Lady Good-for-Nothing Part 52

She could not at any rate have escaped hearing the old man's exclamation; for their chaise was jammed in the crowd beside the gateway. Her ears still kept the echo of his vibrant voice; almost she was persuaded that his eyes had singled her out from the crowd.

--And why not? Had not she, also, cause to know what cruelties men will commit in the name of religion?

Her heart was wrathful as well as pitiful. Her lord had given her no warning of the auto-da-fe, and she now suspected that in suggesting this Sunday morning drive he had purposely decoyed her to it.

Presently, as the crowd began to clear, he confirmed the suspicion.

"Since we are here, we may as well see the sp--" He was going to say "sport," but, warned by a sudden stiffening of her body, he corrected the word to "spectacle." "They erect a grand stand on these occasions; or, if you prefer, we can bribe them to give room for the chaise."

He bent forward and called to the coachman, "Turn the mules' heads, and follow!"

"Indeed I will not," she said firmly. "Do you go--if such crimes amuse you. . . . For me, I shall walk home."

He shrugged his shoulders. "It is the custom of the country. . . .

But, as for your walking, I cannot allow it for a moment. Juan shall drive you home."

She glanced at him. His eyes were fixed on the opposite side of the square, and she surprised in them a look of recognition not intended for her. Following the look, she saw a chaise much like their own, moving slowly with the throng, and in it a woman seated.

Ruth knew her. She was Donna Maria, Countess of Montalagre; and of late Sir Oliver's name had been much coupled with hers.

This Ruth did not know; but she had guessed for some time that he was unfaithful. She had felt no curiosity at all to learn the woman's name. Now an accident had opened her eyes, and she saw.

Her first feeling was of slightly contemptuous amus.e.m.e.nt.

Donna Maria, youthful wife of an aged and enfeebled lord, pa.s.sed for one of the extremely devout. She had considerable beauty, but of an order Ruth could easily afford to scorn. It was the _bizarrerie_ of the affair that tickled her, almost to laughter--Donna Maria's down-dropt gaze, the long lashes veiling eyes too holy-innocent for aught but the breviary; and he--he of all men!--playing the lover to this little dunce, with her empty brain, her narrow religiosity!

But on afterthought, she found it somewhat disgusting too.

"I thank you," she said. "Juan shall drive me home, then. It will not, I hope, inconvenience you very much, since I see the Countess of Montalagre's carriage across the way. No doubt she will offer you a seat."

He glanced at her, but her face was cheerfully impa.s.sive.

"That's an idea!" he said. "I will run and make interest with her."

He alighted, and gave Juan the order to drive home. He lifted his hat, and left her. She saw Donna Maria's start of simulated surprise. Also she detected, or thought she detected, the sly triumph of a woman who steals a man.

All this she had leisure to observe; for Juan, a Gallician, was by no means in a hurry to turn the mules' heads for home. He had slewed his body about, and was gazing wistfully after the throng.

"Your Excellency, it would be a thousand pities!"

"Hey?"

"There has not been a finer burning these two years, they tell me.

And that old blasphemer's beard, when they set a light to it! . . .

I am a poor Gallego, your Excellency, and at home get so few chances of enjoyment. Also I have dropped my whip, and it is trodden on, broken. In the crowd at the Terreiro de Paco I may perchance borrow another."

Ruth alighted in a blaze of wrath.

"Wretched man," she commanded, "climb down!"

"Your Excellency--"

"Climb down! You shall go, as your betters have gone, to feed your eyes with these abominations. . . . Nay, how shall I scold you, who do what your betters teach? But climb down. I will drive the mules myself."

"His Excellency will murder me when he hears of it. But, indeed, was ever such a thing heard of?" Nevertheless the man was plainly in two minds.

"It is not for you to argue, but to obey my orders."

He descended, still protesting. She mounted to his seat, and took the reins and whip.

"The brutes are spirited, your Excellency. For the love of G.o.d have a care of them!"

For answer she flicked them with the whip--he had lied about the broken whip--and left him staring.

The streets were deserted. All Lisbon had trooped to the auto-da-fe.

If any saw and wondered at the sight of a lady driving like a mere _bolhero_, she heeded not. The mules trotted briskly, and she kept them to it.

She had ceased to be amused, even scornfully. As she drove up the slope of Buenos Ayres--the favourite English suburb, where his villa stood overlooking Tagus--a deep disgust possessed her. It darkened the suns.h.i.+ne. It befouled, it tarnished, the broad and n.o.ble mirror of water spread far below.

"Were all men beasts, then?"

Chapter II.

DONNA MARIA.

They would dine at four o'clock. On Sundays Sir Oliver chose to dine informally with a few favoured guests; and these to-day would make nine, not counting Mr. Langton, who might be reckoned one of the household.

By four o'clock all had arrived--the British envoy, Mr. Castres, with his lady; Lord Charles Douglas, about to leave Lisbon after a visit of pleasure; Mrs. Hake, a sister of Governor Hardy of New York--she, with an invalid husband and two children, occupied a villa somewhat lower down the slope of Buenos Ayres; white-haired old Colonel Arbuthnot, _doyen_ of the English residents; Mr. Hay, British Consul, and Mr. Raymond, one of the chiefs of the English factory, with their wives. . . . Ruth looked at the clock. All were here save only their host, Sir Oliver.

Mr. Langton, with Lord Charles Douglas, had returned from the auto-da-fe. Like his friend George Selwyn--friend these many years by correspondence only--Mr. Langton was a dilettante in executions and like horrors, and had taken Lord Charles to the show, to initiate him. He reported that they had left Sir Oliver in a press of the crowd, themselves hurrying away on foot. He would doubtless arrive in a few minutes. Mr. Langton said nothing of the executions.

Mr. Castres, too, ignored them. He knew, of course, that the auto-da-fe had taken place, and that the Court had witnessed it in state from a royal box. But his business, as tactful Envoy of a Protestant country, was to know nothing of this. He went on talking with Mrs. Hake, who--good soul--actually knew nothing of it.

Her children absorbed all her care; and having heard Miriam, the younger, cough twice that morning, she was consulting the Envoy on the winter climate of Lisbon--was it, for instance, prophylactic against croup.

At five minutes past four Sir Oliver arrived. Before apologising he stood aside ceremoniously in the doorway to admit a companion--the Countess of Montalegre.

"I have told them," said he as Donna Maria tripped forward demurely to shake hands, "to lay for the Countess. The business was long, by reason of an interminable sermon, and at the end there was a crush at the exit from the Terreiro de Paco and a twenty good minutes' delay-- impossible to extricate oneself. Had I not persuaded the Countess to drive me all the way home, my apologies had been a million instead of the thousand I offer."

Had he brought the woman in defiance? Or was it merely to discover how much, if anything, Ruth suspected? If to discover, his design had no success. Ruth saw--it needed less than half a glance--Batty Langton bite his lip and turn to the window. Lord Charles wore a faintly amused smile. These two knew, at any rate. For the others she could not be sure. She greeted Donna Maria with a gentle courtesy.

"We will delay dinner with pleasure," she said, "while my waiting-woman attends on you."

During the few minutes before the Countess reappeared she conversed gaily with one and another of her guests. Her face had told him nothing, and her spirit rose on the a.s.surance that, at least, she was puzzling him.

Yet all the while she asked herself the same questions. Had he done this to defy her? Or to sound her suspicions?