upon him as upon myself. If the don was in the thick of a revolutionary conspiracy, as might well be, he was vastly more dangerous to the Government than myself. The thought filled me with sudden dread for the safety of my lady's kinsman. But on the heels of this fright came the reassurance that, after all, Walker's interest might well be accounted for by the presence of a certain señorita in the home of Don Pedro. We had taken for granted that he was an informer. Yet his present course was quite as reasonably explained by his desire to see Señorita Vallois.
Leaving Pike to his own devices, we left the house and walked leisurely around the edge of the plaza. This brought us past a number of the city's largest merchandise establishments, to which groups of reboza-veiled señoras and señoritas were beginning to saunter for the evening's shopping. Now and again a bright, coquettish eye peeped out at us from among the folds of a close-drawn headwrap. But I was not curious to look twice at any of these over-rotund brunettes. To me there was only one lady in all the world, and now I was going to see her, to hear her exquisite voice, after almost a year of separation.
A few minutes, which to my impatience seemed hours, brought us to the door of Don Pedro. I should say, to the wicket in the great iron gate of the archway. At sight of us the porter within sprang to free the bolt. But before we could enter there sounded a clatter of hoofs in the nearest side street, and Malgares came galloping into view. Don Pedro paused for him to ride up, and a moment later they were exchanging that curious salute of handshake and cheek-to-cheek embrace. Malgares then explained that his wife was at the house of Don Pedro, and that he had just secured relief from his duties to follow her.
As we entered, a groom ran forward to take charge of Malgares's horse, while the don conducted us up the stairway in the nearest corner of his beautiful garden-court. A short turn along the gallery brought us to the entrance of a large sala. By now I was so wrought up that I found it necessary to pause beside the open doorway to regain my composure, the result of which was that all the others passed in before me.
I followed close behind Walker. The first glance showed me that my lady was not in the room. Malgares, who had entered with Don Pedro, stood before his wife and Señora Vallois, clasping the hand of the latter. The ladies, I observed, wore the full petticoats and short jackets of their countrywomen, though their costumes were of the richest and most elegant materials. As I stood gazing at them, I was astonished to see Malgares and the rotund lady exchange that same odd embrace of greeting with which our host had favored myself and Don Faciendo.
Knowing the fiery jealousy of the Spaniards, I looked for Don Pedro to strike the audacious soldier, and Doña Dolores to burst into angry tears. Instead, they stood by, beaming at the affectionate pair with utmost complacency. Malgares turned to his smiling wife, and Señora Vallois gave Walker her hand to salute. When he also stepped aside, Don Pedro introduced me, first to his señora, and then to Doña Dolores Malgares. Each permitted me to salute her hand.
Straightening from my second bow, I was overjoyed to see Alisanda crossing the room toward us. But Malgares was before me. He met her with a bow. They grasped hands in that cordial manner, exchanged a few words of greeting, and—embraced!
This was too much! It might be the custom of the country—doubtless it was the custom of the country—But for my lady to welcome another man than myself, not of her family, was more than I could endure. I stepped forward, frowning. Alisanda slipped from Malgares's embrace and came to meet me, her lips parting in a demurely mischievous smile.
"Hola, amigo!" she murmured. "It is joyous to meet a friend after so many months!"
"It is heaven!" I mumbled, attempting to read her eyes.
But she drooped her long lashes. I clasped her little hand and bent to kiss it. Again I was frustrated. She drew the hand back. But her firm clasp did not relax. In the excess of my emotion, I did not realize her purpose until she had drawn me close, and her left arm began to encircle me. Then the truth flashed upon me. She had welcomed Malgares according to the custom of the country that I too might enjoy that most delightful of greetings! The discovery was too much for my discretion to withstand. Swept away by my love and adoration, I caught the dear girl to me and kissed her fairly upon her sweet lips.
I heard a sharp exclamation from Don Pedro, and Alisanda thrust herself free from me, her pale cheeks suddenly gone as scarlet as her lips. Her dark eyes flashed at me a glance of scorn and anger which sobered me on the instant. I half turned to the others, who were all alike staring at me in angry amazement.
"Señora Vallois!" I exclaimed, "can you not pardon this blunder—my deplorable ignorance of your customs? This is my first experience with your gracious salute of friends. The offence was absolutely unintentional. Believe me, my esteem and respect for Señorita Vallois is such that nothing could cause me greater grief than the consciousness I had offended her."
"Do not apologize further, Señor Robinson," replied the señora, melting more at my tone and look of concern than at the words. "Your explanation is quite sufficient. I am certain my niece will pardon you the error."
"If only she may!" I cried, turning to Alisanda. "Señorita, will you not forgive me? Do not hold it against me that in attempting to conform to your etiquette I passed the bounds! You must know that no disrespect was intended—Far from it! I meant only to express my great esteem."
"My aunt has spoken for me, Señor Robinson," she answered coldly. "The incident is already forgotten."
"But not Señor Robinson," remarked Señora Malgares. "I am consumed with curiosity to hear more about his marvellous adventures. My beloved Faciendo has told me that the señor doctor and his fellow Americanos crossed and recrossed the northern mountains in the very midst of the Winter."
"They were a barrier in our way, señora. We could do none else than cross them," I replied, with a side-glance at Alisanda.
This time she met me with that calm, level gaze which I had always found so inscrutable. Now, as then, I looked deep into those lovely eyes and saw only mystery. But Doña Dolores would not be denied.
"Santa Maria!" she exclaimed. "When am I to hear about your heroic journey, Señor Robinson?"
"Pardon me, señora," I replied. "Don Faciendo is better qualified to serve as historian. He insisted upon learning the facts alike from Lieutenant Pike and myself."
"If Don Faciendo will graciously ease our impatience," urged Señora Vallois.
"Nothing could give me greater pleasure, Doña Marguerite," assented Malgares.
"Be seated, friends. I am sure we are all eager to hear," said the señora. Even Walker bowed quick assent to this. "I am most interested of all present, because Señor Robinson showered endless courtesies and favors upon my beloved Pedro and Alisanda while they were journeying through his country."
"Believe me, señora," I protested, "what little I was able to do fell far short of the favors I received."
"One word or glance from Señorita Vallois were worth the service of a lifetime!" put in Walker.
My feeling went too deep for verbal compliments. I stood dumb, and watched Walker receive a smile over my lady's fan that repaid him a hundredfold. The others were now moving toward the end of the sala, where were grouped three or four low divans. Alisanda glided after Doña Dolores, and Walker promptly stepped out beside her. I followed last of all, too fearful of another false move to force myself forward.
Yet somehow, when we came to seat ourselves, I was delighted to find myself beside Alisanda at the end of the divan, while Walker was hedged off from her on the other side by Doña Dolores. As the plump little señora chose to tuck up her limbs Turk-fashion, the interval was not narrow. Walker had to perch on the extreme far corner of the divan.
Malgares and our host sat across from us, while Doña Marguerite reclined upon the third divan. Alisanda was the only one of the ladies who sat upright. She did not look at me. But for the moment it was enough that her shoulder touched my arm.
When all were settled, Malgares plunged into his account, which he rendered in a crisp, clear French that made every statement stand out like a cameo. First of all he gave a brief and modest recital of his own remarkable expedition, dwelling strongest upon his arrangements with the savages to stop us; the vast extent of the all but treeless prairies, and the grandeur of the mighty snow mountains of the North.
He then described how our little party had come to the Pawnees and braved their might; how, late as was the season, we had pushed on westward, and how, in the midst of the midwinter's cold, we had clambered about among those huge sierras of rock and snow. As told by him, the account drew bravo after bravo from the little audience. When he described our ascent of what we had supposed to be the Grand Peak, Alisanda flashed at me a glance that put me into a glow of bliss. Malgares was a flattering historian. But he was not satisfied with his own efforts. When it came to the descent of the terrific gorge of the Arkansas by Brown and myself, he broke off in the midst and insisted upon my picturing that awful canyon in my own words.
"Nada," I hesitated. "I cannot tell it."
"You must, Juan!" murmured my lady.
To say "no" to her was impossible. I went on with the tale as best I could in my rude French, and related how Brown and I had made our way up the icy ascent of the side ravine. As I described the cutting of footholds and our slow clambering higher and higher out of the chasm, Alisanda's eyes widened and her hands met in a convulsive clasp. Before I had finished she was breathing hard with excitement. The other ladies were hardly less thrilled. Women are so easily startled by the recital of dangers which a man risks as a matter of course.
But when I came to our terrible journey in the valley of starvation it was not alone the ladies who were moved. Aside from Walker I felt that all my listeners were friends, and I could not forego the opportunity to describe fully the heroic fortitude with which my indomitable friend and his men had endured their sufferings and struggled on against all odds. If my eyes were wet when I told of the injuries of the poor lads Sparks and Dougherty, there was at least one present who did not consider my emotion unmanly. She bowed her head in her hands and wept.
I went on to tell how the unfortunate men had sent the bones from their frozen feet, in pitiful appeal to their commander, and how they were being brought after us, maimed and unable to walk. It was not my desire to harrow my listeners needlessly, but I knew that the Malgares and the Vallois were among the richest families in New Spain, and felt certain that to tell them the piteous truth would insure the injured men the best of care so long as they should be detained by the Governor-General.
Having covered this point, I went back and described how we had fought our way on up the desolate plateau and across the Sangre de Cristo, and had at last found relief from toil and frost and famine in the broad valley of the Rio del Norte.
"So there was an end of our hardships," I concluded. "We had crossed the barrier."
"You had crossed the barrier!" murmured my lady, and through the tears which still glistened in her eyes she shot me a glance that repaid in full for all my months of journeying to find her.
"But that is not the end, Señor Robinson!" cried Doña Dolores, with the sweet petulance of a young bride. "Faciendo, you must let them know how Don Juan left his companions and came alone all the way to Santa Fe, fearless of the hideous Apaches."
"The Apaches do not range so far north, niña," corrected her husband. "Yet is it dangerous for a man to go alone among any of the wild tribes, or even among the tame Indians, if they have reason to believe his murder will not be discovered. That, however, was a small matter compared to the courage required to brave condemnation as a spy."
"Spy?" exclaimed Señor Vallois.
I saw Alisanda shrink at the word, and Walker bend forward to catch the answer.
"You must remember that Don Juan and his companions had been absent from the nearest of their frontier settlements for seven or eight months," explained Malgares. "How was he to foresee whether or not war had been declared?"
"War or not," interrupted Walker, "Señor Robinson not only invaded our territories in company with a military force, but, as I understand the event, he ventured into Santa Fe in disguise and without acknowledging his relation to Lieutenant Pike."
"How about it, Don Faciendo?" I asked. "Is an incursion into the territories of a neighboring Government necessarily an act of war?"
"Por Dios!" he laughed. "You have us there! I trust that His Excellency will consider his own proceedings, and be moved to look with a lenient eye upon the mistake of our Americano friends."
"So exalted a personage must be a man of discretion," I said, looking fixedly at Walker. "His Excellency will think twice before exacting vengeance for so small an offence. The garrotting or imprisonment of one or all the members of the expedition would be a bad bargain if it resulted in the loss to His Catholic Majesty of the Floridas. Mr. Walker can tell you that the riflemen who muster for our backwoods militia could, unaided, sweep the Floridas from Louisiana to the Atlantic. What is more, they will do it at the first excuse. They are already at full cock over the manner in which the British agents are allowed by your people to come up from the Gulf and foment trouble against us among the Creeks, Cherokees, and Choctaws. Let General Salcedo go to extremes with our peaceful expedition, and there will be a setting of triggers from Georgia to Louisiana."
"Madre de Dios! Be prudent, I pray you, Juan!" warned Don Pedro. "Such words are best left unsaid."
"Are they?" I demanded. "If to-morrow every free-minded man in New Spain spoke out his real thoughts, to-morrow this land would be free from Old Spain."
"Maria santisima!" gasped Doña Marguerite, dropping her fan and sitting erect.
"We forget that Don Juan is a citizen of the Anglo-American Republic," said Alisanda, calmly. "In his land men are not accustomed to wear muzzles."
"Because our fathers rebelled and triumphed over the tyrant who oppressed them," I added.
There followed a tense silence. The sun had set, and I could barely distinguish the features of the others in the fast gathering twilight. There was a shadow upon them, not alone of the night.
Before any one spoke, the silence was broken by the peal of a huge church bell. Instantly all others than myself bent forward, crossing themselves and murmuring hasty prayers—"Ave Maria purisima!" "Ave Maria santisima!"—while slowly the great bell pealed forth its deep and sonorous note.
In the midst a little hand slipped out and rested for a moment upon my hard knuckles. I turned my palm about to clasp the visitor, but it flitted like a butterfly. An instant later la oracion was brought to a close by a merry chime of smaller bells. The señoras began to chat in lively tones, and servants hastened in with waxen tapers to relieve the deepening gloom.
Greatly to my annoyance, Walker rose to leave. I might have surmised that he was prompted to the action by jealousy, but my ignorance of local etiquette made me apprehensive of another blunder. This forced me to follow his lead and join in his polite refusals of the pressing invitations of our host and hostess to remain for the evening. In a land where, upon an introduction to a man in the plaza, he presents you with his house, and later is not at home to you when you call at that same house, it is as well to take the most urgent of invitations with a grain of salt.
As we bowed to the ladies, Doña Dolores demurely slipped aside and drew the attention of the others by a piquant remark about one of the fine paintings upon the wall. Alisanda took the opportunity to flash me a glance which set my heart to leaping with the certainty that I had lost nothing by my crossing of the barrier. Just what I had gained was yet to be seen. I knew I had gone far toward winning my lady's heart—I had crossed the barrier of nationality and birth. But I did not forget that I had yet to cross the gulf of religion.
With that one swift glance, she drew back, and Don Pedro escorted us to the door. We exchanged bows with him, and moved down the gallery to the head of the stairway. Here we turned and again exchanged bows. We descended to the first landing, and paused to return the bow which he made to us over the gallery rail. Another exchange of bows from the edge of the beautiful flower-and-shrub-embowered court, and we at last escaped out through the tunnel-like passage to the great gate.
Passing through the wicket into the street, which was lit up by the red glare of a resin torch, we found ourselves face to face with Father Rocus and Lieutenant Don Jesus Maria de Gonzales y Medina. The aide-de-camp bowed stiffly and stared from Walker to myself with a glance of fiery jealousy. I gave him a curt nod, and hastened to grasp the proffered hand of the beaming padre.
"God be with you, my son!" he exclaimed.
"My thanks for the kind wish, padre!" I replied "I see you are coming to call upon my friend Señor Vallois."
"Your friend!" muttered Medina, for I had spoken in French.
"My friend," I repeated. "I had the pleasure of meeting Don Pedro in my own country. But now, señor, with regard to our misunderstanding this morning, I wish to express my regrets and to explain that the error was committed through inadvertence."
"Ah—if you apologize," he said, with a complacent half-sneer.
"You mistake me, señor. I do not apologize. I merely explain."
He turned, without answering, and swaggered in through the archway.
"You Americanos!" protested Father Rocus, reaching up to lay a hand upon my shoulder. "Can you never be prudent? Medina is a swordsman. Your friend here will tell you that out of five duels, the aide has to his credit three deaths on the black record of Satanas."
"If he is a swordsman, I am a pistol shot," I rejoined.
"Then all turns upon the chance of who challenges and who has choice of weapons. God grant the choice fall to you! He is in strong need of a lesson."
"That is true!" muttered Walker, with a shrug.
"Meantime, my son, it will be well for you to consider the peril of your soul and come often to the Parroquia to hear me preach," admonished the padre. He spoke in a severe tone, but I fancied I caught a twinkle in his eye as he turned to enter the gate.
Walker took me familiarly by the arm, and as we sauntered back to his quarters, first inquired particularly as to my skill with the pistol, and then went into the details of Medina's duels. Before he had finished I divined that he and others of the officers at Chihuahua would be more than pleased to see some one trim the comb of the braggadocio aide-de-camp. If an outsider could be inveigled into taking the risk, so much the better.
The following morning I assisted Pike in the preparation of a sketch of our trip, which had been most courteously requested by Salcedo. Walker offered his services, and would take no refusal. But we found more than one opportunity for a word apart, and Pike told me that he was already in touch with the woolly-headed old Cæsar, who had at once offered to help us to obtain information as to the country's mines, ranches, and Government. He had begun by pointing out to my friend the closet in which were secreted the Government maps that had hung on the walls before our arrival.
After dinner and the siesta, we received calls from a number of the most prominent gentlemen of Chihuahua, including Malgares's father-in-law, Colonel Mayron, and Don Manuel Zuloaga, one of the under secretaries. Almost in the first breath the latter insisted upon our visiting him that evening, and as he chanced to be the first in the field, we assented.
Other invitations showered upon us thick and fast, so that it soon became apparent we should not lack for social entertainment, despite our equivocal position in the eyes of the Governor-General. More than once we were urged to move to the luxurious homes of these generous gentlemen, but declined because Salcedo had intimated his wish that we should stay in Walker's quarters. Otherwise there seemed to be no check upon our liberty. We were free to come and go in the city as we chose. To save us the annoyance of arrest by the night patrols, we were even given the especial countersign of "Americanos."
During the afternoon Malgares and Señor Vallois pressed Pike and myself to receive loans from them of sufficient money to replenish our wardrobes. We declined, but later accepted a loan from Señor Zuloaga, on his representations that Salcedo would soon comply with my friend's application for an official loan, and that we owed it to the dignity of our country to present a favorable appearance. Accordingly, we went out with him to his tailor and to the stores, and made provisions for complete costumes in the prevailing mode of Europe and our own country.
This occupied us until vespers, or la oracion, after which, having donned such articles of our new outfit as were ready for wear, we accompanied Señor Zuloaga to his house. As the señor was a bachelor, we spent a most interesting hour alone with him on the azotea, or flat earthen roof of his house, discussing the great questions of politics and religion.
Our host talked with freedom, telling us, among other things, there was reason to dread that Emperor Napoleon had designs to seize Spain and dethrone King Ferdinand. In such event, he added, many of the loyal subjects in New Spain would consider it the highest patriotism to declare for independence. As Americans, Pike and I heartily commended this revolutionary sentiment.
Before we could further sound the position of our host, other callers arrived, and he shifted the conversation to less perilous topics. We descended to the sala, where there soon gathered a number of our new acquaintances and other persons of wealth and station who expressed themselves as eager for an introduction to the Anglo-Americano caballeros.
My truculent friend Lieutenant Medina came in early with Walker, to whom he seemed to have much to say on the side. He greeted Pike effusively, myself with marked reserve. After this he avoided us both, and soon sat down to gamble at cards with other officers. The rest of the company stood around or lolled on the divans, puffing their cigarros, and cigarritos, the younger men chatting about women and horses, the older ones adding to these stock topics the third one of fortune.
As politics was a subject unmentioned, Pike attached himself to the group which seemed most disposed to discuss silver and gold mining and the other important industry of stock-raising. I kept more among the younger men, gleaning in the chaff of their sensual anecdotes for grains of information on military affairs. My harvest was so scant that I gave over the attempt at the serving of the dulces and wine, an hour or two before midnight.
This light refreshment proved to be the signal for a general change. The gamblers gave over their cards, the others their barren chatter. A guitar was brought in, and Lieutenant Medina sang a rollicking wine song, nearly all present joining in the refrain. The aide was gifted with a rather fine tenor voice—and knew it. At the end of the song, he tendered the guitar, with a flourish, to the Americano lieutenant. Pike declined the honor; upon which Medina turned to me, with a yet deeper bow, his lip curled in a smile of malicious anticipation.
There was a general flash of surprise when I gravely accepted the instrument and set about readjusting the strings to my own key. I did not look at Medina, for I had need to keep a cool head. After so many months my fingers bent stiffly to the strings. But I had not forgotten my lady's lessons, and as the refrain of the first song had enabled me to test my voice, I was able to render a Spanish love ditty with some little success.
"Bravo!" exclaimed our host as I handed him the guitar. "I did not know that you Americanos were singers."
"We are not, as a rule," said Pike. "For the most part, our people have been too intent upon hewing their way through the wilderness and fighting for life and freedom to find time for skilled voice-training. Yet we have our singing-schools even on the outer frontiers."
"It is quite evident that Señor Robinson has found time to cultivate his fine voice," remarked one of the crowd.
"There will soon be a baritone beneath the balconies," added Medina. "Beware, all you who have wives and daughters!"
Señor Zuloaga handed the guitar back to me. "Pray accept this little gift from a friend, Don Juan," he said. "The señoritas of Chihuahua will be deprived of a great pleasure if you lack the means to serenade them."
"Señor," I replied, accepting the guitar, "it would be most ungallant to refuse a gift presented in such terms. Though I lack the skill and voice of Lieutenant Medina, I will do my best. May I ask if His Excellency, the Governor-General, is the father of one of your charming señoritas?"
A sudden hush fell upon the company at the mere mention of their master. The silence was broken by Pike.
"Better sheer off from that shore, John. Should your ditties fail to please His Excellency, you are apt to land in the calabozo."
"And the other fathers are apt to drop tiles upon my head," I sighed.
"Not they," reassured Zuloaga. "Keep in the shadow, and it will not be known but that you are the suitor favored by the parents."
"Yet what if I am discovered to be a stranger?" I inquired, with feigned concern.
A dozen voices hastened to reassure me that a serenade from one of the gallant Americanos would be taken in good part by the most hard-hearted of parents.
"But how do you find the window of the fair one?" I asked.
"That is to be seen, señor doctor," put in Medina. "My way is to station myself across the street and sing the first verse. That never fails to lure the coyest of coquettes from her secrecy."
"But, then, you have the voice," I mocked.
"It is true," he replied, taking me seriously.
"But what if the señorita's chamber is located in a remote part of the house?" I questioned.
"You are in truth a stranger to the women," he jeered. "Count upon it that every señorita in Chihuahua, however ugly, has a balconied chamber, either upon the front or the side street."
"Muchas gracias, Don Lieutenant," I said, and turned to Pike. "Hola, Don Montgomery! Would you keep the ladies waiting for their serenade?"
This raised a polite laugh, in the midst of which Pike, Walker, and I essayed the prolonged ceremony of leave-taking. At the door of the sala an attendant relieved me of the guitar, and for a little I thought Zuloaga's presentation had been a mere formality. But as we passed the gate into the street the attendant returned the instrument, in a handsome case.
"You are in fortune, doctor," remarked Walker. "That is as fine a guitar as is to be found in Chihuahua."
"So?" I said. "Then I really believe I will try it to-night."
"You may lose yourself, or be struck down by the knife of some murderous ladrone," he objected.
"Not he," reassured Pike. "I'd back him to out-wrestle a panther."
"What is more, I carry one of my pistols," I added. "So if, between you, my guitar case will not prove too much of a burden—"
"Sacre!" muttered Walker. "You may fall into trouble."
"That's my risk," I replied with unaffected cheerfulness, and handing the guitar case to my friend, I swung away up a side street before our dueño could interpose further objections.
As I sped along in the shadow of the houses, I could have leaped up and cracked my heels together for joy. I was alone and free for the first time since joining company with the two Yutahs in the valley north of Agua Caliente. But my coltish impulse was short-lived. I had not questioned and planned for the last hour, to caper about in solitary darkness now.
The street up which I had bolted did not lead in the direction in which I wished to go. This was soon mended by turning at the first corner. The towers of the Parroquia, looming high against the starlit sky, guided me to the plaza. I then needed only to skirt edge of the square to come to the street corner upon which stood the great mansion of Don Pedro.
More than once on my way I had heard the long-drawn notes of serenaders, and the thought that there might already be one beneath my lady's balcony hurried me into a run. But when, mindful of the counsel of the complacent Medina, I slipped into a shadowy archway across from the stone façade of the Vallois mansion, I could hear no music within two or three hundred paces. This surprised me not a little, and I stood for some moments wondering at it, for my brief stay in Chihuahua had already confirmed all that Doña Dolores had written to Malgares as to the great popularity of Alisanda.
It was, however, no time to ponder mysteries. Whatever reasons her other suitors might have for staying away, I was here to woo her, and woo her I would. I keyed my strings, and with my gaze roving from one to the other of the balconied windows across, began to sing that love ditty I had sung beneath my lady's window at Natchez. The first verse brought me no response. Every balcony remained empty, every window gaped black between its open hangings.
After a short interval I sang the second verse. But though I stared at the dim, ghostly outlines of the white stone mansion until my eyes ached, I saw no sign of my lady. It then occurred to me that her chamber might face upon the side street. I stepped out from my dark archway, to walk around. But as I crossed over I could not resist gazing up at the nearest balcony and whispering her dear name: "Alisanda! Alisanda! It is I—John."
Almost instantly a little white object darted out over the balcony rail and came fluttering down through the limpid darkness. I caught it in the air, and felt in my closing palm a roll of paper twisted through a ring. That it was a note and from my lady I had no doubts. But I could not read it here, and my love made me too impatient to be able to content myself with this dumb favor. I thrust the missive into my pocket, and called again: "Alisanda!—Alisanda! Speak to me, dearest one!"
I waited a full minute. But she gave no sign. By now I was in desperate earnestness.
"Alisanda!" I appealed to her, "is it for this I have come to you all these many leagues? Speak to me, dearest! I will not go—I cannot—until you speak to me!"
This time I did not call in vain. A shadowy form glided out the window and bent over the balcony rail, and the sweet notes of my lady's voice came down to me in heavenly music.
"Juan! Juan!" she murmured, in tender distress, "you must not take this risk! You will lose all! Go now, dear friend, before you are discovered. Go, read what I have written."
"What is a little risk, Alisanda, to one who has crossed the barrier to reach you?"
"You do not know! The risk is that you may find you have crossed the barrier in vain. There is yet the gulf. Go quickly! I hear a step—some one comes! He is almost here!"
"But, dearest one—!" I protested, as she vanished.
There came a sound of quick steps behind me, and an angry voice muttered the fierce oath, "Carrajo!"
A man reared in the wilderness acquires the instinct of the wild creatures to act first and consider afterwards. I leaped away from that angry voice before the last syllable of the oath hissed out. Even at that I felt the prick of a sword point beneath my shoulder as I bounded away. The owner of the voice had thrust—and thrust to kill. As my feet touched earth again I had out my pistol; as I spun about, I set the hair-trigger. The glint of a steel blade directed my gaze on the instant to the dim figure crouching to spring after me.
"Halt, señor assassin!" I commanded. "Take a step, and I shoot you down like a dog!"
"Peste!" he cried, lowering his sword point. "It is the Americano physician."
"And you are Medina!" I muttered between my hard-set teeth—"Medina, the aide-de-camp and bravo of Salcedo,—Medina the assassin."
"Peste!" he repeated. "It is a lie."
"You had better pray than swear," I warned him. "The trigger of my pistol is set. The slightest touch of my finger, and you go straight to hell."
"Santisima Virgen!" he protested, a trace of concern beneath the continued anger of his tone. "You do not comprehend."
"I comprehend that you, an officer in the service of His Most Catholic Majesty, sought to stab me in the back without warning. It was vile—it was cowardly! Can you name a single reason why I should not shoot you?"
"You do not comprehend!" he insisted. "I mistook you for one of those whom I have warned."
"Mistook me?" I repeated, catching at the chance for an explanation. It is not pleasant to think of a gentleman and officer turned assassin.
"Yes," he answered. "I have made this my privilege. Any man in Chihuahua who wishes to serenade Señorita Vallois has my pledge that I will kill him."
"I am in Chihuahua, and I have serenaded Señorita Vallois," I replied.
"But you did not know of my pledge. I will spare you this time."
"Muchas gracias, señor. Yet it seems to me it is a question of my sparing you."
"In that case, Señor Robinson might do well to consider that His Excellency, the Governor-General, would gladly welcome an excuse to garrotte a certain Americano spy."
"That may be. Still, a sword prick in the back is fair evidence against a dead assassin, even in a prejudiced court."
"True. Then it may be that the Americano caballero is sufficiently gallant to consider the scandal of a slaying beneath the window of a señorita of his acquaintance."
"A scandal which, it seems, one Lieutenant Medina did not consider. For all that, the argument is sound, Vaya!" I ordered, lowering my pistol.
"No!" he rejoined. "I will not go and leave you here."
"You shall!"
"Nada!"
For a moment I stood quivering with fury, wild to leap in, sword or no sword, and strike him down with my bare fist. But he had spoken truth. A death, or even a loud quarrel, beneath my lady's balcony, would draw upon her the talk of all Chihuahua.
"You are right in this," I forced myself to say; "we owe it to the lady not to involve her in any scandal. You will give me your word, and I will give you mine, to start in opposite directions, and neither return here to-night."
"Agreed!" he responded. "You have my word to it, señor physician."
"And you mine," I said, wheeling.
With punctilious precision he wheeled the other way and swaggered up the street as I stalked down. With a last glance at the empty balcony of my lady, I darted off across the corner of the plaza. Almost in front of Walker's quarters I ran plump into the midst of a night patrol.
"Arreste!" cried the officer in charge, and I stopped short with half a dozen lances at my breast.
"Americano!" I exclaimed.
"Vaya," said the officer.
The lance points flew up. I darted on through the gateway and around the court to the rooms assigned to Walker. Our host and Pike had retired, but old Cæsar was dozing beside the door. I sent him hobbling to bed with a few medios to tickle his black palm, and the moment he had disappeared, drew out my precious missive in the light of the guttering candle.
The ring was a plain gold band without any setting. Yet to me it was far more precious than any seal or gemmed ring, for on the inner side were engraved my lady's initials. I kissed the band and hastily forced it upon my little finger, that I might read my note without further delay. Though the message was written in English, the paper had been so crumpled that I had to smooth it out with care before I could decipher her dear words.
"My Knight," it began, "you have proved yourself a true champion. There is now no Barrier between us. I pray the Blessed Virgin that you may also cross the Gulf! But you still wear my colors. You have not honored them with your faith and courage to shrink now from the greater task! You should know, dear friend, that according to the Spanish law my uncle, who is my guardian, has the bestowal of my hand. Therefore be discreet. He will refuse your suit for a reason which I will tell you another time. Talk as you please. It is the custom to pay the ladies of my people extravagant compliments. But for a time restrain yourself as to action, and pray be prudent in what you say about political affairs. I fear for you! He who is to decide your fate is in doubt as to how far policy will permit him to venture. He would like to execute you as a spy, or at least fling you into his dungeon, but hesitates for fear the outrage might precipitate war with your Republic. Such was the representation made to him by my uncle and the friends he has interested in your fate. Therefore do not infuriate him beyond his self-control. Seek out Father Rocus. He is a true gentleman and my friend. You have made a good impression upon him. He may be able to aid you to cross the Gulf and avoid the danger which besets you. Then it will be for me to overcome the objections of my uncle. Now farewell. God preserve you, dear Knight! I press my lips to that name, for you have earned the salute many times over. Au revoir, my Knight!"
Delighted as I should have been, and was, to receive such a missive from my lady, its effect was to rouse in me all the greater longing to see her and win from her dear lips the admission that she loved me. In this thought I now forgot all else. Even the demand of patriotism that I should exert every effort on behalf of my country found me deaf.
I stilled my conscience with the argument that if I, the accredited spy, should devote my whole effort to a personal affair, it would tend to divert attention from the splendid work of Pike. Every day saw important additions to his notes and memoranda, and he had already hit upon the ingenious plan of securing the notes in tight rolls inside waxed wrappings and packing them down into the barrel of one of the muskets of the men, who were quartered in the same building as ourselves. As the gun's muzzle was of course kept plugged with its tampion, there was no danger of discovery, and with five more barrels to fill, we felt that whenever the Governor-General chose to release the Lieutenant and his men, they would be able to march out of the territories of His Most Catholic Majesty fairly loaded with information against the tyrant.
So, casting aside every thought of duty, I allowed my mind to dwell constantly upon my wooing, and, frivolous as it may appear, was more concerned over our visit to the tailor than to the magnificent hospital in the old Jesuit edifices on the west side of Chihuahua. That institution of healing was finely situated and furnished. But when I ventured to suggest an improvement upon some of the antiquated and barbarous methods of treatment, I met with such a heat of jealous prejudice from the clerical physicians that I was forced to silence.
Returning to the plaza, we were agreeably surprised to find our little French tailor most modern not only in his knowledge of the modes but also in the quickness of his work. He and his assistants had already completed our suits. As the following day was a Sunday, it was particularly gratifying to find ourselves becomingly costumed for genteel society.
Pike and our host slept late in the morning, but I had given old Cæsar orders to rouse me early. Donning my new garments, I slipped out and hastened across the plaza toward the Parroquia. The bell was already intoning for mass, and I passed numbers of rebozo-shrouded women streaming churchward. With my Anglo-American eyes and complexion I suppose I presented rather a striking figure among these people, who are so very rarely other than brunette,—though it may be I attracted more attention because of the fact that few other men had sallied out so early to attend mass.
Whatever the cause, I received enough smiles and alluring glances from pretty señoritas and, I fear, señoras, to have quite turned my head, had I not been far too intent upon the hope of seeing my lady to heed these charming coquettes. What I did heed, however, was the fact that the prettier the girl, the more jealously guarded was she by a keen-eyed duenna. What hope had I of a word apart with Alisanda if she came in company with Doña Marguerite?
Between the thought of this and the need to scan the scores of approaching ladies, I was not in a favorable frame of mind to appreciate the grandeur and beauty of the Parroquia. Yet so splendid were the two pillared towers, which reared against the sapphire sky a full hundred feet above the front corners of the high edifice, and so ornate was the white stone façade with its carvings and numerous statues of saints, that even my brief and preoccupied glances brought me a strong consciousness of the church's magnificence. I even looked twice at the carvings of the great round-arched entrance, so different in design from the pointed style of our Gothic ecclesiastical architecture.
That was as far as my observations went at the time, for as I again glanced out, I saw approaching among the throng of Moorishly draped figures one so tall and graceful that I knew her on the instant. I sprang from the entrance to meet her, but checked myself at the thought that it would be as well first to see who it was that accompanied her.
Alisanda wore her black lace mantilla, her companion a rebozo of finest silk, and both walked with heads reverently bowed. Yet I needed no second glance to feel assured that the duenna had not so portly a figure as that of Señora Vallois. If not Doña Marguerite, who then?
I was not long kept waiting for my answer. Standing with my stiff hat in hand, I looked eagerly for a sign of recognition from my lady. She did not so much as raise her head. But her companion straightened a little and parted a fold of her rebozo to bestow on me the mischievous flash of a sparkling eye. It was hardly the glance of an instant, yet it left me pleased and wondering why I had not at once recognized that plump, petite figure. The duenna I had so feared was none other than the wife of my friend Malgares, Doña Dolores. What was more, her look gave me the impression that she knew all, and, with the national love of intrigue, if not because of friendship for Alisanda, would aid us in our plans.
Vastly relieved at this discovery, I followed them at a respectful distance into the lofty domed interior of the Parroquia. As my eyes were fixed upon my lady, that I might not lose her in the throng which moved up the centre of the stone-flagged nave, I gathered at first only the vaguest of impressions with regard to the church's interior. But when she and Doña Dolores piously knelt upon the hard flagstones, in the midst of the peon women and the filthy beggars, I could not resist the impulse to look up and around.
At once, in place of the vague impression of magnificence, there burst upon my vision a glory of ornamentation almost dazzling. In all the Republic we have no church or other edifice to approach the Parroquia of Chihuahua in richness and splendor of ornamentation. The windows were filled with pictures of saints and angels wrought in stained glass, which cast over all a rich coloring well in keeping with the gold-and-silver-bedecked altar, the brass screens and railings, the silver candelabra, and the brightly colored and gilded images and pictures and crucifixes on the walls.
Add to this splendor of decoration the rich vestments of the officiating priests, the incense and wax tapers, and the solemn service of music and prayer,—and the effect was one to impress the most frivolous of believers in the Romish faith.
Yet as I stood beside one of the carved pillars and watched the devout bendings and prayers of Alisanda, I could not but compare her real worship with the formal movements and parrot-like invocations of those about her. Her religion was of the heart; theirs mere outward display. So at least I surmised from the manner in which, between times, they whispered and nibbled at dulces, and stared about at one another. Of course Alisanda and her friend were not alone in their real devotion, but I speak of the crowd.
I followed the service as closely as the different accenting and pronunciation of the Latin by Spanish tongues permitted. In justice to Alisanda, it was my duty to learn all I could with regard to her religion. I felt an added interest from the fact that the foremost of the priests was none other than Father Rocus.
Yet the closing of the ceremonies came as a vast relief to me. When for the last time the congregation crossed themselves and rose to leave, I leaned against my pillar and watched them pass out with as idle and careless a gaze as I could assume. All the time I kept the mantilla upon Alisanda's gracefully bowed head within the rim of my circle of vision. But I was certain she never once cast a glance in my direction, nor did Doña Dolores.
Untrained as I was in the intricacies of Spanish courtship, I might have been discouraged had I not observed that in their advance toward the exit the two were drifting, so to speak, sideways. This brought them angling through the crowd toward my pillar. Señora Malgares was on the nearer side, and I fancied it was her purpose to speak to me. Instead, they both swept by without so much as a glance.
Only, as she passed, the señora raised an arm beneath her rebozo as though to adjust its folds, and the fringed edge swept over my hat, which I was holding at my hip. A slight tug at its brim induced me to look down, after a moment's prudent wait. Within the hat's crown lay a scrap of paper upon which was written, in French, the single word, "Follow."
My height and dress, and the fact that I was one of the Americanos about whom the city was so curious, made me a marked man in the crowd. But if any among the hundreds of interested eyes that followed my movements had for owners some who suspected the purpose of my visit to the church, I flatter myself the sharpest were unable to distinguish which one of the ladies it was I followed into the open. To divert attention I glanced about at the peeping señoritas with feigned interest, until one angel-faced little coquette who could not yet have seen her sixteenth springtime fairly stared me out of countenance.
Once in the plaza, I had more room to man[oe]uvre, and started off at an angle to the course taken by Alisanda and her friend. To my chagrin I was at once surrounded by a tattered crowd of filthy leprosos, who exposed their sores and whined dolefully for alms. I flung them the few coppers I chanced to have with me, but that served only to whet the edge of their persistent begging. Suddenly I remembered that Don Pedro had given me the Spanish method for relieving oneself from these caballeros de Dios.
"Gentlemen," I addressed them in my best Spanish, "for God's sake, excuse me this time."
Even a few drops of Spanish blood carries with it appreciation of ceremonious courtesy. My words and the bow with which I accompanied them acted like magic upon the clamoring rabble. All alike bowed in response, with a great flourishing of greasy, tattered sombreros, and all alike stepped politely aside for me to pass.
The delay had given Alisanda and Doña Dolores several yards' start of me, but they were now sauntering so slowly that nearly all the members of the congregation who had turned in the same direction had gone by them. I followed several paces behind the last chattering, giggling group. As they passed Doña Dolores she dropped her rosary. This I judged was intended as a signal for me to join them. I picked up the string of polished beads, and hastened forward beside their owner.
"Pardon me, madame," I said in French, holding out the rosary, "you dropped your necklace."
"Santisima Virgen!" she exclaimed in mock surprise. "They are indeed my beads. Maria purisima! it is Señor Robinson! How fortunate that you should have chanced to find them for me, señor!"
I gave no heed to this mischievous raillery, for I was gazing across into the tender eyes of Alisanda. I started to go around beside her.
"Nada!" forbade Doña Dolores. "Not so fast, señor. I am the duenna, and I have very sharp eyes. So also have others who are walking in the plaza. You have chanced to find my beads, and are escorting me to the house of Señor Vallois, where your friend, my husband, is to join me at breakfast. Please do not forget that you are escorting me. If you choose to pay compliments to my companion, and I am too deaf to hear anything that is said, who can blame me? Besides, you know I do not understand English."
"Señora, you are an angel!" I exclaimed.
"Santa Maria! but that is the truth," she mocked. "Yet do not tell it to me when she is in hearing."
"Dolores! Is this a time for jests?" murmured Alisanda. The señora fell to counting her beads, with the most pious of expressions. My lady addressed me in English: "Dolores knows all, Juan. But it will be easier for you to talk in English, and she will not have to strain her conscience when she next goes to confession. Juan, it was rash to force this meeting."
"Forgive me, dearest one! But I could wait no longer. The interruption of our last meeting—"
"Santa Virgen! that terrible aide! I was stricken dumb with terror when he lunged at you—from the rear! The coward!"
"You saw it?"
"All! all! Juan, dear friend, you must guard yourself—you must be careful! That savage Andalusian! I heard all you said—how you spared him, that I might escape the scandal of a duel beneath my window. Has he challenged you?"
"Not yet."
"Not yet! But he will—he will! Do not fight him with swords, Juan. You told me once that you were not a swordsman. He is the most expert fencer in all these provinces."
"If he is a master, I have a better chance against him as it is than if I were an average swordsman. He will at least not know what I am going to do, as he would know with one who fenced according to rules."
"But he will kill you! No, do not fight him with swords, Juan. Let him challenge you, and be sure you name pistols."
"Would you have me murder the man?" I protested.
"You need not shoot to kill."
"That is true. But, dearest, let us speak of more important matters. You have not yet told me—"
"I wrote of your danger from His Excellency, Juan. Be prudent. Make as few enemies as you can. You have many friends."
"Walker has intimated that I shall gain more friends if I tame this Andalusian bull."
"Nada! If the swashbuckler challenges, you must fight, Juan. I know that. But do not force the matter yourself. He stands high in the favor of His Excellency."
"Alisanda," I replied, "you, like all others here, are far too much in fear of this tyrant Governor-General. But rest assured Lieutenant Pike and I comprehend the man and the situation. Should we show the slightest sign of weakness, I at least will at once be flung into prison, if not garrotted. The only course which will avert the blow is for us to show a bold front."
"Yet a little diplomacy—"
"Trust Lieutenant Pike to attend to the diplomacy. In his direct communications with Salcedo, he will flourish the steel blade in a velvet sheath. Aside from that, we have decided that the bolder our talk and bearing the better."
"Yet consider his absolute power—I fear for you, Juan!"
"What odds of the danger, if I have your love—Alisanda?"
A quick blush leaped into her pale cheeks, and she looked down, in sweet confusion.
"No, no, dear friend," she murmured. "Do not speak of that now. It would be too cruel, if later—Juan, you must see Father Rocus!"
"At once!" I assented.
"Go, then, now! You will find him at the Parroquia."
"But first, dearest one—"
"No, no! Go at once. We approach my uncle's house, and it is as well he should not see you."
"Then, if you bid me go, au revoir!" I said, stopping short.
She gave me a lingering glance which told all that her lips refused to speak. Doña Dolores dropped her beads and looked up at me with one of her bright, mischievous glances.
"Santa Maria! but you do not leave us, señor? You have been so entertaining!"
"And you, señora,—I could not have asked for a kinder duenna."
She muffled a peal of girlish laughter beneath the folds of her rebozo, and hurried Alisanda away, fearful, I suppose, that we had attracted too much attention. I wheeled in the opposite direction, and returned to the Parroquia. Aside from a few women kneeling here and there before the wall shrines, the great church Was now empty. But a young acolyte who came in to arrange the altar very courteously directed me to the parsonage, where, he said, I should find Father Rocus.
When I announced my name at the entrance, the gate porter at once admitted me, and rang a little bell. In a moment who should appear but Chita, my lady's Spanish maid. She courtesied and motioned me to follow her, without betraying the slightest sign of recognition. But the moment we were out of sight of the porter, she paused to whisper:
"Tsst! Say nothing. They have sent me here that I might not aid her to see you or write to you. They do not know that the padre is a friend. It is as well that he even does not know how greatly I wish to aid you. Señor, you are a caballero and a man, and she loves you. It is right that you should have her, though you be twice over a heretico. But she will not wed unless the padre gives his blessing. It is true love between you. If you cannot be a Christian, make pretence. For her sake, bow to the holy images and cross yourself. Deceive the padre—for her sake!"
"No, Chita," I replied. "A caballero may lie to save a lady's good name, but not to win her."
"Peste! Then you will lose her!"
"We shall see. Lead me in."
She took me into a cosey library, where I found Father Rocus seated in a huge easy-chair, one foot cushioned upon a stool, a glass and decanter at his elbow, and a book of philosophy in his jewelled, white hand.
"Hola, Don Juan!" he called at sight of me. "You come in good season. Be seated on the saddle-chair It will save your new coat-tails a creasing. I will not rise. A touch of the gout, as you see,—the first in months."
"Too much port," I suggested, swinging astride the narrow chair of carved mahogany. "Better take to sour claret for a while."
"Nada! not while I can bear the pain. I might pass for an English squire—I cannot forego the port."
"I will write you a prescription that will ease the pain. Nothing will cure you but abstinence."
He drew a wry face between his smiles. "Then I fear my case is hopeless. I am far from being a true Spaniard.—Chita, a glass for Señor Robinson."
The woman fetched and filled a glass while I drew my chair up to the marble-topped table-desk and scribbled a prescription. Father Rocus signed her to go out, and turned to me, still smiling, but with a sharpened glance.
"So you have already followed my advice and come to mass," he said.
"Your Reverence has a keen eye," I replied. "It seemed to me I kept close behind my pillar."
"Men are not numerous at early mass. Brawny, six-foot caballeros in European dress are not seen every week. Lastly, this one has blonde hair. A glimpse was enough and to spare. You talked with her?"
"She has sent me to you."
"Hum," he considered. "First of all, this Medina affair. Let him do the challenging. She says you do not fence. 'Twould be butchery for you to meet him with swords."
"That is a small matter, padre. What I wish to know—"
"Is whether you can conscientiously become a Christian," he put in.
"No, padre. That is not the question. It is of no use for me to hedge. I know I cannot become what you call a Christian. My religious principles are too near those of our famous President, Thomas Jefferson."
"Jefferson—that atheist!" he exclaimed, frowning.
"Not so, padre," I insisted with much earnestness. "It is an injustice to term Mr. Jefferson an atheist."
"And you?" he demanded.
"Your Reverence, I differ from most men of the age in this: I am content to leave creeds and ceremonies to the theologians; to walk as upright a life as lies within my power; and to trust in the great Author of all to judge my deeds with the clemency of a father for his child."
"You do not acknowledge God's vicar?"
"I have not the faith which enables me to believe your dogmas. It is no use to argue, padre. I am already sufficiently informed to know that a man of my refractory mentality cannot accept many of the fundamentals of your faith,—and I will not make false pretence by complying with the outward form."
Instead of flushing with anger, as I had expected, he looked grieved. It was apparent that my position was a bitter disappointment to him. For several minutes he sat gazing at the crucifix on the wall across, in sorrowful meditation, forgetful even of his wine.
"Padre," I at last said. "I love her with a love that dwells much upon my own happiness, but more upon hers. I now know she loves me. Do you not think such love God's will?"
He crossed himself. "God give me light! I am not among those who believe that the love of man and woman is of necessity an impure desire. God, not Satan, made Eve to be a companion unto Adam. Therefore true love is sacred in the eyes of God, and marriage a sacrament."
"In effect, if not in form, Your Reverence, that is the belief and practice of my people. With us a wife is the dear life companion who shares our triumphs and our defeats, our joys and sorrows, who brightens our pleasures, purifies and ennobles our impulses, and inspires us with the highest aspirations."
"Such, alas! is not the attitude of my people toward women," he sighed. "Yet to give a daughter of the Church to a heretic! Santisima Virgen! It is a knotty problem."
"To me, or to such a man as Medina," I argued—"which would be the greater sin?"
"Her uncle is set upon giving her, not to Medina, but to one as bad—one as bad!" he repeated. "My son—my son! if you could but become a Christian!"
"God gave me my reason, padre. If it is wrong to use my reason as I use it, I trust that He will forgive the error."
"You are a true, clean man, and you love her as no man in New Spain can love her."
"I do, padre."
"Yet it is against the canons of Holy Church—to give a true believer to an outright heretic!"
"She should be free to believe and practise her religion without change," I argued.
"True, but the children?" he demanded. "How as to the children?"
The wine spilled from my upraised glass, and I bent my head quickly aside to hide the strange emotion which overcame me. Children! Never had my thoughts dared roam so far into the future. Children—my children and hers! From the depths of my heart there gushed up such a flood of tenderness and adoration that I could not speak.