"To change the subject," continued she; "are you _not_ a poet?"
"I do not deserve the name of poet, yet I will not deny that I have made
verses."
"I thought as much. What an instinct I have! O that I could prevail
upon you to write some verses to me!"
"What! without knowing either your name or having looked upon your face.
Mam'selle, I must at least set the features I am called upon to
praise."
"Ah, monsieur, you little know: were I to unmask those features, I
should stand but a poor chance of getting the verses. My plain face
would counteract all your poetic inspirations."
"Shade of Lucretia! this is no needlewoman, though dealing in weapons
quite as sharp. Modiste, indeed! I have been labouring under a
mistake. This is some _dame spirituelle_, some grand lady."
I had now grown more than curious to look upon the face of my companion.
Her conversation had won me: a woman who could talk so, I fancied,
could not be ill-looking. Such an enchanting spirit could not be hidden
behind a plain face; besides, there was the gracefulness of form, the
small gloved hand, the dainty foot and ankle demonstrated in the dance,
a voice that rang like music, and the flash of a superb eye, which I
could perceive even through the mask. Beyond a doubt, she was
beautiful.
"Lady!" I said, speaking with more earnestness than ever, "I entreat
you to unmask yourself. Were it not in a ball-room, I should beg the
favour upon my knees."
"And were I to grant it, you could hardly rise soon enough, and
pronounce your lukewarm leave-taking. Hat monsieur! think of the yellow
domino!"
"Mam'selle, you take pleasure in mortifying me. _Do_ you deem me
capable of such fickleness? Suppose for a moment, you are not what the
world calls beautiful, you could not, by removing your mask, also strip
yourself of the attractions of your conversation--of that voice that
thrills through my heart--of that grace exhibited in your every
movement! With such endowments how could a woman appear ill-looking?
If your face was even as black as hers of the yellow domino, I verily
believe I could not perceive its darkness."
"Ha, ha, ha! take care what you say, monsieur. I presume you are not
more indulgent than the rest of your sex; and well know I that, with you
men, ugliness is the greatest crime of a woman."
"I am different, I swear--"
"Do not perjure yourself, as you will if I but remove my mask. I tell
you, sir, that in spite of all the fine qualities you imagine me to
possess, I am a vision that would horrify you to look upon."
"Impossible!--your form, your grace, your voice. Oh, unmask! I accept
every consequence for the favour I ask."
"Then be it as you wish; but I shall not be the means of punishing you.
Receive from your own hands the chastisement of your curiosity."
"You permit me, then? Thanks, mam'selle, thanks! It is fastened
behind: yes, the knot is here--now I have it--so--so--"
With trembling fingers I undid the string, and pulled off the piece of
taffety. Shade of Sheba! what did I see?
The mask fell from my fingers, as though it had been iron at a cherry
heat. Astonishment caused me to drop it; rather say horror--horror at
beholding the face underneath--the face _of the yellow domino_! Yes,
there was the same negress with her thick lips, high cheek-bones, and
the little well-oiled kinks hanging like corkscrews over her temples!
I knew not either what to say or do; my gallantry was clean gone; and
although I resumed my seat, I remained perfectly dumb. Had I looked in
a mirror at that moment, I should certainly have beheld the face of a
fool.
My companion, who seemed to have made up her mind to such a result,
instead of being mortified, burst into a loud fit of laughter, at the
same time crying out in a tone of raillery--
"Now, Monsieur le Poete, does my face inspire you? When may I expect
the verses? To-morrow? Soon? Never? Ah! monsieur, I fear you are not
more gallant to us poor `ladies ob colour' than your countryman the
lieutenant. Ha, ha, ha!"
I was too much ashamed of my own conduct, and too deeply wounded by her
reproach, to make reply. Fortunately her continued laughter offered me
an opportunity to mutter some broken phrases, accompanied by very clumsy
gestures, and thus take myself off. Certainly, in all my life, I never
made a more awkward adieu.
I walked, or rather _stole_, towards the entrance, determined to leave
the ball-room, and gallop home.
On reaching the door, my curiosity grew stronger than my shame; and I
resolved to take a parting look at this singular Ethiopian. The blue
domino, still within the niche, caught my eye at once; but on looking up
to the face--gracious Heaven! _it was Isolina's_!
I stood as if turned into stone. My gaze was fixed upon her face, and I
could not take it off. She was looking at me; but, oh! the expression
with which those eyes regarded me! That was a glance to be remembered
for life. She no longer laughed, but her proud lip seemed to curl with
a sarcastic smile, as of scorn!
I hesitated whether to return and apologise. But no; it was too late.
I could have fallen upon my knees, and begged forgiveness. It was too
late. I should only subject myself to further ridicule from that
capricious spirit.
Perhaps my look of remorse had more effect than words. I thought her
expression changed; her glance became more tender, as if inviting me
back! Perhaps--
At this moment a man approached, and without ceremony seated himself by
her side. His face was towards me--I recognised Ijurra!
"They converse. Is it of _me_? Is it of --? If so, he will laugh. A
world to see that man laugh, and know it is at _me_. If he do, I shall
soon cast off the load that is crushing my heart!
"He laughs not--not even a smile is traceable on his sombre features.
She has not told him, and well for him she has not. Prudence,
perchance, restrains her tongue; she might guess the result."
They are on their feet again; she masks. Ijurra leads her to the dance;
they front to each other; they whirl away--away: they are lost among the
maskers.
"Some wine, mozo!"
A deep long draught, a few seconds spent in buckling on my sword, a few
more in reaching the gate, one spring, and my saddled steed was under
me.
I rode with desperate heart and hot head; but the cool night-air, the
motion of my horse, and his proud spirit mingling with mine, gave me
relief, and I soon felt calmer.
On reaching the rancheria, I found my lieutenants still up, eating their
rudely cooked supper. As my appetite was roused, I joined them at their
meal; and their friendly converse restored for the time my spirit's
equanimity.