The Spanish dancer : being a translation from the original French by Henry L. Williams of Don Caesar de Bazan (26 page)

"Oh, there is no haste—for, at a word from you, it is he who will be parted forever from this decoy! In a monastery he will not meet g\'psies any more!"

"This woman is a gypsy, eh?"

"In the heart, if false papers seem to prove her a Christian born. But what matters all this? Can I write to those who eagerly await the reply that Charles will be forced oft the throne to give place to the appointee of the empire and France, and good wishers to Spanish prosperity; ay, and propriety?"

The queen made a wild gesture.

"A fig for these state intrigues—at this time," said she, monopolized by her jealousy. "Let the two Charieses fight out their contest for the crown! Let me punish this viped which has stolen into my confidence— but, yet you have not named her!"

"I thought your majesty guessed, from having felt a dread of her from first sight—aversion, hatred! It is that dancer who capers on the royal mantle, spread under her feet as a carpet!"

"Maritana? You do not say that Maritana thus repays me for my offers to lift her out of that ditch!"

"Oh, she is out of the ditch without your generous hand!" replied Jose, in an irritating tone. "That stupid old Castello-Rotondo has already been promoted for recognizing her as his child! He v/ould have recognized a rag doll, to be m.ade keeper of the king's spaniels!"

"Maritana, the Countess of Castello-Rotondo?"

"Oh, better than that, which is her bom title, thereby, for she has been married to the Count of Garofa, one of those complaisant panderers who would put his hand to any deed by which the king could cover his duplicity and iniquity!"

"A mock marriage?"

"All these proceedings are a mocking of your majesty, to be sure!"

She went up and down, and at each turn smote the marble columns with her fan.

"The king must be punished—these, his instruments of my woe, must be imprisoned, slain!"

"All your will be done, majesty! Only give me the written warrant!"

"I, the queen! Write—seal—sign "

"I understand—you are not yet regent. Well, is there not a little slip of paper vdth the king's sign-manual

which cooild be filled out for the chastisement of these wretches who aim at your peace?"

"I should have thought that the prime minister would have been plentifully supplied with these orders in-blank?" said the queen, suspiciously.

"Oh, my rank sits newly upon me—besides, having an idea that I would not approve of this treachery to his wife, he does not accord me the confidence which I praise your majesty for!"

"Well, I am no second-rate liar," thought the listener, "but this cousin can give me cards and come out first by far!"

"Well, I can find the warrant," said the queen. "In return, will you not guide me to confront tliis impudent disturber of my domestic peace?"

"Assuredly. After this is confirmed, your majesty will listen to what has been arranged if your consent is ours!"

"When I return, equipped for the journey—and, on the ride, we will come to a final understanding—I do not say agreement, yet!"

"She loves her husband," muttered Jose. "This is untoward! I can do little with her! I must throw her over—that is, under! and by letting the king conserve his plaything make my bond stronger with him. Let Charles, the would-be Eighth, manage his own approaches, then, as long as the Seventh is subservient to my enterprises!"

He had ushered the queen to the doorway, and she rapidly disappeared in the garden.

"She must die," sternly said Jose, thinking himself alone. "But I will not lay my hand on the Lord's anbinted! This pit hole will let her through to the ground, where she will break her crown!"

"Here is a bloodthirsty premier for youl",thought the

hearer. "And yet, for the sake of the family, I must never boast of what a serpent I snapped in twain/'

"Ten minutes to g-o to her rooms, ten to dress, ten to return, and within five she disappears in this grave, under the care of Seniors, Hercules and the Tritons! In half an hour one may overturn a succession!"

"In less, one may upset a villain's pet schemes!" interrupted Don Csesar, stepping out and between the entrance and the plotter.

Satan touched by Ithuriel's spear could not have expressed on his convulsed features greater desolation than Santarem's wore.

"Yt>u !" his lips shaped without a sound issuing. "You again!"

"It is I! You have heated a furnace by which you will singe your beard! You would war with women, would you? Destroy Maritana and also our queen because they balk your atrocious projects!" He drew the sword.

Jose drew his.

But his antagonist dashed it from his hand.

"The sword? Flatter yourself, double traitor and coward that you are, to perish by the gentleman's weapon ?"

Trembling with terror and thwarted hopes, fury enkindled into making him heroic, Jose dashed to recover 'his weapon. But on the way he perceived the bar v/ith which he had broken the ground for the pit. On seeing this, Caesar contemptuously took up the spade, sheathing his rapier. "You are a clown, and you should be com-batted with a cl'OAvn's weapon!" said he, scornfully. "I know all your ignominy! I am ashamed that you are tied by blood to us! I sliall not only kill you, but bury you in this heathen temple, so that your soul will wander forever unannealed!"

iT'he contest with the unaccustomed arms was rude as

that of antediluvians. Bar and shape-shaft clashedt, and terrible blows were delivered and parried.

The spade-blade was knocked off, and the bar was bent.

"Oh, this resembles cudgel-play," said Caesar, recovering his loquacity as this became a more reasonable match. "Look! this is for plotting against our lord the king!" He struck a blow which would have cleft his skull or broken the staff but for the bar held up with both hands. As it was, Jose bowed to the knees.

The marquis began to groan with rage and pain. The other, bent on punishing, was striking him across the shoulders and the back at opportunities which his growing weakness and blind fury gave freely.

"This is for my wife!" said the count.

The blow was a swinging one, with both hands coming together in the strike. Jose bit his howl in two, for fear of bringing assistance, which he could not hope would! be his, 'and threw the bar at his foe.

Caesar warded it off so that it fell against the statues and beheaded a Triton.

The head rolled down and bounded on Jose's foot.

"Your head will lie beside it next!" said C^sar. *'See how chaff and corn fly asunder at the stroke of Justice!"

But the tried stick broke at the blow on the other's bruised shoulder. He staggered back and, finding he hsd, in the changes of the duel, reached the spot where the iron bar had fallen, stooped to pick it up for a final effort.

Cjesar grasped it at the same time. They faced each; other, the iron betw^een them. By his hand in this position, Jose felt the other's sword rap his knuckles. He uttered a joyous exclamation. With incredible renewal of fierceness, considering his bruises and loss of blood,

he let go the bar with one hand, grasped the sword and drew it to him.

Not expecting this, Bazan, losing his balance at the dropping of the iron a-t one end, swerved round a little. His breast was exposed to the hinge which was coming like lightning, when the heels of the villain, even as he began to laugh victory, were sinking between the planks which he had placed loosely over the hole. He threw up both hands to recover his poise, but Caesar ihad swung the bar out from his grip.

The stroke met the sword in its passage and carried it with it, so that, with his neck severed, Don Jose fell into the pit.

There was a horrible, dull crash. Then, absolute silence.

Csesar drew back, as if shot to the heart. He had forgotten about the pitfall dug for another, and the disappearance had seemed providential.

He kicked the parted planks close over the yawning gap as if he had committed a murder without justification.

He retreated to the door, when he heard light, hurried footsteps.

"Oh, madam, do not go further! There is blood—of a <:i'aitor in there!"

"Don Jose's?"

"Our poor marquis would have been a misleading guide! He has met with the cure for ambition! The only genuine remedy!"

The lady peering within the rotunda perceived the detached head of the statue—it looked ghastly.

"Oh, that? That is a harmless head—^his is turning to stone and has reached Treaso^n's goal—the dirt and dust. Allow me to replace him!"

"You! Wait! I have seen you—^you were with those gypsies?"

"I was with them, but not of them—my descent forbid! I am Don Caesar de Bazan, Count of Garofa, and it is I who will conduct you to my wife, Maritana of Gapofa, who, I assure your majesty, to whom Heaven accord long life to see how truly I speak, will bless you for coming to save her from a treacherous plot against her^ against your majesty and my lord the king!"

CHAPTER XX.

I/AUGHTER SUCCEEDS SORROW.

The explosion of the petards had brought all the soldiers in the residence of Maritana to the doors, where they were joined by the petardiers and their comrades. Ruefully, out of blackened lips, they reported by their corporal to the lieutenant the loss of their horses, which were scampering over the countryside.

They could not account for the casualty, but Lazarillo could give a fair conjecture. He went to comfort his mistress, and assured her that her courier haid no doubt got off on one of the stampeded horses.

Nevertheless, though she had parted with her beloved, showing a firm countenance, it fell when the page announced the visit of the king.

Lazarillo dared not remain, but he went with the less distress on knowinf; that Maritana retained of her former attire that knife in her garter without which no true Gitana, or false one, travels.

Tlie king had inquired of the page less about the tumult of which he had heard little, than of the intruder. The youth confidently answered that he must have fled through the gardens and over the walls before the soldiers came to mount guard.

Maritana saluted the visitor with such formality that he bit his lips with vexation.

"Who has dared betray me?" demanded he, throwing 0& the mask.

"Your majesty," boldly replied the countess, "he that betrayed you is the same who counseled you to commit a meanness congenial to him but beneath a monarch!"

228 Laughter Succeeds Sorrow.

"Whom do you allude to?"

"The Marquis of Santarem, ostensibly!"

"Aih!"

"He has made a mock of your majesty, as he did ol heaven, by that deceit at the holy altar!"

"Well, girl, I am your king. In sooth, my spirit has revolted at this trivial cheat. Now that you know who speaks, listen to me."

"My lord, all is waste—all is lost—there is no love possible in me for you!"

"All is lost, but the last thing one loses is hope!"

"Oh, I hope; but that is almost forbidden to you!"

"What still may I hope?"

"That you will escape the penalty for your connivance with your prime minister! If in public matters he is villainous as in private business, then all will go ill with Spain!"

"The penalty! I incur any penalty!"

"The severest, for you besmirch your queen! This suit ill suits one who has no right to complain of your consort! I implore you to leave me while it is yet time!"

"Bah I come all! Come deatfi, since it is of my own choosing! I cannot leave you—^you, who are the only one I ever loved!"

"Carry your love where it is claimed. Show me only generosity, mercy! Spare me and»this will be the brightest jev/el in a crown!"

"Oh, it is for you to claim jewels—I will have one token that I was not scorned!"

He thought that she would appeal to the Madonna, and he was prepared to pluck her from that refuge, but, instead, she stood erect and, drawing a dagger from her knee, with a rapid movement, which was resolute and not devoid of grace, she threatened him, not herself.

It was GO plaything, but one of those Navarese navajas

Laughter Succeeds Sorrow. 229

which can kill a bull by a slash across the thrcxat and a boar by a stab in the back of the chine.

But he was more wounded by the repugnance whicfii tempered her derisive smile.

"What!" said he, "am I loathesome to you ?"

"You are nothing- to me—all my existence is bound up in one who must find his wife worthy of him or fit for the grave!"

"Of whom speak you?" queried he, only too well guessing.

"Of the Count of Garofa!"

"That Don Caesar of Bazan! That blackguard !'*

"Ah! if your white guards were as fixed on honor 1" ^ "Why, he is dead!" ' "Not at all 1" interposed a voice.

Don Caesar entered jauntily by the door wliich Laza-rillo, in some degree emboldened by his return, held open to admit him. The corridor was filled with soldiers and servants, but the king was perplexed at recognizing the uniform of the Queen's Halberdiers.

To add to his uneasiness, he heard quite a hubbub at the roadside; a number of horse rode up and rapidly di»-tnounted. The house seemed thickly besieged.

This fellow who so audaciously advanced might be the leader of one of those royal kidnaping expeditions not unprecedented on the annals.

On seeing him, Maritana sheathed her dagger and appeared fully reassured.

"My husband now will protect me!" said she.

The king looked at "her husband," who, with the utmost unconcern for his presence or his feelings, slammed the door in the many faces and locked it, and, doing th6 eame with the inner door, took out the keys.

"What are you doing, sir?" demanded he.

"I have fastened the doors so that no one can entef—

and my page has orders to drive those back who migh^ as courtiers will do, glue their ears to the keyhole!"

Don. Caesar had laid his hand on his sword, and he spoke fiercely, too, like one with whom the sword had always determined debates.

"My lord," began he, "if my wife's persecutor had been a soldier and a peer oi myself, I fear that I should have denied him the honor of an encounter! I believe that I should have dispatched him as we do a thief who enters our dovecote at midnight—of¥-hand! For in such ai case one does not look for reparation, but revenge! But we are here in face of a king, though a misbehaving one —I must disarm my revenge!"