CHAPTER XXIV
THE MAN WHO DID NOT WANT TO BE SHOT
"A horse and a man Is more than one, And yet not many." --_Taming of the Shrew_.
"Now Berthe--why, what in the world----" Jacqueline began.
It was her second morning to awake in the hacienda house, and the littleBretonne tripped into her room under a starchy mountain heaped high."Clothes, madame," she replied.
"He mais----"
"They were made yesterday by some of the ranchero women. Madame willlook?"
"Calico! Grands dieux!"
There were two dresses, one for each girl. The native seamstresses hadslyly taken stock of mademoiselle the day before, only to discover thata "simple" frock from Paris was a formidable thing to duplicate. Themarchioness smiled, and the maid also.
"But, for example, Berthe, who inspired this?"
"He did."
"He?"
"The American monsieur, of course."
"Oh, the American monsieur, of course! So, monsieur permits himself toobserve that I need a wardrobe? But you, Berthe, you surely did not----"
"Oh, no, madame! I knew nothing, till just now, when the woman broughtthem. The monsieur ordered them yesterday, she said. And naturally,madame, if he could have found better material, I do not doubt----"
"There, child, I'll not be reproached by your even thinking it necessaryto defend----"
"And madame will see, too, that they will do nicely." She spread thefrocks on the bed, and began snipping here and there with the scissorsand taking stitches everywhere. "By letting it out this way--voila, ifmadame will kindly slip it on?"
"Berthe, you can't mean--Oh nonsense!"
None the less the skirt passed over her head, and the maid's deftfingers kept on busily. "And why not?" she talked as she worked, "unlessone likes rags better. And who will see? Only men. Poof, those citizensdo not know percale from a Parisian toilette."
Jacqueline began to wax angry with the quiet tyranny of it. She lookedat the horror and shuddered, then with both hands pushed the calico tothe floor, gathering up her own lawn skirt instead. It was rather awoebegone lawn skirt. She gazed ruefully at the garment, then down atthe blue flowering heaped about her ankles. Berthe, kneeling over thedress, raised her eyes. The puckered brow of her mistress spelled fury,and the maid tried not to laugh, at which Jacqueline stamped her foot."Berthe," she cried, "shall I slap you?"
"Mais oui, madame. And madame, I was thinking, what will he say if youdo not wear it?"
Jacqueline gave her a keen look. "Child, child," she exclaimed, "youseem to imagine that whatever _he_ wants----"
"Oui, madame.--I think you can try it on again now."
And madame submitted petulantly. But to herself she had to confess themagic in Berthe's fingers. Though she pouted over the fresh, rusticeffect, yet on her slender figure there was witchery in it.
An orderly knocked. He was one of her Austrian escorts come to say thateverything was ready for departure. She gladly hailed the chance toescape this house of mourning. All night long old women in the deathchamber had mumbled incantations, and the droning was in her ears as sheslept. It was not nice. Because she could not blot out the inartisticshock of ugly mortality, in very self-hate she yearned to get away. Theevening before, even while she loaned common sense to the crazedhousehold, even while she pressed down the icy eyelids, shewondered--obstinately wondered, despite herself, what the dead girlcould have thought, what she could have felt, during that one horrid,thrilling second of flight downward, and what, in anticipation of thesecond after. It was gruesome, this being always and always thespectator. Yet Jacqueline knew that, had it been she herself plungingfrom the tower, she still would have been that spectator. Too well sheknew that she would have analyzed what she thought and felt. She wouldhave rated even the second before eternity in its degree as a frisson;and, no doubt, would have been aware of a voluptuous satiety, whileanticipating the second after. She hated herself, and she hated too thesmart, ultra-refined life that had brought her to it. How many of thosepast years, or of the years to come would she not give to shed a fewtears without interrogating them!
Ney met the two girls under the colonnade. At the steps was the coachand eight mules left by Maximilian for their use, and drawn up instately line were Messieurs the Feathers and Furs, as Jacqueline calledHis Majesty's Austrian Imperial Guards. When she appeared, out flashedtheir curved blades. The queenly little lady in blue-flowered calico anda rakish Leghorn hat returned the salute with a smile.
"Where are the Dragoons, Michel?" she asked.
Ney did not know. But a Mexican with a crossed eye approached, doffing asilver-lettered sombrero. He had been waiting for her, he said. Therewas time. Otherwise he would have forced his way to wherever she was.
"Indeed, Seigneur Farceur?" said Jacqueline.
She recognized that most sinister of jokers, Don Tiburcio. He was eyeingher narrowly, and there was a vigilance in the baleful gleam, as thoughof late he might have been deceived by his fellowmen.
"But," he coolly proceeded, "only a few minutes are left now."
"My good man, whatever are you talking about?"
"And after the few minutes, we'll have the shooting. I came to inviteYour Mercy."
"Shoot whom?"
"There is but one prisoner."
"You mean Senor Murguia? The American was acquitted, I believe."
"It's the other way, senorita. They were both tried over again, andthen, the American was condemned."
"Mademoiselle," ejaculated Ney, "you are deathly----"
"I am not!" Jacqueline protested furiously. "It's the powder."
But Berthe knew better. Her mistress used it not, for all the roguishfreckle on her nose-tip. Tiburcio, too, was satisfied as to her suddenpallor. She would save him the American, he decided. "Your Mercy hadbest hasten," he urged her frankly.
Jacqueline ran to the end of the portico, from were she could see thepasture. Within, a platoon of red jackets were filing toward the carcel.
"That scoundrel Lopez!" exclaimed Tiburcio, "he has advanced the time onus!"
Only for an instant did Jacqueline wring her hands.
"Michel, your horse!" she cried. "Quick, quick! Now hold the stirrup!"
But Tiburcio was the quicker. He bent his knee, on it she stepped, andup she jumped, and kicked her heel as a spur. The charger leaped, anddown the road clattered girl and horse, she swaying perilously.
It was a hundred yards to the pasture gate, and as much again to theadobe inside. When her horse rose in his gallop, she caught glimpsesover the wall. The Dragoons were drawing up before the carcel. Sentinelstugged at the huge wooden door, and Lopez goaded them on. He saw hercoming, and would have it over with before she could interfere. Hebellowed an order, and the shooting squad threw up their guns at aim.They would not wait. They would fire on their victim the second the dooropened. The heavy oak began to give. But that moment swinging in throughthe gate, Jacqueline could see only the carcel's blank adobe wall. Yetshe pictured the man just behind. She pictured the door opening.And--too late! Dieu, the muskets had volleyed already!
But--what made the shots scatter so? Scattered and flurried, theysounded. And no wonder! She saw a miracle in the doing. It was the mostastounding sight of all her life long. Straight through the blank adobewall, for all its two feet of thickness, she beheld a man on agreat-boned yellow horse, both man and horse plunge mid a sudden cloudof dust, plunge squarely into the light of day.
The dumfounded shooting squad had blazed crazily against the half-opendoor; and for the critical quarter minute following, their weapons wereharmless. Other Dragoons ran wildly out into the pasture, and as wildlyfired at the horseman. Only one of the sentinels had happened to be onthe side of the magic exit, but as the solid wall dissolved into apowdered cloud and the apparition hurtled past him, down upon his headcrashed a gigantic water jar filled with earth. He who had sympathizedwith pagan ablutions the night before stood now with mouth agape. Someheathen god
was having a hand in this, he knew.
Jacqueline wheeled to Driscoll's side as he dashed toward her. He wascoatless. His woolen shirt was open at the neck, the sleeves were rolledto the elbows. His slouch hat sat upon the back of his head. The shortcropped curls, gray with dust, fluttered against the brim. She had neverseen a face so buoyantly happy.
"Morning, Miss Jack-leen! Race you to the river?"
They galloped through the gate together. He was for turning down theroad, but she blocked his horse with her own. During a second the flightwas stopped.
"I'm in a hurry just now," he panted, but made no effort to get by her.
"Up that way!" she cried. "Up that way, past the House!"
"But those pretty boys----"
"The Austrians? They'll not stop you, I promise."
"Then it's our move. Careful, little girl, don't fall!"
Jacqueline, waving her arm, signaled the Feathers and Furs to make room,and Tiburcio and Ney saw to it that they did. Man and girl raced throughthem.
"Wait here, Michel!" called Jacqueline, leaving Ney still with thumb tocap at salute. Tiburcio gazed after them.
Lopez ran across the pasture to the colonnade. His red face was redderthan ever before. Tiburcio sardonically regarded him. Lopez glared atNey.
"Why aren't you in pursuit?" he demanded hotly.
"And you, monsieur?"
"And I, and I! Who are you to question me, senor? Every girth has beencut!"
"Caramba, mi coronel," cried Tiburcio in dismay, "you don't say so!"
"And it will take ten minutes to tie up the cords, while you, you, SenorFrenchman, you stand there, your men mounted and ready! Obey me, I tellyou!"
"Can't," said Ney doggedly. "Against orders."
"Orders? Whose orders?"
"Of Mademoiselle la Marquise, monsieur."
"Who runs away with a convict. A fit commander, por Dios!"
Off came the Frenchman's gauntlet, but he paused in the gesture ofstriking. Too quick at this, and not enough at wits, he might ruin herplans.
"As fit," he retorted instead, "as another who lets prisoners escape. Iadvise Monsieur the Colonel to look to his girths."
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