Doña Fernandez could not sleep. All night long she tossed on her bed,
repeating her conversation with Don Felipe and revolving what course to
pursue. She instinctively felt that a great tragedy of some kind was
imminent. Unless some plan of concerted action were immediately adopted,
nothing could prevent it.
She knew her people too well. A reckless, hot-blooded man like Don
Felipe in his present mood could not be trusted for long, but must
sooner or later provoke a quarrel with Captain Forest, who she knew,
would be equally dangerous if aroused. Since her conversation with
Felipe she had noted the attitude of Blanch toward the Captain and her
woman's instinct had half guessed the truth. But beautiful and
irresistible though Blanch appeared, there was Chiquita, more beautiful
and attractive than when Felipe had last seen her, and also quite as
dangerous.
She knew that Felipe's passion was hopeless--that Chiquita would not
hesitate to show her dislike and contempt for him anew--that should
Captain Forest be attracted to her also, she would act like a fire-brand
between the two men. If only one of them might be persuaded to leave the
place, the clash which must inevitably occur, might be averted for a
time at least, but this was clearly impossible. There was only one
thing to be done for the present--advise Chiquita of Felipe's return and
warn her of the danger that threatened them all if she provoked him
unnecessarily.
Hopeless though this plan seemed, Chiquita might for the Captain's sake,
if she really cared for him, act more discreetly than was her wont. But
what could be expected from a woman in love? Who could tell how she
would act? Besides, she argued, all men are fools. They seem to be born
only to become the playthings of women, the majority of whom are
invariably deceived by them in the end.
How she hated her! To think of Don Felipe running after her, eating out
his heart, throwing away his young life for one like her! A love like
his going begging! Merciful God! was there no justice in this world? And
for the moment, she was quite carried away by a paroxysm of fury.
Ah, if only she, Doña Fernandez, were but ten years younger! But the
chosen birds of Venus, the white doves of matrimony, were not destined
to hover over her head a second time. Tears of longing and vexation
dimmed her eyes as she thought of the golden, halcyon days of youth that
would never return. At any rate, Felipe and Chiquita must not meet until
after she had warned the latter. Blanch must be used as a foil as long
as possible.
And so it happened that, when breakfast was over, Señora adroitly
arranged that Felipe should conduct the two girls for a morning's ramble
to the pretty little cañon of the river which lay but a mile distant
from the town where the foothills began; a plan that suited Blanch
perfectly. She, too, had been doing some thinking over night and had
recognized the possibility of using Don Felipe as a foil against Jack;
he was certainly handsome and clever enough to serve the purpose
admirably.
Captain Forest had gone for a ride an hour before for the purpose of
giving his horse a short run to the foothills and back. So, when Señora
had seen the others safely off, she slipped quietly away in the
direction of Padre Antonio's house.
It lacked a quarter of eleven when she left the house. She knew that
Chiquita would have long since returned from the market and would be at
home. So occupied was she with her thoughts as she hurried forward
intent upon her mission, she did not look up until she turned into the
road leading directly past Padre Antonio's gate, when she suddenly
stopped short. Before her she beheld Captain Forest standing in front of
the gate holding his horse, and Chiquita handing him a red rose. Another
instant, and Chiquita vanished through the gate into the garden and
Captain Forest, remounting his horse, came riding leisurely down the
road at a walk, inhaling the rose with evident pleasure. She drew back
into the shadow of the old wall and pressed close into the thick bushy
mass of white clematis vine which hung over it from above and waited
until he passed.
It is the unexpected that always happens. The meeting between Chiquita
and the Captain was purely accidental. While returning from his ride, he
had been attracted by the beauty and luxuriance of Padre Antonio's
garden as he rode by. He wheeled his horse about and drew rein before
the open iron grating of the gate in order to obtain a better view of
it. Its flowers consisted chiefly of roses of different varieties and
colors. The air was spicy with their perfume and, as he inhaled their
fragrance in deep breaths, his attention was presently attracted by the
figure of Chiquita who appeared in the pathway before him, pausing
beside a luxuriant bush of blood-red blossoms and apparently quite
unconscious of his presence. The picture which she presented was one he
carried with him for many a day afterward.
[Illustration: "The picture which she presented was one he carried with
him for many a day."]
A small white dove strutted and cooed on the ground before her, while
another flew down from the house-top and after circling above her head,
also settled down beside its mate in the pathway.
She was dressed in a short pale green skirt and bodice, the latter cut
low at the neck before and behind. The sleeves were short, reaching to
the elbow and terminating in a narrow frill of deep saffron, their sides
open and interlaced with silvery cords. Two richly embroidered silken
shawls of a pale red color with long fringe and worn in Spanish style,
adorned her dress. The one, pinned at the waist at the back and
following the outline of the bodice, passed up over her left shoulder
and down in front to her breast where it was fastened with a golden
brooch, the end falling in a graceful length of fringe. The other, also
fastened at the back of her waist, passed around her right hip and
diagonally down across the front of her skirt. Golden poppies adorned
the heavy masses of her lustrous black hair, worn high and held in place
by a silver comb. A saffron lace mantilla of the same deep shade as that
of the frill on her sleeves, fell in graceful folds from the comb to her
shoulders, while her feet were clothed in silk stockings of the same
shade and soft brown beaded slippers of undressed leather.
To complete this costume which only a Gypsy or one of Chiquita's tawny
complexion would have dared essay to wear, a small pale red silken fan
ornamented with gold and silver spangles, hung suspended from her wrist
by a satin ribbon of deep orange which flashed in the sunlight like a
splash of gold on a humming-bird's throat.
It was not by some happy chance that the Captain found her arrayed in
such finery, as is so often the case with heroines of romance, but the
result of much premeditation and studied effect. Ever since her meeting
with Blanch she had dressed herself daily with terrible deliberation and
nicety of precision, the same as every woman of flesh and blood would
have done under the circumstances, on the chance of Captain Forest
finding her at home when he came to pay his respects to the Padre as he
had intimated he would do.
The thought of the innumerable dresses possessed by her rival, and the
scantiness of her own wardrobe, composed though it was of the richest
laces, silks and satins in the style of a past era, was something
appalling; enough to turn a stouter heart than hers. And had she been
anything else than an Indian, she would have sat down on the floor of
her room in the midst of her finery and wept copious and bitter tears
like the daughters of Babylon of old. The thought of the old dress which
she had worn on the day of their meeting was not alone mortifying--it
was excruciating. One of those things which we hasten to forget.
_Dios!_ how she must have looked to him in the regal presence of Blanch,
gowned in her stylish traveling costume!
Don Felipe Ramirez would have kissed the dust from off the hem of such
an old garment, but would Captain Forest do the same? She could not
afford to take any more risks with a rival like Blanch in the field.
There is no knowing how long Captain Forest would have remained a silent
spectator of the charming picture she presented, had not her attention
been attracted by the sound of Starlight's hoofs as he began to paw the
ground impatiently. She raised her head from the bush over which she was
bending and turned her gaze in the direction of the gate.
"Oh!" she cried with a little start, silently regarding the Captain for
some moments. Then a smile slowly wreathed her lips and she broke into a
light laugh. Her right hand involuntarily sought her fan which slowly
opened across the lower half of her face and she shot a glance at him
over its rim with an ease and grace which only Spanish women have ever
succeeded in mastering. The effect of this deft bit of coquetry, simple
and natural as were all her actions, was not lost upon the Captain.
"I don't know whether I love you or not," it said plainly as words,
"but henceforth you shall be my slave."
"How long have you been there?" she asked at length, slowly lowering her
fan.
"Only an instant, Señorita," he replied, raising his hat. "I was
wondering," he continued, "whether it would be too much to ask you for
one of those roses? One would not be missed among so many."
"Ah, but they are precious, Señor _Capitan_--these especially; they are
my favorites," and she swept her hand caressingly over the bush beside
which she was standing.
"For that reason I shall prize it all the more, Señorita."
"Ah! you men have a way of using flattery to women whenever you want
anything of them. And yet," she continued with just the suggestion of a
frown, "a woman would be hard hearted to refuse--" Her eyes dropped for
an instant, then looking up again, she said hesitatingly: "I wonder if I
can trust you?"
"Try me," he pleaded.
"I know it's foolish, but rather than have you think me less generous
than the women you have known, I shall give you one little one, Captain
Forest, that is, on condition you never ask me for another," and
breaking off one of the largest half-blown blossoms, she held it in her
hand as though loath to part with it.
"I promise," said the Captain solemnly, dismounting and holding his
horse by the rein. "I dare not leave my horse, Señorita," he added in a
tone of embarrassment, "he is unaccustomed to a town and feels strange,
and should he take it into his head to bolt, he might do the first
person he met an injury."
"Indeed? I have often thought of your horse and wondered where you got
him. But," she continued reluctantly, "since you cannot come to me, I
suppose I must come to you," and passing through the gate, she stood
before him, rose in hand.
"A truly magnificent animal," she said, running her hand gently along
Starlight's neck. "I've been accustomed to horses from childhood and
can't help admiring a good one when I see it."
Much to the Captain's surprise, the Chestnut did not resent her touch,
but whinnied softly instead and laid his nose on her shoulder. Any one
else but José and himself he would have seized with his teeth. Perhaps
it was her way of approaching and handling him, or was it the subtle
influence of that mysterious kinship which exists between the wild
things--strange and inexplicable to all but themselves?
"I thought I possessed the only pure Arab in Mexico," she continued.
"He's a small black horse with a white star in his forehead, and has
never been beaten. You should look at the Raven some time--he would
interest you," she added.
"I should like to. Arabs are rare on this side of the Atlantic. Where
did you get him?"
"He was a present from Count Don Louis de Ortega, of the City of
Mexico."
"Count Louis de Ortega?"
"Yes. He is the most charming old gentleman I know. He is Padre
Antonio's great friend."
"Ah!" ejaculated the Captain as though relieved.
"I once spent a summer traveling in Europe with the Ortega family. But
here is your rose, Captain Forest. I almost believe you forgot it.
Horses are so much more interesting than flowers," and handing him the
rose, she was back again in the garden before he could thank her.
"_Á Dios, Capitan_ Forest," she continued with the softest accent
imaginable, lingering unconsciously on his name as she paused on the
other side of the gate. Again the little fan opened, and looking back
over it with a bewitching smile and arched eyebrows and her head held
coquettishly on one side, she said as if to herself: "I wonder how long
he will keep it?"
His heart gave a great throb as he gazed upon that subtle, bewitching
vision before him, "Forever, Señorita!" he was about to reply, but she
was gone.
It might be argued that a woman of Chiquita's metal would not have shown
her hand thus lightly. Let his infernal beast bolt and trample the whole
town in the dust and himself in the bargain. If he wanted the rose, let
him come and get it; not a step would she move! Possibly, but let it not
be forgotten that she was in love--desperately in love; that the time
for quibbling had passed, that another woman equally fair would have
unhesitatingly waded through a river to deliver that rose to the Captain
had he asked for it. Destiny had placed Captain Forest in the saddle,
just as it had decreed that Don Felipe Ramirez should pass the remainder
of his days pursuing an illusive vision. If nature and convention now
swarmed at the Captain's saddle-bow, surely it was no fault of his. Had
he not burnt his last bridge, snapped his fingers in the face of the
world, and turned his back upon it and ridden forth in search of the
lost kingdom of Earth?