Part 18 (1/2)
”Stop!” cried the girl, ”I absolve you from all injunctions of silence.
I, too, am a de Lara, and in my father's absence the head of the house.
The duty thou hast sworn to him thou owest me. Art still in the same mind as last night, I say?”
”Last night I was a fool!”
”And this morning?”
”I am a slave.”
”A slave to what? To whom?”
”Donna Mercedes,” he cried, turning an imploring glance upon her, ”press me no further. Indeed, the burden is greater than I can bear.”
”A slave to whom?” she went on insistently, seeing an advantage and pressing it hard. She was determined that she would have an answer. No conviction of duty or feeling of filial regard was strong enough to overwhelm love in this woman's heart. As she spoke she flashed upon him her most brilliant glance and by a deft movement of her bridle hand swerved the jennet in closer to his barb. She laid her hand upon his strong arm and bent her head close toward him. They were far from the others now and the turns of the winding road concealed them.
”A slave to whom? Perhaps to--me?” she whispered.
”Have mercy on me!” he cried. ”To you? Yes. But honor, duty----”
”Again those hateful words!” she interrupted, her dark face flus.h.i.+ng with anger. ”Were I a man, loved I a woman who loved me as I--as I--as one you know, I would have seized her in spite of all the world! Once she had fled to the shelter of my arms, while life beat in my heart none should tear her thence.”
”Thy father----”
”He thinks not of my happiness.”
”Say not so, Donna Mercedes.”
”'Tis true. It is a matter of convenient arrangement. Two ancient names, two great fortunes cry aloud for union and they drown the voice of the heart. I am bestowed like a chattel.”
”Don Felipe----”
”Is an honorable gentleman, a brave one. He needs no defense at my hands. That much, at least, my father did. There is no objection to my suitor save that I do not love him.”
”In time--in time you may,” gasped Alvarado.
”Dost thou look within thine own heart and see a fancy so evanescent that thou speakest thus to me?”
”Nay, not so.”
”I believe thee, and were a thousand years to roll over my head thine image would still be found here.”
She laid her tiny gloved hand upon her breast as she spoke in a low voice, and this time she looked away from him. He would have given heaven and earth to have caught her yielding figure in his arms. She drooped in the saddle beside him in a pose which was a confession of womanly weakness and she swayed toward him as if the heart in her body cried out to that which beat in his own breast.
”Mercedes! Mercedes!” he said, ”you torture me beyond endurance! Go back to your duenna, to Senora Agapida, I beg of you! I can stand no more! I did promise and vow in my heart--my honor--my duty----”
”Ay, with men it is different,” said the girl, and the sound of a sob in her voice cut him to the heart, ”and these things are above love, above everything. I do not--I can not understand. I can not comprehend. You have rejected me--I have offered myself to you a second time--after the refusal of last night. Where is my Spanish pride? Where is my maidenly modesty? That reserve that should be the better part of woman is gone. I know not honor--duty--I only know that though you reject me, I am yours.
I, too, am a slave. I love you. Nay, I can not marry Don Felipe de Tobar. 'Twere to make a sacrilege of a sacrament.”