Part 32 (1/2)
”Il n'y a que l'amour et la mort.”
For a few minutes after he had gone, Arith.e.l.li stood motionless, still with her hands pressed tightly over her eyes, trying to command her brain to work clearly. Her will and her limbs seemed paralysed. She could only wait for Vardri's approach. Once she prayed an inarticulate wordless prayer, that inspiration might be sent her to find a way out of this _impa.s.se_ in which there seemed neither light nor opening.
Time was pa.s.sing, and every moment was bringing her nearer the most appalling destiny that could ever be meted out to any woman. If she did Sobrenski's bidding she would be not only a murderess, but the murderess of the being she loved most in the world. Vardri, who was so different from all the other men; Vardri, who could never bear anything to be hurt, or even to be made uncomfortable. She knew that it was perfectly useless for both of them to attempt to escape. Someone was most likely posted at the window of the loft, they would get no distance on foot without being overtaken, and if she attempted to lead out any of the horses or mules, the noise would probably attract attention.
Her hands fell to her side, and her head went up as she listened intently. So he was coming, after all. In that undisturbed s.p.a.ce and clear dry air, sound travelled quickly, and she could hear the approaching hoof-beats while he was still some way off. With the knowledge of his approach the blood flowed again warmly in her veins and courage and decision came back to her. Her senses, unnaturally acute, told her that Vardri had now dismounted and was leading his horse. She could distinguish his footsteps, and then the monotonous regular footfalls of his mount. She ran out into the patch of moonlight, casting a hurried backward glance at the side of the hut.
Thank G.o.d! the window was on the other side!
Vardri was coming slowly towards her, his horse's bridle over his arm.
Before she covered the distance between them she made a gesture that enjoined silence and stopped his greeting. ”Don't bring your horse in,” she whispered. ”Tie him up out of the way over there, a good way off the hut. I'll explain presently.”
In another moment Vardri was beside her in the hut and had her in his arms.
”What is it, _mon pet.i.t_? There must be something wrong. Has Sobrenski--?”
”No, no, he has done nothing. It's just that I don't want you to be up here too long to-night. I want you to do something for me. Will you, Vardri?”
”Do you think you'll need to ask me twice to do anything for you, dear?”
He stood with his hands on her shoulders, his dark eyes gazing down at her hungrily. ”Did you think I was never coming? I stayed behind on purpose. I felt that Sobrenski intended to prevent our talking together.” Arith.e.l.li s.n.a.t.c.hed eagerly at his words. They had given her the clue she wanted.
”Yes, that's it. It's dangerous for me if we are seen often together.
I've done something so mad and foolish, Vardri, you must help me to put it right,--you _can_. Those letters you have written me saying all sorts of things against the Cause,--I left a piece of one about somewhere,--I don't know where,--and Sobrenski found it. He has just told me that in about half an hour's time before all the rest of them leave, he is going to send on one of the men in advance. He will get down to the town before us, go to my rooms and yours and collect all the letters that have pa.s.sed between us; and use them, as then he will have what he has always wanted,--the proofs that we are what he would call traitors. And when he has these proofs, neither of us will be safe for an instant. It will mean death to both of us sooner or later.
But even Sobrenski can't murder us without sufficient evidence. He will be obliged to make some formal parade of justice to put it all before the rest of the society. If he doesn't get our letters he will not have sufficient evidence.”
”But if we go away together to-night, as we intended? We've got a start. We can take the best horses. That is the best plan.”
Arith.e.l.li shook her head. ”Listen to me, dear, and believe in a woman's wisdom for once. If we go to-night and together, we are bound to be recaptured before we are out of Barcelona. By doing what I suggest we avoid suspicion, we give ourselves breathing-s.p.a.ce, time to arrange a disguise, to think of all sorts of things that we have overlooked. We have everything in our favour to-night, Sobrenski does not know you are here yet. If you go soon you will get away without his having seen you at all. Here is the key of my room. Go there first, and you will find all your own letters in a wooden box in my big trunk. That isn't locked. Open it and burn them all. Then go on to your own room, do the same with yours and stay there. If they raid my room, they will find nothing suspicious. You could pretend you were ill, and that's the only reason you haven't come tonight, and I am here doing my work as usual. Nothing could be less suspicious. Then when they are off their guard we can escape.”
The minutes were flying. Death thrusting his lean face before the rosy face of Love. Sobrenski's phrase sounded in her ears like the tolling of a bell. ”You have an hour free to do your work.” An hour, only an hour! How long had they been there already? Time and all else alike seemed blurred. All her will must be concentrated upon one thing--to make Vardri leave her as quickly as possible. Yet she dare not show a sign of haste or emotion lest he should suspect something amiss and refuse to go.
”Dear, it is a wonderful plan this, of yours,” Vardri was saying. ”But how can I leave you here alone with these devils? It makes me cold to think of it.”
”You'll leave me because I shall be safer alone. You _must_ see that, _mon ami_.” She clung to him, putting up her face towards his. Every art of womanhood must be used to weave a spell to send him from her and to save him. ”Will you not do as I ask you?”
”I'll do anything in the world for you,” the boy broke out eagerly; ”I'd have my hand cut off to save you a minute's pain.”
”I know, _mon ami_. And this is such a little thing, and so much depends upon its being done quickly.”
What was that? A step on the ladder? She could not control a violent start. No, it was only a creaking rung, a stamp from one of the mules.
”But you haven't broken your promise to me. You swear to come away with me soon?”
”To-morrow if you will. Once the letters are burnt we are almost safe.
Only one day more. It doesn't make any difference.”
”It does to me, _mon pet.i.t_. Every moment, every hour without you is time wasted.”
”But you'll go, dear, before Sobrenski sees us together?”