Heart of the Sunset

by Rex Beach

  XXVII

  LA FERIA

  "What's this I hear about war?" Dolores inquired of her mistress, a fewdays after their arrival at La Feria. "They tell me that Mexico isinvaded and that the American soldiers have already killed more than athousand women and children."

  "Who tells you this?" Alaire asked.

  "The men--everybody," Dolores waved a hand in the direction of theother ranch buildings. "Our people are buzzing like bees with the news,and, of course, no one cares to work when the Americans are coming."

  "I shall have to put an end to such talk."

  "This morning the word came that the revolution is ended and that thesoldiers of both parties are uniting to fight for their liberties. Theysay the Gringos are killing all the old people--every one, in fact,except the girls, whom they take with them. Already they have begun themost horrible practices. Why, at Espinal"--Dolores's eyes wereround--"would you believe it?--those Yankee soldiers ate a baby! Theyroasted the little dear like a cabrito and ate it! I tell you, it makeswild talk among the peladors."

  "Do you believe such stories?" Alaire inquired, with some amusement.

  "Um-m--not altogether. But, all the same, I think it is time we weregoing home."

  "This is home, for me, Dolores."

  "Yes, but now that war--"

  "There isn't any war, and there won't be any. However, if you arenervous I'll send you back to Las Palmas at once."

  "Glory of God! It would be the end of me. These Mexicans wouldrecognize me instantly as an American, for I have the appearance andthe culture. You can imagine what would happen to me. They would tearme from the train. It was nothing except General Longorio's soldiersthat brought us safely through from Nuevo Pueblo."

  "Then I'm glad that he insisted upon sending them with us. Now tell theranch-hands to put no faith in these ridiculous stories. If they wishthe truth let them ask General Longorio; he will be here today andquiet their fears."

  "You think he intends to pay us for our cattle?"

  "Yes."

  Dolores pondered a moment. "Well, perhaps he does--it is not his money.For that matter, he would give all Mexico if you asked it. Tse! Hislove consumes him like a fever."

  Alaire stirred uneasily; then she rose and went to an open window,which looked out into the tiny patio with its trickling fountain andits rank, untended plants. "Why do you insist that he loves me?" sheasked. "All Mexicans are gallant and pay absurd compliments. It's justa way they have. He has never spoken a word that could give offense."As Dolores said nothing, she went on, hesitatingly, "I can't very wellrefuse to see him, for I don't possess even a receipt to show that hetook those cattle."

  "Oh, you must not offend him," Dolores agreed, hastily, "or we'd neverleave Mexico alive." With which cheering announcement the housekeeperheaved a deep sigh and went about her duties with a gloomy face.

  Longorio arrived that afternoon, and Alaire received him in the greatnaked living room of the hacienda, with her best attempt at formality.But her coolness served not in the least to chill his fervor.

  "Senora," he cried, eagerly, "I have a thousand things to tell you,things of the greatest importance. They have been upon my tongue forhours, but now that I behold you I grow drunk with delight and my lipsframe nothing but words of admiration for your beauty. So! I feast myeyes." He retained his warm clasp of her fingers, seeming to envelopher uncomfortably with his ardor.

  "What is it you have to tell me?" she asked him, withdrawing her hand.

  "Well, I hardly know where to begin--events have moved so swiftly, andsuch incredible things have happened. Even now I am in a daze, forhistory is being made every hour--history for Mexico, for you, and forme. I bring you good news and bad news; something to startle you andset your brain in a whirl. I planned to send a messenger ahead of me,and then I said: 'No, this is a crisis; therefore no tongue but mineshall apprise her, no hand but mine shall comfort her. Only a cowardshrinks from the unpleasant; I shall lighten her distress and awaken inher breast new hope, new happiness'--"

  "What do you mean?" Alaire inquired, sharply. "You say you bring badnews?"

  The general nodded. "In a way, terrible, shocking! And yet I lookbeyond the immediate and see in it a blessing. So must you. To me itspells the promise of my unspoken longings, my whispered prayers."Noting his hearer's growing bewilderment, he laid a hand familiarlyupon her arm. "No matter how I tell you, it will be a blow, for deathis always sudden; it always finds us unprepared."

  "Death? Who--is dead?"

  "Restrain yourself. Allow for my clumsiness."

  "Who? Please tell me?"

  "Some one very close to you and very dear to you at one time. Myknowledge of your long unhappiness alone gives me courage to speak."

  Alaire raised her fluttering fingers to her throat; her eyes were wideas she said: "You don't mean--Mr. Austin?"

  "Yes." Longorio scrutinized her closely, as if to measure the effect ofhis disclosure. "Senora, you are free!"

  Alaire uttered a breathless exclamation; then, feeling his gaze burninginto her, turned away, but not before he had noted her sudden pallor,the blanching of her lips.

  This unexpected announcement dazed her; it scattered her thoughts androbbed her of words, but just what her dominant emotion was at themoment she could not tell. Once her first giddiness had passed,however, once the truth had borne in upon her, she found that she feltno keen anguish, and certainly no impulse to weep. Rather sheexperienced a vague horror, such as the death of an acquaintance or ofa familiar relative might evoke. Ed had been anything but a truehusband, and her feeling now was more for the memory of the man he hadbeen, for the boy she had known and loved, than for the man whose nameshe bore. So he was gone and, as Longorio said, she was free. It meantmuch. She realized dimly that in this one moment her whole life hadchanged. She had never thought of this way out of her embarrassments;she had been prepared, in fact, for anything except this. Dead! It wasdeplorable, for Ed was young. Once the first shock had passed away, shebecame conscious of a deep pity for the man, and a complete forgivenessfor the misery he had caused her. After a time she faced thenewsbearer, and in a strained voice inquired:

  "How did it happen? Was it--because of me?"

  "No, no! Rest your mind on that score. See! I understand your concernand I share your intimate thoughts. No, it was an accident, ordained byGod. His end was the result of his own folly, a gunshot wound while hewas drunk, I believe. Now you will understand why I said that I boretidings both good and evil and why I, of all people, should be the oneto impart them."

  Alaire turned questioning eyes upon him, as if to fathom his meaning,and he answered her with his brilliant smile. Failing to evoke aresponse, he went on:

  "Ever since I heard of it I have repeated over and over again, 'It is amiracle; it is the will of God.' Come, then, we know each other so wellthat we may speak frankly. Let us be honest and pretend to nocounterfeit emotions. Let us recognize in this only your deliveranceand the certainty of that blessed happiness which Divine Providenceoffers us both."

  "Both?" she repeated, dully.

  "Need I be plainer? You know my heart. You have read me. You understandhow I have throttled my longings and remained mute while all my beingcalled to you."

  Alaire withdrew a step, and her cheeks colored with anger. "General!"she exclaimed, with some difficulty, "I am amazed. This is no time--"Her indignation rose with the sound of her own voice, causing her tostammer.

  Taking advantage of her loss of words, he hurried on: "You must pardonmy impetuosity, but I am a man of tremendous force, and my life movesswiftly. I am not shackled by conventions--they are less than nothingto me. If it seems to you that my eagerness carries me away, rememberthat war is upon us and that affairs of moment press me so that I amcompelled to move like the lightning. With me, senora, a day is a year.The past is gone, the present is here, the future rushes forward tomeet us."

  "Indeed, you forget yourself," she said, warmly. Then, changing hertone: "I too must act quickly. I m
ust go back at once."

  "Oh, but I have told you only a part of what I came to say."

  "Surely the rest can wait." Her voice was vibrant with contempt. "I'min no condition to listen to anything else."

  But Longorio insisted. "Wait! It is impossible for you to leave here."

  Alaire stared at him incredulously.

  "It is true. Mexico is a seething caldron of hate; the country isconvulsed. It would be unsafe for you."

  "Do you mean to say that war has been declared?"

  "Practically."

  "What--? You are telling me the truth?" A moment, then Alairecontinued, more calmly, "If that is so, there is all the more reasonwhy I should lose no time."

  "Listen!" The general was deeply in earnest. "You have no conception ofthe chaos out there." He waved a comprehensive gesture. "If theexplosion has not come, it will come within a few hours. That is why Iflew to your side. Battleships are hurrying toward our coast, troopsare massing against our border, and Mexico has risen like one man. Thepeople are in a frenzy; they are out of bounds; there is sack andpillage in the cities. Americans are objects of violence everywhere andthe peons are frantic." He paused impressively. "We face the greatestupheaval of history."

  "Then why are you here?" Alaire demanded. "This is no place for you atsuch a moment."

  Longorio came closer to her, and his voice trembled as he said: "Angelof my soul, my place is at your side." Again she recoiled, but with afervor he had never dared display he rushed on heedlessly. "I have toldyou I harken only to my heart; that for one smile from you I wouldbehead myself; that for your favor I would betray my fatherland; thatfor your kiss I would face damnation. Well, I am here at your side. Thedeluge comes, but you shall be unharmed." He would not permit her tocheck him, crying: "Wait! You must hear me through, senora, so that youmay comprehend fully why I am forced to speak at this time. Out of thiscoming struggle I shall emerge a heroic figure. Now that Mexico unites,she will triumph, and of all her victorious sons the name of LuisLongorio will be sung the loudest, for upon him more than upon anyother depends the Republic's salvation. I do not boast. I merely statefacts, for I have made all my plans, and tomorrow I put them intoeffect. That is why I cannot wait to speak. The struggle will be long,but you shall be my guiding star in the hour of darkness."

  Under other circumstances the man's magnificent egotism might haveprovoked a smile. And yet, for all its grandiloquence, there wassomething in his speech that rang hard and true. UnquestionablyLongorio was dangerous--a real personality, and no mere swaggeringpretender. Alaire felt a certain reluctant respect for him, and at thesame time a touch of chilling fear such as she had hardly experiencedbefore. She faced him silently for a moment; then she said:

  "Am I to understand that you forbid me to leave my own house?"

  "For the time being, exactly."

  "What? Then I am your prisoner!"

  "No, no!" He made a gesture of denial. "How ridiculous! I merely keepyou from certain destruction. You cannot go by train, because therailroad has suspended public service, nor can you ride or drive. Itell you, senora, the people are aroused. For the moment you mustaccept my protection, whether you wish to or not. Tomorrow"--Longoriosmiled warmly, meaningly-"perhaps you will not be in such haste torefuse it, or to leave La Feria. Wait until you understand me better.Then--But enough of this. You are unstrung, you wish to be alone withyour thoughts, and what I have to say can wait for a few hours. In themean time, may I beg the hospitality of your ranch for myself and mymen?"

  Alaire acquiesced mechanically. Longorio saluted her fingers in hiscustomary manner, and then, with a look eloquent of things unsaid, hewent out to see to the comfort of his command.

  Alaire sank into the nearest chair, her nerves quivering, her mind in aturmoil. This Mexican was detestable, and he was far from being themere maker of audaciously gallant speeches, the poetically ferventwooer of every pretty woman, she had blindly supposed him. His was nosham ardor; the man was hotly, horribly in earnest. There had been aglint of madness in his eyes. And he actually seemed to think that sheshared his infatuation. It was intolerable. Yet Longorio, she was sure,had an abundance of discretion; he would not dare to offer herviolence. He had pride, too; and in his way he was something of agentleman. So far, she had avoided giving him offense. But if once shemade plain to him how utterly loathsome to her was his pursuit, she wassure that he would cease to annoy her. Alaire was self-confident,strong-willed; she took courage.

  Her thoughts turned from her fears to the amazing reality of herwidowhood. Even yet she could not wholly credit the fact that Ed'swasted life had come to an end and that she was free to make the mostof her own. Alaire remembered her husband now with more tenderness,more charity, than she would have believed possible, and it seemed toher pitiful that one so blessed with opportunity should have workedsuch havoc with himself and with those near to him.

  Doubtless it was all a part of some providential scheme, too blind forher to solve. Perhaps, indeed, her own trials had been designed to theend that her greater, truer love, when it did come, would find herripe, responsive, ready. As for this Mexican general, she would put himin his place.

  Alaire was still walking the floor of her chamber when Dolores entered,at dusk, to say that supper was ready and that General Longorio waswaiting.

  "Ask him to excuse me," she told her servant.

  But Longorio himself spoke from the next room, saying: "Senora, I begof you to honor me. I have much of importance to say, and time presses.Control your grief and give me the pleasure of your company."

  After an instant's consideration Alaire yielded. It was best to havethe matter over with, once for all.