X.
WE MEET AGAIN, FELICITA.
The theater of Arequipa was ablaze with lights. The youth and beautyhad assembled to follow the fortunes of the Count de Monte Christo. Iwas seated in the dress circle listening to the weird warlike strainsof Spanish music, when my eyes fell upon the occupants of a box. Abeautiful girl, half hidden by the rich draperies, was talking with anaristocratic looking old gentleman, while by their side sat a youngman, dark-browed and sinister looking. I arose and entered the boxfrom the side door. "Don Julian Maldonado, I am delighted to meetyou," I said, "I am the boy you befriended some years ago in theCordilleras."
He took my hand delightedly and bade me be seated, offering me a chairbetween himself and daughter. Don Julian whispered to me not to makemyself known to Felicita to see if she would recognize me. All thiswas amusing to Don Julian, but somewhat embarrassing to me, seated, asI was, between them, and trying to carry on a conversation with him.The expression of wonderment in Felicita's beautiful eyes wasdisconcerting to say the least. It was evident she did not rememberme. And yet how could she be expected to. She was a child of only nineyears when we first met, and who now, seven years later found meunexpected and unannounced sitting beside her in a theater.
Laughingly I turned to her and asked if she did not recognize me,explaining that the reason her father had not presented me was that wehad met seven years ago.
While I was speaking she was looking earnestly at me, but when Irecalled their journey to La Paz she appeared dubious and asked if Iwas the young lad she met near Puno and if it was possible that I hadgrown to manhood and learned to speak Spanish? When I reassured her,the look of astonishment gave way to an exclamation of joy.
The play was forgotten. We only talked of our first meeting. Sheasked if I was staying in Arequipa and on learning that I was,promised that we should meet again, as her father had decided toremain there for some time. I was delighted but felt somewhatdisturbed because of the young man in the box with her. When I beganto talk to Felicita he moved his seat farther away. The Peruvians arethe acme of politeness.
The play being over, I assisted Felicita with her wraps. Her fatherthen introduced me to Don Rodrigo Garcia, a fellow traveller whom theyhad met on their journey from Cusco to Arequipa.
I was not particularly well pleased with the young man. Firstimpressions sometimes give rise to doubt and distrust. It was so withme in this instance. Don Julian insisted on my going home with them. Iwalked with Felicita on one side and Don Julian on the other, DonRodrigo walking just ahead of me. Their home was on Calle Mercaderes,one of the prettiest squares of the city. Like most Peruvian homes,the house was of adobe with flat roof and partitions of plasteredcane. It contained six rooms. In the windows were heavy iron bars,like all houses of the better class. They were very serviceable, forSpanish lovers do their courting between the window bars. The girlsits beside the window and her wooer stands in the street; the parentssometimes invite him in. Should he request the company of the girl tothe play or to any entertainment, the invitation must include thewhole family. This custom in the larger cities is dying out, but inthe inland cities it is still adhered to.
Arriving at the door, I bade Felicita and her father good night withthe assurance that I would dine with them the next day. Don Rodrigoalso was invited. His hotel was on my way and I accompanied him. Hewas splendid company, and after reaching his hotel I accepted hisinvitation to a light lunch. Afterwards we enjoyed a cigar and somerich old wine, but still I could not overcome the aversion I firstformed for him.
The following day, long before the appointed time for dinner, I wasdressed and ready. Chico, a half-breed Indian, whom I had rendered aservice one time when he was being set upon by some of his own people,and who afterwards slept in my passage way, had my boots polished andhorse carefully groomed. He was a faithful servant. He would find outwhere I went and quietly follow, and after the manner of his race,would lie down in some obscure place in perfect contentment and waitfor me. I arrived at the home of Don Julian at the appointed time, andfound the father and daughter awaiting me. A few moments later, DonRodrigo arrived and we were seated in the parlor facing the street. Itwas splendidly appointed. Although the exterior of many Peruvianresidences appear shabby, the interior presents a far differentappearance.
I requested Felicita to play for us and time passed quickly. Dinnerbeing called I took the liberty of escorting Felicita to the table andwas given the place beside her. The Indian servants between courses,kept our glasses filled. Felicita did not take wine, and when dinnerwas over retired, leaving us to enjoy our cigars and liquor. Weafterwards adjourned to the parlor, where I gave my friends an accountof my life since our first meeting. I could see that Don Rodrigo tookevery opportunity to make light of my narrative.
I did not allude to being in Ilo during the Amythist and Huascaraffair, but after I had given my friends a brief account of myself,Don Rodrigo asked me my nationality. I told him I was Scottish. Hethen asked me what I thought of the Huascar affair, hoping no doubt tobelittle my standing with Don Julian. I replied that I had given itvery little thought, and moreover considered it a question for bothgovernments to settle, and was satisfied that everything would beadjusted amicably.
My reply seemed to annoy him, as he doubtless thought I would commitmyself, and take the part of the British. He arose, and pleading apress of business, begged permission to retire. He shook hands withDon Julian and daughter, but merely bowed to me. I was glad he wasgone.
Never before had I been so happy as now, in Felicita's presence. Forthe first time since leaving home this was the only pleasure I hadknown. Felicita sang some pretty Spanish ballads to the music of herguitar and I went home that night with a lightness of heart I had notexperienced for a long time.
My duties not requiring me to be away from Arequipa often, much of mytime was spent with Felicita. Together we would ride horseback overthe picturesque valley, with its olive and orange groves and alongshaded avenues of palms, with pebbly brooks of crystal waters oneither side. The pure air and semi-tropical skies stimulated ourbuoyant spirits, and made these the halcyon days of my existence. Myfirst dreams of love when we met in the Cordilleras were now ablissful reality.
I saw little of Don Rodrigo in the weeks that followed and was seldomin the company of my comrades. Once a week I would join them at theclub, but aside from that I was always to be found at Don Julian'shome.
Months sped by in sweet content as the world took on a more roseatehue and the future presented an alluring picture.
I met Don Rodrigo on the street one day and as he nodded slightly Inoticed an evil look in his eyes. On returning to my room late thatnight something glistened in the moonlight on my door. I struck amatch, a blood red heart was traced on the panel, and in the centerstuck a dagger. What did it mean?