Part 18 (2/2)
”_Ma foi_, no! Drink this and go to sleep.”
He was the Emile of every-day life once more, brusque, blunt and practical. As he turned away to put the gla.s.s back on the table, he was debating whether it would not be wise to call up Maria. A woman would understand better what to do for another woman. He knew that Arith.e.l.li would never ask for anything under any circ.u.mstances.
He had taught her too well his own depressing theory that life ”mostly consisted of putting up with things,” and in practice thereof the pupil had outshone her master.
The rigid tension of her arms and hands as they lay on the coverlet told of her effort for composure, and he noticed for the first time that beautiful as the latter still were in shape and colour, one of the nails was broken, and the finger tips had spread and widened. When there had been meetings up in the hills at night she had always been left to see to the unharnessing of the horses and mules, and these disfigurements were the result of her struggles with saddle-girths and straps. Her work was usually well done, and if it did not happen to be satisfactory, she came in for the united grumbles of the whole party.
Emile bit into his cigarette as his eyes caught the discoloured lines of Sobrenski's sign-manual on her wrist.
It was entirely through him, Emile, that she had in the first place joined the league of conspirators, and this was one of the results.
Sobrenski's judgment had been more far-seeing than his own. One girl in a roomful of fanatics, (he was one himself, but that did not make any difference,) would naturally stand a very poor chance if she was foolish enough to oppose them.
With masculine thoughtlessness Emile had set the candle close beside the bed, where it flared full into Arith.e.l.li's eyes.
They were wide open now. The look of desperation had faded, and there was in them only the appeal of one human being to another for help and sympathy.
”_Eh, bien_, Fatalite?”
She s.h.i.+fted her position wearily and stretched out her hands towards him, murmuring, ”_Je veux dormir_.”
If Emile had possessed either chloroform or any other narcotic he would at once have given it to her without much thought of the possible consequences. An inspiration seized him to use the power for soothing and alleviating provided by Nature. He knew that Arith.e.l.li would be an easy subject for the exercise of animal magnetism, and her morbid condition would make it even easier for him to send her to sleep.
He moved away the candle, so as to leave her face in shadow, and leaning forward he laid his hand across her forehead and eyes, and began a series of regular and monotonous pa.s.ses, always in a downward direction. Once he rested his thumbs lightly on her eyeb.a.l.l.s, remaining so for a few seconds, while his will went out to her, bidding her sleep and find unconsciousness.
CHAPTER XIII
”There is a woman at the beginning of all great things.”
LAMARTINE.
The whizzing rush and discordant scream of the electric trams, the sun warm upon his face, aroused Emile from a restless, fitful sleep of a few hours. The street cries had begun to swell into a volume of sound, and at the earliest dawn the whole place teemed with stir and life.
There was no hour in all the night in which Barcelona really slept.
Some of the shops did not close before midnight, and people were continually pa.s.sing through the Rambla, and entering and leaving the _posadas_, which were open for the sale of wine and bread soon after three o'clock in the morning.
Emile yawned and stretched, and pulled himself up slowly from the chair by the open window in which he had fallen asleep. He was cramped and stiff from his uncomfortable position. Anxiety and strain had deepened the lines on his face, and his eyes were dull and sunken. He looked less hard, less alert, and altogether more human and approachable.
A glance at the bed a.s.sured him that Arith.e.l.li was still asleep and in exactly the same att.i.tude as he had left her. Though her sleep was not a natural one, at least it was better than drugs, and he had given her a respite, a time of forgetfulness. In a few minutes he would have to arouse her again to more pain and discomfort, and the inevitable weariness of convalescence. He stood inhaling the wonderful soft air and gathering up his energies to face the work of another day.
Arith.e.l.li's affairs had to be put straight, and Vardri provided for in some way. He did not in the least know how this was all to be accomplished, and at present the problems of the immediate future seemed likely to prove a little difficult.
He was not by nature optimistic, and the events of the last few days had made him even less so than ordinary. He felt that he must go back to his rooms, and finish out his _siesta_ before he could work out any more plans.
Arith.e.l.li awoke at once when he touched her and called her name, but before she had realised where she was Emile was half way downstairs in search of Maria.
As it happened it was Sunday morning, and being at least outwardly devout, the damsel was just on the point of starting for an early Ma.s.s, and was arrayed in her church-going uniform of black gown and _velo_, and armed with missal and rosary.
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