Suzanna (13 page)

Ramon shouldered his way to her side, and not too soon either; his father being scarcely a step behind him.

The sight of the girl sent a hush over the assemblage. In that day, news was scarce, an incidents which would ordinarly go unnoticed because of their unimportance to those not vitally interested, were seized upon and passed from mouth to mouth. Hence it happened that Suzanna's departure that morning was known to all. The ostensible reason for her going had caused a murmur of approval among the peons of the two haciendas. They naturally wondered, now, what reason she had for being back. As is the way of men and women in their social position, they looked to their master for enlightenment, and the scowl which they saw upon Don Fernando's face, as well as the strained look in the eyes of Dona Luz, hinted that all was not well.

But as great as was Don Fernando's surprise upon beholding Suzanna, it did not match his son's. Ramon blinked his eyes as he stared at her, believing they deceived him. What sort of miracle had happened to bring Suzanna here? As he continued to gaze at her spellbound, he saw her raise her eyes to him appealingly. The unfriendly attitude of those who confronted her had chilled the girl to her soul, and she turned to Ramon beseechingly.

“You?” Don Fernando thundered as his father glared at her. “What does this mean?”

Don Diego stepped out then, and threw his arms about his old friend.

“It means that I took mercy on her. It was worthy of you, old friend, to want to educate her, but as Suzanna asked me,—what can a peon do with an education?”

CHAPTER XIII

I
T
cannot be said that Suzanna's return cast a shadow over the festivities Don Fernando and Doña Luz had arranged in honor of their neighbor. For, no matter what secret misgivings the girl's presence caused Señor Gutierrez and his wife, they had no desire to let Don Diego see how sorely Ramon's conduct tried them.

Even as short as was the distance between the two haciendas, Don Fernando felt that it offered some obstacle to a clandestine affair, and so he readily consented to having Suzanna become Chiquita's maid. This move was particularly galling to Ramon. If his father had deliberately tried to show him the gulf between Suzanna and himself, he could not have moved more surely. The boy felt that it was a slap at him, and he resented it bitterly.

Ramon's parents found Chiquita very beautiful; but Doña Luz viewed her imperious ways with some alarm. She knew her son well enough to know that arrogance would never win him. Don Fernando was deaf to this criticism of his friend's daughter. He could not close his eyes, however, to the fact Chiquita had not swept his son off his feet, for the boy made no effort to see her, but kept to himself, sullen and untalkative.

Chiquita was well satisfied that he remained away. Her surprise at finding Montesoro here in California was concealed only by a supreme effort. The man had left her without a word. That the thought of seeing her again had brought him this distance from the land he loved was a delicious morsel for Chiquita. Best of all, she saw that her father accepted him without suspicion. She had expected to be bored to distraction, but instead she found herself taking an eager interest in life. Three days had elapsed since her return and Pancho had not yet endeavored to see her. She explained this to herself quite satisfactorily; but the caution the man showed irked her.

She swept into her room one evening and caught Suzanna admiring a modish gown of silk and lace. Annoyed, Chiquita showed it by slamming the door behind her.

Suzanna had gotten on better than she had supposed possible. Unaware that Pancho's continued absence had begun to fret her mistress, and that she had provoked her further, she blundered by saying naïvely:

“Life here must be very dull for you after all the gaieties of Mexico City.”

Chiquita shot a shrewd glance at her. Her first thought being that she might have betrayed herself; but finding nothing in the girl's expression to alarm her, she smiled at the implied question.

The smile disarmed Suzanna, and she asked:

“Did you have many admirers?”

Chiquita was vain enough to answer honestly:

“Yes; quite a few.”

She had seated herself before her mirror and was busy with her hair. Suzanna watched her with ill-concealed envy as she fingered her gold mounted toilette articles.

Ruiz, who had come on some errand, passed Chiquita's window at that instant, and catching sight of the beautiful girl, he stopped and gazed at her with adoring eyes. Chiquita banged the shutters in his face. Suzanna would have done well to have given up her attempt to engage her mistress in conversation, but she would pursue it.

“Didn't you like one of them very,—very much?” she asked.

Suzanna had unwittingly placed an emphasis on what Chiquita quickly interpreted to refer to her relation with Pancho. It angered her, and added to her indignation against Ruiz, caused her to reprimand Suzanna.

“You are entirely too familiar for a servant,” she said tartly. “Your question is decidedly impudent. After this, you do your work and keep your tongue in your head.”

Suzanna said nothing, but busied herself with putting away her mistress' gowns. That finished, she started to prepare her bed. The moon was up, and Chiquita had opened her shutters again and lounged indolently in a chair before the window.

A cooling breeze crept into the apartment as Suzanna finished her work. She was about to say good-night when from outside the bedroom window came the sound of a guitar.

Chiquita sat up as she recognized the tune. It was
Te Amo
(I love you). She had heard it many times, and she surmised the identity of the man who was strumming it now.

The melody was not unknown to Suzanna, and slipping up behind Chiquita, she endeavored to peek out. Her mistress saw her, however, and turned upon her angrily.

“Leave the room,” she commanded. “Does your impudence know no restraint whatsoever?”

Suzanna bowed humbly and quitted the chamber; but her heart was heavy. Who else but Ramon would dare or have reason to serenade Chiquita de Sola?

Having rid herself of Suzanna, Chiquita stepped out upon the tiny balcony outside her window. With thudding heart she swept the patio for sight of the serenader.

“Here, dear one,” a voice whispered.

“You, Pancho?” the girl gasped with a glad little cry as she saw Montesoro atop the patio wall. “Come nearer,” she entreated.

The man slid along the wall until he was close enough to grasp the hand which Chiquita extended. He kissed it passionately.

“Ah, Pancho,” the girl murmured, “how I have longed for you. How come you here?”

“Because of you,” Montesoro answered. “No sooner had I learned that your father was returning with you than I made my plans. He does not recognize me. Don't be frightened. There is no danger.”

“But there is,” Chiquita warned, “if you are caught
here
. This is not Mexico City.”

“You mean young Gutierrez?”

“He is nothing to me,” the girl exclaimed. “It is my father who is to be feared. He talks of nothing else but my marriage. But oh, I am longing to be in your arms.”

The man saw her breast heave with emotion as she leaned toward him.

“Then let me come in,” he begged.

“That you cannot,” Chiquita breathed in his ear. “It is too dangerous; besides, the gate is locked,” she added compromisingly.

“I can manage it over the wall. Look into the patio from the other window. If it is deserted I am going to enter.”

Chiquita hurried across the room, and after a careful examination of the garden tripped back to the man outside her window.

“We are alone,” she murmured. “But do you think it is safe?”

Pancho nodded his head, and without further ado dropped into the enclosed garden.

Chiquita swayed upon her feet as she turned and caught up her mantilla. Throwing it over her shoulders, she crept downstairs and hurried into the patio. With a low cry, she threw herself into her lover's arms. They kissed then—for an eternity it seemed to little Suzanna who had stolen downstairs and hidden herself in a small store-room which gave onto the garden. She breathed a sigh of relief when the kiss ended,—glad that Chiquita's wooer was not Ramon; but horrified to find that the woman whom he was to take to wife should shame him so brazenly.

To add to Suzanna's excitement, Chiquita led Pancho to a bench which stood just outside the doorway of the store-room. Montesoro immediately launched into a long and detailed explanation regarding his presence in California. Suzanna heard enough to realize that he and Chiquita had carried on a very intimate affair in Mexico City.

“What is it that you intend to do?” she heard Don Diego's daughter ask.

“Marry you,” Pancho replied.

“But you cannot,” the girl protested. “I know for a certainty my father will never give his consent.”

“Then you must elope with me,” Montesoro declared.

“But father surely would disinherit me,” Chiquita replied. “And then where would we be? You have no money; neither have I.”

“Very true,” Pancho agreed. “But I am certain your father will readily forgive us when I convince him that I am worthy of your love and of the honor of being his son-in-law.”

“Then why not convince him beforehand?” asked Chiquita.

“Because, as you say, he would never give his consent. He has set his heart upon your marrying Ramon, and will consider no other. But if you were to marry me, he would be soon reconciled, and readily give us his blessing.”

“But what of Ramon?” queried the girl doubtfully.

“Ramon will marry you only over my dead body,” Pancho declared fiercely.

Chiquita was about to capitulate when some one opened a door and stepped into the patio. It was her father. She saw him glance anxiously about the garden. Dreading that he would discover her, Chiquita took Montesoro's hand and led him into the store-room.

“We shall be safe here,” she whispered. “Come, enfold me. I am dying of love for you.”

Chiquita had her well-formed back toward Suzanna, but the very nearness of the girl and her lover was enough in itself to confound her. She wanted to escape, to get away from the scene being enacted before her, but she was helpless to do it. Even the shifting of the weight of her body from one foot to the other caught Montesoro's ear, for Suzanna saw him stiffen.

The eyes of the two lovers soon became accustomed to the darkness of the room. Chiquita lay in the man's arms, her sensuous eyes half-closed. Pancho, glancing over her shoulder, found himself staring at Suzanna.

He said nothing, but the girl in his arms felt his muscles tense, and sensing that something was amiss, she straightened.

Suzanna saw that she was discovered, and throwing caution to the winds made a bold attempt to reach the door. Montesoro intercepted her, and forcing her back into the room, he stepped through the door himself. Hot words were sure to follow between Chiquita and Suzanna, with the probability that Don Diego would overhear them and investigate. Pancho had no intention of ruining his chances by attempting to brazen out his
amour
. Unfortunately for him, he almost collided with Ruiz as he left the store-room. The old man had been searching for Suzanna, and the sight of Montesoro led him to the instant suspicion that he would find his daughter within the room the fellow had just quitted. Neither spoke in the brief instant that they faced each other. Pancho moved off then, maneuvering to bring the store-room between himself and Ruiz. This accomplished, he was about to vault to the top of the patio wall when he saw Don Diego again come to the door of the casa. Slipping back into the shadow, Pancho retraced his steps until he had gained the rear of the store-room.

Ruiz had opened the door in time to see Chiquita bring her hand down upon Suzanna's mouth.

“I'll teach you to spy on me, you impudent peon!” he heard her threaten.

Ruiz was not slow to gather that it had been Chiquita, and not Suzanna, who had been trysting with the man who had just left. The old servant was short-tempered as a rule, but rarely ever thoroughly angry. Hatred blazed in his eyes now as he beheld the lengths to which this girl went.

Chiquita had heard him enter, and she turned on him in a very froth of rage.

“Ruiz,” she cried, “if you don't lash this spying daughter of yours, I shall see to it that the punishment is visited upon you. She is a loose-tongued, impertinent busy-body. San Luis Bautista was too good for her! But I can understand why your master wanted her sent away. Well, you remember this,—there are other places than the Mission to which peons can “be sent.”

Suzanna had not said a word; but her eyes conveyed every bit of the contempt which she felt for the woman before her. She looked to Ruiz for advice. He motioned for her to leave.

“Go to your room,” he ordered. “And let no word of this affair pass your lips. I shall speak to you later.”

Chiquita started to follow Suzanna, but Ruiz, transformed from the humble servant to a man of determination, stopped her.

“What is it you want?” Chiquita demanded almost insolently.

“A word with you,” Ruiz replied with strange dignity.

The girl openly smiled her contempt for this old servitor. “Say your word quickly,” she said sullenly.

“It is something that cannot be sale quickly,” Ruiz answered grimly. “Nor will it be pleasant to listen to, but it must be said. You have proven to me to-night as no one else could have done, that you cannot make a silk purse from a sow's ear.”

Chiquita gasped at the boldness of the man's words.

“Silence!” she cried. “Are you aware that you address the daughter of Don Diego de Sola? You are more impertinent than your miserable daughter. Out of my way now, and rest assured that my father shall be apprised of your conduct.”

Aghast, Chiquita saw Ruiz stand his ground.