CHAPTER XVII
_'Twixt Cup and Lip_
He took her in his arms and she lay there very quietly, her head uponhis shoulder, in the lethargy of exhaustion. She clasped her handsabout his neck as a very tired child would do. The curve of her cheeklay near his lips and, though he yearned to do so, he would not kissit. He did not speak to her, but was satisfied to hold her there insilence. The feel of her heart beating against his, the warmth of herbreath as it brushed his bare throat, the perfume of her hair--thosethings were enough now. After the last long weeks of doubt, after thelast day of gruelling fear, after the terror of the last half hour,such things as these were soul-satisfying. So he allowed himself tostand a few minutes there in this dark cell which to him had becomesuddenly fairer than any garden. Then he spoke softly to her:
"Come," he said, "we will go out into the sunshine now."
She raised her head, looking at him through half-closed eyes.
"I--I don't want to move, David."
He unclasped the hands from about his neck and, placing an arm abouther waist, led her slowly out into the corridor. She followed hisguidance, resting her weight upon him. And he who had come into thisfoul place in terror and despair walked out in a dizzy bewilderment ofjoy. As he passed the open door of Sorez' cell he hesitated. The evilprompting of his heart was to pass by this man--so to let him goforever out of his life. He had but to move on. He could find a refugefor the girl where she would be safe from this influence, but thiswould not be possible if he stopped to take Sorez with them. Once thegirl knew the man was alive and in this condition her sympathies wouldbe so aroused that she would never desert him. Wilson knew that hemust decide instantly. To leave that prison without him was to leavehim to his death. He turned towards the cell door; he had promised.
The man had evidently recovered his strength somewhat, for he sat uponthe edge of the wooden bunk staring about him. He was alone in thecell--the Priest was gone! On the whole, Wilson was glad of this. Hefelt the better for not having the burden of his death, however richlyit was deserved, upon his hands. The girl apparently was still in toomuch of a daze to recognize Sorez. Wilson spoke to him.
"Can you walk?"
"God," he cried. "Who are you? You speak English!"
Wilson repeated his question impatiently.
"If you can walk, follow me and I'll take you out of this hole."
The man tottered to his feet, groping with his hand along the wall.
"Here," said Wilson, overcoming a shrinking repugnance he now felt forthe man, "take my arm."
Sorez grabbed it and with this much help was able to get along. Andso, with the girl he loved upon one arm and the man he hated upon theother, Wilson made his way along the slippery subterranean galleries.He was practically carrying them both, but the lightness of the onealmost made up for the burden of the other. The only thing for whichhe prayed was that none of those whimpering things he had loosed fromtheir cells should cross his path. This was granted; for all he saw orheard he might have been treading the catacombs.
When he came again into the sunlight he was blinded for a second,while the other two clapped their hands over their eyes, suffering forquite a few moments intense pain. Except for being a bit pale, thegirl did not look badly. Her hair had become loosened and her gownbegrimed, but Wilson still saw her as she was that night when she laycurled up asleep in the big chair. As for Sorez, whether it was thepain of the torture or what, his hair, which before was an iron gray,had turned almost white.
The three made their way across the courtyard and again into thepalace. He heard noise and confusion on the floors above. The hallswere rank with the smell of powder. As they went on they found thefloor covered with splinters, and on either side saw the panels rentand torn as though by a huge iron claw. There was still hoarseshouting and the occasional snap of a pistol above, which showed thatStubbs had not yet succeeded in controlling the men.
He had no idea as to where it was possible to take the girl and Sorez,but he hoped that he might come upon a room in the palace here whereit would be safe to leave them until it was possible to get out intothe city. Perhaps, too, if he reached the entrance, he might findStubbs. Sorez was beginning to weigh heavily upon his arm, and heresented having to sacrifice to him any of the strength he needed forthe girl. So he staggered on to the very room where a short whilebefore he had fought for his life. But here he was checked by a noisefrom without--cheering as from the advance of several hundred men. Wasit possible that reenforcements had arrived for the government? If so,this meant immediate danger. They would exact vengeance swiftly andsurely upon any man known to be associated with the revolution. Thiswould leave the girl in as bad a plight as that from which he had justrescued her. He shook off Sorez and, picking up the girl, started intothe small anteroom; but before he was out of sight the first of thesoldiers had sprung up the steps. With an oath three of the men seizedhim and drew him back, the girl still in his arms, to the door. Joroused herself and struggled to her feet, facing the strange soldierswithout a sign of fear. Wilson reached his holster, but the girlchecked his hand, realizing, even in her torpid condition, theuselessness of it. In a minute others flocked up the stairs and aroundthem with noisy demonstration, and soon, following these, the mainbody of the regiment with a snappy gray-haired officer at their head.The crowd, save for the two guards, gave way from before the trio andleft them confronting their leader. By some description of Danbury'sor by instinct, Wilson recognized him as none other than Otaballo.This then was the main body of the Revolutionists! Before he had timeto speak Wilson saw that his own identity was beginning to dawn onOtaballo. He stepped forward and spoke the single word:
"Americans?"
The effect was magical. The soldiers drew back to respectfulattention.
"Americans," answered Wilson.
The general spoke in broken English.
"How came you here?"
"I am with Danbury," answered Wilson. "The girl and the man were inthe dungeons below."
"Ah! These are the two captured by the--the late government?"
"Yes. I would like shelter for the girl. She is very weak."
"_Dios!_ you shall have refuge at once."
He turned to one of his lieutenants and in Spanish gave his command.
"In the name of the Queen seize the house opposite."
He turned back to Wilson.
"I will leave you five men; is that enough?"
"Thanks."
Otaballo at the head of his men proceeded to sterner business,throwing out guards through the palace and making the victory secure.
Half carrying the girl, Wilson followed the soldiers across thestreet. Two of them supported Sorez. The house opposite was empty, theoccupants having deserted it at the approach of the enemy. It was arambling, story-and-a-half structure, somewhat elaborately furnished.Wilson placed a guard at the front and rear of the place with ordersto admit no one until he had first seen them, and then carried thegirl upstairs. She was not asleep, but so nearly numb with the strainthat she could neither think nor speak. It seemed to him that therewas only one thing to do--let her sleep. Rest at present was morenecessary than food. On the second story there was a fine largebedroom, with a big bed covered with snow-white linen. He placed herupon this.
"Sleep as long as you wish," he bade her, though he knew she scarcelyheard his voice. "I shall be outside."
Before he closed the door he turned and saw her breathing deeply withclosed eyes. It seemed only humane to care for Sorez. On the firstfloor he found a divan and, with the help of the soldiers, arrangedhim upon this, where he, too, was soon fast asleep.
Then he returned to the second floor and, lying down before her door,was soon unconscious himself. How long he lay so he could not tell,but he was aroused by the sound of shouting outside the house.Springing to his feet, he listened at her door; there was no sound. Heopened it and looked within; she lay where he had left her, stillsleeping. Going to the window he looked out and was surprised
to findthe street crowded with citizens. It must have been long after noon,as he could tell by the sun. From all appearances this was some sortof a patriotic demonstration before the old palace. He watched it withindifferent interest until a closed carriage drove up. At this momenthe saw Stubbs himself step from the palace and at the side of Otaballoapproach the carriage. Here was his opportunity to make known hiswhereabouts to his partner. He tiptoed to the stairs and descended tothe first floor. He warned the guard at the exit once more to admit noone and hurried out to push his way to Stubbs' side. The crowdrecognized him as an American from his dress and opened up a path forhim. But even so he would not have reached his goal had not Stubbsseen him and, with a glad shout of welcome neglected his diplomaticduties to grasp the hand of the man he thought dead. At this momentthe princess herself stepped from the vehicle and, ignoring theapplause of the multitude, turned her attention to Wilson. Shehesitated a moment, and then addressed him, speaking faultlessEnglish:
"Pardon me, but are not you one--one of Mr. Danbury's friends?"
"We both are," answered Wilson.
"Your name is----"
"Wilson."
"Ah, how fortunate! It is you of all men I wished most to see. If----"A shout from a thousand throats rent the air. She looked dazed.
"If your Highness would bow," suggested Otaballo.
She turned to the gathering, smiled, and bowed. But her scant courtesywas scarcely finished before her eyes were again upon Wilson and theanxious look uppermost in them.
"I must see you," she commanded. "Follow me into the palace."
She raised the hem of her light dress and tripped up the stairslooking more like a schoolgirl than a queen. Wilson and Stubbsfollowed after Otaballo, who appeared somewhat worried. They enteredthe palace, and at her request a guard led them into the privacy of asmall room--as it happened, the room which Wilson had twice beforevisited that day.
"I asked you to come," she began a bit nervously, "because you seemedto be the friend of whom Dicky talked to the last----"
"The last!" exclaimed Wilson.
"Oh, not that," she assured him, grasping his fear. "He isn't--isn'tdead. But you knew he was wounded?"
"No," he answered quickly, "I had not heard."
"Before the palace here and--he was brought to me. His wound isn't sovery serious, the doctor says,--it's in his leg and he won't be ableto walk for some time."
"I am sorry for him," said Wilson, sincerely. "If there is anything Ican do----"
"There is! There is! I have had him carried to his boat. He wasunconscious and the doctor gave him something to make him sleep."
"Drugged him?" he demanded roughly.
"Only so that he would go quietly. Then I gave the sailors orders tosail back home with him."
"But why did you wish him to go back?"
"I must tell you, and you will understand. Oh, please to understand!He wanted to--to stay and--and I wanted him to stay. I think if--if ithadn't been for this trouble we--we would have been married. Butnow----"
"Your station forbids it," he finished for her with a note ofharshness in his voice.
She answered very quietly--so quietly that it chided him.
"No, it is not that. He doesn't need any title men might give him. Iwould have him King--but my people would only kill him. That is thereason."
"Pardon me," begged Wilson. "I--I did not understand."
"They are very jealous--my people. He would have many enemieshere--enemies who wouldn't fight fair."
"And he made you Queen for this!" gasped Wilson.
"He didn't know--did he?"
"I should say not."
"Now I want you to talk to him if he returns, and tell him he mustn'tcome back and get killed. Won't you?"
"I will talk to him if I see him, but--he will come back just thesame."
"He mustn't. You don't understand fully the danger."
"You couldn't make _him_ understand."
"Oh!" she cried.
She put her clasped hands to her hot cheeks a moment.
"If we could keep him away for a month--just a month. Then perhaps Icould let someone else--be--be here."
"You mean to abdicate?"
"Yes, couldn't I? The General told me that if I didn't send him awayat once you would all be killed; but perhaps later--when things havequieted----"
"There will always be," he warned, "a republic in the heart of yourkingdom. The quieter--the more danger."
General Otaballo had remained in the rear of the room doing his bestto control his impatience, but now he ventured to step forward. Hesaluted.
"Pardon me, your Highness, but they wait to make you their Queen."
"Don't! Don't!" she pleaded. "Leave me for to-day just a maid ofCarlina. To-morrow----"
"Your Majesty," answered the General, with some severity, "to-morrowmay be too late for all of us."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"That the situation now is a great deal more serious than your Majestyseems to understand. We are victorious, yes. But it is as difficult tomaintain a victory as to win one. To-day the crowd throw up their capsfor Beatrice, but if Beatrice spurns them and ignores their loyalcheers, it takes but a trifle to turn their thoughts the other way.Let me escort your Majesty through the city; let me establish you inthe palace which has been graced by so many of your kin; let them seeyou where their grandfathers saw your brave aunt, and the last drop ofblood in their veins is yours."
She pouted like a child, her thoughts still upon other things thancrowns of human make.
"But I don't want their blood. I don't want to be Queen. I want to beleft alone."
She looked out the window to the blue sky so full of gold and peace,where the birds tumbled at will, their throats bursting with song.
"General," she said, "leave me to-day, at any rate. That is all Iask,--just to-day."
"Your Majesty," he answered slowly, "it is not mine to grant, notyours to take. Many things may happen in a night,--too many. Therewill be much talking in the cafes this evening, many gatherings ofmen, much afoot before dawn. The forces brought in by General Danburyalready belong to anyone who will pay them. It is not his fault,--theyfought well for their money; but now they are equally ready to fightagain for someone else. You alone can hold them to your cause.President Arlano escaped us and is doubtless busy. If we gain thecrowd, we are safe against anything he may do; without the crowd, weare in jeopardy. Once the people see you crowned--once they can shoutfor Beatrice with her before their eyes, a living thing to fightfor--they are ours forever."
"But----"
"Your Majesty has not fully considered the alternative; it is that youand I and all the brave men who fought to-day for you will be at themercy of Arlano,--at the mercy of the man whose father slew youraunt,--at the mercy of the man who tortured to death Banaca. It is abloody mercy we would get. Beside your own, a thousand lives dependupon what you do before night."
The girl drew back from him in fright. With the memory of her quietyesterday in the sun; the drowsy yesterdays which preceded it; withthe picture of this very man who in the past had never stood to herfor anything but a pleasant companion at tea, the present situationseemed absurd and unreal. What was she that her insignificant actionsshould be of such moment? She had but one object in mind: to placeDanbury without the power of all this strife, and she was even balkedin that. For the first time she realized fully what a serious crisishe had precipitated. But it was too late for her to check its results.If she went now with General Otaballo, it would leave no possibleoutlet for her to avoid assuming the title of Queen; she must mountthe throne at once. To do this meant to give up the greatest thing inher life. There was no possible escape from it. Only by renouncingDanbury utterly, by keeping him from Carlina, could she save his life.The only alternative was to fly, but this meant the sacrifice of toomany other lives dear to her. The loyal, aged man before her who hadthrown the remnant of his years into the cause was in itself enough tobanish such a thought from h
er mind.
And this was what Dick had come across the seas to accomplish. It wasa cruel jest of Fate. In his desire to secure for her all that he inhis big heart thought she deserved, he had cheated her of the verything her soul most craved. Yes, it was cruel, cruel. It would havebeen easier if he had not told her of his love, if he at least hadleft it a thing merely to be guessed at, a pleasant dream which shecould have kept always as a sort of fairy possibility.
Her cheeks lost their color as she faced the man who watched her withfatherly solicitude. He stood waiting like some Nemesis,--waiting withthe assurance that she would act as all the royal women of her racehad always acted, bravely and loyally. From without there came a freshcheer from the impatient men who waited for her.
"You hear?" he asked gently.
Her lips scarcely moved.
"Yes, I hear."
For a moment she smothered her face in her hands. This meant so muchto her. It was not a matter of a day, a week, a year; it was for awhole weary, lonesome lifetime. Then she faced him.
"I will come," she said.
He raised her fingers to his lips.
"Your Majesty has the blood of her race."
She turned a white face to Wilson.
"That's it," she said. "They call me Queen, but you see how helpless Iam. You must tell him this and you must not let him come back."
Otaballo held the door wide for her and she passed out. From thebottom of his heart Wilson pitied her, but this very pity brought tohis mind that other woman whom he himself had left behind. He hurriedout of the building after telling Stubbs where he could be found, andacross the street. He took the stairs joyously, three at a time. Thedoor of the room where he had left her stood open. The bed within wasempty.
The Web of the Golden Spider Page 18