CHAPTER IX
Within a few days Hughie came up to Colina, and through the long, chillyevenings near the peaks the little, isolated group met in Gallito'scabin. It was understood in the village that Gallito did not care tohave his seclusion invaded, and this unspoken desire was universallyrespected; indeed, it was not questioned. In the solitary places aremany eccentrics; they have escaped the melting pot of the city, and inthe freedom of the desert and the mountains have achieved an unfetteredand unquestioned individuality.
Those who had business dealings with the old Spaniard knew that he wasto be found in places more easy of access than his lonely cabin amongthe rocks and trees; at the mine, for instance, of which he was foreman,the Mont d'Or; or, on an occasional Friday evening, in the villagesaloon, where he mingled with the miners, engaging in the eternal andinterminable discussions of local mining affairs. He also kept a horsein the village, a fiery, blooded creature, which he exercised every fewdays, taking long rides over the various mountain trails. He wasuniversally respected, as his judgment of mines was known to be sound,and his ventures unusually lucky; but no one was ever rash enough toencroach upon the reserve which he invariably maintained.
So, with small fear of embarrassing interruptions, although Gallito sawthat all prudence was observed and every precaution taken, he and Jose,Mrs. Nitschkan and Mrs. Thomas sat over their cards, while Hughie playedupon the piano and Harry Seagreave listened, with his eyes closed, tothe music. He sometimes brought Pearl a cluster of the exquisite wildflowers which now covered the mountains, but he rarely made any but thebriefest attempts at conversation with her, and after the first eveningshe showed no disposition to have him do so.
Instead of rousing from the depression which had overfallen her, sheseemed, for a time, to sink the more deeply into it. Silent, listless,almost sullen, she passed her days. There was but little incentive forher to go down into the village, and she took small interest in theminers' wives who dwelt there. For a time she was curious to see Mrs.Hanson, but, learning through Hughie that that lady lived up near hermine on a mountainside two miles out of the village, and onlyoccasionally, and at irregular intervals, visited the camp, Pearlrealized the difficulties in the way of catching a glimpse of her andcontented herself with Bob Flick's description of her.
Her mother wrote to her about once a week, brief, ill-spelled letters,always with an ardent inclosure from Hanson, and Pearl would lie out onthe hillside during the long summer days reading, and re-reading them,and at night she slept with them next her heart. For the first fewmonths Hanson was content to write to her and to extract what comfort hecould from her notes to her mother. These he invested with cryptic andhidden meanings endeavoring to find a veiled message for himself inevery line. But presently, growing impatient, he began to beg her for aword, only a word, but sent directly from her to him; yet, although thesummer had waned to autumn, she remained obdurate, her will and herpride still stronger than her love.
Sometimes in the evening Hugh would beg her to dance, but she alwaysrefused. The desire for that spontaneous and natural form of expressionwas gone from her; and once when Hugh had persisted in urging her, shehad left the room, nor appeared again all evening, so that it became acustom not to mention her dancing to her.
"Gosh a'mighty!" cried Mrs. Nitschkan robustly, looking up from a bookof flies over which she had been poring, "think of getting a man on thebrain like that."
Jose, who had been putting away the supper dishes, assisted by Mrs.Thomas, who had regarded the opportunity as propitious for certainelephantine coquetries, stopped to regard the gypsy with that peeringmixture of amusement and curiosity which she ever evoked in him.
"But, Nitschkan," he asked, "were you never crazy about a man?"
"Marthy Thomas knows more about such goin's on than me," she returnedequably; "but since you ask me, I was crazy once about Jack, and anotherawful pretty girl had him. But that wasn't all." She slapped her kneein joyous and triumphant remembrance, and the cabin echoed with herlaughter.
"Ah!" Jose hastily put away his last dish and sat cross-legged on thehearth at her feet, looking up into her face with impish interest. "Howdid you manage him or her?"
"You can't manage a her no more'n you can manage a cat," bluntly. "Youcan't make a cat useful, and you can't make it mind; but,"significantly, "you can manage a dog and train him, too. I had to learnthat girl that'd corraled Jack that a pretty face and ruffled petticoatsmay catch a man, but they can't always hold him."
"What can hold 'em?" interrupted Mrs. Thomas, sighing heavily. "Notalways vittles, and cert'ny not a loving heart."
Mrs. Nitschkan snapped her book impatiently. "Now, Marthy, don't youstir me up with that talk of yours, like men was the only prize packagesin life. I can't see what these home-body women love to fool 'emselvesso for. You're just like my Celora, Marthy. 'Mommie,' she says to meonce, 'I wonder when the right man'll come along and learn me to lovehim?' Well, I happened to be makin' a dog whip jus' when she spoke, andI says, 'Celora, if you give me much of that talk I'll give you ahidin', big as you are. You got your man all picked out right now, andyou mean to marry him whether he thinks so or not, and he can't get awayfrom you no more'n a cat can from a mouse.'"
"No more than I can from you," Jose sprang to his feet with lightagility and, leaning forward, made as if about to imprint a kiss uponher forehead.
But he had reckoned without his host. Mrs. Nitschkan's arm shot outbefore he saw it, and he was sent staggering halfway across the room. "Apoor, perishin' brother tried that on me once," she remarked casually."It was in Willy Barker's drug store over to Mt. Tabor. Celora was withme--she was about four--and I just set her down on the counter and said,'Now, Celora, set good and quiet and watch Mommie go for the masher realpretty.'"
"I don't see why you got to be so rough on the boys, Sadie," deploredMrs. Thomas, rocking slowly back and forth in a large chair. "'Course weknow they're devils and all, but if it wasn't for their goin's on,trying to snatch a kiss now and then, life would seem awful tame for uspoor, patient women. And even the worst of 'em's better'n none at all.Look at me! I had the luck to get a cross-grained, cranky one, as youknow. Poor Seth!" She drew a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped hereyes. "But you got to admit, Sadie, that even he was white enough to upand die before I got too old for other gentlemen to take notice of me."
"What'd you want 'em to take notice of you for?" asks Mrs. Nitschkanabstractedly, her mind on her flies.
"It's easy enough for you to talk that way," Mrs. Thomas spoke with someheat. "You got the what-you-may-callems--accomplishments--that getstheir notice. You're apt to skin 'em at cards, you can easy out-shoot'em, and there ain't a lady miner in the mountains that can pass off asalted property as cute as you."
"What's the use of livin' in a world of tenderfoots if you don't use'em?" growled Mrs. Nitschkan.
"'Course. And don't think I'm blaming you, Sadie; I ain't." Mrs. Thomasspoke more gently. "All I'm sayin' is that you can't understand thewomen that's born feeling the need of a strong right arm to lean on, andhas nothing but a nice complexion and a loving heart to offer. Thegame's a hard one for them, 'cause there're so many others in the field.It ain't always a complexion; sometimes it's a head of hair, or eyes,but whatever it is, competition's keen. I leave it to you, Mr. Jose, ifa lady can say to a gentleman the first time she meets him, 'I got adandy temper,' or 'I can bake a pie that'll coax the coyotes down fromthe hills.' No, you got to let the hair or complexion do its work firstand sort o' insinuate the rest as acquaintance grows."
"There's a man comin' up here to-morrow, Marthy, but he won't knowwhether you got a strand of hair or a tooth in your head; he'll neversee you."
"Maybe he can't help it--not if I stand right in his way," said Mrs.Thomas, with a coy glance from under her lashes at Jose.
"Oh, yes, he can," returned Mrs. Nitschkan. "No matter who's in the wayhe can't see but one person, and that's that sulky Pearl; for it's goodold Bob Flick, one of the best ever."
&nb
sp; Two or three times Bob Flick had come up and remained several days, andon these occasions Pearl had roused somewhat from her indifference tolife. On his last visit, late in September, he had succeeded inpersuading her to ride again, and had sent down to the desert for ahorse for her. She would not admit at first that she enjoyed being inthe saddle again, but to his unexpressed satisfaction it was obviousthat she did.
The crystalline, amber air was like wine; the mountains were a mosaic ofcolor; the trees burned red and yellow, glowing torches of autumn, andaccentuating all their ephemeral and regal splendor; among them, yetnever of them, were the green austere pines marching in their serriedranks, on, on up the hillsides to timber line.
One day, as Pearl and Flick rode among the hills, a flood of sunlightfalling about them, crimson and yellow leaves blowing on the wind, sheexpressed, for the first time, an interest in the desert and a desire tosee it again.
"I'll have to go back sometime, Bob, I suppose," she said, "if it's onlyto see Lolita."
"I nearly brought her up with me," he said. "I thought maybe she'd standit all right for a day or two; then I got afraid she'd sicken right awayin this rare air, and I didn't dare."
"I guess so," sighed Pearl; "but, goodness! I'd sure like to see heragain. I'd most give anything to hear her say, 'mi jasmin, Pearl, micorazon.'"
"We understand each other, you and me and Lolita," returned Flick. "Weall got the South in us, I reckon that's why."
"Maybe," she answered. "Yes, I'd like to see Lolita and mother. Shewon't leave her chickens and melons and sweet potatoes and all longenough to come up here, and, oh, there's times when I feel like I'd mostgive my eyes to see the desert again; but I couldn't stand it yet, Bob,not yet."
A shade had fallen over her face as she spoke and, to divert her, hebegan to speak of Jose. "Doesn't he make you laugh?" he asked. "He keepseverybody else on the broad grin."
"Men," she said scornfully. "I think he works a charm on you that youall put yourselves in danger for a thing like that. Sometimes he makesme laugh--a little; but if I had my way I would waste no time in puttinghim in prison where he belongs. What is it you see in him?"
"I don't believe women do like Jose much," reflected Flick.
"Except Nitschkan," replied Pearl. "She says she's trying to reform himand save his soul; but it mostly consists in getting him to do all theodd jobs she can think of, and Mrs. Thomas is trying to flirt with him."
"I guess you don't like him, because you don't see him as he is,"ruminated Bob Flick. "He's not afraid of anything; he'll take chances,just without thinking of them, that I don't believe another man on earthwould. He's always good-natured and amusing, and look how he can cook,Pearl," turning in his saddle, "just think of that! Why, he could takea piece of sole leather and make it taste like venison."
But even this list of perfections failed to arouse any enthusiasm forJose in Pearl, or to convince her that the proper place for him was notwithin the sheltering walls of a prison.
"Well, if you don't care much for Jose, how about Seagreave?" There wasa touch of anxiety in his glance as he asked this question. The jealousywhich he could never succeed in overcoming, and yet of which he wascontinually ashamed, bit like acid into his heart as he thought ofSeagreave's fair youthfulness; the charm of his long, clear, blue eyes;the winning sweetness of his nature.
Pearl drew her brows together a little, her eyes gloomed through herlong, silky, black lashes. "I don't like queer people," she saidpetulantly. "He always seems to be mooning about something, and most ofthe time he acts like you weren't on the earth." An expression ofsurprise and resentment grew upon her face and darkened it. Then, with agesture of annoyance, she threw up her head, dismissing the subject fromher mind. A vision of Hanson rose before her and her heart turned to thememory of his ruddy good looks, his gay, bold eyes, his magneticvitality.
"Say, Bob," she began, a little hesitatingly, "does that Mrs. Hansonstill live around here?"
He nodded. "I got a letter from her the other day. She wanted me toattend to a little mining business down in the desert. She's prettyshrewd in business, too."
"Why couldn't she attend to her own business?" asked Pearl sharply."What's she bothering you, a stranger, for?"
"Because her father died not long ago and she inherited some propertyand she's got to go East to see about it. I shouldn't wonder if she'salready started."
She repressed a sudden start and looked quickly at him, but he wasgazing out over the ranges and did not see her, which, she reflected,was an excellent thing, considering the wild and daring idea which hadflashed across her mind. If Hanson but knew that his wife had leftColina no power on earth could prevent him from immediately journeyingthither. Should she mention the fact in a letter to her mother? Shedebated this for a day or two, the temptation to do so was almostovermastering, but her pride finally triumphed in the struggle, and sheleft the matter on the knees of the gods.
Yet, in the depths of her wild heart, she knew that he would come, thathe must long have awaited just such an opportunity, and she had no doubtthat he kept himself informed of the movements of the woman who bore hisname. Her spirits rose in the contemplation of glorious moments when sheshould live to the full again, when she should feel herself to be as aquickened and soaring flame of passion and intrigue. And what anopportunity! Her father was down at the Mont d'Or all day. Hughie, ofcourse, was about most of the time, but she would not meet Hanson in thecabin, but out in the golden October weather among the pines. Bob Flickwas returning to the desert the next day, so she had nothing to fearfrom him.
Several days, almost a week, passed, and then a letter from Hanson,telling her of Mrs. Hanson's departure, and assuring her that he meantto come to Colina, that he would not stop to consider any risks he mightbe taking, and that he was equally indifferent to her possibleprohibition. He was coming, coming on the morning train the nextThursday, and this was Saturday.
She drew a long breath and pressed the letter to her heart. She wouldnever yield to him, never; not so long as that barrier to a marriagebetween himself and herself--Mrs. Hanson--remained a legal wall betweenthem, but, oh! if she was to live, she must see him now and again, atlong, long intervals; but nevertheless occasionally.
The listless melancholy of months fell from her, and those about her,noting the change, laid it to Bob Flick's influence and to the fact thatshe was almost continually in the saddle; also Hughie and Gallitocongratulated themselves that she was speedily forgetting Hanson. Herwhole demeanor had changed, she even condescended to banter Jose, andshe took his jibes in good part; and in the evenings when Jose andGallito, Mrs. Nitschkan and Mrs. Thomas, had sat down to the silence oftheir cards, and Hughie played softly on the piano in a dim corner, shetalked to Seagreave; in fact, their conversations became more prolongedevery evening.
One morning, a few days before Hanson arrived, she had chosen to strollup the mountainside, instead of riding as usual. Absorbed in her glowinganticipations, she had walked almost above timber line, then, presently,just as she realized that she was growing tired, the trail had led herto an ideal and natural resting place, a little chamber of ease. It wasan open space where the pine needles lay thick upon the ground, so thickthat Pearl's feet sank deeply into them as she entered. All about itwere gnarled and stunted pine trees, bent and twisted by the highmountain winds, until they appeared as strange, Japanese silhouettesagainst the deep, blue sky. It was delightfully warm here, where the sunfell so broadly, and Pearl threw herself down upon the pine needles. Thewind sighed softly through the forest, barely penetrating her retreat,and finally, under the spell of the soft and dreamy atmosphere, she fellasleep. After a time she wakened, and slowly opening her eyes saw to hersurprise that Seagreave was sitting a few feet away from her. He held abook in his hand, but he was not reading, neither was he looking at her,but out through a break in the trees at innumerable blue ranges,floating, unsubstantial as mist in a flood of sunshine.
She sat up, and he, hearing her move, turned quickly and m
et her eyes.
"I came here to read," he said, in smiling explanation. "I often come,and, seeing you here and asleep, I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind ifI stayed and kept away the bears and mountain lions."
She was still a little dazed. "Why, why," rubbing her eyes, "I musthave been asleep. It is so pleasant here."
He turned quickly. "You find it pleasant?" he said, "then the mountainsmust be beginning to exert their spell upon you."
"I don't know," she answered slowly; "I don't hate them like I used to;but I'll never really care for them. I love the desert."
"You must tell me what you find in the desert," he said. She looked outbroodingly at the ranges, the strange sphynx look in her eyes, but shedid not answer him. At last she withdrew her gaze from the hills andglanced rather contemptuously at the book in his hands. "Don't you everwork?" she asked abruptly. "You're a man."
"Sometimes I work down in the mines, if I want to," he repliedcarelessly; "but I rarely want to. Sometimes, too, I write a little."
"But don't you want to work all the time with your hands or your head,like other men do?" she persisted.
"No," he returned. "To what profit would it be?" There was just a traceof bitterness in his voice.
"But you are strong and a man," she spoke now with unveiled scorn. "Youwouldn't be content always to sit up in a mountain cabin by the firelike an old woman."
"Wouldn't I?" he asked. "Why not?" The bitterness was more apparent now,and a shadow had fallen over his face. Pearl realized that, for themoment, at least, he had forgotten her presence, and in truth, his mindhad traveled back over the years and he was living over again theexperience which had made him a wanderer on the earth and finally arecluse in the lonely and isolated mountains.
It was a more or less conventional story. All events which penetratedeeply into human experience are. They are vital and living, becauseuniversal; therefore we call them conventional. Seagreave had been leftan orphan at an early age, and as he inherited wealth and was born of aline of gentlemen and scholars who had given the world much of servicein their day, his material environment offered him no obstacles to beovercome. There were no barriers between him and any normal desires andambitions, nothing to excite his emulation with suggestions that therewere forbidden and therefore infinitely desirable gardens in which hemight wander a welcome guest. But life sets a premium on hard knocks. Itis usually the bantling which is cast upon the rocks who wins most ofthe prizes, having acquired in a hard school powers of resistance andendurance.
Seagreave's pleasant experiences continued through youth into manhood.When quite young he became engaged to a charming girl about his own agewhom his guardians considered eminently suitable. Among manyfriendships, he had one so congenial that he fancied no circumstancecould arise which could strain or break this tie.
And then, on the very eve of his marriage, his sweetheart had elopedwith this friend of his boyhood, and he had not only this wound of theheart to endure, but also the consciousness that he was pilloried as ablind fool by all of his acquaintances.
Consequently he had, in his first young bitterness and heartbreak, takena sort of gloomy satisfaction in living remote from his fellow beingsand burying himself in the wilds, ever strengthening his capacity to dowithout the ordered and cultivated life of which he had been a part, andwhich had seemed essential to his well-being; and he had nodisillusionizing past experiences to teach him the philosophy that timeassuages all griefs, and that it is the part of common sense to takelife as you find it.
Gradually his new manner of living, of wandering whither he wouldwithout ties or responsibilities, became a habit to him. He lostinterest in the world of achievement as well as in the world of manners,but so insidious was this change, this shifting of the point of view,that he had never fully realized it until now when, in some way, someindefinite, goading and not altogether pleasant way, Pearl was bringinga faint realization of his acquired habit of mind home to him.
As Pearl watched him and wondered what remembrance it was that cloudedhis face, her interest in him increased. "I wonder--" she said, andhesitated.
Her words recalled him to himself immediately; with a little gesture ofimpatience as if annoyed at his own weakness, he put from him thesemorbid memories of the past. "You wonder--what?" he asked.
She flushed slightly at the thought that he might think her guilty of anintrusive curiosity, but she could not stop now. She must know more.Her craving intelligence demanded some explanation. "Jose," she saiddoubtfully and almost involuntarily.
A smile of pure amusement rippled about his mouth. "Yes," he said,"Jose. What about him?"
Speech came readily enough to her now. "You know what Jose is,"accusingly. "You know the big reward that is offered for him, and yetyou keep him in your cabin and treat him almost like a brother."
"Quite like a brother," he said; "why not? Who would have the heart toput Pan in prison? Do you think shutting Jose up behind bars would makehim any better? At any rate, he is safe to do no mischief here, and heis happy. Would you want us to give him up?"
"I!" She looked at him in surprise and shook her head. "But then we aredifferent, my father and me. He likes bad company, and I guess I takeafter him. But you, they call you Saint Harry, you are respectable."
"Not I," he said earnestly; "you must not accuse me of such things. Lookyonder at that long mountain trail, leading up to the peaks. There aremile-stones in it. So it is in life. When we have stopped trying to makepeople measure up to our standard we have passed one; when we have gonebeyond forgiveness and learned that there is never anything to forgivewe have passed another, and when we have ceased from all condemnation wehave progressed a little farther."
She made no response to this. In that sunwarmed silence the windwhispered softly through the pines, a sound like the monotonous, musicalmurmur of distant seas. "But you will forget all that," she saidsuddenly. "You will go back to the world. I know."
He smiled invincibly. "How do you know?"
She tapped her breast lightly with her jewel-encrusted hand. "Frommyself. Oh, how I have hated life since I came here, but now I love itagain, I want it." She threw wide her arms and smiled radiantly, but notat him, rather at the vision of life her imagination conjured. "I wantto dance, dance, dance, I want to live."
"And you will dance for us here in the mountains before you go away?" heasked, with interest. "Good dancing is very rare and very beautiful.There are very few great dancers."
"Yes, only a few," she said briefly. He could not know that she was oneof them, of course, but nevertheless it piqued her vanity that he didnot divine it or take it for granted. She resolved then and there toshow him how she could dance, and as she decided this, a subtle, wickedsmile crept about her lips. Since he was so sure that he would neverreturn to the world, the world should come to him.
"But you haven't said yet that you would dance for us," he said.
"Yes," the same smile still lingering in her eyes and on her lips, "yes,I will. The camp have sent half a dozen invitations for me to do so,through Hughie. They have a dance once a week in the town hall, don'tthey? When is the next one?"
"I think I heard Hughie say next Thursday night. He always helps outthe orchestra when he is here, doesn't he?"
Next Thursday night! Her eyes widened. That was the evening of the daythat Rudolf was coming. Perhaps--perhaps, he would stay over and seeher, it was not much of a risk he would be taking in doing so. Herfather would not go down to see her dance, he would prefer to sit overhis cards with Jose, and no one else knew Hanson. Oh, what a prospect!She almost clapped her hands with joy.
The wind sent a shower of pine needles over them, and Seagreave lookedup, scanning the sky with a keen glance. "It will soon be time for thesnow to fly," he said.
She looked at him incredulously. "Why, it is mild as summer."
"Yes, but this is October, and October in the mountains. Perhaps in onlya few days now the ground will all be covered with snow."
"I hope I s
hall be away before that time," shivering a little.
"But think what you will miss. Think how beautiful it will be; allstill, just a great, white silence; the snow with its wonderful shadows,and sometimes, when the air is very clear, I seem to hear the chiming ofgreat bells."
She shivered again and rose. "I don't believe I'd like it," she said. "Ithink it would frighten me."
He walked down the hill with her to Gallito's cabin, but on their waythey spoke little. Her mind was full of Hanson's coming, and of therevelation of dancing which she meant to show him and, incidentally,Saint Harry. It was not until later in the day that she remembered howimpersonal, according to her standards, her conversation with Seagreavehad been. Not once, either by word or look had he told her that she wasbeautiful and to be desired. A new experience for her; never before hadshe encountered such an attitude in any man. It must be, therefore, thatthere was some other woman in his life; but where? Certainly not here inColina or she would have heard of it, and he had been in the mountainstwo years without leaving them. Surely he, too, must have knownunhappiness in love. At intervals during the day she built up varioushypotheses explaining the circumstances of his grief, and she also lether imagination dwell upon the woman, picturing her appearance andwondering about her disposition.
That evening at supper she arranged with Hugh that she was to accept thestanding invitation of the camp, and that she would dance for them thefollowing Thursday evening, and with an entire return of enthusiasmtalked music and different steps to him until Jose and Mrs. Thomas,rendered more expeditious even than usual by their interest in thetopic, had cleared away all traces of the meal and moved the table backagainst the wall. Then Hugh began to play.
"Wait a minute," Pearl cried to him, "until I get my dancing slippersand my _manton de Manila_." She vanished through the doorway leading toher room and reappeared presently, a fan in her hand and a gorgeousfringed, silken shawl thrown about her; it was white and embroidered inflowers of all colors. "Ready," she called over her shoulder to Hugh.
Then she also began, but not at once to dance; instead, she executed aseries of postures; almost without apparent transition she melted fromone pose to another of plastic grace, her body the mere, boneless,obedient servant of her directing will.
These she followed with some wonderfully rapid exercises. Sometimes shestood perfectly still and one saw only the marvelous play of her bodymuscles, plainly visible, as no corsets had ever fettered her unmatchedlines. Again, holding the body motionless, she moved only the arms, nowwith a slow and alluring rhythm, and again with incredible rapidity,showing to the full the flexibility and liquidity of the wrist movementsfor which she was later to be so famous. Then holding the body and armsquite still she danced only with her legs, and then arms, legs, bodymarried in a faultless rhythm, she whirled like a cyclone about theroom.
Her father and Jose sat and smoked and watched her every movement withkeen, critical eyes. Were they not Spaniards who had danced all throughtheir childhood and youth, as naturally as they breathed? AboutGallito's mouth played the bleak smile which in him betokened content,while Jose could barely wait for her to finish her preliminary exercisesbefore he besought her to let him join her. Even Mrs. Nitschkan laiddown some fishing tackle with which she was engrossed and Mrs. Thomaslooked on admiringly and half jealously.
"Dios," cried Jose plaintively, "Hughie's music invites me, even if theSenorita does not."
Pearl smiled complaisantly upon him. "The Jota!" she said, andimmediately he joined her, making no bad second. Together they danceduntil Seagreave came down from his cabin, and then, flushed andlaughing, she flung herself into a chair and refused to go on, althoughhe begged her to do so.
"Say, Sadie," breathed Mrs. Thomas, "don't you believe I could learn todo that?"
"No," returned her friend, looking up from an earnest contemplation ofvarious hooks, "I don't believe that no woman that's been married andhad children and sorrows and buried a husband and is as heavy as ahippopotamus, and stumbles and interferes with both feet like Mis'Evans's old horse, Whitey, can learn something where the trick of it iskeepin' up in the air most of the time."
"You needn't hurt a person's feelings by being so harsh." Mrs. Thomas'seyes filled with tears. "Oh, jus' take in Mr. Seagreave," she whispered;"I haven't seen him look at a lady that way yet."
"Cert'ny not at you. He ain't seem' no miner's wives," returned Mrs.Nitschkan cruelly.
"Father," cried Pearl joyously to Gallito, "I have lost nothing. I amnot even tired, nor stiff. If anything, I am better than ever. Isn't itso? No," as Seagreave still continued to urge Jose and her to dance,"no," she lifted her narrow, glittering eyes to his, all the oldchallenge in them again, the pale coffee stains beneath them haddeepened, her cheeks held the flush of a crimson rose, "not untilThursday night, then I shall dance the desert for you, and not alone thedesert," she flashed her man-compelling, provocative smile straight intohis eyes, "I shall bring the world to you, and then you will find howtired you are of these old mountains."
He smiled at her serenely, remotely, as one of the high gods might havesmiled upon a lovely, earthly Bacchante. What had the vain and fleetingworld to offer him who had so long ignored it?
Then, while Hugh still continued to play, Seagreave followed her to ashadowy seat near a window, whither she had withdrawn to be out of thewarmth of the fire, and together they sat there talking until the moondropped behind the mountain.
Jose, having finished his game of cards with Gallito and the two women,who had now left the table and were examining Pearl's _manton deManila_, sent his twinkling, darting glance in their direction."Caramba!" he cried softly, "but she has the sal Andaluz, she can dance!I have seen many, but not such another." And then he crossed his armsand bent his body over them and rocked back and forth in soundless andapparently inexhaustible mirth in which Gallito finally joined him.
"I don't know what you are laughing at, Jose," he said; "but it is veryfunny."
"I laugh that the Devil has chosen you as an instrument, my Francisco,"he said.
"Because I give you shelter?" asked Gallito, lighting anothercigarette.
"Because the Devil schemes always how he can lure Saint Harry from hisice peak. He has not succeeded with cards, nor with wine, nor even withme, for I have tried to tempt him to plan with me those little robberieswhich for amusement I dream of, here in these damnable solitudes. Butbefore he was a saint he had a wild heart, had Harry. You have but tolook at him to know that. Have you forgotten that he has not alwayslived in these mountains? Do you not recall that he was middle-weightchampion of Cape Colony, that he was a scout all through the Boer war?That he also saw service in India and has certain decorations to showfor it? Saint Harry! ha, ha, ha!
"The one thing he could not resist was any kind of a mad adventure, allthe chances against him and all the hounds on top of him, and he pittinghis wits against them and scheming to outwit them. A petticoat couldnever hold him. Oh, yes," in answer to Gallito's upraised brows, "therehave been one or two, here and there, but they meant little to him, asany one might see. But, as you know and I know, Gallito, the Devil oftenwins by persistence; he never gives up. So, although Saint Harry's caseis a puzzling one, the Devil is not discouraged. He looks about him andsays, 'My friend, Gallito, my old and tried friend, has a daughter,beautiful as a flower, graceful as a fountain. I will bring her here andthen Saint Harry will scramble off his ice peak fast enough.'"
"Your foolish wits run away with you," growled Gallito.
"My legs must run away with me now," said Jose, rising and stretchinghis arms and yawning. "But tell me first why was your daughter sad whenshe first came here?"
"Because she had fallen in love with a damned rascal," said Gallitobitterly, "after the manner of women."
"After the manner of women," Jose nodded, and whispered behind his hand,so that the two mountain ladies might not overhear him. "Believe it ornot, many have loved me. But women like extremes, too; if they loverascals, they also adore sai
nts. They see the saint standing there inhis niche, so calm, so peaceful and composed, entirely forgetful ofthem, and this they cannot endure. Their brains are on fire; they spendtheir time scheming and planning how they can claw him down from hispedestal. They burn candles and pray to all the saints in Paradise tohelp them, and they offer hostages to the Devil, too. They do not reallyknow the difference between devil and angel or between good and bad; butthey cannot bear it that the saint is indifferent to them. That issomething that drives them mad. Ah, it is a strong saint that can standfirm in his niche against their wiles."
"It is an experience that you will never suffer from, Jose."
"But who can say?" exclaimed Jose, and speaking with gravity. "Some dayI shall devote myself to good works and to making my peace with thechurch, and who knows, I may yet be a saint. But one thing I am sureof, I shall never leave my niche for a woman."
"You know nothing, Jose."
"I know that I will never waste my cooking on a woman. I will enter amonastery of fat monks first and cook for them. They will appreciate it.But to return to Saint Harry and your daughter now--"
"Come," said Gallito harshly, pushing back his chair, "it is time youwent home. The ladies," indicating Mrs. Nitschkan and Mrs. Thomas, whohad been getting on their capes and hoods, "are waiting for you toescort them."
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