SPEECH WITH NALADI
If you were ever rudely aroused from pleasant dreams by a sudden dash
of cold water in your face, you may partially comprehend my emotions
upon hearing these words of greeting, and realizing that I was looking
into the beautiful, pitiless eyes of the Daughter of the Sun, now
sitting upright on the couch, happily smiling at my embarrassment.
"Nay, Geoffrey Benteen," she exclaimed, significantly waving her white
hand as she noted my swift glance backward, "retire not thus suddenly.
You must be a marvellous woodsman to have attained this place through
the watchful cordon of my guards, but 'tis not likely you would so
safely run the gantlet of return. You are not so fair of visage as
your gay companion the Chevalier, yet now you are here I will enjoy a
short time with you. Yet first let us understand each other. For what
purpose do you invade my apartment so boldly?"
"I came," I replied, believing frankness would prove my best play in
this crisis, "expecting to find not you, but your prisoner."
"Ah! you are honest, if not complimentary," a quick flash of
understanding in her bright eyes. "So it was another woman for whose
sake you came creeping recklessly through the night! God's mercy! I
even ventured to dream my charms had pierced the dull armor of your
cold English heart, yet here you merely stand and laugh at me,--would
even flee my presence as though pestilence were upon my breath. Why, I
wonder? am I not also fair? Why then flout me thus disdainfully?
Naladi has not been accustomed to such harsh treatment at the hands of
your sex."
"You are, indeed, beautiful both in form and face," I answered, seeking
to avoid quarrel, "but it is not for a mere adventurer of the woods to
utter words of love to such as you."
Her lips curled in sarcastic smile.
"Pish! you grow marvellously modest all at once. I bid you note that
the passion of love cares nothing for a registry of birth--it looks to
flesh and blood, not records. There is more hidden in your secret
heart to-night than finds utterance upon the lips. You have the soft
speech of a diplomat, full of guile and cunning. Come, I bid you tell
me the whole truth. Do you think me an untutored savage, that you deny
me in such disdain?"
"I know not how it may prove regarding your heart," I said boldly, not
hesitating to meet her questioning eyes, "but in manner and graces you
exhibit the gloss of courts."
She smiled mockingly, rising to her feet and saluting me with a low
curtsy.
"Ah! very prettily said, señor. I perceive your objection then: you
think me fairer without than within. I dare not contend you are
altogether wrong in such conjecture. Faith, why not, señor? It would
be strange otherwise. All lives do not flow gently amid prosaic
routine, and my ship has been often enough upon the rocks. I have
learned reasons of deceit and cruelty in the hard school of experience.
If, in years of trial, I have grown hard of judgment, reckless of
action, it is because others have been harsh with me. Power is
naturally tyrannical. But then what use for us to dwell upon the past?
So you came to-night to meet another? 'T is strange the risks a man
will run for so infinitesimal a reward. Yet, Mother of God, it gives
me a pleasant tale to pour into the ears of him you call De Noyan when
we meet again to-morrow. If I mistake not, the one you seek in secret
bears the name of that gay gallant. At least, she masquerades in this
wilderness under the title of Madame de Noyan. But 'tis you, not he,
her reputed husband, forsooth, who seeks her chamber in the midnight.
Truly 'tis a pretty tale of romance."
It flashed upon me, as she thus lightly spoke, what infernal use an
unscrupulous woman might easily make of this. The imputation lurking
in her words aroused me to defiant anger, yet before I could collect my
thought to make reply, she marked my hesitancy and continued with
bitter sarcasm.
"Madame possesses so sweetly innocent a face I should never have
suspected her of being an immodest wanton, were it not for the evidence
of my own eyes. 'T is a strange world, señor. Yet I have often heard
this is the way with these _grandes dames_ of France."
"It is only your own foulness of thought which places such construction
upon my coming here," I broke forth, determined I would face her down
at every hazard. "You know well my purpose; I came seeking to aid one
you held prisoner. It is all because of your sin, not ours. You have
robbed this Chevalier de Noyan of all his manhood by your cursed smiles
and honeyed speech. You have made him forget his sworn duty unto her
who is his wife."
"How interesting you grow," she interrupted, her lips curling, her eyes
hardening. "Señor, you grow almost handsome when your eyes flash. So
you felt called upon to devote yourself to this poor, misused,
neglected wife? I trust you have not found it an unpleasant service,
or entirely without reward?"
"I felt called upon to aid her in escaping from your grip."
"Ah, indeed? Would you kindly, señor, tell me how you proposed
performing such a miracle? It remains in my memory some such effort at
release has been made before," her eyes hardening like diamonds. "Down
yonder stands a blackened post which tells how Naladi deals with those
daring to mock her will."
"You may spare threats," I retorted, gathering courage from rising
anger, "as I care nothing for your good will, nor shall I swerve an
inch in the hope of escaping your savage vengeance. Madame de Noyan is
so far above you in every attribute of unsullied womanhood that no
words of yours can ever besmirch her reputation; while, as to myself, I
remain so certain of my own rectitude in the action of this night, I
challenge you to do your worst."
"No doubt the Chevalier will also feel confidence in all you say," she
added maliciously. "I understand it is the way with the French."
"With whom your previous acquaintance seems to have rendered you most
familiar."
It was a wild, chance shot, for firing which I had no reason excepting
that twice she had openly sneered at that people, and once had spoken
of ships in a way strange to an inland savage. It was worth trying,
however, and I marked her slight start of surprise at my insinuating
tone, and the dark shadow sweeping across her face.
"Think you so, señor? It is passing strange, then, that I should be
ignorant of the tongue."
"Yes, were it true," I made quick reply, encouraged by her manner,
determined now to press this guessing home, and abide results. "But
you had small difficulty comprehending the language a moment back.
Permit me to remind you that it chanced to be French I spoke when first
kneeling at your bedside."
She savagely bit her red lips in rage at my words; yet more, I thought,
at her own forgetfulness.
"Pish! perhaps so;" and she stamped her foot angrily on the stone slabs
of the floor. "What does that prove to my discredit for you to harp
upon?"
Why my accidental words should thus worry her I could not even guess.
Yet, clearly enough, there lay hidden some secret here--a hideous
secret I had harshly probed. Believing this, I felt that I could
enhance my power over her by pressing it relentlessly home with
whatsoever directness of speech I dared to venture. With me, at such a
crisis, decision meant action, and I advanced a step nearer, looking
her directly in the eyes. A single moment she met me with a haughty
stare; then defiance faded away into pleading, and her glance wavered.
Whatever the cause, she was clearly afraid.
"Who--who are you?" she faltered. "Surely we have never met before?"
"As you know already, I am Geoffrey Benteen. I only regret that your
memory is so faulty."
"What is it you know of me?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing, Madame," and I threw into the utterance of these
words all the irony possible. "It is not altogether strange Madame
should forget acquaintances of other days, even her native tongue,
living so long in the wilderness."
It was a reckless shot, but somehow it struck the mark.
"I am a Toltec!" she cried wildly. "You speak to the Daughter of the
Sun."
"No doubt; 'tis a neat superstition with which to overawe savages, yet
there was one once across the water greatly resembling you,--a bit
younger, perhaps,--yet who was content then with a title not nearly so
high-sounding, until--oh, well, what need to tell the rest? Of course,
it was not you?"
I would never have believed so sudden a change could come over the
countenance of a human being, had I not witnessed it with these eyes.
She had sunk back against the couch, her hands pressing her breast as
if to still the wild throbbing of the heart, her great eyes staring at
me in silent horror. Twice her lips moved as if attempting speech, yet
no articulated sound issued from between them.
"Are you a fiend from hell?" she sobbed at last. "Why have you pursued
me here?"
"You do me far too great an honor." I made her a low bow, thoroughly
confident I held the whip hand, provided only I did not overplay my
part. "It is the merest accident of fate which has thus thrown me
again across your path. Nor have I the slightest desire to cause you
trouble, only that through your power may come our safety."
"You--you have not followed me, then?"
"No."
I saw she was diligently studying my face in the dim light, vainly
endeavoring to recall where, under what circumstances, we had met
before.
"Who are you?"
"Bah! what difference can a name make? Surely you are careless enough
about your own to be lenient with another choosing to forget."
"You also are a fugitive?" I caught the sudden ring of hope in her
voice, saw a new light flash into her eyes.
"I have fled the Spaniards," I answered carelessly enough. "What odds
is that, so long as what I did has been for France? Still, as I say, I
have no desire to play you harm provided you deal justly with us all."
"Harm? You? How could you harm me?" she questioned, evidently more at
ease from the change in my tone of speech. "You presume, señor; surely
you forget you address the Queen of the Nahuacs; that even in our
remnant there remain more than a hundred warriors to do my bidding! I
can laugh at threats, señor."
I stared at her coldly.
"As you please, Madame _la reine_ Naladi, Daughter of the Sun, formerly
woman of--ah! so you do not care for me to speak that accursed word?
Well, I thought you might not, so I spare you the shame. 'T is nothing
to me your past, yet I would have you remember there is a people we
both know to whom your miserable horde of savages would be but a
mouthful. This tribe has already tested the sharpness of the French
sword."
Her troubled eyes fell before mine, the last faint gleam of defiance
dying from her face. She glanced about the apartment, evidently
meditating retreat from my presence, or the swift summoning of her
guards. Whichever it might have been, she as evidently thought better
of it, turning toward me once more, no longer a frightened, angry
Amazon, but instead a smiling, pleasant-faced woman.
"We have surely jested long enough, señor," she exclaimed with apparent
lightness of demeanor. "It can never be best for us to be other than
good friends. I doubt not you are a bold man, loyal to those trusting
you, and I honor you for it. Take me, also, into that charmed circle,
yet never forget I am a woman capable of doing great harm if I choose,
for I have those at my command here who would die gladly at my bidding.
The threat of French vengeance moves me little, señor; France is
strong, cruel, relentless; but France is not here."
"Quite true," I replied, feeling best now to permit her to enjoy her
own way. "But France never forgets, never pardons, and France
possesses arms which reach across the seas, even into this wilderness.
All she needs is a guide, and I could become that. Yet if you grant my
request I pledge that no words of mine shall result in your injury."
"Your half threat does not greatly trouble me, señor. I am no frail
reed fearing a puff of air. I merely seek that duty which seems most
fair to all concerned. Pray tell me then what it is you would ask at
my hands. Nay, wait; before we go into this business be seated here,
so we may more easily converse together."
It was a low stool beside the couch she indicated, and I could do no
less than silently accept her courtesy, the soft, mysterious charm of
the woman blunting my prejudice.
"Now, señor," an engaging smile rendering more beautiful the face
turned toward me. "I pray you trust me fully, and state frankly your
demands upon Naladi."
If slightest sarcasm lurked in these softly spoken words I acknowledge
total oblivion to it. Her fair face was the picture of earnestness,
her eyes gazed frankly into mine.
"Our release, Madame."
She lifted her white hands in a sudden gesture of expostulation.
"Why ask that? It is utterly beyond my power, señor--at least, at
once," in a tone of despair, convincing me she spoke truly. "We have
our laws, which must be obeyed. It was the tribe who in battle took
you prisoners, not I; it would cost me my position did I endeavor to
give you immediate release."
"Could it be accomplished later?"
"Possibly it might."
"Will you promise me it shall?"
She hesitated, her eyes downcast, her bosom rising and falling to
tumultuous breathing.
"Yes," at last slowly, as if she had weighed the problem with care. "I
will pledge you my utmost help to that end."
"There is one thing more, Queen Naladi," I contended earnestly. "It is
that Madame de Noyan be permitted meanwhile to abide with her husband."
The fair face darkened ominously. Instead of immediately answering she
stepped across the room; returning, she held in her hands a small box
in which I perceived papers.
"One moment, señor; move your stool here; yes, a trifle to the left
where we may have clearer light shed upon these documents."
I drew it unsuspectingly to the spot indicated by her gesture, bending
forward, wondering what it might be of importance she held in her hands.
"This, señor," she began calmly, slightly unrolling a written sheet,
"is, as you will easily comprehend, the very document causing my
unfortunate exile in this wilderness. You will take notice--"
As she spoke, I felt myself falling. She sprang hastily back, barely
in time to escape my frenzied clutch upon her draperies; for one
instant I clung to the stone slab of the floor desperately. Then she
laughed, her heel crunched on my gripping fingers, and, with one
muffled cry of despair, I went plunging down into the blackness.