by Rex Beach
XXX
THE MAN OF DESTINY
"Now, then, I'll explain," said Alaire, turning to the men. "Longoriodeclares he won't have me except as his wife, and I think he means it.He is amazingly egotistical. He has tremendous ambitions. He thinksthis war is his great opportunity, and he means to be President--he'ssure of it. He loves me, but he loves himself better, I'm sure. Now,don't you see? He'll have to choose one or the other."
Father O'Malley did not appear to appreciate the full force of thisreasoning. "My dear," he said, gravely, "he can make you a widow again.In such times as these men are savages."
"Oh, but that's not all." Alaire turned to her newly made husband."They let you in, and they'll let you out again--if you go quickly,before it's known what we've done."
Dave stared at her in bewilderment. "I? I go, and--leave you?" Heseemed doubtful of her sanity.
"Yes." When he laughed shortly, Alaire cried: "Dave, you must! Don'tyou see what I'm driving at? If he can't marry me, if he finds you'regone and he can't lay hands on you, what can he do but let me go? Davedear, for my sake, for the sake of us both--"
"You're excited," he told her, and drew her to himself gently.
"Please! PLEASE!" she implored.
"You don't know that man," said Father O'Malley, with conviction.
But Alaire insisted, half hysterically now: "I do; that's just it, I DOknow him. He is planning the greatest things for himself, his head isin the clouds, and he daren't do the things he used to do. That's why Icalled in those women as witnesses. He can't put THEM out of the way.With Dave gone I'll be safe. He can't ignore our marriage. Butotherwise--There's no telling what he may do. Why, he'll kill you,Dave, as he killed Ed." She upturned a face eloquent with pleading."Won't you do this for me?"
"No!" Law declared, firmly. "You wouldn't ask it if you were in yoursenses. Get me a gun and I'll shoot my way out. We'll go until theystop us. But don't ask me to leave you."
She searched his face eagerly, piteously, then with a quivering sighrelaxed her tension. "Then we've only made matters worse. You'vespoiled our only chance."
Father O'Malley, who had been lost in thought, spoke up again: "Perhapsyou will let me try my wits. But first, do I understand that it was hewho effected the death of--Mr. Austin?"
Dave recounted as coherently as he could the circumstances of Ed'sdeath, and told how he had learned, through Jose, of Longorio'sintentions. As the priest listened a spot of color grew in his cheeks,his eyes glowed with indignation. He was about to make known what wasin his mind when Alaire raised her hand and in a strained whisperexclaimed:
"'Sh-h! Listen!"
The heavy door of the hacienda creaked, a quick tread sounded on thetiles, the door to the living-room was flung open, and Longorioentered. He was hot and dusty from his ride, but with a lover'simpetuosity he had made straight for this lighted room.
For the briefest instant he balanced himself just inside the portal,and the smile remained fixed upon his lips. Then his eyes became ringedwith white and he made a swift, catlike movement of retreat. Plainlythis was the supremest surprise of his lifetime, and he seemed to doubthis senses. But he recovered quickly. Thrusting his head forward, hedemanded:
"What is this? You--and you?" He stared from Dave to the priest, thenback again.
They all spoke at once, but he heard only Alaire's words:
"He came to find me."
Pancho appeared in the doorway behind Longorio, saying, "I heard youride up, sir, so I ran to tell you about this fellow."
But the general cut him short. "Call your men, quick," he cried in avoice that sent the soldier leaping back into the night.
Alaire was clinging to Dave, merely clutching him the tighter when hetried to unclasp her hold. Her movement into the shelter of his rival'sarms infuriated Longorio, who uttered an exclamation and fumbleduncertainly with his holster. But his fingers were clumsy. He could nottake his eyes from the pair, and he seemed upon the point of rushingforward to tear them apart.
"Don't touch her! Don't--" he began, cursing in a high-pitched voice."God! What a reckoning!" Then he stamped his feet, he wrung his hands,he called shrilly at the top of his voice: "Lieutenant! Ho, Pancho! Youfellows! Quickly!" Under the stress of his excitement the feminine sideof his character betrayed itself.
Alaire felt her newly made husband gather himself for a spring; he wasmuttering to her to release him; he was trying to push her aside, butshe held fast with the strength of desperation.
"You can't harm us," she declared, flinging her words defiantly at theMexican. "You dare not. You are too late. Father O'Malley has justmarried us."
Longorio uttered a peculiar, wordless cry of dismay; his mouth fellopen; his arms dropped; he went limp all over, paralyzed momentarily bysurprise and horror; his eyes protruded; he swayed as if his sight hadblurred.
"I said I'd never marry you," she rushed on, vibrantly. "This is theman I love--the only man. Yes, and I've learned the truth about you. Iknow who killed Mr. Austin."
Longorio did a very unexpected thing then; slowly, unconsciously, as ifthe movement were the result of a half-forgotten training, he crossedhimself.
But now from the hall at his back came the pounding of boot-heels, anda half dozen panting troopers tumbled through the door. He waved themback and out into the hall again.
Father O'Malley, who had been trying to make himself heard, stepped infront of the general and said, solemnly: "Take care what you do,Longorio. I have married these people, and you can't undo what I havedone. We are American citizens. The laws of civilization protect us."
The Mexican fought for his voice, then stammered: "You are my priest; Ibrought you here. I offered to marry her. Now--you force me to damn mysoul." Turning his eyes wildly upon Alaire, he shouted: "Too late, eh?You say I am too late! It seems that I am barely in time."
Dave added his words to the others: "You are ten to one, but you can'thave her," he cried, defiantly. "Jose Sanchez confessed to the murderof Mr. Austin, and told how you had got Mrs. Austin to come here. Thewhole thing is known in Washington and Mexico City by this time. Thenewspapers have it; everybody knows you are keeping her as yourprisoner, and that I have come for her. If she is harmed, all Mexico,all the world, will know that you are worse than a murderer."
Longorio reached behind his back and slammed the door in the faces ofhis listening men.
"What is this? What did Jose confess?" he inquired, sharply.
"He swears you hired him."
"Bah! The word of a pelador."
In spite of the man's contemptuous tone Dave saw the expression in hisface and made a quick decision. "There's a limit to what you dare todo, Longorio. I'm unarmed; I make no resistance, so there is no excusefor violence. I surrender to you, and claim protection for myself andmy wife."
But Longorio was not to be tricked. "Good!" he cried, triumphantly. "Ihave been looking forward to something like this, and I shall givemyself a great pleasure." He laid a hand upon the doorknob, but beforehe could turn it the Catholic priest had him by the arm, and with astrength surprising in one of his stature wrenched him away. FatherO'Malley's face was white and terrible; his voice was deep, menacing;the hand he raised above Longorio seemed to brandish a weapon.
"Stop!" he thundered. "Are you a madman? Destruction hangs over you;destruction of body and soul. You dare not separate those whom God hathjoined."
"God! God!" the other shrilled. "I don't believe in Him. I am a god; Iknow of no other."
"Blasphemer!" roared the little man. "Listen, then. So surely as youharm these people, so surely do you kill your earthly prospects. You,the first man of Mexico, the Dictator indeed! Think what you are doingbefore it is too late. Is your dream of greatness only a dream? Willyou sacrifice yourself and all your aspirations in the heat of thisunholy and impossible passion? Tonight, now, you must choose whetheryou will be famous or infamous, glorious or shameful, honored ordishonored! Restrain your hatred and conquer your lust, or forego forever your dreams of emp
ire and pass into oblivion."
"You are a meddler," Longorio stormed. "You make a loud noise, but Ishall rid Mexico of your kind. We shall have no more of you priests."
Father O'Malley shook the speaker as a parent shakes an unruly child."See! You have completely lost your head. But I want you to listen towhat I am saying. Whether you are more good than evil, God must judge,but the people of Mexico are good people, and they will not be ruled bya man who is wholly bad. You have the power to remove this man and thiswoman, yes, and this priest who dares to point out the pit at yourfeet; but if you do you will never command another Mexican army. Thereis no war. We are not your enemies. The world knows we are here, and itholds you accountable for our safety. To-morrow you will have to facethe reckoning."
Longorio listened. It was plain that he recognized the truth ofO'Malley's words, but he was convulsed with rage.
"Good!" he cried. "I see my dreams dissolve, but I am not the firstgreat man to trade an empire for a woman. Antony, the Roman general,laid his honor in a woman's arms. I had a shining destiny, but Mexicowill be the sufferer by my betrayal. Instead of Longorio the Deliverer,I shall be known as Longorio the Lover, the man who gave all--"
O'Malley interrupted forcefully. "Enough of this! Come with me. I havesomething more to say to you." He flung open the door into the halland, taking the general by the arm, fairly dragged him from the roomand into the one opposite. The lieutenant and his men looked on inamazement, shuffling their feet and shifting their rifle butts noisilyupon the floor.
Alaire turned an anxious face to Dave, saying: "He is wonderful.Longorio is almost--afraid of him."
"Yes; he may bring him to his senses. If he doesn't--" Dave cast hiseyes desperately over the room, conscious all the time that he wasbeing watched with suspicion by the men outside. He stirred restlesslyand moistened his lips. "Longorio would be crazy to injure you."
Ten minutes passed; fifteen. Alaire leaned, motionless, against thetable; Dave paced about, followed by the eyes of the soldiers. One ofthe latter struck a match, and in the silence it sounded like agunshot. Dave started, at which the soldiers laughed. They began totalk in murmurs. The odor of cigarette smoke drifted in to the man andthe woman.
Finally the door through which Father O'Malley and Longorio had passedopened, and the priest emerged. He was alone. His face was flushed anddamp; his eyes were glowing. He forced the Mexicans out of his way and,entering the living-room, closed the door behind him.
"Well?" his two friends questioned, anxiously.
"I've done all I can. The rest is out of our hands." The little man satdown heavily and mopped his forehead.
"What does he say?"
"He told me to come here and wait. I never saw a man so torn, sodistracted."
"Then he is wavering. Oh-h!" Alaire clasped her hands in thanksgiving,but the Father cautioned her:
"Don't be too sanguine. He is not afraid of consequences. He appears tohave no conscience. He is without mercy and seems lost to shame. I havenever met a man quite like him. Do you know what he feels at thismoment? Chagrin. Yes, mortification raised to the highest pitch, and asort of stupefaction that you should prefer another man to him. Hecan't understand your lack of taste." Father O'Malley smiled faintly.
"Conceited idiot," Dave growled.
"His humiliation kills him. When I saw that it was useless to appeal tohim on moral grounds, and that threats were unavailing, I took anothercourse. Something gave me insight into his mind, and the power to talkas I have never talked before. All in a flash I saw the man's soul laidbare before me, and--I think I played upon it with some cunning. Idon't remember all I said, for I was inspired, but I appealed to hisvanity and to his conceit, and as I went along I impressed upon him,over and over, the fact that the world knows we are here and that ittrusts him. He aspires to the Presidency; he believes he is destined tobe Mexico's Dictator; so I painted a picture that surpassed his ownimaginings. He would have been suspicious of mere flattery, so I wentfar beyond that and inflamed him with such extravagant visions as onlya child or an unblushing egotist like him could accept. I swelled hisvanity; I inflated his conceit. For a moment, at least, I lifted himout of himself and raised him to the heights."
From beyond the closed door came Longorio's voice, issuing some commandto his men. A moment passed; then he appeared before the threeAmericans. He seemed taller, thinner, more erect and hawklike thanever. His head was held more proudly and his chest was fuller. A set,disdainful smile was graven upon his face.
He began by addressing his words directly to Alaire. "Senora," he said,"I am a man of deep feeling and I scorn deceit. Therefore I offer noapology for my recent display of emotion. If I have seemed to press myadvances with undue fervor, it is because, at heart, I am as great alover as I am a statesman or a soldier. But there are other things thanlove. Nature constituted me a leader, and he who climbs high must climbalone. I offered Chapultepec as a shrine for your beauty. I offered toshare Mexico with you, and I told you that I would not be content withless than all of you. Well I meant it. Otherwise--I would take younow." His voice throbbed with a sudden fierce desire, and his long,lean hands closed convulsively. "You must realize that I have thecourage and the power to defy the world, eh?" He seemed to challengedenial of this statement, but, receiving none, he went on, fixing hisbrilliant, feverish eyes once more upon Alaire. "As a man of sentimentI am unique; I am different from any you have ever known. I would notpossess a flower without its fragrance. You did not believe me when Itold you that, but I am going to prove it. All your life you are goingto think of me as heroic. Perhaps no patriot in history ever made amore splendid sacrifice for his country than I make now. Some day theworld will wonder how I had the strength to put aside love and followthe path of duty."
Alaire trusted herself to ask, "Then we are free to go?"
The general's face was swept by a grimace intended for a smile. "I haveordered your horses to be saddled."
Dave, who had with difficulty restrained his anger at the fellow'sbombast, was upon the point of speaking when Father O'Malley took thewords out of his mouth:
"Would you send this woman out of her own house into a countrylike--like this? Remember the fortune in cattle you have alreadytaken--"
Longorio broke in with a snarl: "Is it my fault that the country is inarms? Military necessity compels me to remain here. I consider myselfmagnanimous. I--" His voice cracked, and he made a despairing, violentgesture. "Go, before I change my mind."
Dave signaled to the others, and Alaire slipped away to make herselfready. During the uncomfortable silence which succeeded her departure,Longorio paced the room, keeping his eyes resolutely turned away fromLaw.
"Do you mean that I, too, may go?" O'Malley inquired.
"What good are you to me?" snapped the general.
"You will give us safe conduct?"
"Be still, priest!" Longorio glared at the speaker, clasping andunclasping his fists behind his back.
With the sound of hoofs outside, Alaire and Dolores appeared, and theMexican straightened himself with an effort.
"Adios, senora!" he said, with a stiff bow. "We have had a pleasantfriendship and a thrilling flirtation, eh? I shall never cease toregret that Fate interrupted at such an interesting moment. Adios!Adios!" He bowed formally, in turn to Dave and to the priest, thenresumed his pacing, with his hands at his back and his brow furrowed asif in a struggle with affairs of greater moment than this.
But when he heard the outside door creak shut behind them hisindifference vanished and he halted with head turned in an effort tocatch the last sounds of their departure. His face was like tallow now,his lips were drawn back from his teeth as if in supreme agony. Amoment and the hoofbeats had died away. Then Longorio slipped his leash.
He uttered a cry--a hoarse, half-strangled shriek that tore his throat.He plucked the collar from his neck as if it choked him; he beat hisbreast. Seizing whatever article his eye fell upon, he tore and crushedit; he swept the table clean of its queer S
panish bric-a-brac, andtrampled the litter under his heels. Spying a painting of a saint uponthe wall, he ran to it, ripped it from its nail, and, raising it overhis head, smashed frame and glass, cursing all saints, all priests, andchurchly people. Havoc followed him as he raged about the placewreaking his fury upon inanimate objects. When he had well-nigh wreckedthe contents of the room, and when his first paroxysm had spent itsviolence, he hurled himself into a chair, writhing in agony. He bit hiswrists, he pounded his fists, he kicked; finally he sprawled fulllength upon the floor, clawing at the cool, smooth tiles until hisnails bled.
"Christ! O Christ!" he screamed.
The sound of his blasphemies reached the little group of soldiers whohad lingered curiously outside, and they listened open-mouthed. One byone they crossed themselves and stole away into the darkness, muttering.
