CHAPTER XV
PETER PLAYS A PART
"Stop," said Peter from the shadow of the doorway, "I fear thisbusiness, Inez, and I do not understand why it is needful. Why cannotyou say what you have to say here?"
"Are you mad?" she answered almost fiercely through her veil. "Do youthink that it can be any pleasure for me to seem to make love to a stoneshaped like a man, for whom I care nothing at all--except as a friend?"she added quickly. "I tell you, Senor Peter, that if you do not do as Itell you, you will never hear what I have to say, for I shall be held tohave failed in my business, and within a few minutes shall vanish fromyou for ever--to my death perhaps; but what does that matter to you?Choose now, and quickly, for I cannot stand thus for long."
"I obey you, God forgive me!" said the distraught Peter from thedarkness of the doorway; "but must I really----?"
"Yes, you must," she answered with energy, "and some would not thinkthat so great a penance."
Then she lifted the corner of her veil coyly and, peeping out beneathit, called in a soft, clear voice, "Oh! forgive me, dear friend, if Ihave run too fast for you, forgetting that you are still so very weak.Here, lean upon me; I am frail, but it may serve." And she passed up thesteps again, to reappear in another moment with Peter's hand resting onher shoulder.
"Be careful of these steps," she said, "they are so slippery"--astatement to which Peter, whose pale face had grown suddenly red,murmured a hearty assent. "Do not be afraid," she went on in herflute-like voice; "this is the secret garden, where none can hear words,however sweet, and none can see even a caress, no, not the most jealouswoman. That is why in old days it was called the Sultana's Chamber, forthere at the end of it was where she bathed in the summer season. Whatsay you of spies? Oh! yes, in the palace there are many, but to looktowards this place, even for the Guardian of the Women, was alwaysdeath. Here there are no witnesses, save the flowers and the birds."
As she spoke thus they reached the central path, and passed up itslowly, Peter's hand still upon the shoulder of Inez, and her white armabout him, while she looked up into his eyes.
"Bend closer over me," she whispered, "for truly your face is like thatof a wooden saint," and he bent. "Now," she went on, "listen. Your ladylives, and is well--kiss me on the lips, please, that news is worth it.If you shut your eyes you can imagine that I am she."
Again Peter obeyed, and with a better grace than might have beenexpected.
"She is a prisoner in this same palace," she went on, "and the marquis,who is mad for love of her, seeks by all means, fair or foul, to makeher his wife!"
"Curse him!" exclaimed Peter with another embrace.
"Till a few days ago she thought you dead; but now she knows that youare alive and recovering. Her father, Castell, escaped from the placewhere he was put, and is in hiding among his friends, the Jews, whereeven Morella cannot find him; indeed, he believes him fled from thecity. But he is not fled, and, having much gold, has opened a doorbetween himself and his daughter."
Here she stopped to return the embrace with much warmth. Then theypassed under some trees, and came to the marble baths where the sultanaswere supposed to have bathed in summer, for this place had been one ofthe palaces of the Kings of Granada before they lived in the Alhambra.Here Inez sat down upon a seat and loosened some garment about herthroat, for the evening was very hot.
"What are you doing?" Peter asked doubtfully, for he was filled withmany fears.
"Cooling myself," she answered; "your arm was warm, and we may sit herefor a few minutes."
"Well, go on with your tale," he said.
"I have little more to say, friend, except that if you wish to send anymessage, I might perhaps be able to take it."
"You are an angel," he exclaimed.
"That is another word for messenger, is it not? Continue."
"Tell her--that if she hears anything of all this business, it isn'ttrue."
"On that point she may form her own opinion," replied Inez demurely. "IfI were in her place I know what mine would be. Don't waste time; wemust soon begin to walk again."
Peter stared at her, for he could understand nothing of all this play.Apparently she read his look, for she answered it in a quiet,serious voice:
"You are wondering what everything means, and why I am doing what I do.I will tell you, Senor, and you can believe me or not as you like.Perhaps you think that I am in love with you. It would not be wonderful,would it? Besides, in the old tales, that always happens--the lady whonurses the Christian knight and worships him and so forth."
"I don't think anything of the sort; I am not so vain."
"I know it, Senor, you are too good a man to be vain. Well, I do allthese things, not for love of you, or any one, but for hate--for hate.Yes, for hate of Morella," and she clenched her little hand, hissing thewords out between her teeth.
"I understand the feeling," said Peter. "But--but what has he done to_you_?"
"Do not ask me, Senor. Enough that once I loved him--that accursedpriest Henriques sold me into his power--oh! a long while ago, and heruined me, making me what I am, and--I bore his child, and--and it isdead. Oh! Mother of God, my boy is dead, and since then I have been anoutcast and his slave--they have slaves here in Granada, Senor--dependent on him for my bread, forced to do his bidding, forced to waitupon his other loves; I, who once was the sultana; I, of whom he haswearied. Only to-day--but why should I tell you of it? Well, he hasdriven me even to this, that I must kiss an unwilling stranger in agarden," and she sobbed aloud.
"Poor girl!--poor girl!" said Peter, patting her hand kindly with histhin fingers. "Henceforth I have another score against Morella, and Iwill pay it too."
"Will you?" she asked quickly. "Ah! if so, I would die for you, who nowlive only to be revenged upon him. And it shall be my first vengeance torob him of that noble-looking mistress of yours, whom he has stolen awayand has set his heart upon wholly, because she is the first woman whoever resisted him--him, who thinks that he is invincible."
"Have you any plan?" asked Peter.
"As yet, none. The thing is very difficult. I go in danger of my life,for if he thought that I betrayed him he would kill me like a rat, andthink no harm of it. Such things can be done in Granada without sin,Senor, and no questions asked--at least if the victim be a woman of themurderer's household. I have told you already that if I had refused todo what I have done this evening I should certainly have been got rid ofin this way or that, and another set on at the work. No, I have no planyet, only it is I through whom the Senor Castell communicates with hisdaughter, and I will see him again, and see her, and we will make someplan. No, do not thank me. He pays me for my services, and I am glad totake his money, who hope to escape from this hell and live on itelsewhere. Yet, not for all the money in the world would I risk what Iam risking, though in truth it matters not to me whether I live or die.Senor, I will not disguise it from you, all this scene will come to theDona Margaret's ears, but I will explain it to her."
"I pray you, do," said Peter earnestly--"explain it fully."
"I will--I will. I will work for you and her and her father, and if Icease to work, know that I am dead or in a dungeon, and fend foryourselves as best you may. One thing I can tell you for yourcomfort--no harm has been done to this lady of yours. Morella loves hertoo well for that. He wishes to make her his wife. Or perhaps he hassworn some oath, as I know that he has sworn that he will not murderyou--which he might have done a score of times while you have lain aprisoner in his power. Why, once when you were senseless he came andstood over you, a dagger in his hand, and reasoned out the case with me.I said, 'Why do you not kill him?' knowing that thus I could best helpto save your life. He answered, 'Because I will not take my wife withher lover's blood upon my hands, unless I slay him in fair fight. Iswore it yonder in London. It was the offering which I made to God andto my patron saint that so I might win her fairly, and if I break thatoath, God will be avenged upon me here and hereafter. Do my bidding,Inez. Nurse him well, so that i
f he dies, he dies without sin of mine,'No, he will not murder you or harm her. Friend Pedro, he dare not."
"Can you think of nothing?" asked Peter.
"Nothing--as yet nothing. These walls are high, guards watch them dayand night, and outside is the great city of Granada where Morella hasmuch power, and whence no Christian may escape. But he would marry her.And there is that handsome fool-woman, her servant, who is in love withhim--oh! she told me all about it in the worst Spanish I ever heard, butthe story is too long to repeat; and the priest, Father Henriques--hewho wished that you might be killed at the inn, and who loves money somuch. Ah! now I think I see some light. But we have no more time totalk, and I must have time to think. Friend Pedro, make ready yourkisses, we must go on with our game, and, in truth, you play but badly.Come now, your arm. There is a seat prepared for us yonder. Smile andlook loving. I have not art enough for both. Come!--come!" And togetherthey walked out of the dense shadow of the trees and past the marblebath of the sultanas to a certain seat beneath a bower on which werecushions, and lying among them a lute.
"Seat yourself at my feet," she said, as she sank on to the bench. "Canyou sing?"
"No more than a crow," he answered.
"Then I must sing to you. Well, it will be better than the love-making."Then in a very sweet voice she began to warble amorous Moorish dittiesthat she accompanied upon the lute, whilst Peter, who was weary in bodyand disturbed in mind, played a lover's part to the best of his ability,and by degrees the darkness gathered.
At length, when they could no longer see across the garden, Inez ceasedsinging and rose with a sigh.
"The play is finished and the curtain down," she said; "also it is timethat you went in out of this damp. Senor Pedro, you are a very badactor; but let us pray that the audience was compassionate, and took thewill for the deed."
"I did not see any audience," answered Peter.
"But it saw you, as I dare say you will find out by-and-by. Follow menow back to your room, for I must be going about your business--and myown. Have you any message for the Senor Castell?"
"None, save my love and duty. Tell him that, thanks to you, althoughstill somewhat feeble, I am recovered of my hurt upon the ship and thefever which I took from the sun, and that if he can make any plan to getus all out of this accursed city and the grip of Morella I will blesshis name and yours."
"Good, I will not forget. Now be silent. Tomorrow we will walk hereagain; but be not afraid, then there will be no more need forlove-making."
Margaret sat by the open window-place of her beautiful chamber inMorella's palace. She was splendidly arrayed in a rich, Spanish dress,whereof the collar was stiff with pearls, she who must wear what itpleased her captor to give her. Her long tresses, fastened with ajewelled band, flowed down about her shoulders, and, her hand resting onher knee, from her high tower prison she gazed out across the valley atthe dim and mighty mass of the Alhambra and the ten thousand lights ofGranada which sparkled far below. Near to her, seated beneath a silverhanging-lamp, and also clad in rich array, was Betty.
"What is it, Cousin?" asked the girl, looking at her anxiously. "Atleast you should be happier than you were, for now you know that Peteris not dead, but almost recovered from his sickness and in this verypalace; also, that your father is well and hidden away, plotting for ourescape. Why, then, are you so sad, who should be more joyful thanyou were?"
"Would you learn, Betty? Then I will tell you. I am betrayed. PeterBrome, the man whom I looked upon almost as my husband, is falseto me."
"Master Peter false!" exclaimed Betty, staring at her open-mouthed. "No,it is not possible. I know him; he could not be, who will not even lookat another woman, if that is what you mean."
"You say so. Then, Betty, listen and judge. You remember this afternoon,when the marquis took us to see the wonders of this palace, and I wentthinking that perhaps I might find some path by which afterwards wecould escape?"
"Of course I remember, Margaret. We do not leave this cage so often thatI am likely to forget."
"Then you will remember also that high-walled garden in which we walked,where the great tower is, and how the marquis and that hateful priestFather Henriques and I went up the tower to study the prospect from itsroof, I thinking that you were following me."
"The waiting-women would not let me," said Betty. "So soon as you hadpassed in they shut the door and told me to bide where I was till youreturned. I went near to pulling the hair out of the head of one of themover it, since I was afraid for you alone with those two men. But shedrew her knife, the cat, and I had none."
"You must be careful, Betty," said Margaret, "lest some of these heathenfolk should do you a mischief."
"Not they," she answered; "they are afraid of me. Why, the other day Ibundled one of them, whom I found listening at the door, head first downthe stairs. She complained to the marquis, but he only laughed at her,and now she lies abed with a plaster on her nose. But tell meyour tale."
"We climbed the tower," said Margaret, "and from its topmost room lookedout through the windows that face south at all the mountains and theplain over which they dragged us from Motril. Presently the priest, whohad gone to the north wall, in which there are no windows, and enteredsome recess there, came out with an evil smile upon his face, andwhispered something to the marquis, who turned to me and said:
"'The father tells me of an even prettier scene which we can viewyonder. Come, Senora, and look.'
"So I went, who wished to learn all that I could of the building. Theyled me into a little chamber cut in the thickness of the stone-work, inthe wall of which are slits like loop-holes for the shooting of arrows,wide within, but very narrow without, so that I think they cannot beseen from below, hidden as they are between the rough stones ofthe tower.
"'This is the place,' said the marquis, 'where in the old days the kingsof Granada, who were always jealous, used to sit to watch their women inthe secret garden. It is told that thus one of them discovered hissultana making love to an astrologer, and drowned them both in themarble bath at the end of the garden. Look now, beneath us walk a couplewho do not guess that we are the witnesses of their vows.'
"So I looked idly enough to pass the time, and there I saw a tall man ina Moorish dress, and with him, for their arms were about each other, awoman. As I was turning my head away who did not wish to spy upon themthus, the woman lifted her face to kiss the man, and I knew her for thatbeautiful Inez who has visited us here at times, as a spy I think.Presently, too, the man, after paying her back her embrace, glancedabout him guiltily, and I saw his face also, and knew it."
"Who was it?" asked Betty, for this gossip of lovers interested her.
"Peter Brome, no other," Margaret answered calmly, but with a note ofdespair in her voice. "Peter Brome, pale with recent sickness, but noother man."
"The saints save us! I did not think he had it in him!" gasped Bettywith astonishment.
"They would not let me go," went on Margaret; "they forced me to see itall. The pair tarried for a while beneath some trees by the bath andwere hidden there. Then they came out again and sat them down upon amarble seat, while the woman sang songs and the man leaned against herlovingly. So it went on until the darkness fell, and we went, leavingthem there. Now," she added, with a little sob, "what say you?"
"I say," answered Betty, "that it was not Master Peter, who has noliking for strange ladies and secret gardens."
"It was he, and no other man, Betty."
"Then, Cousin, he was drugged or drunk or bewitched, not the Peter whomwe know."
"Bewitched, perchance, by that bad woman, which is no excuse for him."
Betty thought a while. She could not doubt the evidence, but from herface it was clear that she took no severe view of the offence.
"Well, at the worst," she said, "men, as I have known them, are men. Hehas been shut up for a long while with that minx, who is very fair andwitching, and it was scarcely right to watch him through a slit in atower. If he were my lover, I sho
uld say nothing about it."
"I will say nothing to him about that or any other matter," repliedMargaret sternly. "I have done with Peter Brome."
Again Betty thought, and spoke.
"I seem to see a trick. Cousin Margaret, they told you he was dead, didthey not? And then that news came to us that he was not dead, only sick,and here. So the lie failed. Now they tell you, and seem to show you,that he is faithless. May not all this have been some part played for apurpose by the woman?"
"It takes two to play such parts, Betty. If you had seen----"
"If I had seen, _I_ should have known whether it was but a part or lovemade in good earnest; but you are too innocent to judge. What said themarquis all this while, and the priest?"
"Little or nothing, only smiled at each other, and at length, when itgrew dark and we could see no more, asked me if I did not think that itwas time to go--me! whom they had kept there all that while to be thewitness of my own shame."
"Yes, they kept you there--did they not?--and brought you there just atthe right time--did they not?--and shut me out of the tower so that Imight not be with you--oh! and all the rest. Now, if you have anyjustice in you, Cousin, you will hear Peter's side of this story beforeyou judge him."
"I have judged him," answered Margaret coldly, "and, oh! I wish that Iwere dead."
Margaret rose from her seat and, stepping to the window-place in thetower which was built upon the edge of a hill, searched the giddy depthbeneath with her eyes, where, two hundred feet below, the white line ofa roadway showed faintly in the moonlight.
"It would be easy, would it not," she said, with a strained laugh, "justto lean out a little too far upon this stone, and then one swift rushand darkness--or light--for ever--which, I wonder?"
"Light, I think," said Betty, jerking her back from the window--"thelight of hell fire, and plenty of it, for that would be self-murder,nothing else, and besides, what would one look like on that road?Cousin, don't be a fool. If you are right, it isn't you who ought to goout of that window; and if you are wrong, then you would only make a badbusiness worse. Time enough to die when one must, say I--which, perhaps,will be soon enough. Meanwhile, if I were you, I would try to speak toMaster Peter first, if only to let him know what I thought of him."
"Mayhap," answered Margaret, sinking back into a chair, "but Isuffer--how can you know what I suffer?"
"Why should I not know?" asked Betty. "Are you the only woman in theworld who has been fool enough to fall in love? Can I not be as much inlove as you are? You smile, and think to yourself that the poorrelation, Betty, cannot feel like her rich cousin. But I do--I do. Iknow that he is a villain, but I love this marquis as much as you hatehim, or as much as you love Peter, because I can't help myself; it is myluck, that's all. But I am not going to throw myself out of a window; Iwould rather throw him out and square our reckoning, and that I swearI'll do, in this way or the other, even if it should cost me what Idon't want to lose--my life," And Betty drew herself up beneath thesilver lamp with a look upon her handsome, determined face, which was solike Margaret's and yet so different, that, could he have seen it, mightwell have made Morella regret that he had chosen this woman for a tool.
While Margaret studied her wonderingly she heard a sound, and glanced upto see, standing before them, none other than the beautiful Spaniard, orMoor, for she knew not which she was, Inez, that same woman whom, fromher hiding-place in the tower, she had watched with Peter in the garden.
"How did you come here?" she asked coldly.
"Through the door, Senora, that was left unlocked, which is not wise ofthose who wish to talk privately in such a place as this," she answeredwith a humble curtsey.
"The door is still unlocked," said Margaret, pointing towards it.
"Nay, Senora, you are mistaken; here is its key in my hand. I pray youdo not tell your lady to put me out, which, being so strong, she wellcan do, for I have words to say to you, and if you are wise you willlisten to them."
Margaret thought a moment, then answered:
"Say on, and be brief."
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