Part 11 (1/2)
”Why, was it not he that was bringing home Pereo, who had been lying in one of his trances or visions--blessed St. Antonio preserve us!” said Pepita, hastily crossing herself--”on Kooratora's grave, when the Doctor's mustang charged down upon them like a wild bull, and the Doctor's foot half out of the stirrups, and he not yet fast in his seat. And Pereo laughs a wild laugh and says: 'Watch if the coyote does not drag yet at his mustang's heels;' and Sanchez ran and watched the Doctor out of sight, careering and galloping to his death!--ay, as Pereo prophesied. For it was only half an hour afterward that Sanchez again heard the tramp of his hoofs--as if it were here--and knowing it two miles away--thou understandest, he said to himself: 'It is over.'”
The two women shuddered and crossed themselves.
”And what says Pereo of the fulfillment of his prophecy?” asked Faquita, hugging herself in her shawl with a certain t.i.tillating shrug of fascinating horror.
”It is even possible he understands it not. Thou knowest how dazed and dumb he ever is after these visions--that he comes from them as one from the grave, remembering nothing. He has lain like a log all the morning.”
”Ay; but this news should awaken him, if aught can. He loved not this sneaking Doctor. Let us seek him; mayhap, Sanchez may be there. Come!
The mistress lacks us not just now; the guests are provided for. Come!”
She led the way to the eastern angle of the casa communicating by a low corridor with the corral and stables. This was the old ”gate-keep” or quarters of the mayordomo, who, among his functions, was supposed to exercise a supervision over the exits and entrances of the house. A large steward's room or office, beyond it a room of general a.s.sembly, half guard-room, half servants' hall, and Pereo's sleeping-room, const.i.tuted his domain. A few peons were gathered in the hall near the open door of the apartment where Pereo lay.
Stretched on a low pallet, his face yellow as wax, a light burning under a crucifix near his head, and a spray of blessed palm, popularly supposed to avert the attempts of evil spirits to gain possession of his suspended faculties, Pereo looked not unlike a corpse. Two m.u.f.fled and shawled domestics, who sat by his side, might have been mourners, but for their voluble and incessant chattering.
”So thou art here, Faquita,” said a stout virago. ”It is a wonder thou couldst spare time from prayers for the repose of the American Doctor's soul to look after the health of thy superior, poor Pereo! Is it, then, true that Dona Maria said she would have naught more to do with the drunken brute of her mayordomo?”
The awful fascination of Pereo's upturned face did not prevent Faquita from tossing her head as she replied, pertly, that she was not there to defend her mistress from lazy gossip. ”Nay, but WHAT said she?” asked the other attendant.
”She said Pereo was to want for nothing; but at present she could not see him.”
A murmur of indignation and sympathy pa.s.sed through the company. It was followed by a long sigh from the insensible man. ”His lips move,” said Faquita, still fascinated by curiosity. ”Hus.h.!.+ he would speak.”
”His lips move, but his soul is still asleep,” said Sanchez, oracularly. ”Thus they have moved since early morning, when I came to speak with him, and found him lying here in a fit upon the floor. He was half dressed, thou seest, as if he had risen to go forth, and had been struck down so--”
”Hus.h.!.+ I tell thee he speaks,” said Faquita.
The sick man was faintly articulating through a few tiny bubbles that broke upon his rigid lips. ”He--dared--me! He--said--I was old--too old.”
”Who dared thee? Who said thou wast too old?” asked the eager Faquita, bending over him.
”He, Koorotora himself! in the shape of a coyote.”
Faquita fell back with a little giggle, half of shame, half of awe.
”It is ever thus,” said Sanchez, sententiously; ”it is what he said last night, when I picked him up on the mound. He will sleep now--thou shalt see. He will get no further than Koorotora and the coyote--and then he will sleep.”
And to the awe of the group, and the increased respect for Sanchez's wisdom, Pereo seemed to fall again into a lethargic slumber. It was late in the evening when he appeared to regain perfect consciousness.
”Ah--what is this?” he said, roughly, sitting up in bed, and eying the watchers around him, some of whom had succ.u.mbed to sleep, and others were engaged in playing cards. ”Caramba! are ye mad? Thou, Sanchez, here; who shouldst be at thy work in the stables! Thou, Pepita, is thy mistress asleep or dead, that thou sittest here? Blessed San Antonio!
would ye drive me mad?” He lifted his hand to his head, with a dull movement of pain, and attempted to rise from the bed.
”Softly, good Pereo; lie still,” said Sanchez, approaching him. ”Thou hast been ill--so ill. These, thy friends, have been waiting only for this moment to be a.s.sured that thou art better. For this idleness there is no blame--truly none. The Dona Maria has said that thou shouldst lack no care; and, truly, since the terrible news there has been little to do.”
”The terrible news?” repeated Pereo.
Sanchez cast a meaning glance upon the others, as if to indicate this coaffirmation of his diagnosis.
”Ay, terrible news! The Doctor West was found this morning dead two miles from the casa.”
”Dr. West dead!” repeated Pereo, slowly, as if endeavoring to master the real meaning of the words. Then, seeing the vacuity of his question reflected on the faces of those around him, he added, hurriedly, with a feeble smile, ”O--ay--dead! Yes! I remember. And he has been ill--very ill, eh?”
”It was an accident. He was thrown from his horse, and so killed,”