by Bret Harte
CHAPTER III.
INTERNATIONAL COURTESIES.
The garden over whose wall Brace had mysteriously vanished wasapparently as deserted as the lane and plaza without. But itssolitude was one of graceful shadow and restful loveliness. A tropicalluxuriance, that had perpetuated itself year after year, until it washalf suffocated in its own overgrowth and strangled with its own beauty,spread over a variegated expanse of starry flowers, shimmering leaves,and slender inextricable branches, pierced here and there by toweringrigid cactus spikes or the curved plumes of palms. The repose of ageslay in its hushed groves, its drooping vines, its lifeless creepers;the dry dust of its decaying leaves and branches mingled with the livingperfumes like the spiced embalmings of a forgotten past.
Nevertheless, this tranquillity, after a few moments, was singularlydisturbed. There was no breeze stirring, and yet the long fronds of alarge fan palm, that stood near the breach in the wall, began to movegently from right to left, like the arms of some graceful semaphore,and then as suddenly stopped. Almost at the same moment a white curtain,listlessly hanging from a canopied balcony of the Alcalde's house, beganto exhibit a like rhythmical and regular agitation. Then everything wasmotionless again; an interval of perfect peace settled upon the garden.It was broken by the apparition of Brace under the balcony, and theblack-veiled and flowered head of Dona Isabel from the curtain above.
"Crazy boy!"
"Senorita!"
"Hush! I am coming down!"
"You? But Dona Ursula!"
"There is no more Dona Ursula!"
"Well--your duenna, whoever she is!"
"There is no duenna!"
"What?"
"Hush up your tongue, idiot boy!" (this in English.)
The little black head and the rose on top of it disappeared. Brace drewhimself up against the wall and waited. The time seemed interminable.Impatiently looking up and down, he at last saw Dona Isabel at adistance, quietly and unconcernedly moving among the roses, andoccasionally stooping as if to pick them. In an instant he was at herside.
"Let me help you," he said.
She opened her little brownish palm,--
"Look!" In her hand were a few leaves of some herb. "It is for you."
Brace seized and kissed the hand.
"Is it some love-test?"
"It is for what you call a julep-cocktail," she replied gravely. "Hewill remain in a glass with aguardiente; you shall drink him with astraw. My sister has said that ever where the Americans go they expecthim to arrive."
"I prefer to take him straight," said Brace, laughing, as he nibbled alimp leaf bruised by the hand of the young girl. "He's pleasanter, and,on the whole, more wildly intoxicating this way! But what about yourduenna? and how comes this blessed privilege of seeing you alone?"
Dona Isabel lifted her black eyes suddenly to Brace.
"You do not comprehend, then? Is it not, then, the custom of theAmericans? Is it not, then, that there is no duenna in your country?"
"There are certainly no duennas in my country. But who has changed thecustom here?"
"Is it not true that in your country any married woman shall duennathe young senorita?" continued Dona Isabel, without replying; "that anycaballero and senorita shall see each other in the patio, and not undera balcony?--that they may speak with the lips, and not the fan?"
"Well--yes," said Brace.
"Then my brother has arranged it as so. He have much hear the DonaBarbara Brimmer when she make talk of these things frequently, and heis informed and impressed much. He will truly have that you will comeof the corridor, and not the garden, for me, and that I shall have noduenna but the Dona Barbara. This does not make you happy, you Americanidiot boy!"
It did not. The thought of carrying on a flirtation under thefastidious Boston eye of Mrs. Brimmer, instead of under the discreetand mercenarily averted orbs of Dona Ursula, did not commend itselfpleasantly to Brace.
"Oh, yes," he returned quickly. "We will go into the corridor, in thefashion of my country"--
"Yes," said Dona Isabel dubiously.
"AFTER we have walked in the garden in the fashion of YOURS. That's onlyfair, isn't it?"
"Yes," said Dona Isabel gravely; "that's what the Comandante will call'internation-al courtesy.'"
The young man slipped his arm around the young diplomatist's waist, andthey walked on in decorous silence under the orange-trees.
"It seems to me," said Brace presently, "that Mrs. Brimmer has a gooddeal to say up your way?"
"Ah, yes; but what will you? It is my brother who has love for her."
"But," said Brace, stopping suddenly, "doesn't he know that she has ahusband living?"
Dona Isabel lifted her lashes in childlike wonder.
"Always! you idiot American boy. That is why. Ah, Mother of God! mybrother is discreet. He is not a maniac, like you, to come after a sillymuchacha like me."
The response which Brace saw fit to make to this statement elicited asharp tap upon the knuckles from Dona Isabel.
"Tell to me," she said suddenly, "is not that a custom of your country?"
"What? THAT?"
"No, insensate. To attend a married senora?"
"Not openly."
"Ah, that is wrong," said Dona Isabel meditatively, moving the point ofher tiny slipper on the gravel. "Then it is the young girl that shallcome in the corridor and the married lady on the balcony?"
"Well, yes."
"Good-by, ape!"
She ran swiftly down the avenue of palms to a small door at the back ofthe house, turned, blew a kiss over the edge of her fan to Brace, anddisappeared. He hesitated a moment or two, then quickly rescaling thewall, dropped into the lane outside, followed it to the gateway of thecasa, and entered the patio as Dona Isabel decorously advanced froma darkened passage to the corridor. Although the hour of siesta hadpassed, her sister, Miss Chubb, the Alcalde, and Mrs. Brimmer were stilllounging here on sofas and hammocks.
It would have been difficult for a stranger at a first glance todiscover the nationality of the ladies. Mrs. Brimmer and her friend MissChubb had entirely succumbed to the extreme dishabille of the Spanishtoilet--not without a certain languid grace on the part of Mrs. Brimmer,whose easy contour lent itself to the stayless bodice; or a certainbashful, youthful naivete on the part of Miss Chubb, the roundeddazzling whiteness of whose neck and shoulders half pleased and halffrightened her in her low, white, plain camisa--under the lace mantilla.
"It is SUCH a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Brace," said Mrs. Brimmer,languidly observing the young man through the sticks of her fan; "I wastelling Don Ramon that I feared Dona Ursula had frightened you away. Itold him that your experience of American society might have caused youto misinterpret the habitual reserve of the Castilian," she continuedwith the air of being already an alien of her own country, "and I shouldbe only too happy to undertake the chaperoning of both these youngladies in their social relations with our friends. And how is dear Mr.Banks? and Mr. Crosby? whom I so seldom see now. I suppose, however,business has its superior attractions."
But Don Ramon, with impulsive gallantry, would not--nay, COULD not--fora moment tolerate a heresy so alarming. It was simply wildly impossible.For why? In the presence of Dona Barbara--it exists not in the heart ofman!
"YOU cannot, of course, conceive it, Don Ramon," said Mrs. Brimmer, withan air of gentle suffering; "but I fear it is sadly true of the Americangentlemen. They become too absorbed in their business. They forget theirduty to our sex in their selfish devotion to affairs in which we aredebarred from joining them, and yet they wonder that we prefer thesociety of men who are removed by birth, tradition, and position fromthis degrading kind of selfishness."
"But that was scarcely true of your own husband. HE was not onlya successful man in business, but we can see that he was equallysuccessful in his relations to at least one of the fastidious sex," saidBrace, maliciously glancing at Don Ramon.
Mrs. Brimmer received the innuendo with invulnerable simplicity.
"Mr. Brimmer is, I am happy to say, NOT a business man. He entered intocertain contracts having more or less of a political complexion, andcarrying with them the genius but not the material results of trade.That he is not a business man--and a successful one--my position here atthe present time is a sufficient proof," she said triumphantly. "And Imust also protest," she added, with a faint sigh, "against Mr. Brimmerbeing spoken of in the past tense by anybody. It is painfully prematureand ominous!"
She drew her mantilla across her shoulders with an expression ofshocked sensitiveness which completed the humiliation of Brace and thesubjugation of Don Ramon. But, unlike most of her sex, she was wisein the moment of victory. She cast a glance over her fan at Brace, andturned languidly to Dona Isabel.
"Mr. Brace must surely want some refreshment after his long ride. Whydon't you seize this opportunity to show him the garden and let himselect for himself the herbs he requires for that dreadful Americandrink; Miss Chubb and your sister will remain with me to receive theComandante's secretary and the Doctor when they come."
"She's more than my match," whispered Brace to Dona Isabel, as they leftthe corridor together. "I give in. I don't understand her: she frightensme."
"That is of your conscience! It is that you would understand the DonaLeonor--your dear Miss Keene--better! Ah! silence, imbecile! this DonaBarbara is even as thou art--a talking parrot. She will have that theComandante's secretary, Manuel, shall marry Mees Chubb, and that theDoctor shall marry my sister. But she knows not that Manuel--listen sothat you shall get sick at your heart and swallow your moustachio!--thatManuel loves the beautiful Leonor, and that Leonor loves not him, butDon Diego; and that my sister loathes the little Doctor. And this DonaBarbara, that makes your liver white, would be a feeder of chickens withsuch barley as this! Ah! come along!"
The arrival of the Doctor and the Comandante's secretary created anotherdiversion, and the pairing off of the two couples indicated by DonaIsabel for a stroll in the garden, which was now beginning to recoverfrom the still heat of mid-day. This left Don Ramon and Mrs. Brimmeralone in the corridor; Mrs. Brimmer's indefinite languor, generallyaccepted as some vague aristocratic condition of mind and body, notpermitting her to join them.
There was a moment of dangerous silence; the voices of the young peoplewere growing fainter in the distance. Mrs. Brimmer's eyes, in the shadowof her fan, were becoming faintly phosphorescent. Don Ramon's melancholyface, which had grown graver in the last few moments, approached nearerto her own.
"You are unhappy, Dona Barbara. The coming of this young cavalier, yourcountryman, revives your anxiety for your home. You are thinking of thishusband who comes not. Is it not so?"
"I am thinking," said Mrs. Brimmer, with a sudden revulsion of solidBoston middle-class propriety, shown as much in the dry New Englandasperity of voice that stung even through her drawling of the Castilianspeech, as in anything she said,--"I am thinking that, unless Mr.Brimmer comes soon, I and Miss Chubb shall have to abandon thehospitality of your house, Don Ramon. Without looking upon myself as awidow, or as indefinitely separated from Mr. Brimmer, the few words letfall by Mr. Brace show me what might be the feelings of my countrymenon the subject. However charming and considerate your hospitality hasbeen--and I do not deny that it has been MOST grateful to ME--I feelI cannot continue to accept it in those equivocal circumstances. Iam speaking to a gentleman who, with the instincts and chivalrousobligations of his order, must sympathize with my own delicacy in comingto this conclusion, and who will not take advantage of my confessionthat I do it with pain."
She spoke with a dry alacrity and precision so unlike her usual languorand the suggestions of the costume, and even the fan she still keptshading her faintly glowing eyes, that the man before her was moretroubled by her manner than her words, which he had but imperfectlyunderstood.
"You will leave here--this house?" he stammered.
"It is necessary," she returned.
"But you shall listen to me first!" he said hurriedly. "Hear me, DonaBarbara--I have a secret--I will to you confess"--
"You must confess nothing," said Mrs. Brimmer, dropping her feet fromthe hammock, and sitting up primly, "I mean--nothing I may not hear."
The Alcalde cast a look upon her at once blank and imploring.
"Ah, but you will hear," he said, after a pause. "There is a shipcoming here. In two weeks she will arrive. None know it but myself, theComandante, and the Padre. It is a secret of the Government. She willcome at night; she will depart in the morning, and no one else shallknow. It has ever been that she brings no one to Todos Santos, that shetakes no one from Todos Santos. That is the law. But I swear to youthat she shall take you, your children, and your friend to Acapulco insecret, where you will be free. You will join your husband; you will behappy. I will remain, and I will die."
It would have been impossible for any woman but Mrs. Brimmer to haveregarded the childlike earnestness and melancholy simplicity of thisgrown-up man without a pang. Even this superior woman experienced asensible awkwardness as she slipped from the hammock and regained anupright position.
"Of course," she, began, "your offer is exceedingly generous; andalthough I should not, perhaps, take a step of this kind without thesanction of Mr. Brimmer, and am not sure that he would not regard it asrash and premature, I will talk it over with Miss Chubb, for whom I ampartially responsible. Nothing," she continued, with a sudden access offeeling, "would induce me, for any selfish consideration, to take anystep that would imperil the future of that child, towards whom I feel asa sister." A slight suffusion glistened under her pretty brown lashes."If anything should happen to her, I would never forgive myself; if Ishould be the unfortunate means of severing any ties that SHE may haveformed, I could never look her in the face again. Of course, I can wellunderstand that our presence here must be onerous to you, and that younaturally look forward to any sacrifice--even that of the interestsof your country, and the defiance of its laws--to relieve you from aposition so embarrassing as yours has become. I only trust, however,that the ill effects you allude to as likely to occur to yourself afterour departure may be exaggerated by your sensitive nature. It would bean obligation added to the many that we owe you, which Mr. Brimmer wouldnaturally find he could not return--and that, I can safely say, he wouldnot hear of for a single moment."
While speaking, she had unconsciously laid aside her fan, lifted hermantilla from her head with both hands, and, drawing it around hershoulders and under her lifted chin, had crossed it over her bosomwith a certain prim, automatic gesture, as if it had been the starchedkerchief of some remote Puritan ancestress. With her arms stillunconsciously crossed, she stooped rigidly, picked up her fan with threefingers, as if it had been a prayer-book, and, with a slight inclinationof her bared head, with its accurately parted brown hair, passed slowlyout of the corridor.
Astounded, bewildered, yet conscious of some vague wound, Don Ramonremained motionless, staring after her straight, retreating figure.Unable to follow closely either the meaning of her words or the logicof her reasoning, he nevertheless comprehended the sudden change inher manner, her voice, and the frigid resurrection of a nature he hadneither known nor suspected. He looked blankly at the collapsed hammock,as if he expected to find in its depths those sinuous graces, languidfascinations, and the soft, half sensuous contour cast off by thisvanishing figure of propriety.
In the eight months of their enforced intimacy and platonic seclusionhe had learned to love this naive, insinuating woman, whose franksimplicity seemed equal to his own, without thought of reserve, secrecy,or deceit. He had gradually been led to think of the absent husbandwith what he believed to be her own feelings--as of some impalpable,fleshless ancestor from whose remote presence she derived power,wealth, and importance, but to whom she owed only respect and certainobligations of honor equal to his own. He had never heard her speak ofher husband with love, with sympathy, with fellowship, with regret. Shehad barely spoken of him at all, and then rather as an attractive facto
rin her own fascinations than a bar to a free indulgence in them. He wasas little in her way as--his children. With what grace she had adaptedherself to his--Don Ramon's--life--she who frankly confessed she had nosympathy with her husband's! With what languid enthusiasm she had takenup the customs of HIS country, while deploring the habits of her own!With what goddess-like indifference she had borne this intervalof waiting! And yet this woman--who had seemed the embodiment ofromance--had received the announcement of his sacrifice--the onlyrevelation he allowed himself to make of his hopeless passion--with thefrigidity of a duenna! Had he wounded her in some other unknown way?Was she mortified that he had not first declared his passion--he who hadnever dared to speak to her of love before? Perhaps she even doubtedit! In his ignorance of the world he had, perhaps, committed some graveoffense! He should not have let her go! He should have questioned,implored her--thrown himself at her feet! Was it too late yet?
He passed hurriedly into the formal little drawing-room, whose bizarrecoloring was still darkened by the closed blinds and dropped awningsthat had shut out the heat of day. She was not there. He passed the opendoor of her room; it was empty. At the end of the passage a faint lightstole from a door opening into the garden that was still ajar. She musthave passed out that way. He opened it, and stepped out into the garden.
The sound of voices beside a ruined fountain a hundred yards awayindicated the vicinity of the party; but a single glance showed him thatshe was not among them. So much the better--he would find her alone.Cautiously slipping beside the wall of the house, under the shadow of acreeper, he gained the long avenue without attracting attention. She wasnot there. Had she effectively evaded contact with the others by leavingthe garden through the little gate in the wall that entered the Missionenclosure? It was partly open, as if some one had just passed through.He followed, took a few steps, and stopped abruptly. In the shadow ofone of the old pear-trees a man and woman were standing. An impulse ofwild jealousy seized him; he was about to leap forward, but the nextmoment the measured voice of the Comandante, addressing Mrs. Markham,fell upon his ear. He drew back with a sudden flush upon his face. TheComandante of Todos Santos, in grave, earnest accents, was actuallyoffering to Mrs. Markham the same proposal that he, Don Ramon, had madeto Mrs. Brimmer but a moment ago!
"No one," said the Comandante sententiously, "will know it but myself.You will leave the ship at Acapulco; you will rejoin your husband ingood time; you will be happy, my child; you will forget the old manwho drags out the few years of loneliness still left to him in TodosSantos."
Forgetting himself, Don Ramon leaned breathlessly forward to hear Mrs.Markham's reply. Would she answer the Comandante as Dona Barbara hadanswered HIM? Her words rose distinctly in the evening air.
"You're a gentleman, Don Miguel Briones; and the least respect I canshow a man of your kind is not to pretend that I don't understand thesacrifice you're making. I shall always remember it as about the biggestcompliment I ever received, and the biggest risk that any man--exceptone--ever ran for me. But as the man who ran that bigger risk isn't hereto speak for himself, and generally trusts his wife, Susan Markham, tospeak for him--it's all the same as if HE thanked you. There's my hand,Don Miguel: shake it. Well--if you prefer it--kiss it then. There--don'tbe a fool--but let's go back to Miss Keene."