Maruja

by Bret Harte

  CHAPTER V

  Meanwhile, the subject of Dr. West's meditations was slowly making hisway along the high-road towards the fonda. He walked more erect andwith less of a shuffle in his gait; but whether this was owing to hishaving cast the old skin of garments adapted to his slouch, and becausehe was more securely shod, or whether it was from the suddenstraightening of some warped moral quality, it would have beendifficult to say. The expression of his face certainly gave noevidence of actual and prospective good fortune; if anything, the linesof discontent around his brow and mouth were more strongly drawn.Apparently, his interview with his father had only the effect ofreviving and stirring into greater activity a certain dogged sentimentthat, through long years, had become languidly mechanical. He was nolonger a beaten animal, but one roused by a chance success into adangerous knowledge of his power. In his honest workman's dress, he wasinfinitely more to be feared than in his rags; in the lifting of hisdowncast eye, there was the revelation of a baleful intelligence. Inhis changed condition, civilization only seemed to have armed himagainst itself.

  The fonda, a long low building, with a red-tiled roof extending over aporch or whitewashed veranda, in which drunken vaqueros had been knownto occasionally disport their mustangs, did not offer a very reputableappearance to the eye of young Guest as he approached it in thegathering shadows. One or two half-broken horses were securelyfastened to the stout cross-beams of some heavy posts driven in theroadway before it, and a primitive trough of roughly excavated stonestood near it. Through a broken gate at the side there was a glimpseof a grass-grown and deserted courtyard piled with the disusedpacking-cases and barrels of the tienda, or general country shop, whichhuddled under the same roof at the other end of the building. Theopened door of the fonda showed a low-studded room fitted up with arude imitation of an American bar on one side, and containing a fewsmall tables, at which half a dozen men were smoking, drinking, andplaying cards. The faded pictorial poster of the last bull-fight atMonterey, and an American "Sheriff's notice" were hung on the wall andin the door-way. A thick yellow atmosphere of cigarette smoke, throughwhich the inmates appeared like brown shadows, pervaded the room.

  The young man hesitated before this pestilential interior, and took aseat on a bench on the veranda. After a moment's interval, the yellowlandlord came to the door with a look of inquiry, which Guest answeredby a demand for lodging and supper. When the landlord had vanishedagain in the cigarette fog, the several other guests, one after theother, appeared at the doorway, with their cigarettes in their mouthsand their cards still in their hands, and gazed upon him.

  There may have been some excuse for their curiosity. As before hinted,Guest's appearance in his overalls and woolen shirt was somewhatincongruous, and, for some inexplicable reason, the same face andfigure which did not look inconsistent in rags and extreme poverty nowat once suggested a higher social rank both of intellect and refinementthan his workman's dress indicated. This, added to his surliness ofmanner and expression, strengthened a growing suspicion in the mind ofthe party that he was a fugitive from justice--a forger, a derelictbanker, or possibly a murderer. It is only fair to say that the moralsense of the spectators was not shocked at the suspicion, and that amore active sympathy was only withheld by his reticence. Anunfortunate incident seemed to complete the evidence against him. Inimpatiently responding to the landlord's curt demand for prepayment ofhis supper, he allowed three or four pieces of gold to escape from hispocket on the veranda. In the quick glances of the party, as hestooped to pick them up, he read the danger of his carelessness.

  His sullen self-possession did not seem to be shaken. Calling to thekeeper of the tienda, who had appeared at his door in time to witnessthe Danae-like shower, he bade him approach, in English.

  "What sort of knives have you got?"

  "Knives, Senor?"

  "Yes; bowie-knives or dirks. Knives like that," he said, making animaginary downward stroke at the table before him.

  The shopkeeper entered the tienda, and presently reappeared with threeor four dirks in red leather sheaths. Guest selected the heaviest, andtried its point on the table.

  "How much?"

  "Tres pesos."

  The young man threw him one of his gold pieces, and slipped the knifeand its sheath in his boot. When he had received his change from theshopkeeper, he folded his arms and leaned back against the wall inquiet indifference.

  The simple act seemed to check aggressive, but not insinuating,interference. In a few moments one of the men appeared at the doorway.

  "It is fine weather for the road, little comrade!"

  Guest did not reply.

  "Ah! the night, it ess splendid," he repeated, in broken English,rubbing his hands, as if washing in the air.

  Still no reply.

  "You shall come from Sank Hosay?"

  "I sha'ant."

  The stranger muttered something in Spanish, but the landlord, whoreappeared to place Guest's supper on a table on the veranda, here feltthe obligation of interfering to protect a customer apparently soaggressive and so opulent. He pushed the inquisitor aside, with a fewhasty words, and, after Guest had finished his meal, offered to showhim his room. It was a dark vaulted closet on the ground-floor,gaining light from the stable-yard through a barred iron grating. Atthe first glimpse it looked like a prison cell; looking moredeliberately at the black tresseled bed, and the votive images hangingon the wall, it might have been a tomb.

  "It is the best," said the landlord. "The Padre Vincento will havenone other on his journey."

  "I suppose God protects him," said Guest; "that door don't." Hepointed to the worm-eaten door, without bolt or fastening.

  "Ah, what matter! Are we not all friends?"

  "Certainly," responded Guest, with his surliest manner, as he returnedto the veranda. Nevertheless, he resolved not to occupy the cell ofthe reverend Padre; not from any personal fear of his disreputableneighbors, though he was fully alive to their peculiarities, but fromthe nomadic instinct which was still strong in his blood. He felt hecould not yet bear the confinement of a close room or the propinquityof his fellow-man. He would rest on the veranda until the moon wasfairly up, and then he would again take to the road.

  He was half reclining on the bench, with the slowly closing and openinglids of some tired but watchful animal, when the sound of wheels,voices, and clatter of hoofs on the highway arrested his attention, andhe sat upright. The moon was slowly lifting itself over the limitlessstretch of grain-fields before him on the other side of the road, anddazzling him with its level lustre. He could barely discern acavalcade of dark figures and a large vehicle rapidly approaching,before it drew up tumultuously in front of the fonda.

  It was a pleasure party of ladies and gentlemen on horseback and in afour-horsed char-a-bancs returning to La Mision Perdida. Buchanan,Raymond, and Garnier were there; Amita and Dorotea in the body of thechar-a-bancs, and Maruja seated on the box. Much to his ownastonishment and that of some others of the party, Captain Carroll wasamong the riders. Only Maruja and her mother knew that he was recalledto refute a repetition of the gossip already circulated regarding hissudden withdrawal; only Maruja alone knew the subtle words which madethat call so potent yet so hopeless.

  Maruja's quick eyes, observant of everything, even under the doublefire of Captain Carroll and Garnier, instantly caught those of theerect figure on the bench in the veranda. Surely that was the face ofthe tramp she had spoken to! and yet there was a change, not only inthe dress but in the general resemblance. After the first glance,Guest withdrew his eyes and gazed at the other figures in thechar-a-bancs without moving a muscle.

  Maruja's whims and caprices were many and original; and when, after asudden little cry and a declaration that she could stand her crampedposition no longer, she leaped from the box into the road, no one wassurprised. Garnier and Captain Carroll quickly followed.

  "I should like to look into the fonda while the horses are beingwatered," she said, laug
hingly, "just to see what it is that attractsPereo there so often." Before any one could restrain this new caprice,she was already upon the veranda.

  To reach the open door, she had to pass so near Guest that her softwhite flounces brushed his knees, and the flowers in her girdle lefttheir perfume in his face. But he neither moved nor raised his eyes.When she had passed, he rose quietly and stepped into the road.

  On her nearer survey, Maruja was convinced it was the same man. Sheremained for an instant, with a little hand on the door-post. "What ahorrid place, and what dreadful people!" she said in audible English asshe glanced quickly after Guest. "Really, Pereo ought to be warnedagainst keeping such company. Come, let us go."

  She contrived to pass Guest again in regaining the carriage; but in thefew moments' further delay he walked on down the road before them, and,by the time they were ready to start, he was slowly sauntering somehundred yards ahead. They passed him at a rapid trot, but the nextmoment the char-a-bancs was suddenly pulled up.

  "My fan!" cried Maruja. "Blessed Santa Maria!--my fan!"

  A small black object, seen distinctly in the moonlight, was lying onthe road, directly in the track of the sauntering stranger. Garnierattempted to alight; Carroll reined in his horse.

  "Stop, all of you!" said Maruja; "that man will bring it to me."

  It seemed as if he would. He stopped and picked it up, and approachedthe carriage. Maruja stood up in her seat, with her veil thrown back,her graceful hand extended, her eyes and mouth tremulous with anirresistible smile. The stranger came nearer, singled out CaptainCarroll, tossed the fan to him with a slight nod, and passed on theother side.

  "One moment," said Maruja, almost harshly, to the driver. "Onemoment," she continued, drawing her purse from her pocket brusquely."Let me reward this civil gentleman of the road! Here, sir;" but,before she could continue, Carroll wheeled to her side, and interposed."Pray collect yourself, Miss Saltonstall," he said, hurriedly; "you cannot tell who this man may be. He does not seem to be one who wouldinsult you, or whom YOU would insult gratuitously."

  "Give me the fan, Captain Carroll," she said, with a soft and caressingsmile. "Thank you." She took it, and, breaking it through the middlebetween her gloved hands, tossed it into the highway. "You areright--it smells of the fonda--and the road. Thank you, again. You areso thoughtful for me, Captain Carroll," she murmured, raising her eyesgently to his, and then suddenly withdrawing them with a half sigh."But I am keeping you all. Go on."

  The carriage rolled away and Guest returned from the hedge to themiddle of the road. San Jose lay in the opposite direction from thedisappearing cavalcade; but, on leaving the fonda, he had determined tolead his inquisitors astray by doubling and making a circuit of thehostelry through the fields hidden in the tall grain. This he did,securely passing them within sound of their voices, and was soon wellon his way again. He avoided the highway, and, striking a trailthrough the meadows, diverged to the right, where the low towers andbrown walls of a ruined mission church rose above the plain. Thiswould enable him to escape any direct pursuit on the high road,besides, from its slight elevation, giving him a more extended view ofthe plain. As he neared it, he was surprised to see that, although itwas partly dismantled, and the roof had fallen in the central aisle, apart of it was still used as a chapel, and a light was burning behind anarrow opening, partly window and partly shrine. He was almost uponit, when the figure of a man who had been kneeling beneath, with hisback towards him, rose, crossed himself devoutly, and stood upright.Before he could turn, Guest disappeared round the angle of the wall,and the tall erect figure of the solitary worshiper passed on withoutheeding him.

  But if Guest had been successful in evading the observation of the manhe had come so suddenly upon, he was utterly unconscious of anotherfigure that had been tracking HIM for the last ten minutes through thetall grain, and had even succeeded in gaining the shadow of the wallbehind him; and it was this figure, and not his own, that eventuallyattracted the attention of the tall stranger. The pursuing figure wasrapidly approaching the unconscious Guest; in another moment it wouldhave been upon him, when it was suddenly seized from behind by the talldevotee. There was a momentary struggle, and then it freed itself,with the exclamation, "Pereo!"

  "Yes--Pereo!" said the old man, panting from his exertions. "And thouart Miguel. So thou wouldst murder a man for a few pesos!" he said,pointing to the knife which the desperado had hurriedly hid in hisjacket, "and callest thyself a Californian!"

  "'Tis only an Americano--a runaway, with some ill-gotten gold," saidMiguel, sullenly, yet with unmistakable fear of the old man. "Besides,it was only to frighten him, the braggart. But since thou fearest totouch a hair of those interlopers--"

  "Fearest!" said Pereo, fiercely, clutching him by the throat, andforcing him against the wall. "Fearest! sayest thou. I, Pereo, fear?Dost thou think I would soil these hands, that might strike a higherquarry, with blood of thy game?"

  "Forgive me, padrono," gasped Miguel, now thoroughly alarmed at the oldman's awakened passion; "pardon; I meant that, since thou knowest him--"

  "I know him?" repeated Pereo scornfully, contemptuously throwing Miguelaside, who at once took that opportunity to increase his distance fromthe old man's arm. "I know him? Thou shalt see. Come hither, child,"he called, beckoning to Guest. "Come hither, thou hast nothing to fearnow."

  Guest, who had been attracted by the sound of altercation behind him,but who was utterly unconscious of its origin or his own relation toit, came forward impatiently. As he did so, Miguel took to his heels.The act did not tend to mollify Guest's surly suspicions, and, pausinga few feet from the old man, he roughly demanded his business with him.

  Pereo raised his head, with the dignity of years and habits of command.The face of the young man confronting him was clearly illuminated bythe moonlight. Pereo's eyes suddenly dilated, his mouth stiffened, hestaggered back against the wall.

  "Who are you?" he gasped, in uncertain English.

  Believing himself the subject of some drunkard's pastime, Guestreplied, savagely, "One who has enough of this d--d nonsense, and willstand no more of it from any one, young or old," and turned abruptly onhis heel.

  "Stay, one moment, Senor, for the love of God!"

  Some keen accent of agony in the old man's voice touched even Guest'sselfish nature. He halted.

  "You are--a stranger here?"--faltered Pereo. "Yes?"

  "I am."

  "You do not live here?--you have no friends?"

  "I told you I am a stranger. I never was here before in my life," saidGuest, impatiently.

  "True; I am a fool," said the old man, hurriedly, to himself. "I ammad--mad! It is not HIS voice. No! It is not HIS look, now that hisface changes. I am crazy." He stopped, and passed his trembling handsacross his eyes. "Pardon, Senor," he continued, recalling himself witha humility that was almost ironical in its extravagance. "Pardon,pardon! Yet, perhaps it is not too much to have wanted to know who wasthe man one has saved."

  "Saved!" repeated Guest, with incredulous contempt.

  "Ay!" said Pereo, haughtily, drawing his figure erect; "ay, saved!Senor." He stopped and shrugged his shoulders. "But let it pass--Isay--let it pass. Take an old man's advice, friend: show not your goldhereafter to strangers lightly, no matter how lightly you have come byit. Good-night!"

  Guest for a moment hesitated whether to resent the old man's speech, orto let it pass as the incoherent fancy of a brain maddened by drink.Then he ended the discussion by turning his back abruptly andcontinuing his way to the high-road.

  "So!" said Pereo, looking after him with abstracted eyes, "so! it wasonly a fancy. And yet--even now, as he turned away, I saw the samecold insolence in his eye. Caramba! Am I mad--mad--that I must keepforever before my eyes, night and day, the image of that dog in everyoutcast, every ruffian, every wayside bully that I meet? No, no, goodPereo! Softly! this is mere madness, good Pereo," he murmured tohimself; "thou wilt have none of it; none,
good Pereo. Come, come!"He let his head fall slowly forward on his breast, and in that action,seeming to take up again the burden of a score more years upon hisshoulders, he moved slowly away.

  When he entered the fonda half an hour later, the awe in which he washeld by the half superstitious ruffians appeared to have increased.Whatever story the fugitive Miguel had told his companions regardingPereo's protection of the young stranger, it was certain that it hadits full effect. Obsequious to the last degree, the landlord was soprofoundly touched, when Pereo, not displeased with this evidence ofhis power over his countrymen, condescendingly offered to click glasseswith him, that he endeavored to placate him still further.

  "It is a pity your worship was not here earlier," he began, with asignificant glance at the others, "to have seen a gallant youngstranger that was here. A spice of wickedness about him, truly--a kindof Don Caesar--but bearing himself like a very caballero always. Itwould have pleased your worship, who likes not those canting Puritanssuch as our neighbor yonder."

  "Ah," said Pereo, reflectively, warming under the potent fires offlattery and aguardiente, "possibly I HAVE seen him. He was like--"

  "Like none of the dogs thou hast seen about San Antonio," interruptedthe landlord. "Scarcely did he seem Americano, though he spoke noSpanish."

  The old man chuckled to himself viciously. "And thou, thou old fool,Pereo, must needs see a likeness to thine enemy in this poor runawaychild--this fugitive Don Juan! He! he!" Nevertheless, he still felt avague terror of the condition of mind which had produced this fancy,and drank so deeply to dispel his nervousness that it was withdifficulty he could mount his horse again. The exaltation of liquor,however, appeared only to intensify his characteristics: his facebecame more lugubrious and melancholy; his manner more ceremonious anddignified; and, erect and stiff in his saddle from the waist upwards,but leaning from side to side with the motion of his horse, like thetall mast of some laboring sloop, he "loped" away towards the House ofthe Lost Mission. Once or twice he broke into sentimental song.Strangely enough, his ditty was a popular Spanish refrain of somematador's aristocratic inamorata:--

  Do you see my black eyes? I am Manuel's Duchess,--

  sang Pereo, with infinite gravity. His horse's hoofs seemed to keeptime with the refrain, and he occasionally waved in the air the longleather thong of his bridle-rein.

  It was quite late when he reached La Mision Perdida. Turning into thelittle lane that led to the stable-yard, he dismounted at a gate in thehedge which led to the summerhouse of the old Mision garden, and,throwing his reins on his mustang's neck, let the animal precede him tothe stables. The moon shone full on the inclosure as he emerged fromthe labyrinth. With uncovered head he approached the Indian mound, andsank on his knees before it.

  The next moment he rose, with an exclamation of terror, and his hatdropped from his trembling hand. Directly before him, a small, gray,wolfish-looking animal had stopped half-way down the mound onencountering his motionless figure. Frightened by his outcry, andunable to retreat, the shadowy depredator had fallen back on hisslinking haunches with a snarl, and bared teeth that glittered in themoonlight.

  In an instant the expression of terror on the old man's ashen faceturned into a fixed look of insane exaltation. His white lips moved;he advanced a step further, and held out both hands towards thecrouching animal.

  "So! It is thou--at last! And comest thou here thy tardy Pereo tochide? Comest THOU, too, to tell the poor old man his heart is cold,his limbs are feeble, his brain weak and dizzy? that he is no longerfit to do thy master's work? Ay, gnash thy teeth at him! Cursehim!--curse him in thy throat! But listen!--listen, good friend--Iwill tell thee a secret--ay, good gray friar, a secret--such a secret!A plan, all mine--fresh from this old gray head; ha! ha!--all mine! Tobe wrought by these poor old arms; ha! ha! All mine! Listen!"

  He stealthily made a step nearer the affrighted animal. With a suddensidelong snap, it swiftly bounded by his side, and vanished in thethicket; and Pereo, turning wildly, with a moan sank down helplessly onthe grave of his forefathers.