CHAPTER XIX
THE DANGEROUS SENORITA
Some days after Maxwell's departure Monsieur Victor Rideau, traveling inhot haste, arrived at Castro's factory. Dom Pedro was absent in thebush, but his daughter frowned when she saw the visitor coming. She wasstanding on the veranda where she had bidden Maxwell farewell; and thisfact recalled the contrast between them, which was distinctly striking,and to Monsieur Rideau's disadvantage. Maxwell wore an indefinite air ofrefinement, which is the birthright of some favored Britons, and therewas a good deal of finely-tempered steel in his composition; Rideau wasby no means ill-favored, and as usual with gentlemen of his extraction,dressed himself almost too well; but his face was sensual, his blackhair over-crisp, and, in spite of his very cunning eyes, there wereother signs that his animal appetites might on occasion prove strongerthan his judgment.
When he descended from his hammock, attired in spotless duck andAmerican brown shoes, he was evidently well contented with himself.
"I compassionate you on your misfortune," said Miss Castro. "My fathermay not return until midnight, and you will have only myself and myaunt, who is always sleepy, for company."
"What better could any man desire?" There was a look of the African inRideau's over-bold eyes, and the girl regarded him frigidly. "I go eastby the steamer which will call to-night," he continued, "and hurried forthe pleasure of a few hours of your company. The English adventurer hascalled here, is it not so?"
That was sufficient warning, and Bonita Castro prepared for the fray.The weapons she chose in the first place were merely demure glances andopportune smiles; and though many of his speeches stung her pride to thequick, she fooled Monsieur Rideau cleverly, and extracted from him moreinformation than he meant to impart. Still, when the black major-domoset out the _comida_ and Miss Castro withdrew, the visitor might havelounged less complacently on the veranda had he seen her kneeling, witha face that was stamped with hatred, beside the factory medicine chest.She lifted a ribbed glass phial, and glanced at it earnestly, then letit fall back, took out another, and clutched at the chest, when she sawthat the door had opened a little. Then, as the rustle of thepalm-fronds suggested that the breeze was accountable for this, sheslipped the bottle behind a vase on the window-sill, and went outsoftly. Hardly had she done so than the Senora Diaz entered silently,lifted the bottle, and read its label, and then, with a gesture whichexpressed both relief and perplexity, replaced it. The senora was muchmore observant than she seemed to be, and was by no means a friend ofVictor Rideau.
It might have been better for Rideau had he reached the factory afterdinner. He did not eat prettily, and Miss Castro had lived long enoughin the Iberian peninsula to grow particular about small matters. Also,he drank freely, and while his voice grew louder his consonants losttheir crispness. Rideau spoke several civilized languages, but thatnight he emphasized the vowels after the fashion of the negro. Thoughnot excessively indulgent, Dom Pedro's old Madeira had awakened a sideof his nature he usually kept in subjection, and perhaps it had slightlyclouded his judgment. In any case, the Senora Diaz frowned at some ofthe compliments he paid her niece, and her ancient laces rustled as shestirred with indignation, for while compliments were common in hercountry, they were characterized by either a becoming deference orscintillating wit. Once or twice she glanced sharply at the girl, whowas generally quite capable of resenting a liberty; but Bonita did notheed her. She was working for an end, and working skilfully. Perhaps shesuffered during the process, but that was only part of the price ofvictory.
The _comida_ was cleared away at length, and when Bonita accompanied herguest to the moonlit veranda, she made it manifest that she did notdesire her aunt's company. Nevertheless the Senora Diaz, who respectedthe customs of the Peninsula, seated herself beside an open window andsaw all that passed. Rideau lounged in a cane chair with a cigar in hishand, while Bonita stood upright, dropping morsels of ice presented by asteamboat purser into the bowl which rested on the little table at hisside. A Frenchman would not have shown such lack of manners. Rideau'svery leer, which grew more pronounced, conveyed a hint that he knew heheld the whip hand, and meant to use it; with any one of Miss Castro'sdisposition, that was very bad policy.
"It is charming, senorita. I have done much for you; you do a little nowfor me."
Miss Castro dropped the next lump of ice somewhat hastily, so that theliquid splashed over the table; but she smiled with apparent goodhumor, and the man grew more bold.
"You will sit here while I tell you something, is it not so? This sceneis so charming that after I make one more journey I have resolved tocultivate the domestic virtue."
"That is commendable," said the girl, smiling. "Might one compliment youon such a piece of self-denial?"
She did not forget that the African's greatest weakness is vanity, asRideau answered her with a deprecatory smile:
"It is not my fault if many women love me. Perhaps they are foolish andtrust to the eye. But, me, I aspire, and am only content with the greatmind and virtue."
Miss Castro, instead of meeting his glance, appeared to be looking outto sea, and Rideau continued, still far too complacently:
"Now I see all that I desire--the peace, the tranquillity, the nightthat speaks of love, and the company of the peerless Bonita."
The girl laughed as she turned upon him; but her sleepy aunt, who sat bythe window, knew that the passion which called the color to her foreheadand set a sparkle in her eyes was by no means love.
"Is that another empty compliment, monsieur?" she asked lightly.
"It is the ambition of my life," he declared in a deeper tone; "and along time I dream of it. Now when I make one more journey I ask you togratify it."
"You must be more explicit. And is it the custom of France--orAfrica--to make such speeches--so?"
Rideau frowned, and for a moment it appeared that he would havepreferred the African custom of choosing his bride; but remembering whathe claimed to be, he stood upright, a full-fleshed, crisp-haired figure,with his sensual lips showing too prominently.
"I have the honor to offer you my name and devotion, senorita."
"That is very much better," laughed Miss Castro. "But are you quite sureyou would not find domestic happiness grow monotonous? I, at least, havebeen my own mistress so long that it might not content me. What elsehave you to offer?"
"An affection that will not weary," was the answer, and the mandramatically laid his hand where he supposed his heart to be.
"And if even that were not enough?"
"All the good things that money can buy, and women love. I shall be arich man presently."
"You have not won those riches yet; and white men have lost their livesalready in the Leopards' country. You should understand me."
Rideau blundered when he resolved to use the strong hand at last.
"There is still something--the safety of your father. It is, as I haveonce said, forbidden with the heaviest penalty to sell the black man themodern rifle, and Dom Pedro has sold more than this."
It is possible that Miss Castro had expected a similar answer, but thespeaker's tone and the glitter of his eyes would have inspired mostwomen with misgivings under the circumstances.
"You are forgetful," she said slowly. "I have bought that from youalready."
Rideau laughed.
"You are mistaken. You sold me the English madman's map for the Emir'sagreement, but you did not buy my lieutenant or the black headman whohired your father his people, and is a good friend of me. Senorita, youquite fail to comprehend me. To those who love me I give everything, butwith those who bargain it is different. You are too young and pretty todrive a hard one with me."
The girl turned from him, and walked slowly across the veranda with herback toward her suitor and her face toward the sea, so that he could notsee how one hand slipped without a rustle beneath a fold of her dress.He had left her but one way out of the difficulty, and it was dangerous;but gauging the quality of her antagonist she was content to take
therisks. The sleepy aunt saw, however, and smiled grimly to herself.
Then Miss Castro turned, and smiled.
"It is a long journey to the Leopards' country, and many things mayhappen on the way. You would be wise to wait for my answer, monsieur.What you offer appears insufficient now, but few women are sure of theirown minds, so some wise men say; and, who knows, when you come back Imay think differently. I have duties to attend to, and may not see youbefore you sail, but I want your promise to keep silence in themeantime. Pledge it in Vermouth."
Before the man could answer, she had passed into the house and returnedwith a small flask and two fresh glasses. One was brimming, and shefilled the other before she held it out to him.
"A swift journey to the land of the Leopard!" she said.
Miss Castro's voice was steady, though she waited almost breathlesslywhile the man stood undecided, holding up the cup. It was evident thathe was averse to delay, and yet afraid to lose by undue precipitancy.
"So, I give the promise. To your bright eyes, senorita. It is a journeyI make for you."
Rideau laid the glass down empty, and with a swift salutation that washalf-ironical, and a swish of light draperies, Miss Castro had vanishedbefore he quite realized that she had left him. When he did, he gnawedthe end off a cigar, and lay thoughtfully back in his chair. It struckhim that perhaps he might find Bonita Castro much less amenable to hiswishes and more difficult to live with than a deeper-tinted helpmate.
In the meantime, a group of chattering Krooboys were lighting a fire onthe crest of the bluff, their figures outlined against the increasingglare. It was a signal to the east-bound steamer due to pass shortlythat cargo or passengers were awaiting her. Rideau watched the blazeuntil it flared high aloft in token that the fire had good hold, then hewalked slowly to the rail of the veranda and leaned over it, as thoughexpecting an answering light from the moonlit sea. There was none, andpresently he walked back, still more slowly, and sank into his chairwith a sigh. Then his shoulders sank lower until his head droopedforward and there was silence in the veranda except for the sound of hisuneven breathing. This had scarcely continued five minutes when aslender black-robed figure flitted out of a shadowy door, and theprofile of a woman's face was silhouetted against the moonlight as itbent over the sleeper.
"Sleep soundly, and awake too late!" a voice said, and the figurevanished again.
Presently, perhaps because there was nobody to watch them, or they hadbeen regaled too freely with factory gin, the Krooboys left to tend thefire curled themselves up beside it, and when an hour had passed, only athin column of vapor rose up from the bluff. The stokers slumberedpeacefully, as did the comrades they should have awakened, when thetwinkle of a masthead light crept nearer from out at sea. It rose untilthe black patch beneath it lengthened into a line of wallowing hull; butthe fresh land breeze and the clamor of the surf between them renderedthe hoot of the steamer's whistle but faintly audible at the factory.Still, the Senora Diaz awakened, and sitting upright on her couch nearan open window, looked out on to the veranda. Her niece stood in adoorway, with the moonlight on her face, which showed white and anxiousas she watched the sleeping figure.
The girl set her lips tight when again the whistle's summons, ringinglouder this time, was flung back by the bluff behind the factory; butRideau lay motionless in his chair; and Bonita quivered all throughwhen, finding his signal unanswered, the steamboat skipper burned acrimson flare. She could see the wall of hull and slanting spars sharpand clear in the blood-red glare, with the figure of a man leaning outfrom the slanted bridge projected against it, but there was still noanswer from either bluff or factory, and with a last blast of thewhistle the steamer moved on. No other boat would call for a fortnight,and this one would have saved Rideau a protracted and risky surf-boatvoyage, or a weary march through the jungles overland.
It was past midnight when Dom Pedro's hammock came lurching into thecompound, and, alighting stiffly, the trader climbed the veranda steps.He started on reaching the veranda, for there was nobody to meet him,only a man whose visits he had learned to dread, asleep in a chair. Thetrader bent over him; and by the way his eyes glistened and his fingerstwitched as he saw that the duck jacket had fallen open, leaving thedusky throat bare, an observer might have concluded that he would nothave been sorry had some accident prevented the sleeper from everawakening. Still, Dom Pedro was only a man of lax principles; heshrugged his shoulders as he quoted a Castilian proverb, and then heshook his guest by the arm. Rideau sat upright, grasping the arms of hischair. He stared at the table, possibly seeking the glass he had drunkfrom, but it was not there, and rising shakily, he staggered toward thebalustrade.
"What hour is it?" he asked.
"Past twelve. It is not good to sleep in the moonlight, my friend."
Rideau's face was a study of evil passions, but his reason resumed themastery. The fact that the glasses were missing was significant, andperhaps he recognized that the woman might prove no contemptibleadversary; for he answered Dom Pedro calmly.
"Your wine is too good, and I have slept so well that it seems I havemissed the steamer. Well, there are other means of transit, and, if itis not too late, you and I have business to talk about."
A light shone in a window of the factory for an hour after this, andwhen Victor Rideau walked somewhat unevenly toward his quarters, DomPedro cursed him under his breath.
The next morning he demanded a surf-boat and Krooboy crew, and when hishost had provided them, he sought speech with his daughter beforeembarking. Rideau did not look his best that morning. His eyes wereheavy, the color of his face was mottled in patches; and he was in adangerous humor. Miss Castro, however, did not avoid him.
"It is to be hoped that you passed a good night," she said.
Rideau could not have failed to notice the boldness of the challenge. Helooked at her steadily, and his glance expressed desire rather thanresentment. The girl grew hot beneath his gaze as he surveyed hercritically, after the manner of one appraising a costly bargain.
"I slept well--so well that I missed the steamer--and awakened with aheaviness I can guess the cause of. You have a bold spirit--and thatpleases me; but you are dangerous, senorita--so dangerous that even ifyou were not otherwise very desirable, I dare not let you go."
Miss Castro returned no answer, and the man added threateningly:
"If you have not a promise to make me when I return from this journey,it will be very bad for Dom Pedro."
The girl clenched one hand tightly, but her voice was clear as sheanswered him.
"You shall have your promise now. If you come back from the Leopards'country, I will marry you."
Rideau appeared both gratified and perplexed. Possibly he felt that heshould seal the bargain; but the girl's attitude did not encourage him,and he had learned that it was not judicious to press her too hardly. Sohe answered with a bow which had in it little Latin grace.
"Then one must defer his happiness. The senorita will not forget."
"I have given my word," said Miss Castro calmly. "You may claim thefulfilment of my promise if we are both alive when two months havepassed."
Rideau shivered slightly as he turned away. He had inherited more than atrace of superstition from one side of his ancestry, and there was anunusual significance in the speaker's tone, and he had heard storiesrespecting her powers of prediction. A few minutes later he departedeastward in a surf-boat, and it was not a blessing which Dom Pedro,standing on the beach, sent after him.