"What d'you mean?"
"You can't go in."
"Can't--go--in?" As Blake stared uncomprehendingly at the speaker he
heard rapid footsteps approaching and saw Achille Marigny coming on the
wings of the wind. It was he who appeared in the distance as Norvin
rounded the corner, and it was plain now that he was well-nigh spent.
Rilleau reared himself on one elbow and cried with difficulty:
"Welcome, Achille."
"Take it easy, Marigny," called Cline; "we've saved her."
Some one laughed, and the suspicion that he had been hoaxed swept over
Blake.
"What's the joke?" he demanded. "I was frightened to death."
"The house is quarantined."
"I never dreamed you'd _all_ come," Miss Warren was saying, sweetly.
"It was very gallant, and I shall _never_ forget it--never."
"She says her--beauty is--gone," wildly panted Marigny, who had run
himself blind and as yet could hear nothing but the drumming in his
ears.
"Judge for yourself." Cline steadied him against the low iron fence and
pointed to the girl's bewitching face embowered in the leafy window
above.
From where he lay flat on his back, idly flapping his hands, Rilleau
complained: "I have a weak heart. Will somebody get me a drink?"
"It was _splendid_ of you," Myra Nell called down to the group. "I love
you for it. Please get me out, right away."
Norvin now perceived a burly individual seated upon the steps of the La
Branche mansion. He approached with a view to parleying, but the man
forestalled him" saying warningly:
"You can't go in. They've got smallpox in there."
"Smallpox!"
"Go away from that door!" screamed Myra Nell; but the fellow merely
scowled.
"I hate to offend the lady," he explained to Norvin, in a hoarse
whisper; "but I can't let her out."
Miss Warren repeated in a fury:
"Go away, I tell you. These are friends of mine. If you were a
gentleman you'd know you're not wanted. Norvin, make him skedaddle."
Blake shook his head. "You've scared us all blue. If you're quarantined
I don't see what we can do."
"The idea! You can at least come in."
"If you go in, you can't come out," belligerently declared the
watchman. "Them's orders."
"_Oh-h!_ You monster!" cried his prisoner.
"She says herself she's got it," the man explained.
"I never did!" Myra Nell wrung her hands. "Will you stand there and let
me perish? Do you refuse to save me?"
"Where is Madame la Branche?" Norvin asked.
"Asleep. And Cousin Montegut is playing solitaire in the library."
"Then who has the smallpox?"
"The cook! They took her screaming to the pest-house an hour after I
came. I shall be the next victim; I feel it. We're shut up here for a
_week_, maybe longer. Think of that! There's nothing to do, nobody to
talk to, nothing to look at. We need another hand for whist. I--I
supposed somebody would volunteer."
"I'd love to," Rilleau called, faintly, from the curb, "but I wouldn't
survive a week. My heart is beating its last, and besides--I don't play
whist."
Mr. Cline called the attention of his companions to two figures which
had appeared in the distance, and began to chant:
"The animals came in two by two,
The elephant and the kangaroo,"
"Gentlemen, here come the porpoise and the antelope. We are now
complete."
The new arrivals proved to be Bernie Dreux and August Kulm, the latter
a fat Teutonic merchant whose place of business was down near the
river. Mr. Kulm had evidently run all the way, for he was laboring
heavily and his gait had long since slackened into a stumbling trot.
His eyes were rolling wildly; his fresh young cheeks were purple and
sheathed in perspiration.
Miss Warren exclaimed, crossly:
"Oh, dear! I didn't send for Bernie. I'll bet he's furious."
And so it proved. When her half-brother's horrified alarm had been
dispelled by the noisy group of rescuers it was replaced by the
blackest indignation. He thanked them stiffly and undertook to
apologize for his sister, in the midst of which Rilleau, who had now
managed to regain his feet, suggested the formation of "The Myra Nell
Contagion Club."
"Its object shall be the alleviation of our lady's distress, and its
membership shall be limited to her rejected suitors," he declared.
"We'll take turns amusing her. I'll appoint myself chairman of the
entertainment committee and one of us will always be on guard. We'll
sing, we'll dance, we'll cavort beneath the window, and help to while
the dreary hours away."
His suggestion was noisily accepted, then after an exchange of views
Murray Logan confessed that he had bolted a directors' meeting, and
that ruin stared him in the face unless he returned immediately.
Achille Marigny, it appeared, had unceremoniously fled from the trial
of an important lawsuit, and Raymond Cline was needed at the bank.
Foote, Delavan, and the others admitted that they, too, must leave Miss
Warren to her fate, at least until after 'Change had closed. And so,
having put themselves at her service with extravagant protestations of
loyalty, promising candy, books, flowers, a choir to sing beneath her
window, they finally trooped off, half carrying the rotund Mr. Kulm,
who had sprinted himself into a jelly-like state of collapse.
Rilleau alone maintained his readiness to brave the perils of smallpox,
leprosy, or plague at Miss Warren's side, until Bernie informed him
that the very idea was shocking, whereupon he dragged himself away with
the accusation that all his heart trouble lay at her door.
"Oh, you spoiled it all!" Myra Nell told her brother, indignantly. "You
might at least have let _him_ come in. Cousin Althea would have
chaperoned us."
"The idea! Why _did_ you do such an atrocious thing?"
"Where you frightened, Norvin?" The girl beamed hopefully down upon him.
"Horribly. I'm not over it yet. I'm half inclined to act on Lecompte's
suggestion and break in."
She clapped her hands gleefully, whereupon the watchman arose, saying:
"No you don't!"
"I wouldn't allow such a thing," said Bernie, firmly. "It would mean a
scandal."
"I--I can't stay here _alone_, for a whole _week_. I'll die."
"Then I'll join you myself," her brother offered.
Myra Nell looked alarmed. "Oh, not _you_! I want some one to nurse me
when I fall ill."
"What makes you think you'll catch it? Were you exposed?"
"Exposed! Heavens! I can feel the disease coming on this very minute.
The place is full of germs; I can spear 'em with a hat-pin." She
shuddered and managed to counterfeit a tear.
"I've an idea," said Norvin. "I'll get that trained nurse who saved you
when you fell off the horse."
"Vittoria? She might do. But, Norvin, the horse threw me." She warned
him with a grimace which Bernie did not see. "He's a frightful beast."
"I can't afford a trained nurse," Dreux objected, "and you don't need
one, anyhow."
"All right for you, Bernie; if you don't care any more for my life than
that, I'll sicken and die. When a girl's relatives turn against her
it's time she was out of the way."
"Oh, all right," said her brother, angrily. "It's ruinous, but I
suppose you must have it your way."
Myra Nell shook her head gloomily. "No--not if you are going to feel
like that. Of course, if she were here she could cut off my hair when I
take to my bed; she could bathe my face with lime-water when my beauty
goes; she could listen to my ravings and understand, for she is
a--woman. But no, I'm not worth it. Perhaps I can get along all right,
and, anyhow, I'll have to teach school or--or be a nun if I'm all
pock-marks."
"Good Lord!" Bernie wiped his brow with a trembling hand. "D'you think
that'll happen, Norvin?"
"It's bound to," the girl predicted, indifferently. "But what's the
odds?" Suddenly a new thought dilated her eyes with real horror. "Oh!"
she cried. "_Oh!_ I just happened to remember. I'm to be Queen of the
Carnival! Now, I'll be scarred and hideous, even if I happen to
recover; but I won't recover. You shall have my royal robe, Bunny. Keep
it always. And Norvin shall have my hair."
"Here! I--don't want your hair," Blake asserted, nervously. "I mean not
without--"
"It is all I have to give."
"You may not catch the smallpox, after all."
"We'll--have Miss Fabrizi b-by all means," Bernie chattered.
"You stay here and talk to her while I go," Norvin suggested, quickly.
"And, Myra Nell, I'll fetch you a lot of chocolates. I'll fetch you
anything, if you'll only cheer up."
"Remember, It's against my wishes," the girl said. "But she's not at
the hospital now; she's living in the Italian quarter." She gave him
the street, and number, and he made off in all haste.
On his way he had time to think more collectedly of the girl he had
just left. Her prank had shocked him into a keen realization of his
feeling for her, and he began to understand the large part she played
in his life. Many things inclined him to believe that her regard for
him was really deeper than her careless levity indicated, and it seemed
now that they had been destined for each other.
It was dusk when he reached his destination. A nondescript Italian girl
ushered him up a dark stairway and into an old-fashioned drawing-room
with high ceiling, and long windows which opened out upon a rusty
overhanging iron balcony. The room ran through to a court in the rear,
after the style of so many of these foreign-built houses. It had once
been the home of luxury and elegance, but had long since fallen into a
state of shabby decay. He was still lost in thoughts of the important
step which he contemplated when he heard the rustle of a woman's
garment behind him and rose as a tall figure entered the room.
"Miss Fabrizi?" he inquired. "I came to find you--"
He paused, for the girl had given a smothered cry. The light was poor
and the shadows played tricks with his eyes. He stepped forward,
peering strangely at her, then halted.
"Margherita!" he whispered; then in a shaking voice, "My God!"
"Yes," she said, quietly, "it is I."
He touched her gently, staring as if bereft of his senses. He felt
himself swept by a tremendous excitement. It struck him dumb; it shook
him; it set the room to whirling dizzily. The place was no longer
ill-lit and shabby, but illumined as if by a burst of light. And
through his mad panic of confusion he saw her standing there, calm,
tawny, self-possessed.
"Caro Norvin! You have found me, indeed," he heard her say. "I wondered
when the day would come."
"You--you!" he choked. His arms were hungry for her, his heart was
melting with the wildest ecstasy that had ever possessed it. She was
clad as he often remembered her, in a dress which partook of her
favorite and inseparable color, her hair shone with that unforgettable
luster; her face was the face he had dreamed of, and there was no shock
of readjustment in his recognition of her. Rather, her real presence
made the cherished mental image seem poor and weak.
"I came to see Miss Fabrizi. Why are _you_ here?" He glanced at the
door as if expecting an interruption.
"I am she."
"Contessa!"
"Hush!" She laid her fingers upon his lips. "I am no longer the
Contessa Margherita. I am Vittoria Fabrizi."
"Then--you have been here--in New Orleans for a long time?"
"More than a year."
"Impossible! I--You--It's inconceivable! Why have we never met?"
"I have seen you many times."
"And you didn't speak? Why, oh, why, Margherita?"
"My friend, if you care for me, for my safety and my peace of mind, you
must not use that name. Collect yourself. We will have explanations.
But first, remember, I am Vittoria Fabrizi, the nurse, a poor girl."
"I shall remember. I don't understand; but I shall be careful. I don't
know what it all means, why you--didn't let me know." In spite of his
effort at self-control he fell again into a delicious bewilderment. His
spirits leaped, he felt unaccountably young and exhilarated; he laughed
senselessly and yet with a deep throbbing undernote of delight. "What
are names and reasons, anyhow? What are worries and hopes and despairs?
I've found you. You live; you are safe; you are young. I feared you
were old and changed--it has seemed so long and--and my search dragged
so. But I never ceased thinking and caring--I never ceased hoping--"
She laid a gentle hand upon his arm. "Come, come! You are upset. It
will all seem natural enough when you know the story."
"Tell me everything, all at once. I can't wait." He led her to a low
French _lit de repos_ near by, and seated himself beside her. Her
nearness thrilled him with the old intoxication, and he hardly heeded
what he was saying. "Tell me how you came to be Vittoria Fabrizi
instead of Margherita Ginini; how you came to be here; how you knew of
my presence and yet--Oh, tell me everything, for I'm smothering. I'm
incoherent. I--I--"
"First, won't you explain how you happened to come looking for me?"
He gathered his wits to tell her briefly of Myra Nell, feeling a
renewed sense of strangeness in the fact that these two knew each
other. She made as if to rise.
"Please!" he cried; "this is more important than Miss Warren's
predicament. She's really delighted with her adventure, you know."
"True, she is in no danger. There is so much to tell! That which has
taken four years to live cannot be told in five minutes. I--I'm afraid
I am sorry you came."
"Don't destroy my one great moment of gladness."
"Remember I am Vittoria Fabrizi--"
"I know of no other name."
"Lucrezia is here, also, and she, too, is another. You have never seen
her. You understand?"