by Rex Beach
XIX
"LA TOSCA"
The winter season was at its height now. For weeks there had been norain, and the Pacific side of the Isthmus was growing sere and yellowbeneath the ceaseless glare of the sun. The musty dampness of the rainyseason had disappeared, the steady trade-winds breathed a dreamylanguor, and the days fled past in one long, unending procession ofbrilliant sameness. Every ship from the North came laden with tourists,and the social life of the city grew brilliant and gay. There werereceptions, dinners, dances; the plazas echoed to the strains of musicalmost nightly. Now that Nature smiled, the work upon the Canal wentforward with ever-growing eagerness. Records were broken in everydepartment, the railroad groaned beneath its burden, the giant humanmachine was strained to its fullest efficiency.
Young Anthony mastered the details of his work very rapidly, forrailroading had been bred into him. He needed little help from Runnels,and soon began to feel a conscious grasp of affairs as surprising tohimself as to his chief. Being intensely interested in his work, heavoided all social entanglements, despite repeated invitations fromMrs. Cortlandt. But, when the grand-opera season began, he made anexception, and joined her box-party on the opening night.
It seemed quite like old times to don an evening suit; the stiff, whitelinen awakened a pang of regret. The time was not far distant when hehad felt never so much at home as in these togs; but now they were hotand uncomfortable--and how they accentuated his coat of tan!
There was a somewhat formal dinner in the Cortlandts' new home, atwhich there were a dozen guests; so Kirk had no opportunity of speakingwith his hostess until they had reached the theatre, where he foundhimself seated immediately behind her.
"I've scarcely seen you lately," she said, at the first opportunity."You're a very neglectful young man."
"I knew you were getting settled in your house, and we've beentremendously busy at the office."
"I began to think you were avoiding us."
"You must know better than that."
She regarded him shrewdly over her shoulder. "You're not still thinkingof--that night at Taboga? You haven't seemed the same since."
He blushed, and nodded frankly. "I can't help thinking about it. Youwere mighty nice to overlook a break like that, but--" Unconsciouslyhis eyes shifted to Cortlandt, who was conversing politely with agiggly old lady from Gatun.
She tapped his cheek lightly with her fan. "Just to show you howforgiving I am, I am going to ask you to go riding with me. The lateafternoons are lovely now, and I've found a good horse for you. Isuppose you ride?"
"I love it."
"Wednesday, at five, then." She turned to another guest, and Kirkleaned back to take in the scene about him.
Like most Latin-American cities, Panama prides herself upon hergovernment theatre, which is in truth very beautiful. Although itremains dark most of the year, its brief period of opera is celebratedby a notable outpouring. To-night the magnificent white-and-goldauditorium was filled to the topmost gallery, and the two circles ofboxes were crowded with the flower of Panamanian society, tourists fromthe North, and Americans from the whole length of the Canal Zone. Kirkhimself had seen to running a theatre special from Colon, andrecognized all six of the Commissioners, with their families. It was anexceedingly well-dressed audience, and although the pit was plentifullysprinkled with men in white, the two lower galleries were in solidfull-dress. Bejewelled women in elaborate gowns lent the affair almostthe elegance of a night at the Metropolitan, while the flash of manyuniforms made the scene colorful.
Suddenly the orchestra broke into the national air, and with a greatrustling and turning of heads the audience rose to its feet. In thecentre box of the first tier, ornately hung with flags and a coat ofarms, Anthony beheld a giant black man of majestic appearance, drawn tohis full height and flanked by a half-dozen aides in uniform, all at astiff military salute.
"That is President Galleo," Edith told him.
"Jove! He's a regal-looking chap," Kirk exclaimed.
"He's very much of a man, too, yet even here there is a color line.Nobody acknowledges it, but the old Castilian families are keenly awareof it just the same."
As the last measured strain died out the audience reseated itself, theintroduction to "La Tosca" sounded, and the curtain rose. Although thenames of the performers were unknown to Kirk, their voices wereremarkably good, and he soon became absorbed in the drama. A suddenlonesomeness surged over him as he recalled another night when he andDarwin K. Anthony had heard these same notes sung. But then they hadsat enthralled by the art of Caruso, Scotti, and the ravishingCavalieri. It had been one of the rare hours when he and his father hadfelt themselves really in sympathy. The Governor had come down for somefabulous directors' meeting, he remembered, and had wired his son torun in from New Haven for the evening. They had been real chums thatnight, and even at their modest little supper afterward, when the oldgentleman had rowed with the waiter and cursed his dyspepsia, they hadlaughed and chatted like cronies. Yet a week later they had quarrelled.
With an unexpected access of tenderness, Anthony Jr. longed to see oncemore that tumbled shock of white hair, that strong-lined face; to hearagain the gruff tones of that voice he loved so well. After all, therewere only two Anthonys left in the world, and he had been to blame. Heacknowledged that he had been a ne'er-do-well. No wonder his father hadbeen harsh, but still--old Darwin K. should not have been sodomineering, so ready to credit all he heard. Kirk pressed his lipstogether and swore to make good, if for no other reason than to showhis dad.
As the curtain fell on the first act, he rose with the others and,accompanied by Mrs. Cortlandt, made his way down the long passagewayand out into a brightly lighted, highly decorated foyer filling nowwith voluble people. It was a splendid room; but he had no eyes for it.His gaze was fixed upon the welcome open-air promenade outside, and hisfingers fumbled with his cigarette-case.
"Oh, wait, please," he heard Edith say, "I want you to meet some one."
He had done little except respond to meaningless introductions all theevening, and nothing could have pleased him less at the moment. But,somewhat awkwardly, he began to edge his way through the press in thewake of his hostess. The next moment he halted and stood stock-still inhelpless surprise.
There, not a yard away, was the girl of his dreams demurely bowing toEdith Cortlandt, her hand upon the arm of a swarthy man whom Kirk knewat once as her father. He felt the blood rush blindingly to his head,felt it drumming at his ears, knew that he must be staring like a manbereft. Mrs. Cortlandt was speaking, and he caught the name "Garavel"like a bugle-call. They turned upon him, the Spanish gentleman bowed,and he saw that Chiquita's little white-gloved hand was extended towardhim.
She was the same dainty, desirous maid he had met in the forest, butnow splendidly radiant and perfect beyond his imagining. She was nolonger the simple wood-sprite, but a tiny princess in filmy white,moulded by some master craftsman. As on that earlier meeting, she wasthrilling with some subtle mirth which flickered on her lips or dancedin the depths of her great, dark eyes.
How he ever got through that wild introductory moment without making ashow of himself, Anthony never knew, for his first overwhelming impulsewas to seize the girl and never let her escape. It was the same feelinghe had had at Las Savannas, only ten times harder to resist. Thegeneral confusion, perhaps, helped to hide his emotion, for around themeddied a constant human tide, through which at last came Mr. Cortlandtand the other members of his party. There were more introductions, morebows and polite exchanges of words which had the maddening effect ofdistracting Miss Garavel's attention. Then, by some glorious miracle,Kirk found himself moving toward the open air at her side, with Mrs.Cortlandt and the banker in advance of them.
"Oh, Chiquita," he said, softly, "I thought I'd NEVER find you. I'vehunted everywhere."
At the tremulous intensity of his tone, she gave an uncertain laugh andflashed him a startled glance.
"Chiquita is not my name," she said, reprovingly.<
br />
"Yes, it is; it must be. I can't think of you by any other. Hasn't itbeen whispering at my ears ever since you said it? It has nearly drivenme mad."
"Senor Antonio! I have seen you but once."
"I have seen you every day, every hour-"
"Indeed?"
"I can't see anything else. Don't you understand?"
"You forget that we have but just been introduced."
"Don't be offended; you see, I can't realize that I have found you atlast. When I learned you had gone away, I thought I would surely-"
"I have been nowhere."
"Didn't you go away on a ship?"
"That is absurd! I have remained always in my father's house."
"Then wait until I catch that boy of mine! Didn't you know I waslooking for you? Couldn't you FEEL it?"
"Indeed, why should I imagine such things?"
"Why, if you couldn't feel a thing like that, you can't love me."
"Of a certainly not," she gasped. "You should not joke about suchthings."
"I'm not joking; I never was so serious in my life. I-I'm afraid Ican't tell you everything-it all wants to come out at once. Why didn'tyou come back as you promised?"
"It was Stephanie-she is such a ferocious person! I was brought to thecity that day-but no, senor. I did not promise. I said only 'perhaps.'"
"Have you done your penance?"
"It was finished yesterday. This is the first time I have been out. Oh,it is delightful. The music-the people!"
"And I can come to see you now?"
"Very well do you know that you cannot. Have you not learned ourcustoms?" Then, with an abrupt and icy change of tone: "I forget. Ofcourse you are familiar with those customs, since you have become thewooer of Miss Torres."
"Oh, Lord! Where did you hear about that?"
"So! It is true. You are fickle, senor-or is it that you prefer darkpeople?"
"I was looking for you. I thought it was you behind those curtains allthe time." He began a flurried defence of his recent outrageousbehavior, to which Miss Garavel endeavored to listen with distantcomposure. But he was so desperately in earnest, so anxious to makelight of the matter, so eager to expose all his folly and have donewith it, that he must have been funnier than he knew. In the midst ofhis narrative the girl's eyes showed an encouraging gleam, and when hedescribed his interview with Torres and Heran their surprise anddramatic indignation, she laughed merrily.
"Oh, it wasn't funny at the time," he hastened to add. "I felt asthough I had actually proposed, and might have to pay alimony."
"Poor Maria! It is no light thing to be cast aside by one's lover. Sheis broken-hearted, and for six months she will do penance."
"This penance thing is a habit with you girls. But I wasn't her lover;I'm yours."
"Do not be foolish," she exclaimed, sharply, "or I shall be forced towalk with my father."
"Don't do that. Can't you see we must make haste while the curtain isdown?"
"I do not see. I am strolling in search of the cool air." She bowed andsmiled at some passing friends. She seemed very careless, veryflippant. She was not at all the impetuous, mischievous Chiquita he hadmet in the woods.
"See here!" he said, soberly. "We can't go on this way. Now that I'vemet your father, I'm going to explain my intentions to him, and ask hispermission to call on you."
"We have a--proverb, senor, 'Ir por lana, y volver trasquilado,' whichmeans, 'Take heed lest you find what you do not seek.' Do not beimpetuous."
"There's only one thing I'm seeking."
"My father is a stern man. In his home he is entirely a Spaniard, andif he learned how we met, for instance"-even under the electric lighthe saw her flush-"he would create a terrible scene." She paused in herwalk and leaned over the stone balustrade, staring out across theink-black harbor.
"Trust me! I shan't tell him."
"There are so many reasons why it is useless."
"Name one."
"One!" She shrugged lightly. "In the first place I care nothing foryou. Is not that enough?"
"No, indeed. You'll get over that."
"Let us imagine, then, the contrary. You Americans are entirelydifferent from our people. You are cold, deliberate, wicked-your socialcustoms are not like ours. You do not at all understand us. How thencould you be interested to meet a Spanish family?"
"Why, you're half American."
"Oh yes, although it is to be regretted. Even at school in yourBaltimore I learned many improper things, against which I have had tostruggle ever since."
"For instance?"
"Ah," she sighed, "I saw so much liberty; I heard of the shockingconduct of your American ladies, and, while I know it is quite wrongand wicked, still-it is interesting. Why, there is no other nice girlin all Panama who would have talked with you as I did in the forestthat day."
"But what has all this to do with my coming to see you?"
"It is difficult to explain, since you will not understand. When ayoung man is accepted into a Spanish house, many things are taken forgranted. Besides that, we do not know each other, you and I. Also, ifyou should come to see me, it would cause gossip, misunderstandingamong my friends."
"I'll declare myself in advance," he promised warmly.
"No, no, no! We Spanish-Americans do not care for strangers. We haveour own people and we are satisfied. You Yankees are not very nice; youare barbarous; you assume such liberties. Our young men are gentle,modest, sweet--"
"Um-m! I hadn't noticed it."
"This is the first time I have ever talked so freely with a gentleman,and I suppose it is immodest. After all, it is much better that oldpeople who are of more experience should discuss these questions."
"But don't you want to have a voice in your own affairs?" he eagerlyurged. "Do you really want your relatives to tell you whom to meet,whom to love, and whom to marry?"
She answered, frankly: "Sometimes I feel that way. Yet at other times Iam sure they must know best."
"I don't believe you are the sort to shut your eyes and do exactly asyou're told."
"I do rebel sometimes. I protest, but it is only the American blood inme."
"If you'd learn to know me a little bit, maybe you'd enjoy having mearound the house."
"But I cannot know you, any more than you can know me," she cried, witha little gesture of despair at his dullness. "Don't you see--before wecould get acquainted nicely people would be talking?"
"Let's try. You're living at the country place again, aren't you?Suppose I should get lost some day--tomorrow, for instance?"
"No, no! Listen. It is the warning bell, and we must return."
The crowd was filing into the theatre now. They fell in behind SenorGaravel and Mrs. Cortlandt.
"I'm going hunting again tomorrow," prophesied Kirk, "and I'm almostcertain to lose my way-about three o'clock."
"You should take with you a guide."
"That's not a bad idea. I'd like to talk it over with you. Suppose wehave another stroll after the next act?"
"I shall be with my father. Never before have I enjoyed so muchliberty." She sighed gratefully.
"Oh, I detest your blamed, straitlaced Spanish customs," he cried,hotly. "What do they amount to, anyhow? I love you. I do, I do-"
She laughed and darted to her father's side.
"Don't you think Miss Garavel is a pretty girl?" Mrs. Cortlandtquestioned, as they strolled toward their box.
"She's a dream." Anthony's tone left nothing unsaid.
"You got along together capitally. Most of the senoritas areimpossible."
"By the way, what is her name?"
"Gertrudis. Rather pleasing, I think."
Kirk thought so, too. In fact, it pleased him so greatly that hethought of nothing else during the entire second act of "La Tosca." Itwas even sweeter than the music of her hesitating accent.
When, after an age, the curtain fell for a second time, he escaped fromhis companions, mumbling some excuse or other, and made haste to findher again. B
ut as he approached he felt a sudden pang of jealous rage.
Ramon Alfarez was beside her, and the two were chatting with anappearance of intimacy that made him furious. Close at hand stoodGaravel, deep in conversation with Colonel Jolson.
"Ah, Ramon, I wish you to meet Mr. Anthony," said Gertrudis. "So! Youhave met before?"
"In Colon," Kirk explained, while Alfarez scorched him with his eyes."Mr. Alfarez was very hospitable to me."
"Yes," the Spaniard exclaimed. "It is my great regret that SenorAnt'ony did not remain for longer."
"Ramon is with the President's party this evening. He is Senor Galleo'sSecretary, you know."
"I informed you concerning those good fortunes some time since, eh?"Ramon's insulting stare made Kirk long to take him by the throat.
"Yes, you told me. I suppose it is a fine position."
Alfarez swelled pompously. "I 'ave many responsibilities."
"It brings you very close to the Chief Executive, no doubt."
"I 'ave indeed the honor to be his intimate!"
"He's the tallest negro I ever saw," Kirk said, simply, at which thehaughty Ramon seemed about to explode, and Miss Garavel quiteshamelessly giggled.
"That is funny," she exclaimed. "But you must not tease Ramon. Youunderstand, the voice of the people has made Galleo President, but noone forgets that he is not one of us."
Her youthful countryman twisted his mustache with trembling fingers.
"It is politics!" he declared. "And yet Galleo is a great man; I amhonor' to be his Secretary. But by the grace of God our next Presidentwill be w'ite."
"Ramon's father, Don Anibal, you know." Gertrudis nodded wisely at theAmerican. "We are very proud of Ramon, he is so young to be high inpolitics."
"Eh! Yes, and many of our bravest patriots 'ave been black men."
"Oh, we've had some brave negroes, too," Kirk acknowledged.
"So! You see!" Alfarez was triumphant.
"The greatest fighter we ever had was a colored chap."
"Ah!"
"His name was Gans--Joe Gans."
"You are still joking," said Miss Garavel. "In Baltimore I read thenewspapers about that Gans. He was a-box-fighter, what?"
"Exactly. But he never carried a Secretary."
Alfarez's countenance was sallow as he inquired:
"Does Senor Ant'ony discover our climate to be still agreeable?"
"Very. It hasn't grown too warm for me yet."
"We are but approaching our 'ot season." The speaker's eyes snapped.
"Oh, I'll stand the heat all right, and the mosquitoes, too."
"Eh! Do not be too sure. The mosquito makes a leetle buzzing-but it iswell to take warning. If not, behol', some day you grow ver' seeck."
Heretofore Kirk had hated Ramon in a careless, indifferent sort of way,feeling that he owed him a good drubbing, which he would be pleased toadminister if ever a fitting time arrived. But now, since he saw thatthe jackanapes had the audacity to love Gertrudis, his feeling becameintense. The girl, of course, was fully alive to the situation, and,although she evidently enjoyed it, she did her best to stand betweenthe two men.
As for Alfarez, he was quick to feel the sudden fierce hostility he hadaroused, and it seemed to make him nervous. Moreover, he conceived thathe had scored heavily by his last retort, at which Kirk had onlysmiled. It therefore seemed best to him to withdraw from theconversation (annoyingly conducted in English), and a few moments laterhe stalked majestically away. This was just what Kirk wanted, and hequickly suggested the balcony. But Gertrudis was obstinate.
"I must remain with my father," she said.
"May I sit beside you, then? I've been thinking of a lot of things tosay. I always think of bully remarks when it's too late. Now I'veforgotten them. Do you know, I'm going to nestle up to your father andmake him like me?"
"Again you are speaking of that subject. I have known you but an hour,and you talk of nothing but my father, of me, of coming to call."
"Well, I can't think of anything else."
"You are too bold. Spanish fathers do not like such young men. But tohear me talk!" She flushed slightly. "I have lost all modesty to speakof those things. You force me to embarrass myself."
"I was an instantaneous success with Miss Torres' father. He was readyto send a dray for my trunks."
"Let us discuss other things."
"I haven't the strength. You once spoke of a chap your people hadpicked out. It isn't-Alfarez?"
She let her dark eyes rest upon his a moment, and his senses swam. Thenshe nodded slowly.
"You do not like him?"
"Just like a nose-bleed. The day you and I are married I'm going tosend him a wreath of poison ivy."
"It pleases you always to joke."
"No joke about that. You won't give in, will you?"
"There is no question of force nor of surrender, senor. I insist nowthat we shall speak of other things."
A few moments later he was constrained to rejoin his hostess' party.
"When are you going back to Las Savannas?" he asked, as he reluctantlyarose.
"To-morrow."
"The hunting ought to be good-"
But she frowned at him in annoyance, and he left her, after all,without knowing whether he had gained or lost ground. Of one thing onlyhe was sure-their meeting had been in some respects a disappointment.She was not by any means so warm and impulsive as he had supposed. Hergirlishness, her simplicity, her little American ways, cloaked a deepreserve and a fine sense of the difference in their positions. Shecould be Spanish enough when she chose, he perceived, and he felt, ashe was intended to feel, that the little lady of quality he had metto-night would be much harder to win than the girl of the woods. Theplague of it was that, if anything, he was more in love with thedefinite and dazzling Gertrudis Garavel than he had been with themysteriously alluring Chiquita. If only she were all American, or evenall Spanish, perhaps he would know better how to act. But,unfortunately, she was both-just enough of both to be perplexing andwholly unreliable. And then, too, there was Alfarez!