He was an entirely free agent and the choice lay with him. He could either take no action, or do his utmost to have Ferrer shot. Yet, apparently, no one else was in a position to bring the anarchist to justice. That such a role should have been cast for him would, he admitted to himself, inescapably brand him, if he took it, as participating in a vendetta. Nevertheless, he decided that the public good must be placed before all other considerations, and that it was his duty to accept this personal responsibility in order, once and for all, to prevent Ferrer from doing further evil.
In consequence, that afternoon he spent nearly three hours in a travel agency. After much discussion, looking up of timetables and making long-distance calls to the offices of steamship lines in Odessa, he decided that, since he was debarred from travelling through France, his quickest way to reach Spain would be to go down to Constantinople and there pick up a ship which, without further change, would take him right through the Mediterranean to Gibraltar.
Next day, the 4th of July, he left Yalta for Odessa and, with nights spent there and in Constantinople, it was the 16th before he completed his sea voyage. The most likely person to be able to give him a true explanation for the Ferrers' release from prison was, he felt, Don Alfonso and, knowing that from the latter part of July it was the King's custom to reside at San Sebastian, he spent the next two days travelling from south to north through the length of the peninsular. On the evening of the 18th he booked in at the Maria Cristina Hotel, and on the following morning went to sign his name in the book at the Miramar Palace.
He then toyed with the idea of driving out to the Cordoba villa, but decided against it. He would have, had he been certain of finding the Conde or de Vendome there; but if it chanced that Gulia was alone on the bathing beach, it would hardly be possible to avoid all reference to their relationship when they had parted and, in view of the attraction the memory of her still exercised over him, he was very anxious to avoid a resumption of their secret intimacy.
On the other hand, to fail to let them know that he was again in San Sebastian would be thought extremely strange; so he wrote and posted a brief letter to Gulia reporting his arrival, saying how much he was looking forward to seeing them all again, and suggesting that he should come out to tell them all his news after the siesta the following afternoon. That, he felt sure, if they were at the villa, would result in an invitation to dinner and ensure that, when he did meet her again, there would be no opportunity for any private conversation between them.
His call at the Palace produced results more swiftly than he expected. After lunch a note from one of Don Alfonso's equerries was delivered to him, commanding him to dine that night. When he entered the yellow drawing-room, he found a mixed company of eight or ten people already assembled, including one couple he had met before. While he was talking to them, the gentleman-in-waiting on duty came up to him with a slip of paper in his hand, glanced at it, and said:
'Your Excellency, I am told that you already know the Condesa de Cordoba. It is His Majesty's pleasure that you should take her in to dinner.'
T shall be delighted,' smiled the Duke; and, indeed, had he been in a position to arrange such a situation himself, no bridge over to the past could have suited him better.
Two more guests arrived, then the Infanta Maria Alfonsine, Conde Ruiz, Dona Gulia and Frangois de Vendome. Gulia was dressed in white satin and wearing the priceless Cordoba emeralds. She was now twenty-six and de Richleau caught his breath at the sight of her. He had known many beautiful women but at the moment could not think of one who combined such lovely features, striking colouring and grace of figure.
As she caught sight of him her step faltered, then she gave him a slow smile. First he kissed the Infanta's hand and acknowledged her kindly greeting. Gulia then extended hers and as he took it he saw that it did not betray by the faintest tremor any emotion she might be feeling. De Vendome and Count Ruiz expressed their delight at his return and upbraided him for not having at once come out to the villa. He explained that he had arrived only the previous evening, been engaged with business most of the day, and that there was a letter in the post suggesting that he should go out there the next afternoon.
By then another couple had arrived, making the party up to eighteen. Two minutes later the big double-doors at the end of the room were thrown open, the guests formed two lines, and the King and Queen advanced between them, graciously acknowledging the deep bows of the men and the curtsies of the women.
They went into dinner in strict order of precedence, Don Alfonso taking in his aunt, the Queen escorted by the Duke de Lecera and de Richleau, as a foreign duke and a Knight of the Golden Fleece, coming next with Gulia on his arm. In consequence, he found himself on the Queen's left.
While not neglecting her other neighbour, she talked to him for the greater part of the long meal. Evidently she was unaware of the dramatic way in which he had left Spain and, having learned that he had been soldiering in Central America, did not pursue the subject. Knowing him to be of British nationality, she talked to him mostly about England - a matter always near her heart -and of the friends he had made there while he was married to Angela. In consequence his conversation with Gulia was perforce fragmentary and impersonal; but at the first opportunity he inquired after her husband, and was relieved to learn that Jos6 had not been included in the party only because he was abroad. His banking interests had decided him to make a tour of the South American cities, and he was at present in Bahia.
When the Queen and the ladies withdrew, Don Alfonso called to the Duke to come and sit next to him, and at once inquired how he had fared overseas. De Richleau provided him with an account of some of the ramshackle armies in which he had served, and some amusing instances of the barefaced trickery of Latin American politicians; but he formed the impression that the King's mind was not on the conversation and that he was secretly worrying over something.
Soon after they had joined the ladies an Italian prima donna sang several arias for them and between her songs a gifted pianist played pieces by Chopin. Wrhen they had finished de Richleau talked for a while with Maria Alfonsine. Although the plump, high-nosed Infanta was only in her middle forties her staidness made her appear older, and she was not a very bright conversationalist; but she had never forgotten how much her son, Francois, owed to the Duke, and she expressed the greatest pleasure at seeing him again.
Later he managed to catch the eye of the King and, going over to him, said:
'Sir, may I crave a private audience whenever it is convenient? I am anxious to discuss again with Your Majesty the subject about which you did me the honour to speak at Aranjuez.'
Don Alfonso nodded and fingered the small moustache that he had recently grown. 'Yes, certainly, Duke. But not for the present. Although I arrived here only two days ago, much to my annoyance I have to return to Madrid tomorrow. What are your plans?'
'I was hoping that I might be of some further service to Your Majesty.'
Suddenly the King frowned. 'If you were thinking of going to Barcelona again, I do not desire it. In fact I forbid it. There is going to be serious trouble there, and if you were recognized your life would not be worth a peseta.'
'For what I have in mind, to go there might not be necessary.*
'Very well, then. We will talk of the matter on my return. But I may be away for some days. I will send for you when I get back.'
Shortly afterwards the King and Queen wished their guests 'good night' and were bowed and curtsied from the room. As the party started to break up, de Richleau joined his friends and asked them if they would come with him to his hotel for a drink before returning to the villa. Count Ruiz replied that his wife had just complained of a migraine so he must take her home. As it was still quite early and de Vendome could have chaperoned Gulia, de Richleau was somewhat surprised when she also declined and said quite casually:
'I am sure the account of your adventures will lose nothing by being kept until tomorrow after the siesta.'
/> She had not even asked him to dinner and it was the placid, good-natured Infanta who, exercising her royal prerogative of inviting people to any house in which she was staying, repaired the omission by saying:
'Come changed, Duke, so that you can stay on and dine.'
Having thanked her and seen them to her carriage, de Richleau, accompanied by de Vendome, walked back to his hotel. There the two old friends talked until the early hours of the morning and, after the Duke had given a resum6 of his doings, the Prince told him about the crises which necessitated Don Alfonso's return to Madrid.
There was serious trouble in Morocco. The Riff tribesmen there were in revolt and had cut the railway line between the valuable Spanish iron mines up country and the port of Melilla. It was even feared that the town might be taken and sacked, so reinforcements were being rushed out there as speedily as possible. However, as the Prince - having served as an officer-cadet under de Richleau at St. Cyr - was competent to judge, the Spanish Army could not compare with that of France as far as training, efficiency and readiness for service were concerned. Moreover, for some reason that no one seemed to understand, the Generals said they could not find enough men to send unless they depleted essential garrisons.
In consequence the War Minister, General Linares, had had the not very bright idea of calling up the Catalan reserves. Since the war in Africa was most unpopular anyway and Barcelona, as ever, more strongly anti-Government than any other city, this, as might have been foreseen, had had the worst possible results. Hundreds of young Catalans liable for service were refusing to join the colours, the city was in a ferment and a General Strike was threatened. A further cause for anxiety was that these troubles now threatened to undermine the value of the peseta in the international money market.
The Duke was aware that there was fighting in Morocco, but had thought it no more than one of the outbursts by hot-headed tribesmen that so frequently took place; and as a heavy censorship was being imposed, his glance through the morning papers had given him no hint of the much more serious trouble at home. Now he no longer wondered that Don Alfonso had appeared so distrait after dinner.
Out at the villa, in the cool of the evening next day, the Cordoba house-party, which included a couple named de Tarancon, assembled round the fountain in the garden to drink iced Manzanilla while de Richleau told them how, while trying to trap an anarchist, he had been shipped off to Rio and of the life he had led in Central American cities and in the jungle.
They expressed the greatest interest and asked many questions, with the one exception of Gulia, who showed by a slight smile now and then that she was listening, but made no comment, and appeared to be half-absorbed in some embroidery that she was doing.
When the men sat over their wine after dinner they discussed the crisis again and the shortcomings of the army. The lean, good-looking Conde Ruiz, as elegant as ever with his curled hair, black sidewhiskers and wearing a velvet burgundy-coloured smoking jacket, was playing host. He maintained that the root of the trouble lay with the Church, because its demands on the State's funds were so great that there was never enough left over to provide the army with all the supplies it needed.
De Tarancon backed him up, declaring that the power the Church continued to wield was far too great. He instanced the fact that all efforts by the Government to limit the number of religious houses had been frustrated, and that quite recently the Prime Minister, Senor Maura, had been forced against his will to appoint a most unpopular monk, Father Nozaleda, as Archbishop of Valencia.
The Conde nodded agreement and went on to castigate a new measure, by which a huge loan was to be raised to compensate the Religious Orders for the damage they had sustained during the Revolution of 1868. He roundly declared that for the Government to accept liability for such a claim after a lapse of half a century and, above all, at the present time, was nothing less than a piece of financial madness.
De Vendome, however, owing to his strong religious feelings and friendship with many of the leading prelates, argued that the majority of priests lived in dire poverty, and that any nation which did not put the work of God before any other consideration did not deserve to prosper. He then went on to attack the Generals for their incompetence, lack of true patriotism and the highhanded manner in which at times they combined to defy even the King.
Later, in the drawing-room, de Richleau learnt from Gulia further particulars about her husband's trip to South America. The Conde had left Spain early in May and gone first to the Argentine. After a fortnight there he had crossed the Andes to Chile and Peru, returned to stay for a few days in Uruguay, then travelled up the coast to the principal cities of Brazil. He had last written that having completed his business in Bahia he intended to go on an expedition up the Amazon for a few weeks to hunt the wonderful tropical butterflies on the banks of which river they abounded. He would then go on to Venezuela and the capitals of the Central American Republics; so he did not expect to get back much before the end of October.
When the Duke was taking his leave Gulia did not offer him any further invitation, and it was de Vend6me who asked him to come out to bathe with them from the private beach next morning. Only then did she endorse the Prince's pressing with a vague apology for not having thought of suggesting it herself. In view of Gulia's attitude he almost felt that he ought to refuse; but since he was staying in an hotel and all of them must know it to be highly unlikely that he would have any other engagement, to do so would have struck them as very queer, so he accepted.
While he was being driven back to his hotel in one of the Cordoba carriages his mind was occupied in succession by two very different sets of thoughts.
First, distress and sympathy for the young King in his Herculean task of trying to keep the peace between the greedy hidebound Church, semi-mutinous Generals, and the large section of his subjects who was now clamouring for the blood of both.
Secondly, pique at Gulia's attitude towards himself. He had meant to take every possible precaution against being left alone with her. But clearly she had not the least desire for a tete-&~ tete with him. It was evident that no vestige remained of the burning passion she had felt for him three years ago. That, he could not help feeling, was not very flattering to him; but at least it would enable him to see as much of the Cordobas as he liked without fear of a renewal of their entanglement which, in view of her husband's absence abroad, could have proved all the more dangerous.
His reaction to her apparent coldness only went to show how easily a man of even exceptional intelligence and shrewdness can be fooled by a clever woman who desires him. If he could have seen into Gulia's mind an hour or two later, as she tossed and turned restlessly in her big canopied bed, he would have thought very differently.
18
Put on a Chain
The beach party the next day was a large one for, in addition to those staying in the villa, Gulia had invited several friends, but what should have been a carefree gathering was overshadowed by the morning's news. The papers, although still reticent, had been allowed by the Censor to print enough to show that a really serious state of affairs existed in Catalona.
One of the party, named Senor Dencas, a wealthy Barcelona industrialist on holiday, who had been invited by Conde Ruiz, told them that he felt certain that a General Strike would lead to armed risings and, perhaps, even civil war. He added that for several years past the movement for Catalan independence had become so generally accepted that if the workers rose in revolt the majority of the upper and middle classes would give them their support.
Challenged by de Vendome on his statement that responsible people would join with Marxists and anarchists in fighting the Government, Senor Dencas "shrugged his broad shoulders and said, 'After the way in which we Catalans have been treated, what can you expect? We are business people and our principal concern is to earn a decent living. We contribute a far greater share of taxes than any other part of Spain; yet the Government is not content with that, but permits the li
velihood of many of us to be threatened by iniquitously unfair competition.'
'In what way?' inquired de Richleau.
'By allowing the Church to engage in commerce,' came the prompt reply. 'The Religious Houses have, of course, always had their industries: farming, the cultivation of vineyards, the manufacture of various local products and so on. No harm in that as long as these things were for the support of their own communities. But in recent years the Church has gone into business. I mean real business, with advertising campaigns, export departments and Fathers who are sales-managers. It gets its labour free so can, anyway, undersell us; but that is not the end of the story. We have to pay a tax on everything we make, but everything made by the Religious Houses is tax free.'
Conde Ruiz nodded. 'Yes, it is utterly wrong. Spain's trade in liqueurs is an example. We have our Anis del Mono, Calisay, Cuarenta y Tres, and many others which could rival the best productions of the French and the Dutch; but abroad they are almost unknown, because the firms that make them are too heavily taxed to be able to afford to popularize them. Whereas Chartreuse swamps the market; and the Fathers who make it at Tarragona, since they were expelled from France at the turn of the century, are positively rolling in money.'
'It is the Church, too,' remarked Dencas, 'that is responsible for the repressive laws that prevent progress. We Catalans are a go-ahead people. We resent being forced to have our children only partially educated because there are so many things that the Church prefers that they should not know, and the absurd censorship which is still maintained on great numbers of foreign books solely because they deal with the lives of men and women in a realistic manner.'
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