CHAPTER XXXIII
DON BERNARDINO
The stranger held himself with, if possible, greater hauteur as heanswered:
"I have that great honour."
"And I, sir," said Marjory, with a pride rivalling his own, "am anAmerican!" Issue was joined.
For a period which from its strain seemed very long, though it wasprobably but a few seconds, they stood facing each other; types of thetwo races whose deadly contest was then the interest of the world. Thetime was at any rate sufficiently long for me to consider the situation,and to admire the types. It would have been hard to get a betterrepresentative of either, of the Latin as well as of the Anglo-Saxon.Don Bernardino, with his high aquiline nose and black eyes of eaglekeenness, his proud bearing and the very swarthiness which told ofMoorish descent, was, despite his modern clothes, just such a picture asVelasquez would have loved to paint, or as Fortuny might have made tolive again.
And Marjory! She looked like the spirit of her free race, incarnate.The boldness of her pose; her free bearing; her manifest courage andself belief; the absence of either prudery or self-consciousness; herpicturesque, noble beauty, as with set white face and flashing eyes shefaced the enemy of her country, made a vision never to be forgotten.Even her racial enemy had unconsciously to fall into admiration; andthrough it the dominance of his masculine nature spoke. His words weregracious, and the easy gracefulness of their delivery was no less markedbecause the calm was forced:
"Our nations alas! Senora are at war; but surely not even the courtesiesof the battlefield need be strained when individuals, even of the mostloyal each to their own, meet on neutral soil!" It was evident that evenMarjory's quick wit did not grasp at a suitable reply. The forgivenessof enemies is not the strong point of any woman's nature, or of hereducation. The only remark she made was to again repeat:
"I am an American!" The Spaniard felt the strength of his position;again his masculinity came out in his reply:
"And all good women, as well as all men, should be loyal to their Flag.But oh Senora, before even your nationality comes your sex. The Spanishnation does not make war on women!" He seemed really to believe what hesaid; for the proud light in his face could not have been to either adastard or a liar. I confess it was with a shock that I heard Marjory'swords:
"In the _reconcentrados_ were as many women as men. More, for the menwere fighting elsewhere!" The passionate, disdainful sneer on her lipsgave emphasis to the insult; and blood followed the stab. A red tiderushed to the Spaniard's swarthy face, over forehead and ears and neck;till, in a moment of quick passion of hate, he seemed as if bathed inred light.
And then in truth I saw the very man of my vision at Whinnyfold.
Marjory, womanlike, feeling her superiority over the man's anger, wenton mercilessly:
"Women and children herded together like beasts; beaten, starved,tortured, mocked at, shamed, murdered! Oh! it is a proud thought for aSpaniard, that when the men cannot be conquered, even in half a centuryof furious oppression, their baffled foes can wreak their vengeance onthe helpless women and children!"
The Spaniard's red became white; a deathly pallor which looked greyin the darkened room. With his coldness came the force of coldness,self-command. I had a feeling that in those few moments of change hadcome to him some grim purpose of revenge. It was borne in upon me byflashes of memory and instinct that the man was of the race and classfrom which came the rulers and oppressors of the land, the leaders ofthe Inquisition. Eyes like his own, burning in faces of deathly white,looked on deeds of torture, whose very memory after centuries can appalthe world. But with all his passion of hate and shame he never lost theinstinct of his dignity, or his grace of manner. One could not but feelthat even when he struck to kill he would strike with easeful grace.Something of the feeling was in his speech, perhaps in the manner ratherthan the words, when after a pause he said:
"For such foul acts I have nought but indignation and grief; though inthe history of a nation such things must be. It is the soldier's duty toobey; even though his heart revolt. I have memory of hearing that evenyour own great nation has exercised not so much care as might be"--howhe sneered with polished sarcasm as he turned the phrase--"in thedealing with Indians. Nay more, even in your great war, when to kill wasfratricidal, there were hardships to the conquered, even to the helplesswomen and children. Have I not heard that one of your most honouredgenerals, being asked what was to become of the women in a great marchof devastation that he was about to make, replied, "The women? I wouldleave them nothing but their eyes to weep with!" But, indeed, I grievethat in this our mutual war the Senora grieves. Is it that she hassuffered in herself, or through others dear to her?" Marjory's eyesflashed; pulling herself to full height she said proudly:
"Sir, I am not one who whines for pain of my own. I and mine know how tobear our own troubles, as our ancestors did before us. We do not bendbefore Spain; no more to-day than when my great ancestors swept theSpaniard from the Western Main, till the seas were lit with blazingmasts and the shores were fringed with wreckage! We Americans are notthe stuff of which you make _reconcentrados_. We can die! As for me, thethree hundred years that have passed without war, are as a dream; I lookon Spain and the Spaniard with the eyes, and feel with the heart, of mygreat uncle Francis Drake."
Whilst she was speaking Don Bernardino was cooling down. He wasstill deadly pale, and his eyes had something of the hollow glare ofphosphorus in the sockets of a skull. But he was master of himself; andit seemed to me that he was straining every nerve to recover, for somepurpose of his own, his lost ground. It may have been that he wasashamed of his burst of passion, with and before a woman; but anyhow hewas manifestly set on maintaining calm, or the appearance of it. Withthe fullness of his grace and courtesy he said, turning to Mrs. Jack:
"I thank you for the permission, so graciously granted to me, to visitagain this my house. You will permit me, however, I hope without anyintention of offence, to withdraw from where my presence has brought somuch of disturbance; the which I deplore, and for which I crave pardon."
To me he bowed stiffly with a sort of lofty condescension; and finally,looking towards Marjory, he said:
"The Senora will I trust believe that even a Spaniard may have pityto give pain; and that there are duties which gentlemen must observebecause they are gentlemen, and because they reverence the trust that isreposed in them more than do common men. She can appreciate the call ofduty I know; for she can be none other than the new patriot who restoresin the west our glorious memories of the Maid of Saragossa. I pray thatthe time may come when she shall understand these things and believe!"Then, with a bow which seemed the embodiment of old-fashioned grace andcourtesy, he bent almost to the ground. Marjory instinctively bowed. Hertraining as to good manners, here stood her in good stead; not evenpatriotic enthusiasm can at times break the icy barrier of socialdecorum.
When the Spaniard left the room, which he did with long strides butbearing himself with inconceivable haughtiness, Mrs. Jack, with a glanceat us, went with him. Instinctively I started to take her place; in thefirst instance to relieve her from an awkward duty, and beyond this witha feeling that I was not quite satisfied with him. No one could be inantagonism with Marjory, and acquire or retain my good will. As I moved,Marjory held up her hand and whispered to me to stay. I did so, andwaited for her to explain. She listened intently to the retreatingfootsteps; when we heard the echoing sound of the closing the heavyouter door, she breathed freely and said to me with relief in her voice:
"I know you two would have fought if you had got alone together justnow!"
I smiled, for I was just beginning to understand that that was just howI felt. Marjory remained standing at the table, and I could see that shewas buried in thought. Presently she said:
"I felt it was cruel to say such things to that gentleman. Oh! but heis a gentleman; the old idea seems embodied in him. Such pride, suchhaughtiness; such disdain of the commoner kind; such adherence to ideas;such devotion to hon
our! Indeed, I felt it very cruel and ungenerous;but I had nothing else to do. I had to make him angry; and I knew hecouldn't quarrel with me. Nothing else would have taken us all away fromthe cipher." Her words gave me quite a shock. "Do you mean to sayMarjory," I asked, "that you were acting a part all the time?"
"I don't know" she answered pensively, "I meant every word I said, evenwhen it hurt him most. I suppose that was the American in me. And yetall the time I had a purpose or a motive of my own which prompted me. Isuppose that was the woman in me."
"And what was the motive or purpose?" I asked again, for I wondered.
"I don't know!" she said naively. I felt that she was concealingsomething from me; but that it was a something so tender or so deep inher heart that its very concealment was a shy compliment. So I smiledhappily as I said:
"And that is the girl in you. The girl that is American, and European,and Asiatic, and African, and Polynesian. The girl straight out of theGarden of Eden, with the fragrance of God's own breath in her mouth!"
"Darling!" she said, looking at me lovingly. That was all.
During the day, we discussed the visitor of the morning. Mrs. Jack saidvery little, but now and again implored Marjory to be cautious; when shewas asked her reason for the warning her only reply was:
"I don't like a man who can look like that. I don't know which is worst,when he is hot or cold!" I gathered that Marjory in the main agreedwith her; but did not feel the same concern. Marjory would have beenconcerned if the danger had been to anyone else; but she was nothabituated to be anxious about herself. Besides, she was young; and theantagonist was a man; and haughty and handsome, and interesting.
In the afternoon we completed our arrangements for the visit to thetreasure cave. We both felt the necessity for pressing on this matter,since the existence of the secret writing was known to Don Bernardino.He had not hesitated to speak openly, though he did not know of coursethe extent of our own knowledge of the subject, of a grave duty which hehad undertaken from hereditary motives, or of the tragic consequenceswhich might ensue. It was whilst we were speaking of the possibility ofhis being able to decipher the cryptogram, that Marjory suddenly said:
"Did you understand exactly why I asked you to give him the paper atonce?"
"Far be it from me" I answered "to profess to understand _exactly_ themotives of any charming woman."
"Not even when she tells you herself?"
"Ah! then the real mystery only begins!" I said bowing. She smiled asshe replied:
"You and I are both fond of mysteries. So I had better tell you at once.That man doesn't know the secret. I am sure of it. He knows there is asecret; and he knows a part, but only a part. That eager look wouldn'thave been in his eye if he had known already. I daresay there is,somewhere, some duplicate of what the original Don Bernardino put downin his story. And of course there must be some allusion to the treasurein the secret records at Simancas or the Quirinal or the Vatican.Neither the kings of Spain nor the Popes would let such a treasure passout of mind. Indeed it is possible that there is some key or clue to itwhich he holds. Did you notice how he referred at once to the secretmeaning of the memorandum in the beginning of the law book? If we hadnot given it up at once, he would have forced on the question and wishedto take the paper away; and we could not have refused without lettinghim know something by our very refusal. Do you understand any more ofmy meaning now? And can you forgive me any more for my ill-manneredoutbreak? That is what I am most sorry for, of all that has been in theinterview to-day. Is that also any more light to you on the mystery of awoman's mind?"
"It is, you dear! it is!" I said as I took her for a moment in my arms.She came easily and lovingly to me, and I could not but be assured thatthe yielding even momentarily to tenderness helped to ease the strainwhich had been bearing upon her for so long. For my Marjory, though astrong and brave one, was but a woman after all.
At six o'clock I took my way back to Whinnyfold; for I wanted to haveall ready for our enterprise, and take full advantage of the ebb tide.We arranged that on this occasion Marjory should come alone to join meat the house--our house.