Suzanna (16 page)

“Well I know on whom your heart is set,” Miguel argued more bravely than he felt. “But you will never get him. I do not ask you for love; hut you shall wed me.”

“Shall?” Suzanna mocked. “'Tis a strong word.”

“No stronger than my purpose, I swear. I have work here at the hacienda which will occupy me some days. I assure you I will not leave until the two purposes of my visit have been accomplished.”

“You bluster as though you were in a courtroom,” Suzanna exclaimed. “Small thought have I for what brings you here. Take off with your ranting, or I shall cry out to the first one who passes.”

Unconsciously, Suzanna had raised her voice until it had attracted the attention of Don Diego who sat in his study. Coming to the door, he saw Alvarez' son, and, surmising that the loud talking which he had heard had been occasioned by the boy's arrival, led him into the house without further questioning.

If the last half-hour had been unpleasant for Suzanna, it had been none the less so for Chiquita. She and Pancho had not more than passed from sight of the house before she said:

“I received your letter this morning.”

Pancho had glanced at her keenly, but her face was turned from him, and he could not determine her expression. Her voice, however, was casual enough. He replied:

“Beautiful one, it grieved me more than I can express to write that letter; but I love you too much to take you away from the luxurious life to which you have been accustomed.”

This concern for her did not aid in restoring Chiquita's good humor.

“But you said at one time that my father would certainly accept you as a son-in-law after we were married,” she argued.

“Yes, I know,” Pancho agreed, “but that was before I knew how deeply your father had set his heart upon your marrying Ramon.”

“But I have no intention of marrying Ramon,” the girl declared.

“But you must, my sweetheart,” Montesoro urged. “It is your father's wish, and you must abide by it. Regardless of the great love I bear for you, and you for me, marriage between us is impossible. Your father would surely disinherit you, and as I have nothing more to offer than my love, your loss would be too great.”

Pancho was exerting himself to the utmost to be convincing, but there was a false note in his voice which did not entirely escape Chiquita.

“Why do you speak for Ramon?” she asked suspiciously. “What has brought about this sudden change in your feeling for me?”

“Do you doubt my love?” Pancho demanded angrily.

“Oh, no—no,” Chiquita hastened to reply. “Only——”

“Well then, there is no reason why we cannot be friends even though you are Gutierrez' wife,” Montesoro went on ruthlessly. “And remember,—some husbands do not live long.”

Chiquita shot a startled glance at the man as she saw him pat his sword meaningly. This willingness to do murder did not satisfy her. She wanted love, not violence. Woman-like, she sensed the gulf which had opened between them, and it was her intention to bridge it at once.

“But how can I marry a man whom I despise?” she insisted.

“It is your father's doing, not mine,” Montesoro protested. “Had I the least to offer you, I should laugh at his wishes. Alas that I am impoverished to the point where I am forced to linger beneath a roof where I am no longer welcome. They have guessed my interest in you. I shall take my leave soon. This morning I posted word to Monterey agreeing to appear in the bull-ring this fall.”

Chiquita's face blanched at this.

“You mean that you are going to flaunt your profession in my father's face? Then, indeed, will he be done with you.”

“A man must live; and there are those who hold it no disgrace to claim a
torero
for son-in-law.”

This flat declaration carried a world of meaning to the girl. She became obsessed with the fear that she had lost the man forever. For the first time, Montesoro found tears in her eyes; and if there had been one thing necessary to turn him completely against her, this was it. Chiquita was not without cleverness, and she realized too late that she played a losing hand.

The ride was cut short as a consequence, and an hour later they returned to the house. Neither spoke as they rode into the patio. Montesoro caught sight of Suzanna sitting upon the balcony outside Chiquita's window. He knew he was being watched. Hardly a second later, Chiquita saw the girl, and her bad humor increased accordingly.

“She's a fascinating little thing,” Pancho muttered to his companion as he helped her down. “You had better lose no time with Ramon,” he warned.

The effect of this was to send the girl into a violent rage, and had not Don Diego and Miguel came toward them, Montesoro would have paid the penalty for his words.

Señor de Sola greeted the man cordially and smiled on his daughter. “Already one arrives for the
fiesta,”
he said happily. “Miguel brings you a gift from his father and himself.”

“You should be very happy, Don Diego,” Pancho observed before Chiquita could frame a reply. “I was just congratulating your daughter on the very pleasant future which lies before her as the wife of Don Ramon.”

Although she could have killed the man for his impudence, Chiquita bravely managed a smile as Don Diego took her into his arms and kissed her. Almost for the first time did she stop to contemplate the magnitude of the debt which she owed him. It left her weak, impotent in her anger.

Fear swooped down upon her as she entered the house. She was afraid to ask herself what her fate would be should this man, who had done so much for love of her, learn the truth.

Don Diego little guessed the agony which possessed the girl. Nor did she see the mist which swam in his eyes as she impulsively threw her arms about his neck and pulled down his head to whisper into his ear:

“Father,—do not let us delay the day.”

CHAPTER XVII

M
IGUEL
did his best to make the most of the opportunities his stay at the hacienda afforded him; but the day of the
fiesta
arrived without his having succeeded in turning Suzanna's wrath. The boy dreaded to see his father come. From experience, he knew that excuses carried little weight with him. And although Miguel was not the only one on the two haciendas whose heart was sorely tried, it is true that he alone failed to respond to the excitement of the day.

Don Diego had spared no expense in the preparations for the
fiesta
. Ladies and gentlemen came from as far away as Monterey to wish him well. Steers had been slaughtered and prepared for the barbecue; vegetables and fruits gathered; wines brought forth and tested; flowers plucked and woven into garlands to decorate pillars and tables.

At sun-up many quarters of beef has been placed upon the spits to roast; steer heads, properly wrapped to insure that appetizing flavor which only barbecued meat possesses, buried among the glowing coals; while in the outdoor ovens
tortillas
in squadrons began to brown.

As the morning advanced, the guests came in greater numbers until noon-time found more than a hundred merrymakers gathered on the hacienda. Don Diego's servants moved among them with food and drink. Small attention was paid to the wants of the inner man at this time. The feasting would come after an afternoon of games; of feats of strength for the young men; of horsemanship for the skilled riders; and of gambling, true to relate, for older heads. The crowd was anxious to be at its play, and sounds of laughter and excitement filled the patio and compound.

Suzanna had not been able to resist the spirit of the occasion. She had attended many similar
fiestas
at the surrounding ranchos, and her acquaintances were many. Once free of her duties, she mingled with the throng and soon her merry laughter drove the frowns from her face.

Ramon happened to catch sight of her, and he grinned to himself at seeing her so happy again. For the first time in days he found her the Suzanna of old.

Señor Alvarez had scolded his son most roundly for having failed to make progress with the girl. He promptly ordered Miguel to make haste and take advantage of this day which was to order for swains. Miguel had not dared to dissent. Suzanna had shaken him off several times already, and as Ramon watched, he saw the boy approach her again. This time, Suzanna boxed his ears and called down upon him the laughter of the crowd. Ridicule, heaped on in such generous portioning, was more than Miguel could stand, and father or not, he beat his retreat.

Ramon smiled at the boy's chagrin, although he half-suspected that Miguel had serious designs on Suzanna, so persistent had he been these last days. But Miguel was not of a cut to arouse jealousy in the breast of a lover.

One other, Montesoro, grinned, too; but more from a sense of relief than from pleasure. He had found Miguel in his way wherever he chanced on Suzanna, and he had accepted him as a rival, even though an awkward one. Pancho was wise enough to take a leaf from Miguel's book, and accordingly, he left Suzanna to her own devices.

Arm in arm with his loyal friend, Don Fernando, Don Diego walked among his guests with a warm word for each. The upset condition of the province was forgotten. Here was plenty for all; and no man so mean but he was welcome. Even a dusty friar traveling Montereyward by foot was urged to tarry, and offered food and wine.

Upon the wide portico of the large house Doña Luz and Chiquita mingled with other ladies of high estate. Ramon's mother found the girl unduly thoughtful of her.

Chiquita was most anxious to appear at her best. The fear that her secret would find her out had been fanned by misgivings of one sort or another until her heart missed a beat every time some one spoke suddenly to her.

Long before the sounding of a gong announced that the feast was ready, savory odors from the pits had whetted the appetites of the merrymakers. Eagerly, then, they gathered around the festive board and toasted their host with a rare wine of his own vintage.

Don Diego was a proud and happy man as he faced his guests,—Chiquita at his left, Doña Luz at his right. The girl's excitement had sent a high color to her cheeks and she was radiant. Don Diego glanced at her approvingly as the meal progressed, unaware of the unhappiness which clutched her.

A platform had been built for dancing, and now the musicians appeared and launched forth on the
jota
. Almost immediately a young couple ran to the platform and began dancing. When they had finished, another couple re-placed them; then another and another.

Finally the music changed, and now poured forth a sharper melody. Suddenly Suzanna darted from the edge of the crowd to the dancing floor.

Sprightly, agile,—as light on her feet as the gentle summer's-evening breeze—Suzanna floated over the ground, her lithe body swaying from side to side, her slender legs flashing now and again from within the be-ruffled skirts that encompassed them. Around and around glided the girl, her eyes sparkling, her lips half-apart, her body rhythmically swaying from side to side.

From within the crowd came a hat, tossed by a hopeful
caballero
—hopeful that Suzanna would accept him for her partner. But Suzanna kicked the hat aside disdainfully. Instantly it was replaced by another, and still another. Each was accorded the same treatment. Pancho's beautiful sombrero found its way to a point in front of Suzanna. With even more disdain than she had accorded the others, she kicked it aside.

Ramon had watched Suzanna dance with a smile on his lips. When Suzanna had disdained Pancho's challenge, he grinned happily, arose from his seat beside Chiquita, removed his sword and its scabbard, and picking up his sombrero, tossed it toward Suzanna. She recognized it, and without stopping, circled around and about it, swaying and gliding with all the abandon of a healthy young animal. Then, for an instant, she paused, and deliberately jumped upon Ramon's hat. She had accepted his challenge!

Without more ado, Ramon left Chiquita's side, and joined Suzanna. There before the gathered multitude they stood,—hands raised above their heads, gazing into each other's eyes.

The music resumed, and the crowd held its breath, for though Suzanna had danced with surpassing grace alone, she outdid herself now. Apparently each had forgotten those gathered about them. Poetry was in every motion of their bodies. Alert, eyes flashing, the intoxicating music carried them on and on until they seemed to be drawn out of themselves, holding each other by the spell of their eyes alone.

It was interpretive dancing without being intended as such. Pancho read its story; but not less clearly than did Chiquita. Intuition told her that these two loved each other as few men and women do. It was in every step they took. Were these others blind that they did not see it?

The girl's hatred of Suzanna overwhelmed her as she watched. Horrified, she asked herself if this was but like finding like. For all of her low position, did Ramon find, sub-consciously, in Suzanna, the lady, and in herself, the peon?

She would have laughed had anyone told her she could be jealous of Ramon; and yet jealousy gripped her now. Pancho's lightly turned warning came back to her. What would she do if Ramon took it into his head to run away with Suzanna? The thought threw her into a panic. Without considering the consequences of her act, she grasped the arm of Don Diego, who had been watching the dancers, an indulgent smile on his face.

“Father,” she murmured brokenly, “It is my wish that you announce my bethrothal publicly to-night.”

Don Diego's happiness engulfed him. Tears came to his eyes as he pressed the girl to him.

“What a wonderful moment,” he murmured. “You make this a real
fiesta
for me. Mother Church shall publish the bans at once.”

Don Fernando and Doña Luz greeted the good news with evident happiness.

“And shall we set a day for the wedding?” Don Fernando asked eagerly.

Chiquita bowed her head in assent. “It will please me to marry your son as soon as the Church permits.”