By four o'clock the next day, Mansana was being conducted through the
ante-room, mirror-room, and concert-hall, to one of the Gothic
apartments in the interior of the palace, where scattered about on the
various tables lay photographs of the princess' last journey. He was
informed that the princess would be ready immediately.
She made her appearance in a kind of Hungarian or Polish costume; for
the November weather was chilly, and unusually so that day. She wore a
tightly fitting velvet gown, with sable-edged tunic, reaching to the
knee; and her hair was loosely coiled beneath a large hat, also trimmed
with sable, to match the dress.
She gave him her white-gloved hand, half hidden by the lace and sable
trimmings of the dress, with a firm, trustful confidence, to which her
eyes, her face, and every curve of her fine figure seemed, as it were,
to bear approving testimony. "It was to be!" At any rate, it seemed to
him that she was anxious to show a greater confidence than she actually
felt, and this impression was confirmed when, immediately afterwards,
she suggested gently that, perhaps, after all, the drive had better be
postponed; the horses might still be nervous and fidgety from their
railway journey.
Mansana, however, calmly put aside her fears with a frigid pleasantry.
She scrutinised his face, always singularly hard to read, but beyond
the expression of strained suffering which it bore, it revealed
nothing; his manner was respectful, but more peremptory than it had
been of late. The companion made her appearance just at the moment that
the carriage and horses were announced. He offered the princess his
arm; she accepted it, and as they went down the stairs, looked up in
his face again, and fancied that she saw a gleam of triumph in his
eyes. A little nervously she seized a moment when the restive horses
were being quieted, before they stepped into the carriage, and said
again:
"It is certainly too soon after their journey to be driving them. Would
it not be better to postpone the expedition?"
Her voice implored him, and, with her hand laid beseechingly on his
arm, she looked trustfully into his eyes. Under her glance his face
changed ominously, and a dark look came into his eyes.
"I might have expected that you would be afraid to drive with me a
second time!"
She felt the taunt. With cheeks burning crimson, she sprang into the
carriage; the companion followed her, pale as death, but stiff and
unbending as a bar of iron, whilst Mansana, with one bound, leapt to
the box-seat. There was no place for a groom, the carriage being only a
light curricle.
From the moment the horses received the signal to start, the danger of
the enterprise was apparent. Both animals immediately reared, straining
in opposite directions at the reins, and it was certainly more than a
minute before Mansana could steer them through the gateway.
"God's will be done!" muttered the companion, in deadly fear, her eyes
fixed on the two horses, as they reared, backed, reared again, then,
receiving a cut from the whip, kicked out, swerved violently from one
side to the other, received another cut from Mansana, jibbed, and then
finally, after one more sharp sting from the lash, started forward. The
rough handling of the whip certainly did not seem to answer in this
case.
As they emerged into the public street, the horses, to whom everything
about them had a strange and foreign look, trembled and stamped
uneasily; the novelty of their surroundings, the many and various
sounds, all new to them; the different colourings of costumes, and,
above all, the strong southern light, which gave to everything an
unaccustomed glare--all these combined to terrify the poor animals.
Mansana's skill and strength, however, kept them well in hand up to the
time when they passed the Cavour monument; but from that moment, little
by little his hold on them relaxed.
He turned round to see the expression on the princess' face. Now it was
his turn to rejoice, and hers to suffer.
What could have inspired her with the unlucky idea of arranging this
drive? She had regretted it almost as soon as she had proposed it, and
ever since that moment, the day before, when she had caught the flash
of triumph in his eyes, she had felt certain that he meant to use the
expedition as an opportunity for punishing her; and she felt, too, that
he was not likely to deal more mercifully with her than he had done
before. Why, then, was she sitting there at all? As she watched his
every movement and each action of the horses, she asked herself this
question over and over again; not that she expected to find an answer,
but because her thoughts insisted on revolving mechanically round this
idea.
Still at a sort of springing trot--the most rapid trot possible--on
they went; the pace was not permitted to slacken. Presently Mansana
looked round again. His eyes gleamed with exultation. It was a mere
preliminary to what was now to follow. Swinging the whip high above his
head, with deliberate and well-judged aim, he suddenly brought it,
whizzing down upon the backs of the two horses, who no sooner heard the
whistling in the air above them, than instinctively they gave a great
plunge forward, and broke into a gallop. Not a sound was heard from the
two who sat behind. Mansana repeated the performance, and this time
with maddening effect upon the horses. The road at this point began to
slope down towards a stiff, steep hill; and precisely at this very
point, Mansana, for the third time, raised the whip, swung it in lasso
fashion round his head, and brought it down upon the backs of the
animals. Such an act, at such a moment, showed Theresa, as by a flash
of instinct, that Mansana's object was--not punishment of her, but
death with her!
If there is a faculty within us capable of bearing witness to the
divine origin of our souls, it is the power our minds possess of
embracing, in the fraction of a second, great spaces of time and series
of events. In the short interval between the bending of the whip above
her and its descent upon the horses' backs, she had not only made her
great discovery, but by the strange new light this shed on past events,
had lived over again the whole course of their acquaintanceship. In the
revelation of the moment she understood the nature of this man's proud
and reticent love--a love which could welcome death with joy, provided
it was shared with the woman he adored! She had, moreover, within this
same brief second of time, framed a resolution and also put it into
immediate action, for, as Mansana's whip descended, a voice behind him
called, "Mansana!" Not in a tone of fear or anger, but, as it were,
with a wild cry of joy. He looked back. She was standing up, heedless
of the hurricane pace at which they sped, with beaming face and
outstretched arms. Quicker than words can tell, he once more faced the
horses, flung away the whip, and wound the reins thrice about his arms,
and, making full use of all his strength, pressed his feet firmly
against the footboard. He wished now to live--not die--with her!
Then came a tug of war, for Mansana had determined that this bridal
march of Death should be transformed to one of joyous Life.
On they rushed, through blinding clouds of dust--on--towards the brow
of the steep hill. Mansana could just manage to hold up the foaming
horses' heads, so that their long manes fluttered like black wings
behind them, but that was all. He clutched the right rein fiercely with
both hands, in an effort to direct their headlong course towards the
middle of the road, preferring to take this course even at the risk of
a collision; which, however, would inevitably have given a dramatic
termination to the lives of the whole party. In this effort he was
successful, but still he could do nothing to check the furious pace. He
looked up, and in the far distance fancied that he saw moving
objects--more and still more--drawing nearer and still nearer towards
them. On they came--the whole road seemed blocked with them. The
distance between them lessened rapidly, and Mansana realised that what
they were approaching was one of those interminable droves of cattle,
making their way, as usual in the autumn, towards the sea. He jumped up
from his seat and threw the reins in front of him. A sharp cry from
behind rang through the air, followed by a still more piercing shriek
as Mansana took a mighty leap, alighting on the back of the off horse,
while he firmly grasped the bridle of the other. The horse he rode gave
a wild leap into the air, and the other, thus violently thrown off his
balance fell, was then dragged along for a space upon the outer shaft,
till this snapped under the heavy strain, when finally the yoke strap
which joined the two together also broke. Mansana's grasp of the bridle
of the other horse helped him to save himself, and helped also,
together with the dead weight of the fallen animal, to bring the whole
cortege to a standstill. But the prostrate brute, feeling the carriage
close upon him, struggled to free himself; his companion reared, the
near shaft broke, a splinter pierced Mansana in the side; but thrusting
himself in front of, or rather underneath the rearing animal, Mansana
gripped him fiercely by the quivering nostrils, and in a moment reduced
him to a state of lamblike and trembling submission. The struggle was
over, and he was now able to go to the assistance of the other helpless
creature, which had meanwhile been making frantic and dangerous efforts
to get free.
And now--smothered with dust, bleeding from his wound, his clothes all
torn, his head uncovered--Mansana at last could venture to look round.
He saw Theresa standing in the carriage, beside the open door. Possibly
she may have intended to throw herself out, and have fallen backwards
in the violent jolting of the carriage, and then subsequently have
recovered her balance; something of the sort may have happened to her,
she herself knew not what. But one thing she did quickly realise; she
saw that he was standing near her safe and sound, with both trembling
horses meekly submitting to his firm hold. She sprang from the carriage
towards him; he opened his arms and folded her to his breast. Locked
close together, in one long embrace, were the two tall figures of the
lovers--heart to heart, lip upon lip. As he clasped her to him, their
very eyes and lips, as well as their arms, seemed riveted. Her eyes
drooped at last beneath his gaze. A whispered "Theresa" was the first
spoken word to part their lips for a moment.
Never did woman with greater joy accept the position of a worshipped
sovereign than did Theresa that of adoring subject, when Mansana at
last released her; never did fugitive seek pardon for having struggled
for freedom with eyes so radiant with happiness. And surely never
before did princess set herself with such eager, tender zeal to the
office of handmaiden, as did Theresa when she discovered Mansana's
wound, and perceived his dust-covered and lacerated condition. With her
own delicate white hands, and her fine lace handkerchief, and the pins
she wore, she set to work to mend and dress and bandage, and with her
eyes she healed and cured the wounds of which her presence rendered him
unconscious. The intervals between her little services were filled as
lovers well know how, and with a joy alternately silent and voluble. In
the end they so entirely forgot the existence of carriage, horses, and
companion, that they set off walking as though there were nothing left
in the world but that they should forthwith disappear together in glad
possession of their new-found happiness. From this dream they were
awakened by a cry of alarm from the companion, and by the near approach
of the slow-moving herds of cattle.