IV

That winter I passed in Granada. One evening I had been invited to a

great ball given by a prominent Spanish lady. As I was mounting the

stairs of the magnificent residence, I was startled by the sight of a

face which was easily distinguishable even in this crowd of southern

beauties. It was she, my unknown, the mysterious woman of the

stagecoach, in fact, No. 1, of whom I spoke at the beginning of this

narrative.

I made my way toward her, extending my hand in greeting. She recognized

me at once.

"Señora," I said, "I have kept my promise not to search for you. I did

not know I would meet you here. Had I suspected it I would have

refrained from coming, for fear of annoying you. Now that I am here,

tell me whether I may recognize you and talk to you."

"I see that you are vindictive," she answered graciously, putting her

little hand in mine. "But I forgive you. How are you?"

"In truth, I don't know. My health--that is, the health of my soul, for

you would not ask me about anything else in a ballroom--depends upon

the health of yours. What I mean is that I could only be happy if you

are happy. May I ask if that wound of the heart which you told me about

when I met you in the stagecoach has healed?"

"You know as well as I do that there are wounds which never heal."

With a graceful bow she turned away to speak to an acquaintance, and I

asked a friend of mine who was passing: "Can you tell me who that woman

is?"

"A South American whose name is Mercedes de Meridanueva."

On the following day I paid a visit to the lady, who was residing at

that time at the Hotel of the Seven Planets. The charming Mercedes

received me as if I were an intimate friend, and invited me to walk

with her through the wonderful Alhambra and subsequently to dine with

her. During the six hours we were together she spoke of many things,

and as we always returned to the subject of disappointed love, I felt

impelled to tell her the experience of my friend, Judge Zarco.

She listened to me very attentively and when I concluded she laughed

and said: "Let this be a lesson to you not to fall in love with women

whom you do not know."

"Do not think for a moment," I answered, "that I've invented this

story."

"Oh, I don't doubt the truth of it. Perhaps there may be a mysterious

woman in the Hotel of the Seven Planets of Granada, and perhaps she

doesn't resemble the one your friend fell in love with in Sevilla. So

far as I am concerned, there is no risk of my falling in love with

anyone, for I never speak three times to the same man."

"Señora! That is equivalent to telling me that you refuse to see me

again!"

"No, I only wish to inform you that I leave Granada to-morrow, and it is

probable that we will never meet again."

"Never? You told me that during our memorable ride in the stagecoach,

and you see that you are not a good prophet."

I noticed that she had become very pale. She rose from the table

abruptly, saying: "Well, let us leave that to Fate. For my part I

repeat that I am bidding you an eternal farewell."

She said these last words very solemnly, and then with a graceful bow,

turned and ascended the stairway which led to the upper story of the

hotel.

I confess that I was somewhat annoyed at the disdainful way in which

she seemed to have terminated our acquaintance, yet this feeling was

lost in the pity I felt for her when I noted her expression of

suffering.

We had met for the last time. Would to God that it had been for the

last time! Man proposes, but God disposes.

V

A few days later business affairs brought me to the town wherein

resided my friend Judge Zarco. I found him as lonely and as sad as at

the time of my last visit. He had been able to find out nothing about

Blanca, but he could not forget her for a moment. Unquestionably this

woman was his fate; his heaven or his hell, as the unfortunate man was

accustomed to saying.

We were soon to learn that his judicial superstition was to be fully

justified.

The evening of the day of my arrival we were seated in his office,

reading the last reports of the police, who had been vainly attempting

to trace Gabriela, when an officer entered and handed the judge a note

which read as follows:

"In the Hotel of the Lion there is a lady who wishes to speak to Judge

Zarco."

"Who brought this?" asked the judge.

"A servant."

"Who sent him?"

"He gave no name."

The judge looked thoughtfully at the smoke of his cigar for a few

moments, and then said: "A woman! To see me? I don't know why, but this

thing frightens me. What do you think of it, Philip?"

"That it is your duty as a judge to answer the call, of course. Perhaps

she may be able to give you some information in regard to Gabriela."

"You are right," answered Zarco, rising. He put a revolver in his

pocket, threw his cloak over his shoulders and went out.

Two hours later he returned.

I saw at once by his face that some great happiness must have come to

him. He put his arms about me and embraced me convulsively, exclaiming:

"Oh, dear friend, if you only knew, if you only knew!"

"But I don't know anything," I answered. "What on earth has happened to

you?"

"I'm simply the happiest man in the world!"

"But what is it?"

"The note that called me to the hotel was from _her_."

"But from whom? From Gabriela Zahara?"

"Oh, stop such nonsense! Who is thinking of those things now? It was

she, I tell you, the other one!"

"In the name of heaven, be calm and tell me whom you are talking

about."

"Who could it be but Blanca, my love, my life?"

"Blanca?" I answered with astonishment. "But the woman deceived you."

"Oh, no; that was all a foolish mistake on my part."

"Explain yourself."

"Listen: Blanca adores me!"

"Oh, you think she does? Well, go on."

"When Blanca and I separated on the fifteenth of April, it was

understood that we were to meet again on the fifteenth of May. Shortly

after I left she received a letter calling her to Madrid on urgent

family business, and she did not expect me back until the fifteenth of

May, so she remained in Madrid until the first. But, as you know, I, in

my impatience could not wait, and returned fifteen days before I had

agreed, and not finding her at the hotel I jumped to the conclusion

that she had deceived me, and I did not wait. I have gone through two

years of torment and suffering, all due to my own stupidity."

"But she could have written you a letter."

"She said that she had forgotten the address."

"Ah, my poor friend," I exclaimed, "I see that you are striving to

convince yourself. Well, so much the better. Now, when does the

marriage take place? I suppose that after so long and dark a night the

sun of matrimony will rise radiant."

"Don't laugh," exclaimed Zarco; "you shall be my best man."

"With much pleasure."

* * * * *

Man proposes, but God disposes. We were still seated in the library,

chatting together, when there came a knock at the door. It was about

two o'clock in the morning. The judge and I were both startled, but we

could not have told why. The servant opened the door, and a moment

later a man dashed into the library so breathless from hard running

that he could scarcely speak.

"Good news, judge, grand news!" he said when he recovered breath. "We

have won!"

The man was the prosecuting attorney.

"Explain yourself, my dear friend," said the judge, motioning him to a

chair. "What remarkable occurrence could have brought you hither in

such haste and at this hour of the morning?"

"We have arrested Gabriela Zahara."

"Arrested her?" exclaimed the judge joyfully.

"Yes, sir, we have her. One of our detectives has been following her

for a month. He has caught her, and she is now locked up in a cell of

the prison."

"Then let us go there at once!" exclaimed the judge. "We will

interrogate her to-night. Do me the favor to notify my secretary. Owing

to the gravity of the case, you yourself must be present. Also notify

the guard who has charge of the head of Señor Romeral. It has been my

opinion from the beginning that this criminal woman would not dare deny

the horrible murder when she was confronted with the evidence of her

crime. So far as you are concerned," said the judge, turning to me, "I

will appoint you assistant secretary, so that you can be present

without violating the law."

I did not answer. A horrible suspicion had been growing within me, a

suspicion which, like some infernal animal, was tearing at my heart

with claws of steel. Could Gabriela and Blanca be one and the same? I

turned to the assistant district attorney.

"By the way," I asked, "where was Gabriela when she was arrested?"

"In the Hotel of the Lion."

My suffering was frightful, but I could say nothing, do nothing without

compromising the judge; besides, I was not sure. Even if I were

positive that Gabriela and Blanca were the same person, what could my

unfortunate friend do? Feign a sudden illness? Flee the country? My

only way was to keep silent and let God work it out in His own way. The

orders of the judge had already been communicated to the chief of

police and the warden of the prison. Even at this hour the news had

spread throughout the city and idlers were gathering to see the rich

and beautiful woman who would ascend the scaffold. I still clung to the

slender hope that Gabriela and Blanca were not the same person. But

when I went toward the prison I staggered like a drunken man and was

compelled to lean upon the shoulder of one of the officials, who asked

me anxiously if I were ill.