CHAPTER VI
IF A KISS WERE ALL
"A man, a woman, a passion--what else matters?"--_Sardou._
"Tall Mose" Bledsoe and the Rev. Mr. Douglas conveyed Don Rodrigo to theback room, and here Driscoll and Boone joined them. They did not disarmthe Mexican. It did not occur to them that any man would risk drawing aweapon in such company. And as to Fra Diavolo they surmised correctly.He sulked a little at first, for there were sore tendons that ached. Butin the end he grew reasonable, and his white teeth gleamed acquiescenceto all that the senores were pleased to say. He agreed to bivouac hismen apart from the Missourians and go his own way at daybreak. TheContras were routed. The Tiger had barely escaped. There was no furtherneed of combined forces. Indeed, Don Rodrigo feared a night attack solittle that he meant to reward his men with many copitas of aguardiente.Might he send a barrel over to his esteemed allies?
Mose Bledsoe turned a pleading look on the parson, and to his surprisethe Rev. Mr. Douglas beamed tolerant benevolence. "Why yes, my friend,"he himself said to Don Rodrigo, "good liquor is always acceptable,especially when soldiers must sleep on the wet ground."
The brigand was then allowed to depart, and Old Brothers and Sistersexplained. It was best to let Rodrigo send the brandy, for then one knewwhat to expect. Otherwise the Christian brother and rascal would hatchup some other plot, and any other plot might take them off their guard.
When an hour later, Rodrigo did in fact attack the presumably somnolentAmericans, more happened than either he or they expected. A third wasalso waiting to strike for the sake of a woman. He was Dupin, who wantednothing better than the allies at each other's throat. Crouching warilynear, the Tiger sprang at both of them. In the rain and the black night,the three-cornered fight raged like firecrackers under a tin bucket. Theguerrillas, repulsed by the Americans, fled upon the Contras, whereatthe Americans swept them both back indiscriminately. Instead of a lady,the Tiger carried off Don Rodrigo, and was quite glad to carry himselfoff. But Boone, scouting near, reported that Rodrigo was held a prisonerinstead of being executed at once. This meant something. It meant beyondany doubt that the Mexican and the Frenchman would combine, Rodrigo forhis life, Dupin to rescue Jacqueline.
The Missourians held council in Daniel's sanctum. To restore thecaptives to Dupin had been Driscoll's intention from the first. But nowit was a question of trading them against Rodrigo. Dupin must know theAmerican offer before he and Rodrigo should attack. Driscoll proposedfor himself alone the errand to the Tiger's camp. Rising to his feet, heleft his protesting friends without a word further. But he had to passthrough the front room first, to get the cape coat hanging there. Itwas, in fact, his own. The two girls were seated before the fire,Jacqueline still in revery, Berthe nervously agitated from the lateracket of battle. Daniel Boone had laid before them a ranchman's supperwith tropical garnishing, but it was untouched. Driscoll nodded, crossedthe room, took the coat from its nail, and started for the outer door ashe drew it on.
"Snubbing--an acquaintance," spoke an impersonal little voice, "ischeap."
He stopped, waited.
"Of a gentleman, I reckon you'd say," he interrupted uneasily. "Maybenot, but a ruffian's got his instincts too. When he's afraid of hurtingsomeone, he hides himself."
"I was mistaken," she said gravely, with that quaintest inflection ofthe English he had ever heard, "yes, mistaken. He mais--but it is justthat the complaint. You hurt more by _not_ speaking."
"But there's nothing to say," he faltered. "I'm just going to OldTige's--to Dupin's camp, and get him to come here for you."
"Monsieur, monsieur, you fight for your captives only--only to give themup?"
"That's not the question. You can overtake the Empress yet. Dupinwill----"
"But it is not that I want to overtake empresses at all. I--Berthe,would you mind carrying back these supper things?--I," she continued,when they were alone, "have no wish to go back to Paris. I shall returnto the City."
Again the liaison with Maximilian, he thought bitterly. And Charlotteaway! It was infamous. However, he had no right to be concerned.
"Very well," he said, "then Dupin can take you to the City, or whereveryou wish."
"Ma foi, what trouble to be rid of your prisoners, monsieur, and aftertwo battles too!"
"That's got nothing to do with it."
She meant, though, to have him confess that she had had a great deal todo with it. She was taken with the self-cruel fancy to lay bare andcontemplate his love for her, that she might feel more poignantly thehappiness she had lost. But he abruptly turned again to leave, and allelse was forgotten in terror.
"You go to that Tiger!" she cried. "Do you not know that----" She dartedbetween him and the door--"that he recognizes no rules of war? He willshoot you, he will, he will!"
Driscoll laughed.
"Oh, I'll be safe enough all right, thank you. Dupin holds Rodrigo, wehold you. So it's simply an exchange of prisoners. And he'll not doanything to me, for fear of what might happen to you here. You're not ahostage, sure not, but as long as he thinks so, I'll profit by it."
"You are right," she admitted, yet not heeding his anxiety to pass."Dupin will not even detain you. He will judge you Missou-riens byhimself. So, voila, he frees Diavolo. He comes for me. And--and you,monsieur?"
"Me? W'y, I'll wait for the boys at Dupin's camp, after he takes chargehere. Then we'll march."
"And--you do not come back?"
"No need to. Now will you please get away from that door?"
"Not coming back!" she repeated. Could the Coincidence be for naughtafter all? Could not real life be for once as complacent as art? He wasgoing, and when, where, in the wide world, in all time, might they evermeet again? And he was going, like that! Except for her, he would noteven have spoken.
But--if he were the man to hold her, despite herself? If he were primalman of primal nature, the demigod raptor who seizes his mate? Yes, shewould forgive him--if only he were that man. If, as such, he would buthold her from her duty, from her sacrifice, despite herself,if--if--if----And so her daring fancy raced, raced as desire and hope tooutrun sorrow. And why not? She could look him in the eye with thathonesty which pertains to woman, for she knew that the shame he thoughtof her was only in the evidence of what he had seen, of what he hadheard the world say, and not--no, not in fact. And for the kindness ofthat fact she thanked Providence. Then, daring to the end, her insanehope for happiness gave her to remember that there was a clergyman amongthese Americans, and to see in that the ordering of fate.
But Reality was still there, grim and greater than either Providence orArt. The man was waiting for her to step aside, and when she did, hewould pass through the door and out of her life. She gazed, as for thelast time, on his stalwart shoulders, on his splendid head, the head ofa young Greek, on his flushed face, his mouth, and those obstinatelittle waves of his hair. How good he was to look upon--for her, thatis! No, no, she could not let him go.
And she tempted him. With all her woman's beauty she tempted him. Ifbeauty were aught, it must win her now what she held dear. Afterward,when she should tell him why, he would forgive her the unmaidenlystrategy. She had noted with a passionate joy that the lines of his facewere tightly drawn, were even haggard, that his breath came short; in aword, that he suffered. It told her that his gruff manner was notindifference, but the rugged front of self-control. What a will the manhad! Knowing that strength, she must have been an odd young woman indeednot to try to break it.
"I suppose," she said, lowering her head and shaking it in demureresignation, "no, I suppose a captive has not the littlest thing to sayof her disposal? But if the poor child has curiosity, monsieur? If, forthe instant, she wonders why a monsieur fights for her, and then why hehazards his life to be rid of her?" With which she raised her eyesinquiringly. It was disconcerting.
"We'll not talk of that any more," he grumbled. "Are you going to let mepass?"
Frail creature between him and the door, how easy to remove her! But hef
eared the warmth of her hand, should he but touch it, or the faint odorfrom her hair, should a stray lock no more than brush his cheek.
"Even a captive will wonder why she is so little prized," observed theperverse maid.
She considered with glee that the window was too small, and with yetkeener delight that his wits for strategy had left him. He did not oncethink of exit by the inner door.
"Why do you keep me?" he demanded.
His tone was harsh command, and for the moment it frightened her. Sheall but gave way, when she perceived that the menacing growl was reallya plea. The poor fellow was at bay. She very nearly laughed. Then, too,he would not meet her eye again.
"Oh, am _I_ keeping you?" she exclaimed in innocent dismay.
It provoked him to what she wanted. He came toward her angrily, whileshe stepped back against the door and spread her arms across it. Herpose was a dare; and the trouble was, he had to look. He had to see thegirlish, the wonderful line of head and shoulder, the color floodingcheek and neck, and most dangerous of all, the challenging gray eyes.His teeth snapped to, and his hand closed over her wrist. He pulled, sheyielded. He felt her other hand laid on his. The touch seemed to searhis flesh.
"You must not go," she whispered, "must not!"
He drew her farther from the door, toward himself.
"Must not!" she repeated. He could feel the breath of her whisper.
"Don't--Jack-leen!"
She barely heard the words, but she knew the agony there. And he, as hegripped her wrist, sensed the throbbing that passed through her wholebody. For pity, he was powerless to thrust aside a lass who pitied him.
"It is that common, yes. It is not the instinct of----"
Yet, all the while, like another Brunhilde, she was praying in her heartthat she had not taunted him in vain. A very eerie Valkyrie, she hadtaunted him to be the stronger, stronger than his will, stronger thanherself, to strive with her, to master her. And now she saw a fury oflove and hate aroused in him, a fury against herself for making him loveher more than his great will could bear. In her lust for seeing thisanger of his, she forgot her mission absolutely, forgot why she had cometo Mexico, forgot all but the prayer in her heart.
Nothing was left her but to learn the answer, and this she did, bytugging firmly, coyly, to free her wrist. The answer was rapture; hisgrip had tightened. She pulled harder, and felt herself being drawntoward him. Yes, yes, her triumph was a fact. Slowly an arm of iron, atremulous, masterful vandal, circled her waist.
She pushed at him with her fists, and panting, tried to fight him off,however the blood stung in her veins and coursed hot as in his. Thematter had gone far enough. It was time for explanations, for anadjustment. But he did not seem to think so. He was relentless.Barbarian Siegfried with the warrior virgin was not more so. The tendonsin that arm of his suddenly went rigid, and crushed her body againsthim. It was then that a sudden horror took her, and she struggled like atigress. She gasped out a cry for help, but the scream had no volume.Before she could try again, his hand covered her mouth.
And then, and then--oh, the words he was whispering! Even as hesmothered her shriek, she heard them.
"Well--we'll just have in Clem Douglas. You've seen Clem, little girl?He's our parson."
His life long, Driscoll had never dreamed of heaven as he saw it then inher eyes. Never, his whole life long, as she raised those eyes to his.And the sweet relaxing of herself, the trustful pillowing of her head onhis breast, the soulful content as she softly breathed there, instead ofthat wild panting of a moment before! Blinded to the world, he ferventlythanked God that he had been made.
He touched her white brow lovingly, and gently tilted back her chin.Again her eyes lifted, confidingly. His head bent. She waited. His lipsdrew nearer to hers, very slowly. He was held in a deep reverence, in anawe of something sacred. It was a rite of adoration before a shrine. Andshe, seeing that look in his eyes, wanted him to know that the shrinewas truly as pure as in his oblivion to the world he for the momentbelieved. For later memory would come to him, and that she could notbear. He must know now, before their lips met. Yet a good woman may notbrazenly avow that rumor and evidence speak what is false. But for allthat he still must know, in some way. With a playful gesture sheintercepted his lips against the soft palm of her hand, her eyes thewhile holding his in their communion of soul. And thus she spoke,prettily, saucily, and blushing the while,
"And are you so sure, sir, that you are the first?"
She had looked for protestation, and she would have answered. And hewould have believed. He must have believed. But instead the spell offaith broke sharply. Poisoned memory rushed in before it could bebelied. She could see the tragedy of it in his changed look, in hisashen face, cold and gray. He thought her question a gloating over hisweakness, and it revolted him. He was, then, but a caprice for her. Heremembered that after all he had only happened by, and that she wasreturning to Maximilian. But still she was hardly less tempting. He hada moment of cruel conflict with himself, which left him with a sullenrage against the princelet in Mexico, against the order of princelets,that thus fell a deathly pall between an honest man and a true lovekiss. Yet, she was there in his arms, dear and fearfully clingingand--no less tempting.
"Take this woman to my mother?" the question rose.
As one might close the eyes of his dead wife, he loosed the arms abouthis neck, and let them fall at her side. Once free, he leaped to thedoor, flung it open, and was gone.
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