San Augustin's Day--August, the 28th.
Oh! but I have been angered this day!
What? when my betrothed lies in prison, ill, perhaps, or fretting his
brave heart away, am I to be dragged forth to make part of a pageant for
the entertainment of his jailers? I would sooner have the lowest cell in
the dungeon--aye! and starve and stifle for lack of food and air, than
be forced to deck myself out in borrowed bravery, and sit mowing and
smiling in a gay pavilion, and clap hands in transport over the fine
cavalier airs of the man I hold most in abhorrence!
Do they take me for so vapid a little fool that I may be compelled to
any course they choose? Nay, then, they have learned a lesson. Oh, but
it is good to be in a fair rage for once!
I had grown so weary and sick at heart that the blood crawled sluggishly
in my veins; my eyes were dull and heavy; I had sat listlessly, with
idle hands, day after day, waiting--waiting for I knew not what!
Therefore it was that I had no will or courage to oppose the Governor's
wife when she came to me this morning and bade me wear the gown she
brought, and pin a flower in my hair, and sit with her in the Governor's
pavilion to see the fine parade go by.
"This is a great day in San Augustin," she said, "being the
one-hundred-and-fifth anniversary of its founding by the Spanish."
As the captives of olden times made part of the triumph of their
conquerors, 'twas very fit that I, forsooth, should lend what little I
possessed of youth and fairness to the making of a Spanish holiday!
But I was too spiritless, then, to dare a refusal. I bowed my head
meekly enough while Chépa--the smiling, good-natured negress--gathered
up the rustling folds of the green silk petticoat and slipped it over my
shoulders. I made no demur while she looped and twisted the long tresses
of my yellow hair, fastening it high with a tall comb, and tying a knot
of black velvet riband upon each of the wilful little bunches of curls
that ever come tumbling about my ears.
When all was finished, and the lace mantilla fastened to my comb and
draped about my shoulders, I was moved by Barbara's cries of admiration
to cast one glance upon the mirror. 'Twas an unfamiliar picture that I
saw there, and my pale face blushed with some mortification that it
should have lent itself so kindly to a foreign fashion.
I would have thrown off all the braveries that minute; but just then
came a message from Doña Orosia, bidding me hasten.
"What matters anything to me now?" I thought wearily; and, slowly
descending to the courtyard, I took my place in the closed chair that
waited, and was borne after the Governor's lady to the Plaza, where, at
the western end facing upon the little open square, was the gay
pavilion.
Its red and yellow banners shone gaudily in the hot sunlight of the
summer afternoon, and the fresh sea breeze kept the tassels and
streamers all a-flutter, like butterflies hovering over a bed of
flowers.
Three sides of the Plaza were lined with spectators, but the eastern
end--which opened out toward the bay--was kept clear for the troops to
enter.
Against the slight railing of the little pavilion leaned Doña Orosia,
strangely fair in a gown of black lace and primrose yellow, that
transformed the soft contours of her throat and cheek from pale olive to
the purest pearl. She deigned to bestow but a single cold, unfriendly
glance upon me; then she bent forward as before, her lifted fan
shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun-kissed sea.
Presently, with the blare of trumpets and the deep rolling of the drums,
the King's troops came in sight, three hundred strong.
At the head of the little band, which marched afoot, rode Melinza and
the Governor. 'Twas the first time I had seen a horse in the town.
Old Señor de Colis was mounted on a handsome bay that pranced and
curvetted beneath him, to his most evident discomfort; but Melinza's
seat was superb. It was a dappled gray he rode, with flowing mane and
tail of silvery white; a crimson rosette was fastened to its crimped
forelock, and the long saddle-cloth was richly embroidered.
As the little company swept round the square, the two horsemen saluted
our pavilion. Don Pedro lifted his plumed hat high, and I saw that his
face was pale from his recent wound, but the bold black eyes were as
bright as ever they had been before.
I drew back hastily from the front of the pavilion and made no pretence
of returning his salute. Then, for the first time since I had taken my
seat beside her, Doña Orosia spoke to me.
"Why such scant courtesy?" she asked, with lifted brows.
"Madame," I answered, "had my betrothed been here at my side, an
honoured guest, I would have had more graciousness at my command."
"What!" she exclaimed, "have you not yet had time to forget your
quarrelsome cavalier?"
"I will forget him, madame, when I cease to remember the treachery of
those who called themselves his entertainers."
She flushed angrily. "Your tongue has more of spirit than your face. I
wonder that you have the courage to say this to me."
"I dare, because I have nothing more to lose, madame!"
"Say you so? Would you rather I gave you into Melinza's keeping?"
"Nay!" I cried, "you could not--such unfaith would surpass the limits of
even Spanish treachery! And you would not--it would please you better
_if he never set eyes upon my face again_! I only wonder that you should
have brought me here to-day!"
She opened her lips to speak; but the blare of the trumpets drowned the
words, and she turned away from me.
The troops were drawn in line across the square: on the right, the
Spanish regulars of the garrison; on the left, the militia companies,
which had come up while we were speaking. These last were made up, for
the most part, of mulattoes and half-breed Indians,--a swarthy-faced,
ill-looking band that appeared fitter for savage warfare of stealth and
ambuscade and poisoned arrows than for valorous exploits and honest
sword-play.
The various man[oe]uvres of the troops, under the skilled leadership of
Don Pedro, occupied our attention for upward of an hour, during all
which time my companion appeared quite unconscious of my presence. She
sat motionless save for the swaying of her fan. Only once did her face
express aught but fixed attention--and that was when a sudden fanfare of
the trumpets caused the Governor's horse to plunge, and the old man
lurched forward on the pommel of his saddle, his plumed hat slipping
down over his eyes.
For an instant the swaying fan was still; a low laugh sounded in my ear,
and, turning, I saw the red lips of the Governor's lady take on a very
scornful curve.
She received him graciously enough, however, when--the review being
over--he dismounted and joined us in the pavilion.
Melinza had retired with the troops; but just as the last rank
disappeared from view he came galloping back at full speed, flung
himself from the saddle, and, throwing the reins to an attendant,
mounted the pavilion stair.
I felt that Doña Orosia's eyes were upon me, and I believed that she
liked me none the less for my hostility to the man. It may have been
this that gave me courage--I do not know--I think I would not have
touched his hand in any case.
He flushed deeply when I put both of mine behind my back; then, with the
utmost effrontery, he leaned forward and plucked away one little black
rosette that had fallen loose from my curls and was slipping down upon
my shoulder. This he raised to his lips with a laugh, and then fastened
upon his breast.
I was deeply angered, and I cast about for some means of retaliation
that would show him the scorn I held him in.
At the foot of the pavilion stood the youth who was holding Melinza's
horse.
I leaned over the railing, and, loosing quickly from my hair the fellow
to the rosette Don Pedro wore, I tossed it to the lad below, saying, in
almost the only Spanish words I knew,--
"It is a gift!"
Melinza's face grew white with anger; he tore off the bit of riband and
ground it under his heel; then he strode down the stair, mounted his
horse, and rode away.
The Governor's lady watched him till he was out of sight; then, with a
strange smile, she said to me,--
"I never knew before that blue eyes had so much of fire in them. I
think, my little saint, 'tis time I sent you back to your old duenna."
"I would thank you for so much grace!" was my reply. And back to Barbara
I was despatched forthwith.
But though I have been some hours in my chamber, my indignation has not
cooled. The very sight of that man's countenance is more than I can
endure!
I am resolved that I will never set foot outside my door when there is
any chance of my encountering him, and so I shall inform the Governor's
wife when she returns....
She laughs at me! She declares I shall do whatever is her pleasure! And
what is my puny strength to hers? With all the will in the world to
resist her, I am as wax in her hands!