A Williams Anthology Part 17

It was our Sat.u.r.day half-holiday and Henderson and I were driving the stagnation of a week's confinement out of our lungs by a long walk into the country. We were just starting back in the approaching dusk when a round stone that I happened to step on turned under my foot. I tried to grin, and hobbled along for a moment; then I sat down at the side of the road.

"It's my ankle. I don't believe I can make it, Fred."

"Make a try at it, old man. It's only a short mile to the railroad station and there won't be any footing it from there. Perhaps walking will ease it up."

I got up, but after a few steps sat down again.

"I'm awfully sorry, Fritz, but I simply can't do it. The thing hurts like all time."

He stood still and looked about him. The road followed the curve of a hill, at the foot of which flowed a tiny brook. Ahead, it pa.s.sed through a little colony of houses, perhaps twenty in all. The hamlet had an air about it that marked it from numerous others we had walked through that afternoon. The cottages appeared brighter and there were gardens among them that seemed unlike the others we had pa.s.sed. No hotel or public house of any kind was to be seen.

"I wonder what this place is," said Henderson. "It doesn't look especially alluring."

I looked up from the task of rubbing my ankle.

"No," I commented, "it doesn't seem alluring, and I suppose ninety-nine hundredths of the people that pa.s.s through here look at it the same way. But to you, Fred, I'm pretty sure it would be rather attractive, and I know that it would be to me with this beastly foot."

"What! Stay here all night? I guess not."

"If you only knew what it was," I ventured.

"Probably another of Was.h.i.+ngton's headquarters, or the site of the Battle of--."

"Wait a minute before you explode, and give me a chance. This is the Spanish colony."

"What?"

"The Spanish colony."

"What Spanish colony?"

"Of all things, do you mean to tell me that you never heard of it?"

"I do."

"Well," I said, "it's wonderful how much New Yorkers don't know about themselves. This place was settled a long time ago by the few Spaniards there were in this part of the country, and they've stuck together ever since. I don't believe there are a hundred people in the city that know about the place. Maybe it's on account of the war, when these people had to keep pretty quiet, but whatever it is, they are here. I've been through here before and I've often wished that I could have stopped off. Now the Lord seems to have taken matters into His own hands."

If there was anything Henderson enjoyed it was tales and relics of the old Romance lands, and I knew it. Then there was my ankle, which was throbbing painfully.

"If your old foot really is as bad as you say," said Henderson, "why, we can put up here over night. To-morrow is Sunday, you know, and we don't have to be back."

He spoke condescendingly, but I knew that if I suggested that after all we might get back he would almost get down on his knees and plead with me. So I spared him the trouble. We started again toward the little hamlet. Henderson wanted to stop at the first house we came to, but I pulled him on.

"Let's tackle that larger white one ahead there to the right," I suggested. "It looks to be the best of the lot--and besides, the last time I was through here I noticed a mighty pretty girl standing in the doorway--one of those black-eyed story-book _senoritas_ you so dote on."

"I'm surprised at a man of your age and dignity noticing _senoritas_,"

he laughed. Nevertheless he turned into the little garden and raised the iron knocker.

The door was opened almost instantly by a short, rather stoutish man, well past the prime of life. There was nothing in his dress to mark him from the average middle-cla.s.s New Yorker, but his face was swarthy and the hair that was not grey was glistening black. We explained our desires.

"I am afraid you can find no accommodations," he said, with but the slightest trace of an accent.

Henderson said something to him in Spanish, and as he did so the man stared a moment, smiled, showing all his teeth, and then answered in the same tongue with a flood of words that I could barely understand.

Then he took our hats and bowed the way into a little parlor.

"Will the _senor_ with the injured foot recline upon the sofa? I will bring in hot water to bathe it. We have a large room upstairs with a bed for two, where the _senores_ may pa.s.s the night." He took out a large gold watch. "It is now quarter before six. Dinner will be served at half after the hour. Till then the _senores_ may rest. I will bring the hot water to your chamber."

Promptly at six-thirty Henderson and I descended the stairs. The rest and a bath had done us both good, and even my ankle, though badly swollen, had ceased to give much pain. From the house and from our host we had gathered much of interest. His family had come over some seventy-five years ago and had moved directly to the little house, which the widower Senor Lucas de Marcelo and his daughter Adelita still possessed. Don Lucas himself was a jeweller, going in to the city every day. We found him waiting for us at the foot of the stairs.

"In but a moment dinner will be prepared," he said. "If the _senores_ will pardon me, I must go out to the kitchen. To-night is the big dance, the _mascarade_, for which Adelita must dress." He raised his voice. "Adela! Hasten, little one."

"I am coming," called a clear girlish voice.

Henderson and I waited in the little parlor. Back in the house we could hear our host moving about among the pots and pans. Then from the top of the stairs there sounded a soft voice:

"_Padre_--father!"

Don Lucas dropped his work and stepped into the parlor.

There was a swish, a click of high heels on the stairs, a flash of red, with a momentary glimpse of white, and the girl stood before us.

The father spoke:

"_Senores_, my daughter."

She bent low and then arose, smiling as her father had smiled, showing the white of her teeth. She was dressed all in red, from the roses in her black hair to her tiny, outrageously high-heeled Spanish slippers.

The hair was parted in the middle and drawn back, giving an almost child-like expression to the handsome face with its snapping black eyes and full red lips. Under the dark wave behind each ear she had effectively pinned a cl.u.s.ter of rose-buds. Over her gleaming shoulders she had thrown a scarf of the thinnest red silk, and a similar scarf, fringed with black lace, was drawn about her hips and knotted at the left side. The heavily ruffled skirts fell within a few inches of the floor, but as she turned they swung higher, showing her slippers and a bit of red silk-covered ankle. In her hand she dangled a tiny black mask. Her father looked at her proudly.

"It is the dancing costume of the Old Country," he explained. "It is in honor of the _mascarade_ to-night."

We pa.s.sed into the little dining-room. Just before we sat down Henderson managed to whisper to me:

"Whew! I guess you're right about the good-looking girl."

All through the meal he watched her covertly, and the moment he took his eyes from her face I noticed that she would glance over at him.

Then the second he turned her way her eyes would drop and a dull red would suffuse her face and neck. Whether Henderson noticed it or not I do not know, but I did. When the coffee was brought in by Adelita our host opened a box of mellow cigars, and we pa.s.sed out into the parlor.

In the doorway the girl stopped her father and excitedly whispered in his ear.

"Please," she pleaded, "you know you are old and do not like to stay so late, and he is young and big and could take as good care of me as you. Please, _padre_."

"Would it be right?" he queried. Then he thought a moment. "Perhaps--"

"_Bueno_," she cried. "Good. Ask him, _padre_, please, please."

The old man smiled. Then he came over to where Fred and I were standing.

"Did you hear the girl," he asked, "the little scamp? She thinks I am too old to take her to the ball--and too uninteresting. She wishes to know if the _senores_ would care to go with her in my place. It would perhaps be interesting to you."

I guessed what she really wanted, so I spoke: