CHAPTER XIII
On his return to the Plaza Mr. Sam Gwent tried to get some conversationwith Manella, but found it difficult. She did not wait on the visitorsin the dining-room, and Gwent imagined he knew the reason why. Herbeauty was of too brilliant and riante a type to escape the notice andadmiration of men, whose open attentions were likely to be embarrassingto her, and annoying to her employers. She was therefore kept very muchout of the way, serving on the upper floors, and was only seen flittingup and down the staircase or passing through the various corridors andbalconies. However, when evening fell and its dark, still heat madeeven the hotel lounge, cooled as it was by a fountain in full play,almost unbearable, Gwent, strolling forth into the garden, found herthere standing near a thick hedge of myrtle which exhaled a heavy scentas if every leaf were being crushed between invisible fingers. Shelooked up as she saw him approaching and smiled.
"You found your friend well?" she said.
"Very well, indeed!" replied Gwent, promptly--"In fact, I never knew hewas ill!"
Manella gave her peculiar little uplift of the head which was one ofher many fascinating gestures.
"He is not ill"--she said--"He only pretends! That is all! He has somereason for pretending. I think it is love!"
Gwent laughed.
"Not a bit of it! He's the last man in the world to worry himself aboutlove!"
Manella glanced him over with quite a superior air.
"Ah, perhaps you do not know!" And she waved her hands expressively."There was a wonderful lady came here to see him some weeks ago--shestole up the hill at night, like a spirit--a little, little fairy womanwith golden hair--"
Gwent pricked up his ears and stood at attention.
"Yes? Really? You don't say so! 'A little fairy woman'? Sounds like astory!"
"She wore the most lovely clothes"--went on Manella, clasping her handsin ecstasy--"She stayed at the Plaza one night--I waited upon her. Isaw her in her bed--she had skin like satin, and eyes like bluestars--her hair fell nearly to her ankles--she was like a dream! Andshe went up the hill by moonlight all by herself, to find HIM!"
Gwent listened with close interest.
"And I presume she found him?"
Manella nodded, and a sigh escaped her.
"Oh, yes, she found him! He told me that. And I am sure--somethingtells me HERE" and she pressed one hand against her heart--"by the wayhe spoke--that he loves her!"
"You seem to be a very observant young woman," said Gwent,smiling--"One would think you were in love with him yourself!"
She raised her large dark eyes to his with perfect frankness.
"I am!" she said--"I see no shame in that! He is a fine man--it is goodto love him!"
Gwent was completely taken aback. Here was primitive passion with avengeance!--passion which admitted its own craving without subterfuge.Manella's eyes were still uplifted in a kind of childlike confidence.
"I am happy to love him!" she went on--"I wish only to serve him. Hedoes not love ME--oh, no!--he loves HER! But he hates her too--ah!" andshe gave a little shivering movement of her shoulders--"There is nolove without hate!--and when one loves and hates with the sameheart-beat, THAT is a love for life and death!" She checked herselfabruptly--then with a simplicity which was not without dignityadded--"I am saying too much, perhaps? But you are his friend--and Ithink he must be very lonely up there!"
Mr. Senator Gwent was perplexed. He had not looked to stumble on aromantic episode, yet here was one ready made to his hand. His naturewas ill attuned to romance of any kind, but he felt a certaincompassion for this girl, so richly dowered with physical beauty, andsmitten with love for a man like Roger Seaton who, according to his ownaccount, had no belief in love's existence. And the "fairy woman" shespoke of--who could that be but Morgana Royal? After his recentinterview with Seaton his thoughts were rather in a whirl, and hesought for a bit of commonplace to which he could fasten them withoutthe risk of their drifting into greater confusion. Yet that bit ofcommonplace was hard to find with a woman's lovely passionate eyeslooking straight into his, and the woman herself, a warm-bloodedembodiment of exquisite physical beauty, framed like a picture amongthe scented myrtle boughs under the dusky violet sky, where glittered afew stars with that large fiery brilliance so often seen in California.He coughed--it was a convenient thing to cough--it cleared the throatand helped utterance.
"I--I--well!--I hardly think he is lonely"--he said at last,hesitatingly--"Perhaps you don't know it--but he's a very cleverman--an inventor--a great thinker with new ideas--"
He stopped. How could this girl understand him? What would she know of"inventors"--and "thinkers with new ideas"? A trifle embarrassed, helooked at her. She nodded her dark head and smiled.
"I know!" she said--"He is a god!"
Sam Gwent almost jumped. A god! Oh, these women! Of what fantasticexaggerations they are capable!
"A god!" she repeated, nodding again, complacently; "He can doanything! I feel that all the time. He could rule the whole world!"
Gwent's nerves "jumped" for the second time. Roger Seaton's ownwords--"I'll be master of the world" knocked repeatingly on his brainwith an uncomfortable thrill. He gathered up the straying threads ofhis common sense and twisted them into a tough string.
"That's all nonsense!" he said, as gruffly as he could--"He's not a godby any means! I'm afraid you think too much of him, Miss--Miss--er--"
"Soriso," finished Manella, gently--"Manella Soriso."
"Thank you!" and Gwent sought for a helpful cigar which he lit--"Youhave a very charming name! Yes--believe me, you think too much of him!"
"You say that? But--are you not his friend?"
Her tone was reproachful.
But Gwent was now nearly his normal business self again.
"No,--I am scarcely his friend"--he replied--"'Friend' is a bigword,--it implies more than most men ever mean. I just know him--I'vemet him several times, and I know he worked for a while underEdison--and--and that's about all. Then I THINK"--he was cautioushere--"I THINK I've seen him at the house of a very wealthy lady in NewYork--a Miss Royal--"
"Ah!" exclaimed Manella--"That is the name of the fairy woman who camehere!"
Gwent went on without heeding her.
"She, too, is very clever,--she is also an inventor and ascientist--and if it was she who came here--(I daresay it was!) it wasprobably because she wished to ask his advice and opinion on some ofthe difficult things she studies--"
Manella snapped her fingers as though they were castanets.
"Ah--bah!" she exclaimed--"Not at all! No difficult thing takes a womanout by moonlight, all in soft white and diamonds to see a man!--nodifficult thing at all, except to tempt him to love! Yes! That is theway it is done! I begin to learn! And you, if you are not his friend,what are you here for?"
Gwent began to feel impatient with this irrepressible "prize" beauty.
"I came to see him at his own request on business;" he answeredcurtly--"The business is concluded and I go away to-morrow."
Manella was silent. The low chirping of a cicada hidden in the myrtlethicket made monotonous sweetness on the stillness.
Moved by some sudden instinct which he did not attempt to explain tohimself, Gwent decided to venture on a little paternal advice.
"Now don't you fly off in a rage at what I'm going to say,"--he began,slowly--"You're only a child to me--so I'm just taking the liberty oftalking to you as a child. Don't give too much of your time or yourthought to the man you call a 'god.' He's no more a god than I am. ButI tell you one thing--he's a dangerous customer!"
Manella's great bright eyes opened wide like stars in the darkness.
"Dangerous?--How?--I do not understand---!"
"Dangerous!"--repeated Gwent, shaking his head at her--"Not to you,perhaps,--for you probably wouldn't mind if he killed you, so long ashe kissed you first! Oh, yes, I know the ways of women! God made themtrusting animals, ready to slave all their lives for the sake of acaress. YOU are one of that kind--
you'd willingly make a door-mat ofyourself for Seaton to wipe his boots on. I don't mean that he'sdangerous in that way, because though _I_ might think him so, YOUwouldn't. No,--what I mean is that he's dangerous to himself--likely torun risks of his life---"
Here he paused, checked by the sudden terror in the beautiful eyes thatstared at him.
"His life!" and Manella's voice trembled--"You think he is here to killhimself---"
"No, no--bless my soul, he doesn't INTEND to kill himself"--said Gwent,testily--"He's not such a fool as all that! Now look here!--try and bea sensible girl! The man is busy with an invention--a discovery--whichmight do him harm--I don't say it WILL--but it MIGHT. You've heard ofbombs, haven't you?--timed to explode at a given moment?"
Manella nodded--her lips trembled, and she clasped her hands nervouslyacross her bosom.
"Well!--I believe--I won't say it for certain,--that he's got somethingworse than that!" said Gwent, impressively--"And that's why he waschosen to live up on that hill in the 'hut of the dying' away fromeverybody. See? And--of course--anything may happen at any moment. He'splucky enough, and is not the sort of man to involve any other man introuble--and that's why he stays alone. Now you know! So you can putaway your romantic notions of his being 'in love'! A very good thingfor him if he were! It might draw him away from his present occupation.In fact, the best that could happen to him would be that you shouldmake him fall in love with YOU!"
She gave a little cry.
"With ME?"
"Yes, with you! Why not? Why don't you manage it? A beautiful womanlike you could win the game in less than a week?"
She shook her head sorrowfully.
"You do not know him!" she said--"But--HE knows!"
"Knows what?"
She gave a despairing little gesture.
"That I love him!"
"Ah! That's a pity!" said Gwent--"Men are curious monsters in theirlove-appetites; they always refuse the offered dish and ask forsomething that isn't in the bill of fare. You should have pretended tohate him!"
"I could not pretend THAT!" said Manella, sadly--"But if I could, itwould not matter. He does not want a woman."
"Oh, doesn't he?" Gwent was amused at her quaint way of putting it."Well, he's the first man I ever heard of, that didn't! That's allbunkum, my good girl! Probably he's crying for the moon!"
"What is that?" she asked, wistfully.
"Crying for the moon? Just hankering after what can't be got. Lots ofmen are afflicted that way. But they've been known to give up cryingand content themselves with something else."
"HE would never content himself!" she said--"If she--the woman thatcame here, is the moon, he will always want her. Even _I_ want her!"
"You?" exclaimed Gwent, amazed.
"Yes! I want to see her again!" A puzzled look contracted her brows."Since she spoke to me I have always thought of her,--I cannot get herout of my mind! She just HOLDS me--yes!--in one of her little whitehands! There are few women like that I think!--women who hold the soulsof others as prisoners till they choose to let them go!"
Mr. Senator Gwent was fairly nonplussed. This dark-eyed Spanish beautywith her romantic notions was almost too much for him. Had he met herin a novel he would have derided the author of the book for delineatingsuch an impossible character,--but coming in contact with her in reallife, he was at a loss what to say. Especially as he himself was quiteaware of the mysterious "hold" exercised by Morgana Royal on those whomshe chose to influence either near or at a distance. After a fewseconds of deliberation he answered--
"Yes--I should say there are very few women of that ratheruncomfortable sort of habit,--the fewer the better, in my opinion. NowMiss Manella Soriso, remember what I say to you! Don't think aboutbeing 'held' by anybody except by a lover and husband! See? Play thegame! With such looks as God has given you, it should be easy! Win your'god' away from his thunderbolts before he begins havoc with them fromhis miniature Olympus. If he wants the 'moon' (and possibly hedoesn't!) he won't say no to a star,--it's the next best thing.Seriously now,"--and Gwent threw away the end of his cigar and laid ahand gently on her arm--"be a good girl and think over what I've saidto you. Marry him if you can!--it will be the making of him!"
Manella gazed about her in the darkness, bewildered. A glitteringlittle mob of fire-flies danced above her head like a net of jewels.
"Oh, you talk so strangely!" she said--"You forget!--I am a poorgirl--I have no money--"
"Neither has he,"--and Gwent gave a short laugh. "But he could make amillion dollars to-morrow--if he chose. Having only himself toconsider, he DOESN'T choose! If he had YOU, he'd change his opinion.Seaton's not the man to have a wife without keeping her in comfort. Itell you again, you can be the making of him. You can save his life!"
She clasped her hands nervously. A little gasping sigh came from herlips.
"Oh!--Santa Madonna!--to save his life!"
"Ah, just that!" said Gwent impressively--"Think of it! I'm notspeaking lies--that's not my way. The man is making for himself what wein the European war called a 'danger zone,' where everybody not 'in theknow' was warned off hidden mines. Hidden mines! He's got them! That'sso! You can take my word! It's no good looking for them, no one willever find them but himself, and he thinks of nothing else. But if hefell in love with YOU---"
She gave a hopeless gesture.
"He will not--he thinks nothing of me--nothing!--no!--though he says Iam beautiful!"
"Oh, he says that, does he?" and Gwent smiled--"Well, he'd be a fool ifhe didn't!"
"Ah, but he does not care for beauty!" Manella went on. "He sees it andhe smiles at it, but it does not move him!"
Gwent looked at her in perplexity, not knowing quite how to deal withthe subject he himself had started. Truth to tell his nerves had beenput distinctly "on edge" by Seaton's cool, calculating and seeminglycallous assertion as to the powers he possessed to destroy, if hechose, a nation,--and all sorts of uncomfortable scraps of scientificinformation gleaned from books and treatises suggested themselvesvividly to his mind at this particular moment when he would rather haveforgotten them. As, for example--"A pound weight of radio-activeenergy, if it could be extracted in as short a time as we pleased,instead of in so many million years, could do the work of a hundred andfifty tons of dynamite." This agreeable fact stuck in his brain as abone may stick in a throat, causing a sense of congestion. Then thewords of one of the "pulpit thunderers" of New York rolled back on hisears--"This world will be destroyed, not by the hand of God, but by thewilful and devilish malingering of Man!" Another pleasant thought! Andhe felt himself to be a poor weak fool to even try to put up a girl'sbeauty, a girl's love as a barrier to the output of a destroying forceengineered by a terrific human intention,--it was like the old story ofthe Scottish heroine who thrust a slender arm through the great stapleof a door to hold back the would-be murderers of a King.
"Beauty does not move him!" she said.
She was right. Nothing was likely to move Roger Seaton from any purposehe had once resolved upon. What to him was beauty? Merely a "fortuitousconcourse of atoms" moving for a time in one personality. What was agirl? Just the young "female of the species"--no more. And love? Sexualattraction, of which there was enough and too much in Seaton's opinion.And the puzzled Gwent wondered whether after all he would not haveacted more wisely--or diplomatically--in accepting Seaton's proposal topart with his secret to the United States Government, even with theproviso and State pledge that it was to be "used" should occasionarise, rather than leave him to his own devices to do as he pleasedwith the apparently terrific potentiality of which he alone had theknowledge and the mastery. And while his thoughts thus buzzed in hishead like swarming bees, Manella stood regarding him in a kind ofpitiful questioning like a child with a broken toy who can notunderstand "why" it is broken. As he did not speak at once she took upthe thread of conversation.
"You see how it is no use," she said. "No use to think of his everloving ME! But love for HIM--ah!--that I have, and that I will ev
erkeep in my heart!--and to save his life I would myself gladly die!"
Gwent uttered a sound between a grunt and a sigh.
"There it is! You women always run to extremes! 'Gladly die' indeed!Poor girl, why should you 'die' for him or for any man! That's sheersentimental nonsense! There's not a man that ever lived, or that everwill live, that's worth the death of a woman! That's so! Men think toomuch of themselves--they've been killing women ever since they wereborn--it's time they stopped a bit."
Manella's beautiful eyes expressed bewilderment.
"Killing women? Is that what they do?"
"Yes, my good girl!--that is what they do! The silly trusting creaturesgo to them like lambs, and get their throats cut! In marriage or out ofit--the throat-cutting goes on, for men are made of destructive stuffand love the sport of killing. They are never satisfied unless they cankill something--a bird, a fox or a woman. I'm a man myself and I know!"
"YOU would kill a woman?" Manella's voice was a horrified whisper.
Gwent laughed.
"No,--not I, my child! I'm too old. I've done with love-making and'sport' of all kinds. I don't even drive a golf-ball, in make-believethat it's a woman I'm hitting as fast and far as I can. Oh, yes!--youstare!--you are wondering why, if I have such ideas, I should suggestlove-making and marriage to YOU,--well, I don't actually recommendit!--but I'm rather thinking more of your 'god' than of you. You mightpossibly help him a bit--"
"Ah, I am not clever!" sighed Manella.
"No--you're not clever--thank God for it! But you're devoted--anddevotion is sometimes more than cleverness." He paused, reflectively."Well, I'll have to go away tomorrow--it wouldn't be any use my stayingon here. In fact, I'd rather be out of the way. But I've a notion I maybe able to do something for Seaton in Washington when I get back--inthe meantime I'll leave a letter for you to give him--"
"You will not write of me in that letter!" interrupted the girl,hastily. "No--you must not--you could not!---"
Gwent raised a deprecating hand.
"Don't be afraid, my girl! I'm not a cad. I wouldn't give you away forthe world! I've no right to say a word about you, and I shall not. Myletter will be a merely business one--you shall read it if you like---"
"Oh no!"--she said at once, with proud frankness; "I would not doubtyour word!"
Gwent gave her a comprehensively admiring glance. Even in the dusk ofevening her beauty shone with the brilliance of a white flower amongthe dark foliage. "What a sensation she would make in New York!" hethought--"With those glorious eyes and that hair!"
And a vague regret for his lost youth moved him; he was a very wealthyman, and had he been in his prime he would have tried a matrimonialchance with this unspoilt beautiful creature,--it would have pleasedhim to robe her in queenly garments and to set the finest diamonds inher dark tresses, so that she should be the wonder and envy of allbeholders. He answered her last remark with a kindly little nod andsmile.
"Good! You needn't doubt it ever!"--he said--"If at any time you want afriend you can bet on Sam Gwent. I'm a member of Congress and you canalways find me easily. But remember my advice--don't make a 'god' ofany man;--he can't live up to it---"
As he spoke a sudden jagged flash of lightning tore the sky, followedalmost instantaneously by a long, low snarl of thunder rolling throughthe valley. Great drops of rain began to fall.
"Come along! Let us get in!" and Gwent caught Manella's hand--"Run!"
And like children they ran together through the garden into the Plazalounge, reaching it just before a second lightning flash and peal ofthunder renewed double emphasis.
"Storm!" observed a long-faced invalid man in a rocking-chair, lookingat them as they hurried in.
"Yes! Storm it is!" responded Gwent, releasing the hand of hiscompanion--"Good-night, Miss Soriso!"
She inclined her head graceful, smiling.
"Good-night, Senor!"