"If you accept his friendship. ..."
"Friendship is to be shared. ... Ours mingled -- on that day. ... Your
share is -- as much as pleases you."
"All you have to give me, then."
"Take it ... All I have. ..." Her blue eyes met his with a little
effort. All courage is an effort.
Then that young man dropped on both knees at her feet and laid his lips
to her soft hands.
In trembling silence she stood for a moment, then slowly sank on both
knees to face him across their clasped hands.
So, in the gilded cathedral of the woods, pillared with silver, and
azure-domed, the betrothal of these two was sealed with clasp and lip.
Awed, a little fearful, she looked into her lover's eyes with a gaze so
chaste, so oblivious to all things earthly, that the still purity of her
face seemed a sacrament, and he scarcely dared touch the childish lips
she offered.
But when the sacrament of the kiss had been accomplished, she rested one
hand on his shoulder and rose, and drew him with her.
Then _his_ moment came: he drew the emblazoned case from his breast,
opened it, and, in silence, laid it in her hands. The blaze of the
jewels in the sunshine almost blinded them.
That was _his_ moment.
The next moment was Quintana's.
* * * * *
Darragh hadn't a chance. Out of the bushes two pistols were thrust hard
against his stomach. Quintana's face was behind them. He wore no mask,
but the three men with him watched him over the edges of handkerchiefs,
-- over the sights of levelled rifles, too.
The youthful Grand Duchess had turned deadly white. One of Quintana's
men took the morocco case from her hands and shoved her aside without
ceremony.
Quintana leered at Darragh over his levelled weapons:
"My frien' Smith!" he exclaimed softly. "So it is you, then, who have
twice try to rob me of my property!
"Ah! You recollec'? Yes? How you have rob me of a pacquet which
contain only some chocolate?"
Darragh's face was burning with helpless rage.
"My frien', Smith," repeated Quintana, "do you recollec' what it was you
say to me? Yes? ... How often it is the onexpected which so usually
happen? You are quite correc', l'ami Smith. It has happen."
He glanced at the open jewel box which one of the masked men held, then,
like lightning, his sinister eyes focussed on Darragh.
"So," he said, "it was also you who rob me las' night of my property.
... What you do to Nick Salzar, eh?"
"Killed him," said Darragh, dry lipped, nerved for death. "I ought to
have killed you, too, when I had the chance. But -- _I'm_ white, you
see."
At the insult flung into his face over the muzzles of his own pistols,
Quintana burst into laughter.
"Ah! You _should_ have shot me! You are quite right, my frien'. I
mus; say you have behave ver' foolish."
He laughed again so hard that Darragh felt his pistols shaking against
his body.
"So you have kill Nick Salzar, eh?" continued Quintana with perfect good
humour. "My frien', I am oblige to you for what you do. You are
surprise? Eh? I is ver' simple, my frien' Smith. What I want of a man
who can be kill? Eh? Of what use is he to me? Voila!"
He laughed, patted Darragh on the shoulder with one of his pistols.
"You, now -- _you_ could be of use. Why? Because you are a better man
than was Nick Salzar. He who kills is better than the dead."
Then, swiftly his dark features altered:
"My frien' Smith," he said, "I have come here for my property, not to
kill. I have recover my property. Why shall I kill you? To say that I
am a better man? Yes, perhaps. Bu also I should be oblige to say that
also I am a fool. Yaas! A poor damfool."
Without shifting his eyes he made a motion with one pistol to his men.
As they turned and entered the thicket, Quintana's intent gaze became
murderous.
"If I mus' kill you I shall do so. Otherwise I have sufficient trouble
to keep me from ennui. My frien', I am going home to enjoy my property.
If you live or die it signifies nothing to me. No! Why, for the
pleasure of killing you, should I bring your dirty gendarmes on my
heels?"
He backed away to the edge of the thicket, venturing one swift and evil
glance at the girl who stood as though dazed.
"Listen attentively," he said to Darragh. "One of my men remains hidden
very near. He is a dead shot. His aim is at your -- sweetheart's --
body. You understan'?"
"Yes."
"Ver' well. You shall not go away for one hour time. After that----"
he took off his slouch hat with a sweeping bow -- "you may go to hell!"
Behind him the bushes parted, closed.
Jose Quintana had made his adieux.
* * * * *