The Recipe for Diamonds

by Charles John Cutcliffe Wright Hyne

  CHAPTER XVI.

  CRUELLY INTERRUPTED.

  For the life of me I cannot say now who proposed it. I think the schememust have been evolved spontaneously between us. But the fact remainsthat next morning saw Mrs. Cromwell and myself driving out through thecity _puerto_ by the railway station and the _Plaza de Toros_, and outalong the level road across the plain, towards the hills that skirt it.She knew the island thoroughly--knew every inch of it, one mightsay--and understood and appreciated the people of all grades. I couldnot have found anywhere a more interesting companion.

  The old Mallorcan nobility, the oldest in Europe, are but little inevidence. They stay indoors, and outside their old palaces one hearslittle about them. Even in Palma, where times change but slowly, timeshave changed for them. They are woefully hard up--the result of heavygambling in a past generation, and the depreciation of land in this.Indeed, with one exception, all classes down to the peasants are poor;but they are not unhappy. It would be impossible to find a race morecontented with their lot. There is no absolute poverty. Bean porridgecan be got almost for the asking, and if one eats bean porridge enough,one is not hungry. Their other wants are very few, and they are easilysupplied. So that, practically speaking, every one, even the verypoorest, is well off.

  Life for the Mallorcan does not consist of making money. He rather goesto the other extreme, and takes it as meant for doing nothing in, forchatting, for smoking indifferent cigarettes, for strolling about undera melodramatic black cloak with crimson plush lining, and for otherenjoyments. He has no marked objection to money when it comes to hishand, but he will neither stoop nor climb to gather it. Allah has givenhim a lovely and fruitful island, with a perfect climate, and a storeof philosophical contentment, and a theory of life called the_manana_ theory which utterly eliminates hurry. He wisely does nottry to go against these things that Allah has arranged, andconsequently most of his time is spent in rigorous _far niente_.

  It is only the women of Mallorca who work when they have got nothingelse to do. In these frequent intervals they whitewash their dwellingsand neighbourhood generally, which gives sanitation and neatness.

  Of the only wealthy class in Mallorca she seemed reluctant to speak.They were converted Jews, locally known as _Chuetas_. I found shehad somehow imbibed a notion that I too was a Jew; but when Iemphatically denied the impeachment, and said that I strongly hatedJews, she told me about these _Chuetas_.

  They are the Christianized lineal descendants of those Spanish Jews whoin the old days disliked the alternative _auto da fe_, andpreferred to 'vert. To-day they are a caste distinct to themselves,intermarry, and are loathed by all the other natives with a greatloathing, and have no communications with outsiders except uponbusiness. Needless to say, this last item is a large one, and inreality accounts for all the others. The Mallorcans are an easy-goingrace, and if they get hard cash to-day, repayment is a matter for_manana_, and therefore unworthy of consideration. And so the_Chuetas_ have contrived to get the upper hand all through thecountry. They might be forgiven for neglecting to toil and spin, forthat is the custom in general favour; but the other idiosyncrasyrankles, and from noble to _puta_, every soul hates, abhors, anddetests them. A man, an Englishman, who had not entered the island tillmiddle life, told how he came there with tolerant notions, and thinkingthe treatment of these tribesmen unjust, cultivated the acquaintance ofmany of them. But he said he soon had to give them up. Their language,their thoughts, their sentiments, their mode of life, were alikedisgusting. He understood why that low-grade _puta_ who had beenoffered marriage by a wealthy _Chueta_ had spat in his face by wayof answer. They were utterly unfit to associate with. It was the oldtale: kick a dog for centuries and he becomes an utter cur, and cur hewill remain for centuries to come. And yet by a ghastly irony, the mostdevout of the devout Palman Catholics is the hated and despised Palman_Chueta_.

  The mules were dragging our carriage across the plain whilst she toldme these things about the people, and at intervals she served me aseyes to note the beauties that we passed. There were orchards ofalmond-trees that seemed from a distance to be bearing a crop ofsnowflakes, till one came nearer and could distinguish the delicatepinks and mauves of their blossom; there were bushy algobras with richgreen foliage; oranges, bearing the last of that juicy crop which, whenfresh gathered, melts in the mouth like ice; olive-trees, with dry grayleaves and trunks so grotesquely gnarled as to suggest arboreal pain.The hot sun above, dappling the young corn and filling the stonewater-conduits with soft tree-shadows; the tinkling twitter of unseenbirds; the repose everywhere, made up a charm which my poor wordsrefuse to utter. And yet she made me feel it all, and more besides.

  We approached the cup-edge of the mountain. To a Spaniard all treesexcept fruit-trees mean so many cubic feet of wood for building orcharcoal. As Spain and Italy both know, climates change when theforests go, and the crops suffer from long droughts or heavy delugeswhich sweep the soil bodily away in spite of laboriously-built stoneterraces or concrete-lined water ducts. But that is for _manana_.The timber is wanted for to-day, and down it comes. Yet from a merelyscenic point of view this ruthless axemanship is hardly to be deploredwhere we were then. The rocks were bare, save for scattered dark-greendottings of pine or ilex perched where they could not readily be comeat; they were full of fantastic shadows; they were shaven, gray, andrugged; they were unspeakably grand.

  The crags closed in as we went on, and the hiss of the stream which hadneared the road began to drown the bird-songs. Some of the hills besideus were clothed with green shrubs, and some were gaunt and bare, ofhomely gray splashed with red. Ahead there was a wee white house,apparently balanced like an eagle's nest in an inaccessible eyrie. Theorchards had gone, but the stony land was still scratched up to receivecrops, and laboriously terraced to keep the soil from being swilledinto the sea.

  The hills pressed farther together into a rocky gorge, with the rut ofthe road perched high on one side, and the stream brawling away fiftyfeet below. Goats with tinkling bells were flitting about the cragslike so many brown flies. One began to wonder whether the road was nota _cul-de-sac_, and whether Valledemosa did not lie in some otherdirection. There seemed absolutely no outlet except for wings.

  But with an angle of the gorge one opened out a new scene. Another widevalley lay ahead of us, through which the road wound steeply, pastwomen gathering the purple olives from the turf beneath the trees, pastladen orange-trees, and sprawls of prickly pears, and fields ofsprouting beans.

  And then we came to two yellow gate-posts, on one of which was the date1063, whilst the other bore this inscription: "VITAE IN INTROITV AEDISSANCTAE EXUS."

  "Valledemosa is here," said my companion, "the village beside thatconvent where Madame Dudevant brought Chopin to die, and from which shetook him away full of new life. The mules will bait here. It is for youto say whether we go on or return to Palma."

  "From the day when I lost my eyes to this day," was my reply, "I havenever known what it was to see the shapes that God has builded on theface of the earth, or the colours with which He has painted them. Mind,I have never whined for the sight that was taken away from me. I haveaccepted my _Kismet_, and have made it as bright as thought andcontrivance could manage. I believe, without egotism, that there arefew blind men who have trained themselves to be as conscious of theirsurroundings as I am. But my powers have great limitations. Howeverpreternaturally sensitive a man may be to all manner of sounds, hecannot tell everything from sound alone, not even though his sense oftouch besides is laboriously refined. Without the gift of sight theremust always be (so I had been forced to decide) a black gaping hiatuswhich it seemed that no human power could fill. Of my helpers, tillyesterday, Sadi was the only one who showed the least fraction oftalent; yet even his best efforts could scarcely throw a glimmerthrough the cloud.

  "But to-day you have done what I believed no breathing person could do.You have worked a miracle. You have made me to see as with mine own oldeyes. Heaven grant that this is not all a drea
m to be waked up from."

  We spent that night at the Archduke's _hospitar_ at Miramar--nearRaymond Lully's birthplace--where free housing is given to anypasser-by for three days, with olives, salt, and oil, the typical trio,provided. In the evening I told her across the _brazero_ a talethat had never crossed my lips before, the tale of how I had lost myeyes. I took her in my story to the south of Africa, and led her outover green rolling veldt to a hawthorn-crowned kopje, where we lay outof sight amongst the bushes. I explained to her that I was a diamondmerchant, and that I was waiting there for men who were to bring mestones for sale. And then I told how, instead of those I expected,others came out of the soft black tropical night, in turn mistaking mealso for some one else. They thought I was there for I.D.B.--I, anhonest trader--and not daring to kill, had loaded their guns withrock-salt. I told her how the first charge had struck me full in theface and destroyed my sight for ever; how I had got up and fledshrieking away, and then lay hid for days in a clump of karoo-scrubnursing my hideous pain, and wishing for the death which would notcome. And then I sketched to her the way that Sadi had found me, andnursed me, and been with me in all those groping after years, payingfull tribute to his devotion.

  When I had finished she said she wanted to ask me one question, if shemight do so without offence.

  "Nothing you would say," I replied, "can annoy me."

  "Then tell me, Mr. Pether, were you a registered diamond merchant outthere?"

  "I was. I swear I was. Had I been there for Illicit Diamond Buying Ishould have deserved all I got, and more besides. But after beingblinded, where was the use of trying to retaliate? of proving it wasall a mistake? of pressing for a money recompense? Imprisoning a man,or fining him, or even blinding him in turn, could not restore myeyes."[3]

  [3] _Note, by another hand._--Inquiries pushed by me, Taltavull, through the agents of my brotherhood in the neighbourhood of Du Toit's Pan, have elicited the following communication: "Pether, more generally known as Conkleton, was a regular Jew Kopjewalloper from Petticoat Lane. He had abundance of money, and was the pest of the diamond fields. Several of his runners were caught and convicted, but no case could ever be framed against him in person, as he flourished before the days of Diamond Registration. However, the charge of I.D.B. grew so strong against him that at last the boys took the law into their own hands and rock-salted him. Afterwards he disappeared. The lesson appeared to have been sufficient. Rock-salt, so they say, when fired into the skin, hurts." The name of my informant cannot be divulged; but he is a most earnest worker in the Great Cause, and I, Taltavull, will pledge my credit on his veracity.

  (Signed) TALTAVULL.

  _Anarchist Headquarters, Barcelona._

  And then I went on to tell her how it was a pure platonic love fordiamonds themselves that had turned me to trade in those lovely stones;how their iridescent glitter delighted my eye, and how the very act ofhandling them in their dull, rough, uncut state was a joy to me thatalmost amounted to monomania. The theme pleased her, and she asked meto go on. I had not spoken of diamonds once during all those long yearsof darkness, and to discourse about them again to any one who took theobvious interest in them that she did was for me an indulgence nothingshort of delicious. And when we parted for the night, and I foundmyself once more alone, I was almost surprised that I had said nothingabout this new enterprise in the diamond industry which fortune hadthrown in my way. "I feel sure," I told myself, "that she will sharethis great secret. She is the one person in this world for me to trust.But I cannot part with it yet. Besides, I have only known her two days.Time enough when we get back to Palma."

  We went out afoot after breakfast next morning, and during all that dayI revelled in the beauties of Miramar, the finest piece of cliff andcoast scenery in Europe. There is one of the many watch-towers here, agray old building whose architect was dead before the Pharaohs or eventhe Phoenicians began to pile stones together, and yet the old citadelhas not bent one inch to all that string of time. We ascended half-wayoutside up a ladder, and entered a small domed chamber. Then we climbedtogether on to the roof, which is half a covered sentry-house, half abalustraded lookout post. We could hear the rattle of the surf creamingaway twelve hundred feet below, and could look down almost sheer intothe many-hued blue water; and behind there were mountains risingsteeply up into the clouds. The view was incomparable.

  Then we went down again, winding along a narrow path that was edgedwith flowering heath, and gained a jutting crag which seemed almost tooverhang the water; and going on farther amongst the wind-brushedpines, we came to another spot which we had previously viewed fromabove. It was a little round stone oratory perched on the crest of ajutting pinnacle, and linked to the main rock by a narrow causewaywhich rested on a slender arch. It was lit by a lantern in the roof,and over the altar was the marble effigy of a man of years.

  I do not know why it was, but as we stood on the balcony outside thattiny chapel, leaning over the rail, and listening to the murmur of thewoods beside and of the waters beneath us, I almost felt impelled tothere and then show my companion that little wooden case I carried inmy breast-pocket, and tell her of the vast and wonderful secret itcontained. In fact, I believe it was the very greatness of the impulsewhich made me resist it. I am the last man to be called superstitious,but it seemed to me then that old Lully's shade was hovering near hisbirthplace, and was busying itself in my direction. I did not like theguidance, and so resisted it; and directly afterwards we strolled backacross the bridge, and on through the woods again.

  I cannot, I will not tell in detail how the next few days passed. Thelittle idyl concerns no one but myself--and one other--and there is noreason to desecrate them by bawling its delicate folds abroad. Sufficeit to say that we went on through Deya to Soller, and then takingmules, climbed the mountain passes to the convent of Nuestra Senora deLluch.

  "You can stay here if you choose," observed my companion, as our mulesdrank out of the fountain basin in the courtyard. "Inside the bigdoorway yonder is written up '_Silencio_' and '_Vir prudenstacebit_,' but the monks are not overstrict, and, like the Archdukeat Miramar, they offer free hospitality to all wayfarers. If you havenever stayed in a convent of this kind before, the experience willamuse you."

  "And you?"

  "Oh, I shall go on to Pollensa, and you can join me there, if youchoose, to-morrow."

  "But why not remain here?"

  She laughed. "I'm afraid I belong to the anti-monkish sex. True, theymight offer me house-room--I do not say they wouldn't--but I do notcare for putting myself in the way of being refused."

  "Then," said I, "I don't think a convent is very much in my way just atpresent. I will push on for Pollensa too."

  And so thither we went together, covering the short distance to Alcudiaon the afternoon of next day.

  But at Alcudia there was a rude awakening, and, thanks to a woman'swit, a narrow escape awaiting me. It turned out that Cospatric andHaigh had added brains to their own council in the form of ascoundrelly anarchist, and were hot-foot upon the trail. Mrs. Cromwellheard my name mentioned as she came back into the _cafe_ from somesmall errand in the town, and instead of returning to the sitting-roomupstairs, ordered coffee and sat down near three strangers who weretalking in English. She was soon in conversation with them, and fromone and the other cleverly elicited the whole tale of their adventure.They seemed overjoyed, poor fools, to discover in her tastes forpottery, music, and tattooing, and waxed garrulous without the smallestsuspicion. Much was incomprehensible to her, but she sat on there farinto the night, thinking that what she could learn might be of serviceto me.

  Made anxious by her absence, I had descended the narrow stairs toinquire after her, and nearly burst in upon their conclave. Arecognition of their voices made me pull up with my fingers on thelatch, and then return with a cat's tread to the place whence I hadcome.

  A week ago my first impulse would have been to evacuate th
e spot thereand then, so that even if I were followed, my start would be a goodone. But the last few days had changed me much. From being absolutelyself-reliant, I had grown to be curiously dependent again. I shrankfrom taking a flight alone. And, moreover, there was another thing thatheld me back: I could not bear to rush away so suddenly from mycompanion. It seemed to me that if I deserted her then, I should neversee that woman more; and rather than that should befall, I was preparedto brave anything. So I waited in that bare, whitewashed sitting-room,and waited and waited till she came, fearing desperately for the safetyof my great treasure, yet determined to expose it to any risk ratherthan beat retreat alone.

  It was a torturing vigil.

  * * * * *

  The clocks had long struck midnight, and the _sereno_ had severaltimes raised his dirge-like chaunt in the street outside, before mycompanion came to me. She wasted no time in preliminaries. I think shecould see by my outward expression that I knew how danger threatened,and so she told in as few words as possible what she had learnt. "Ihope you can understand it," she said at the conclusion. "I confess themost is gibberish to me, but it seemed to concern you, and so I thoughtwould be interesting."

  "I am deeply grateful. But let me explain."

  "Don't think it an obligation, Mr. Pether. There seems to be somelittle mystery about the matter, and I do not want to pry into youraffairs."

  "I wish you would."

  "Why?"

  "Because then I could feel that you took an interest in me."

  "Believe me, I do--a deep interest."

  I groped and found her hand. It pressed mine with a slight tremble.

  "You pity me because I am blind."

  "I am deeply grieved for your misfortune."

  "Ah"--I dropped the hand, and sighed regretfully--"only pity. But,then, what else could I expect?"

  "What would you have?" she asked softly.

  "I had hoped for love. I had prayed that I might be loved, as I love."

  And then? Why, honestly, I do not know how it came about, but in aminute or so each knew concerning the other all there was to tell.

  "I should not even mind resigning the Recipe now that I have got you,"I told her.

  "Ah, but," she said, with a little laugh, "if we are going intopartnership, you and I, the interests of the firm must be looked after.There is no packet leaving the island for two days, so you must wireSadi in Palma to hire a steamer and have it ready for us. The trainleaves La Puebla at 7.55. We will go down to meet it by that."

  "But Cospatric and his friends will most certainly go by the sametrain."

  She put her lips to my ear and whispered, and then we laughed, and Itook paper and pen and wrote a long letter.

  She read over my shoulder.

  "Admirable. Monsieur l'Aveugle, your friends will either stay here andrave, or else start on a wild-goose chase across the mountains toSoller. And we, you and I, Nat, we will go far away, away to----"

  She did not finish the sentence. She stooped and kissed me instead.