Part 7 (1/2)
The young man threw him one of his gold pieces, and slipped the knife and its sheath in his boot. When he had received his change from the shopkeeper, he folded his arms and leaned back against the wall in quiet indifference.
The simple act seemed to check aggressive, but not insinuating, interference. In a few moments one of the men appeared at the doorway.
”It is fine weather for the road, little comrade!”
Guest did not reply.
”Ah! the night, it ess splendid,” he repeated, in broken English, rubbing his hands, as if was.h.i.+ng in the air.
Still no reply.
”You shall come from Sank Hosay?”
”I sha'ant.”
The stranger muttered something in Spanish, but the landlord, who reappeared to place Guest's supper on a table on the veranda, here felt the obligation of interfering to protect a customer apparently so aggressive and so opulent. He pushed the inquisitor aside, with a few hasty words, and, after Guest had finished his meal, offered to show him his room. It was a dark vaulted closet on the ground-floor, gaining light from the stable-yard through a barred iron grating. At the first glimpse it looked like a prison cell; looking more deliberately at the black tresseled bed, and the votive images hanging on the wall, it might have been a tomb.
”It is the best,” said the landlord. ”The Padre Vincento will have none other on his journey.”
”I suppose G.o.d protects him,” said Guest; ”that door don't.” He pointed to the worm-eaten door, without bolt or fastening.
”Ah, what matter! Are we not all friends?”
”Certainly,” responded Guest, with his surliest manner, as he returned to the veranda. Nevertheless, he resolved not to occupy the cell of the reverend Padre; not from any personal fear of his disreputable neighbors, though he was fully alive to their peculiarities, but from the nomadic instinct which was still strong in his blood. He felt he could not yet bear the confinement of a close room or the propinquity of his fellow-man. He would rest on the veranda until the moon was fairly up, and then he would again take to the road.
He was half reclining on the bench, with the slowly closing and opening lids of some tired but watchful animal, when the sound of wheels, voices, and clatter of hoofs on the highway arrested his attention, and he sat upright. The moon was slowly lifting itself over the limitless stretch of grain-fields before him on the other side of the road, and dazzling him with its level l.u.s.tre. He could barely discern a cavalcade of dark figures and a large vehicle rapidly approaching, before it drew up tumultuously in front of the fonda.
It was a pleasure party of ladies and gentlemen on horseback and in a four-horsed char-a-bancs returning to La Mision Perdida. Buchanan, Raymond, and Garnier were there; Amita and Dorotea in the body of the char-a-bancs, and Maruja seated on the box. Much to his own astonishment and that of some others of the party, Captain Carroll was among the riders. Only Maruja and her mother knew that he was recalled to refute a repet.i.tion of the gossip already circulated regarding his sudden withdrawal; only Maruja alone knew the subtle words which made that call so potent yet so hopeless.
Maruja's quick eyes, observant of everything, even under the double fire of Captain Carroll and Garnier, instantly caught those of the erect figure on the bench in the veranda. Surely that was the face of the tramp she had spoken to! and yet there was a change, not only in the dress but in the general resemblance. After the first glance, Guest withdrew his eyes and gazed at the other figures in the char-a-bancs without moving a muscle.
Maruja's whims and caprices were many and original; and when, after a sudden little cry and a declaration that she could stand her cramped position no longer, she leaped from the box into the road, no one was surprised. Garnier and Captain Carroll quickly followed.
”I should like to look into the fonda while the horses are being watered,” she said, laughingly, ”just to see what it is that attracts Pereo there so often.” Before any one could restrain this new caprice, she was already upon the veranda.
To reach the open door, she had to pa.s.s so near Guest that her soft white flounces brushed his knees, and the flowers in her girdle left their perfume in his face. But he neither moved nor raised his eyes.
When she had pa.s.sed, he rose quietly and stepped into the road.
On her nearer survey, Maruja was convinced it was the same man. She remained for an instant, with a little hand on the door-post. ”What a horrid place, and what dreadful people!” she said in audible English as she glanced quickly after Guest. ”Really, Pereo ought to be warned against keeping such company. Come, let us go.”
She contrived to pa.s.s Guest again in regaining the carriage; but in the few moments' further delay he walked on down the road before them, and, by the time they were ready to start, he was slowly sauntering some hundred yards ahead. They pa.s.sed him at a rapid trot, but the next moment the char-a-bancs was suddenly pulled up.
”My fan!” cried Maruja. ”Blessed Santa Maria!--my fan!”
A small black object, seen distinctly in the moonlight, was lying on the road, directly in the track of the sauntering stranger. Garnier attempted to alight; Carroll reined in his horse.
”Stop, all of you!” said Maruja; ”that man will bring it to me.”
It seemed as if he would. He stopped and picked it up, and approached the carriage. Maruja stood up in her seat, with her veil thrown back, her graceful hand extended, her eyes and mouth tremulous with an irresistible smile. The stranger came nearer, singled out Captain Carroll, tossed the fan to him with a slight nod, and pa.s.sed on the other side.
”One moment,” said Maruja, almost harshly, to the driver. ”One moment,” she continued, drawing her purse from her pocket brusquely.
”Let me reward this civil gentleman of the road! Here, sir;” but, before she could continue, Carroll wheeled to her side, and interposed.