The Car of Destiny Part 35

"Nor _any_ doubt of her real feelings. Poor little girl, I know she's wis.h.i.+ng she could die to-night. Those _devils!_ Yes, I _will_ say it, Papa. I shall be forgiven, for they _are_. They've told her some hateful lie, and made her so desperate she was ready to do anything. Why, it's just come to me; there's only one thing that would make a girl who loves a man do what she's done."

"What?" I broke in, breathless; for Pilar's fire had flamed into my blood now, and I waited for her answer as a man waits for an antidote to poison.

"Believing he's in love with someone else."

"How could she believe that? Who is there-" I stopped. My eyes met Pilar's, and she blushed, stammering as she hurried bravely on. "The greatest nonsense, of course. But-but-_oh_, don't you remember how she looked that evening at Manzanares when we saw her last? So wistful, as if there were something on her mind she mustn't tell? I caught her looking at me once or twice as if she were wondering-they must have begun, even then, to upset her mind, poor, lonely child; but the worst hadn't happened; she was only a little doubtful. If you could have spoken to her, or if I-"

"I did write," I said, "though I've always been afraid something went wrong with that letter."

"Ah!" Pilar caught at this, and would have the whole story with every detail. I even found myself confessing my old presentiment, the fancy that Monica was calling for me to help her.

"I believe she was, calling and praying. Of course she never got the letter. What was in it? If you don't mind my asking?"

"I said, a crisis seemed to be coming, and she must make up her mind to let me take her away."

"A splendid letter to fall into her mother's hands. Did you sign your real name?"

"No name at all. I wrote in a hurry, and-"

"That's lucky. But even if you had, Lady Vale-Avon couldn't have shown such a letter to the Duke, he's too Spanish-too Moorish, I ought to say.

She wouldn't have dared, as she wants him for a son-in-law."

"That occurred to me."

"But there aren't many other things she wouldn't dare, to get rid of such a danger as you. If she got the letter-and I'm sure she did-there was your handwriting at her mercy. Supposing she-"

"I know what's in your mind. But I don't think such things are done-out of novels."

"Oh, aren't they; when people are clever enough? I know of one case myself. And the girl's life was spoiled. Lady Monica's shan't be though, if I can help it."

"You're taking a great deal for granted," I said. But I felt as if the radiance of heaven were pouring down upon me, instead of the pensive moonlight.

"Doesn't your heart tell you I'm right?" cried Pilar.

"Yes!" I answered. "Yes, you good angel, it does."

XXIX

THE GARDEN OF FLAMING LILIES

The voice of some maid servant singing a _copla_ waked me early in the morning, after an hour or two of sleep.

_El amor y la naranja_ _se parecen infinito;_ _Que por muy dulces que sean_ _de agrio tienen su poquito._(1)

Yes, always a little bitter, I said to myself. But if for me there were after all to be some sweetness left?

Last night before parting, the Cherub, d.i.c.k and I had talked matters over from every point of view. I was only too thankful to take the advice of one girl on behalf of another, and give to Monica the benefit of that doubt which at first had not seemed admissible. But even Pilar confessed that Monica's engagement to Carmona made our part a hundred times more difficult.

Whatever her motive had been-revenge upon me for supposed disloyalty, dread of her mother, or awakened ambition--she had in any case consented to marry him, and Pilar suggested that the dinner invitations had been sent out as an excuse for a public announcement, which would more firmly bind her to her promise. The news would have flown all over Seville in twenty-four hours; when the King arrived on Tuesday Carmona would certainly lose no time in telling him; Lady Vale-Avon would not wait for Monica to write to the Princess, but would probably wire; and no matter what my private anxieties might be, for Monica's sake I must do nothing openly. As for defying Carmona to use his knowledge of my true name, and challenging him to fight, that must not be thought of. Monica's fair fame would never survive such a scandal, especially in Spain, where a girl's reputation is as easily damaged as the down on a b.u.t.terfly's wing.

But, as the Cherub said, there are many roads which lead to the centre of the world. He had learned at his club that the Duke had lent his box in the tribune to a friend, for such processions as he and his household did not care to see. That friend was a member of the club, and through him the Cherub had found out that the box in question was next to the royal box which would be occupied by the King, the Infanta Dona Maria Teresa, and her husband. Immediately upon making this discovery, the Cherub had begun to move heaven and earth to obtain a box for himself, either behind, in front of, or on one side of Carmona's box. He did not know yet if he should succeed, for things were not done in a moment in Spain. Of course all the boxes were already subscribed for the whole week by members of the aristocracy and other persons of importance in Seville; but, then, the Cherub had friends and acquaintances in every cla.s.s. If it were a question of money, money would not be spared; if it were a question of a favour for a favour in return, that favour would be given. There was hope that the thing might be arranged; and once Pilar came within speaking distance of Monica, nothing short of sudden death could prevent her from telling the girl the truth, vowing by all the saints that she had been deceived for the one purpose of separating her from me. If Monica could be made to believe that, she would have courage to be true in spite of all; and then it would be for me to save her from keeping the engagement into which she had been tricked.

As for my going to Carmona's house and trying to see Monica, such a plan appeared useless, as I should certainly not be allowed to come near her.

Therefore I must wait with such patience as I could, and let my friends help me in the subtle ways favoured in Spain.

Now, Palm Sunday had dawned crystal clear; but Pilar had explained that n.o.body occupied the boxes and chairs to see the procession of palms in the morning; that, though it was pretty to see, it was not one of the great sights; and, as one must be waiting early outside the cathedral, it was unlikely that anyone from Carmona's house would be there. Still there was the chance, and I could not afford to miss it; so the O'Donnels offered to go with me into Seville, d.i.c.k, of course, being of the party.

Consequently, every one at the Cortijo was astir by six; and before seven d.i.c.k and I were in the _patio_, just in time to greet Pilar utterly fascinating in a mantilla.

She was dressed as a Spanish woman of the upper cla.s.s should be dressed on Palm Sunday; and though the tight-fitting, rich black brocade silk which she wore would, in any other country, have seemed a costume not for young girlhood but for middle age, it suited her wonderfully. Her clear-skinned, heart-shaped face, with its great soft eyes and red lips, was beautiful in the cloudy frame of black lace; and her piled hair, of so dark a brown as to appear black, except when the sunlight burnished threads of gold in its ma.s.ses, looked ruddy as the leaves of a copper-beech gleaming through the figured lace.

"By Jove!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, jumping to his feet when he saw her. No more than that; but Pilar was woman enough to understand the value of the compliment; and she smiled, patting the flounce of her mantilla into still more graceful folds on her breast.

"You think me nice like this?" she asked. "I'm proud of my mantilla, you know. It came to me from my great-grandmother, as all the best ones do come to Spanish girls; and I've two lovely white mantillas which I wear on great feast days when I want to be very beautiful."

"At bull-fights?" asked d.i.c.k, his eyes adoring her in a way he would have laughed at in any other man only a few weeks ago.

"I don't go to bull-fights," said Pilar. "I love the poor bulls and horses so much, it would make me sad to see them die. Though, if I were a bull, I would myself choose a brave death in the arena, after a life of five glorious years, rather than the slaughter-house, or a weary existence of labour till old age or overstrain finished me. But I drive in the _paseo_ on the bull-fight days, and for the _feria_. _Ay de mi!_ A girl in Spain has few other chances to make herself pretty for the world to see, unless she lives in Madrid; and if it were not for the bull-fights, I suppose many girls would never get husbands. But, Our Lady be thanked, I do not have to look for one."

Did she mean that there was any understanding with Don Cipriano?

I knew this was the thought which flashed through d.i.c.k's mind. And if Pilar had been desirable in motoring days, she was irresistible at home.

Before eight o'clock the Gloria was at the gates, and twenty minutes later we were on foot in the street of the Gran Capitan, mingling with the crowd who waited for the first procession of _Semana Santa_ to pour out from the cathedral doors. But the crowd was not a dense one, and the face I hoped to see was not there. "It will be a long time before anything happens,"

said the Cherub. "Here, when a thing should be at eight, it is at nine, or maybe half-past. What does a little time matter? But ma.s.s is being said.

Who knows that the old d.u.c.h.ess may not have had a religious fit, and come to hear it, bringing her friends?"

No more was needed to make me anxious to go in; and we entered the cathedral, which is, to my mind, the most beautiful, inspiring, and poetic in the world.

The two O'Donnels flitted away in the dusk, mysterious as the twilight of the G.o.ds, and we guessed that they were going to hear ma.s.s. Soon they found us again. They had not seen those for whom we searched; but the procession was starting.

We made haste out before it, and none too soon, for it billowed forth after us in a glitter of gold and purple vestments, and tall, bleached palm-branches like beams of moonlight streaming against the blue of the morning sky.

"They're not here," said Pilar, when the last gleaming crucifix and waving palm, blessed by the bishop, had disappeared. "I was sure they wouldn't come. And-it does seem hard to disappoint you-but I'm afraid they won't be in their box this afternoon. Oh, we shall go, of course! But that will be the time for the Duke to lend the Conde de Ambulato his box. Thursday will be the great day, when the King will be in the royal box, and will walk with his _cofradia_ of the cigarette-makers before Our Lady of Victory.

You know how anxious the Duke is to win back the favour of the royal family; and he'll hardly think it worth while to sit through the hours of a procession unless he can be next door to the King, with a chance of an invitation to his box."

This was discouraging; still, I determined to be in the crowd during the afternoon; and I knew well that, though the splendid show of _Semana Santa_ was an old story to the O'Donnels, they would not fail me for a moment.

d.i.c.k shamefacedly bought from one of many vendors an armful of blessed palms for Pilar to tie under the house windows, as a protection against the rage of thunder-storms throughout the coming year; and we drove to the country with the great glistening fronds blowing behind the motor-car like giant plumes.