XXX

The garden and _patio_ of the _Posada_ were hung with many lanterns

whose light, in addition to that of the stars and the full moon, made

them appear as bright as day.

Mrs. Forest maintained a frigid attitude toward the world throughout the

evening. Inwardly she longed to be gay like the others, but prudery and

short-sightedness, the fruits of her training, prevailed, effectually

debarring her from all enjoyment and leaving her cold and isolated like

one afflicted with the plague. Could she have followed the dictates of

her wishes, she would have remained within the seclusion of her room

during the entire evening, but not being able to reconcile such a course

with the duties of a chaperon, she was obliged to appear. If _noblesse

oblige_ demanded that she should sacrifice herself, suffer the martyred

isolation of patience on a monument, then be it so!

As for Colonel Van Ashton, he had suffered long enough. He secretly

despised his sister's prudery though he dared not acknowledge it.

Anything to break the infernal monotony! He welcomed this occasion of

mild revelry with sensations akin to those of a boy's during the advent

of a circus in his town. Of all the State and grand social functions in

which he had participated, not one, so far as he could remember, had

ever inspired him with such anticipations. An indescribable joy and

spirit of recklessness, born of desperation, filled him, and he silently

vowed that he would drink to the moon that night even though there might

perchance be blood upon it.

Owing to the attack of dizziness which had occasioned a slight delay,

Padre Antonio and his ward were the last of the guests to arrive. Low

murmurs and suppressed exclamations escaped the Spanish element of the

assembly as Chiquita entered the _patio_ on the padre's arm. If they had

been enraptured by the beauty of Blanch and Bessie and loud in their

praises of their jewels and exquisite gowns, they were crushed by

Chiquita's appearance, clad as she was in white and gold, a dress they

had never seen before, and adorned with jewels, the magnificence of

which they had not dreamed.

At last the mystery of the golden _pesos_ was solved--the jewels of

course! A great weight slipped from the souls of the Spanish women as

they gazed in envy and amazement upon the person they hated most in all

the world.

Happy, blissful ignorance--thrice blessed by the gods were they! Those

golden _pesos_ would not have purchased a single strand in her bracelet,

while as to the necklace, its value would have purchased the entire

_Posada_ and many broad acres besides. Don Felipe and the Americans had

seen such jewels before in the world of fashion, but how came Chiquita

by them? Who was she? Blanch and Bessie began asking themselves. That

she had timed her entrance well, all admitted; though in reality she had

thought nothing about it--chance had favored her, that was all.

Interesting though the subject under discussion had become, there was

little time left the company for further speculation before Juan Ramon,

the major-domo, announced supper.

The musicians struck up a lively Spanish air. The night was mild and

soft, the stars and moon glittered overhead, the wine flowed and the

sounds of laughter and gay, merry voices echoed throughout the _patio_.

The company sat long at the tables, tempted by innumerable dainties, and

encouraged and soothed by the wine, the night and soft strains of music.

Not even in the old days had the _Posada_ witnessed a gayer scene.

Indeed, for the time being, they had returned like a far-off echo of

those times when Doña Fernandez reigned supreme in her beauty and men

admired and flattered and paid homage to her. Little wonder she sighed

in the midst of the gayety and alternately flushed and paled as her

thoughts traveled back over the years.

Don Felipe was in an exultant mood. That morning his horse had stumbled

and later, while dressing for the evening, a bat flitted in and out of

his room through the open window. The fact that these two signs of ill

omen did not affect a mind ordinarily subject to the influence of

superstition, showed the state of his confidence. He drank freely of the

wine and laughed and talked incessantly. What an opportunity to spring

the trap he had laid for Chiquita!

"If Captain Forest proposes to her to-night, she'll never lift her eyes

to the world again," he whispered to Blanch beside whom he sat.

"What do you propose doing?" she asked.

"Have patience," he answered, his face lighting up with an expression of

malicious joy. "Of course, it all depends whether you give the signal or

not."

"I came here with the intention of doing so," she confessed. "But

everybody seems so happy. Why not let the evening pass pleasantly? It

would be a pity to mar its harmony."

"Mere sentiment!" he replied. "Do you think she would show you such

consideration? I assure you, to-night is the time of all times!" There

was something so malicious, so weird in his tone and manner that she

shuddered as she listened to his words. In spite of her humiliation, her

bitterness and suffering, and her desire for retribution, she never

realized that one could find such sweet satisfaction in revenge as did

Don Felipe. The prospect of it filled him with a joy that seemed almost

devilish at times.

At length the tables were cleared, and coffee, liqueurs, cigars and

cigarettes served, Blanch and Bessie, like the Spanish women, indulging

in the latter. In fact, everybody, with the exception of Mrs. Forest,

smoked. The musicians were ranged in a semicircle across the upper end

of the _patio_ opposite the garden and continued to render national and

Spanish airs upon their instruments while the company smoked and sipped

coffee and liqueurs. And by the time the men had finished their first

cigars, the different artists, dancers and singers, who had been engaged

for the occasion, came forward and began to display their talent,

adding to the novelty and gayety of the evening. Considering the time

and the place, they did well enough in their way and were quite

picturesque and pleasing as a whole, but at no time did their

performance rise above the level of mediocrity, such as one was

accustomed to see anywhere in the world on the vaudeville stage. At the

end of an hour, Blanch felt that the moment had arrived to ask Chiquita

to dance. So, without imparting her intention to any one, she rose from

her chair and walked over to where Chiquita sat conversing with the

Captain and Don Agusto Revera, Alcalde of Santa Fé.

"We have heard so much about your dancing, Señorita," she began,

interrupting the conversation. "Won't you favor us with a dance

to-night?"

"A dance?" repeated Chiquita with a little start of surprise, the

request coming from Blanch was so unexpected. She seemed confused, and

her face wore a troubled look. "I would rather not," she said at length,

glancing nervously about her at the company. She had heard the cruel

things that had been said of her of late and knew how ready those

present would be to criticize her anew.

"Do dance, Señorita; just to please me, if for nothing else," persisted

Blanch.

"To please you?" repeated Chiquita. A peculiar light came into her eyes

and she smiled as though pleased by the request.

"I hope I'm not asking too much?" continued Blanch. Again Chiquita

smiled.

"Do you know," she answered with warmth, "there's only one thing in this

world I wouldn't do for you?" and she laughed lightly, nervously opening

and closing her fan the while. Again she glanced around at the company,

wavering between assent and refusal. In the faces of the women she read

the jealousy and envy which filled their hearts toward her, and it was

perhaps that, not Blanch's request, which decided her to dance.

"Yes, Señorita," she said at length. "I'll dance for you this night--for

you only!" she repeated with emphasis. Yes, she would dance as she had

never danced before; for would not the most critical eye in the world be

watching her? It was worth while. Blanch gave a little laugh as she

returned to her seat by the side of Don Felipe.

Ah! the wiles of woman--subtle and illusive as a breath or a shadow--the

one thing her own sex fears most! Blanch knew that if there was a common

streak in her rival, it would be brought out in the glaring reality of

the dance, and the Captain should see it. She knew he could never marry

any one but a lady, and this was her reason for asking Chiquita to

dance. She had in mind, of course, the performances she had just

witnessed, or, to be more exact, the contortions of the ballet and the

modern music-hall artist with which we are all so familiar; the inane

balancing and pirouetting on the toes, the heavy hip and protruding

stomach, quivering breasts and bellowing and frothing at the mouth, and

colored light effects and _risque_ posing in scant attire, coupled with

a display of attractive lingerie. But Blanch forgot, or rather did not

know, that she had to do with genius over whose individuality most men

are prone to trip.

Chiquita's conception of plastic art was something different from vulgar

Salome creations and the cheap spring-song and lolling and capering of

the fatted calf just alluded to. Had Don Felipe cherished a ray of hope

of reinstating himself in Chiquita's eyes, he would have done all in his

power to prevent her dancing, but, as matters stood, he welcomed it with

enthusiasm, for he knew that she would be irresistible--that Captain

Forest would be ravished by her enchanting creation and alluring beauty

as she glided through the intricate mazes of the dance in the moonlight.

He had felt that spell, and knew its irresistible charm.

The announcement that Chiquita was going to dance caused a stir among

the company. A large dark blue Indian rug which shone black in the

moonlight, was brought from the living-room of the house by the servants

and spread out upon the _patio's_ pavement. A murmur of approbation

arose from the Mexicans when the first bars of music announced the dance

she had chosen. It was the famous "Andalusia"--the most difficult and

intricate of all Spanish-Moorish dances; the one in which few dancers

have ever excelled for the reason that its beauty lies not so much in

its intricacy of form as in the poetic conception and free

interpretation of the artist. Besides, the dance called for two parts,

obliging her to execute the part of her supposed partner as well. The

dance opened with the song of a Torero who had repaired in the dusk to

the hills overlooking Granada where dwelt his sweetheart.

With a coquettish little laugh and toss of the head, she tossed her fan

to Captain Forest who caught it and held it in his hand as he would a

flower. Then, after some words of direction to the musicians, she

stepped upon the end of the rug nearest them, and to the amazement of

the Americans, lightly kicked off her slippers, displaying a pair of

small, slender, exquisitely formed feet and ankles. Only amateurs have

the courage to dance in shoes. Even that strict and stilted institution,

the ballet, was forced generations ago to break through its time-honored

traditions by abandoning heels as useless appendages. Had she been on

the stage, she would have danced in her bare feet as she had done on the

night of the _fiesta_ when Captain Forest had seen her.

A smile rested on her face and she nodded her head lightly to the time

of the music as she stood erect in the full flood of moonlight, tall and

slender as a lily.

"Thy face, Sweetheart, haunts me amid the dust and glare of the arena!"

she began in her deep rich contralto voice, at the first notes of which

everybody sat up straight and listened to the volume of swelling sounds

which filled the court and garden and floated away on the night. There

was no mistaking the fact, they were in the presence of an artist.

"I await thee, Beloved, in the hills, in the hour of our tryst!" came

the far-away answer of the woman's voice, faint and plaintive as an

echo, soft and sweet and clear as the notes of the skylark, falling in

silvery, rippling cadences of melody from out the gold, blue vault of

heaven above.

"Nearer and nearer love guideth our steps,

On the hills we shall dance, chant our song of

Delight 'neath the silvery stars and the

Mellow gold horn of the soft shining moon.

"'Neath the silvery stars, and the mellow gold horn of the soft shining

moon," echoed the musical refrain and chorus of musicians. Nearer and

nearer drew the answering echoes of the lovers' voices until they met in

the hills and the dancing began.

So realistic and dramatic was her rendering of the song, that the

listeners saw the progress of the lovers and felt the thrill and rapture

of their meeting. Up to this point she had held herself in abeyance, but

with the opening bars of the dance, she suddenly became transformed,

electrified. Her whole being became suffused with the vibrant,

passionate intensity of the South, and then they witnessed an exhibition

that was beautiful and wonderful in its poetic conception.

A thrill of rapturous, exquisite emotion swept over them, as suddenly

and without warning, she threw back her head and sprang to the center of

the rug with a swift, whirling motion, the effect of which was like a

shower of sparks or a jet of glittering spray tossed unexpectedly into

the air from a fountain, expressive of the abandon and exuberance felt

by the lovers as they met in the dance.

Again, without warning, she paused as abruptly as she began, and with

short, interluding snatches of song, slowly began to sway to the soft

rhythm of the music and sharp click of her castanets. First slowly, then

swifter and swifter she glided and whirled noiselessly in the

moonlight, graceful as a wind-blown rose, or suddenly paused, languid

and sensuous, according to the rhapsodic character of the dance when the

music ceased altogether and naught was heard save the plashing of the

fountain in the _patio_, the click of her castanets and the soft swish

of her silken _saya_ which seemed to whisper and sigh like a living

thing, like the mythical voices of Lilith's hair. Like a musician

transposing upon a theme, she introduced new and elaborate motives of

her own until, at a sign from her, the music took up the principal theme

of the dance once more.

Captain Forest had seen practically all the great dancers of our time,

the Geisha and Nautch girls of the East, the Gypsies from Granada to St.

Petersburg, and the Bedouin women dance naked on the sands of the Sahara

beneath the stars while celebrating the sacred rites of their festivals,

but it soon became apparent that, all with few exceptions, were mere

novices in comparison, and stood in about the same relation to her as a

dilettante does to an artist.

She lifted the dance above the portrayal of sensuous emotion into

the realms of poetry. The wild spirit of the Gypsy, captivating,

fresh and invigorating and compelling as the winds of the mighty

Sierras and plains of the land she inhabited, enveloped and animated

her. The rushing, whirling climaxes up to which she worked were

startling--tremendous. The subtle, hypnotic influence and witchery of

her presence filled her entire surroundings and so held and dominated

the spectators that they were swept irresistibly along with her as the

rhythm of the dance increased. She swayed and enthralled the

imagination and emotions with a supremacy akin to that of music or the

noblest landscape. The mastery of every motion, every fleeting

expression but increased the impression she endeavored to convey--the

intensity of life, vibrant, joyous life.

The soft, rhythmic undulations of her graceful, sinuous body, vibrating

and pulsating with the ecstatic, rapturous emotion inspired by the music

and the dance, were a revelation of beauty. She became the living

expression of rhythm and grace as she paused for an instant before them,

scintillating and quivering like an aspen leaf, or glided and whirled

wraith-like, fragile and delicate and ethereal, wondrously lithe and

airy like films of gossamer or foam tossed up by the sea. The dance

itself seemed to fade into the background as their attention became

riveted upon her, and visions and vistas of life rose before the

imagination instead.

She danced with her soul, not with her feet; became the living

incarnation of the ancients' conception of plastic creation, enchanting,

intoxicating. They heard the myriad voices of spring, the voices of

birds and insects and the sound of falling waters; beheld the Elysian,

flower-strewn fields of youth, recalling the immortal, fairy days of

childhood and with them their golden dreams, and experienced the

sweetness and bitterness of unfulfilled longings and aspirations of

later years. All felt that it was an event of a lifetime--one of those

hours that would never again return.

The company gave vent to its emotion in alternate exclamations of

enthusiasm or sighs as it was swept irresistibly along by the buoyancy

and captivating creation of the dancer. Two bright tears stood in

Padre Antonio's eyes as he gazed upon the object of his love and pride.

Don Felipe forgot his hatred for the moment and gazed enraptured,

drinking in with eyes and soul the enchanting vision before him. The

heart of Blanch grew cold as ice as she, like the rest, looked on

entranced in spite of herself by the witchery of her rival, for she

knew she had blundered again, that she had lost, that Chiquita was

transformed--irresistible. The blood seemed to freeze in her veins as

the truth was borne in upon her. She longed to scream, to rush forward

and stop her--anything to break the spell, but in vain. Helpless and

immovable she was forced to look on; see the prize of life slip slowly

from her grasp.

Again Captain Forest beheld the mighty expanse of mountain and plain,

heard the lashing of the sea and the myriad voices of the singing stars

as they whirled in their courses through space--listened to the chant of

life. Yes, she was the ideal, the living incarnation of nature, the

Golden Girl with the white starry flower on her breast who was awaiting

his coming, the woman of José's dream to whom he had been guided

unconsciously by the hand of the Unseen. No wonder he had failed to find

the place of his dreams; without knowing it, he had been waiting for

her. But now all was changed. The earth had become their footstool; the

old life had come to an end.