by Bret Harte
CHAPTER IV.
MR. JACK HAMLIN TAKES A HOLIDAY.
For some weeks Mr. Hamlin had not been well, or, as he more happilyexpressed it, had been "off colour." The celebrated Dr. Duchesne, anex-army surgeon, after a careful diagnosis, had made several inquiriesof Jack, in a frank way that delighted Mr. Hamlin, and then had saidvery quietly--
"You are not doing justice to your profession, Jack. Your pulse is 75,and that won't do for a man who habitually deals faro. Been doing prettywell lately, and having a good time, eh? I thought so! You've beenrunning too fast, and under too high pressure. You must take theseweights off the safely valve, Jack--better take the blower downaltogether. Bank your fires and run on half steam. For the next twomonths I shall run you. You must live like a Christian." Noticing thehorror of Jack's face, he added hastily, "I mean go to bed beforemidnight, get up before you want to, eat more and drink less, don't playto win, bore yourself thoroughly, and by that time I'll be able to putyou back at that table as strong and cool as ever. You used to sing,Jack; sit down at the piano and give me a taste of your quality. * * *There, that'll do; I thought so! You're out of practice and voice. Dothat every day, for a week, and it will come easier. I haven't seen youstop and talk to a child for a month. What's become of that littleboot-black that you used to bedevil? I've a devilish good mind to sendyou to a foundling hospital for the good of the babies and yourself.Find out some poor ranchero with a dozen children, and teach 'emsinging. Don't mind what you eat, as long as you eat regularly. I'd havemore hopes of you, Jack, if I'd dragged you out of Starvation Camp, inthe Sierras, as I did a poor fellow six years ago, than finding you herein these luxurious quarters. Come! Do as I say, and I'll stop thatweariness, dissipate that giddiness, get rid of that pain, lower thatpulse, and put you back where you were. I don't like your looks, Jack,at all. I'd buck against any bank you ran, all night."
From which the intelligent reader will, I hope and trust, perceive thatthis popular doctor's ideas of propriety resided wholly in hisintentions. With the abstract morality of Hamlin's profession as agambler he did not meddle; with his competency to practise thatprofession only was he concerned. Indeed, so frank was he in hisexpression, that a few days later he remarked to a popular clergyman, "Imust put you under the same treatment as I did Jack Hamlin--do you knowhim?--a gambler and a capital fellow; you remind me of him. Same kind oftrouble--cured him as I will you." And he did.
The result of which advice was that in two weeks Mr. Jack Hamlin foundhimself dreadfully bored and _ennuy['e]_, but loyal to his trust with hisphysician, wandering in the lower coast counties. At San Luis Rey, heattended a bull-fight, and was sorely tempted to back the bull heavily,and even conceived the idea of introducing a grizzly bear, taking allthe odds himself, but remembered his promise, and fled the fascination.And so the next day, in a queer old-fashioned diligence, he crossed thecoast range, and drifted into the quiet Mission of San Antonio. Here hewas so done up and bored with the journey and the unpromising aspect ofthe town, that he quietly yielded his usual profane badinage of thelandlord to his loyal henchman and negro body-servant, "Pete," and wentto bed at the solitary "Fonda," in the usual flea-infested bedroom ofthe Spanish California inn.
"What does she look like, Pete?" said Jack, languidly.
Pete, who was familiar with his master's peculiarities of speech, knewthat the feminine pronoun referred to the town, and responded with greatgravity--
"De fac' is, Mahs Jack, dah don't peah to be much show heah foh you.Deys playin' three-card monte in the bah room, but 'taint no squar game.It 'ud do you no good, it might jess rile you. Deys a fass pinto hosshitched to a poss in de yard--a hoss dat de owner don't seem tounderstand nohow. If you was right smart agin, I might let you go downthar and get a bet outer some o' dem Greasers. But 'twon't do nohow.Deys a kind o' school--Sunday-school, I reckon--nex doah. Lots o' littlechildren saying prayers, singin' and praisin' de Lord, sah."
"What day is this?" asked Jack, with sudden trepidation.
"Sunday, sah."
Jack uttered a plaintive groan and rolled over.
"Give one of these children a quarter, and tell him there's anotherquarter waiting for him up here."
"You won't get no child to fool wid dis day, Mahs Jack, shuah. Deysbound to get licked when dey goes. Folks is mighty hard on dem boys,Sunday, sah; and it's de Lord's day, Mahs Jack."
Partly for the sake of horrifying his attendant, who notwithstanding hisevil associations was very devout, Jack gave way to violent denunciationof any system of theology that withheld children from romping with himany day he might select.
"Open that window," he groaned, finally, "and shove the bed alongside ofit. That'll do. Hand me that novel. You needn't read to me to-day; youcan finish that Volney's 'Ruins' another time."
It may be remarked here that it had been Jack's invalid habit to getPete to read to him. As he had provided himself with such books as wereobjectionable to Pete, as they were always utterly incomprehensible whenfiltered through his dialect, and as he always made the reader repeatthe more difficult words, he extracted from this diversion a deliciousenjoyment, which Pete never suspected.
"You can go now," he said, when Pete had arranged him comfortably. "Ishan't want you this afternoon. Take some money. I reckon you won't findany church of your kind here, but if anybody interferes with you, jestlambaste him! If you can't do it, jest spot him, and _I_ will!" (Mr.Hamlin never allowed anybody but himself to object to his follower'sreligious tendencies.) "Have a good time, Pete! Don't tangle yourself upif you can help it. The liquor about here is jest pizen."
With this parting adjuration Mr. Hamlin turned over and tried to devotehimself to his book. But after reading a few lines the letters somehowgot blurred and indistinct, and he was obliged to put the book down witha much graver recollection of the doctor's warning than he had ever hadbefore. He was obliged to confess to a singular weariness and lassitudethat had become habitual, and to admit that he had more pain at timesthan--as he put it--"a man ought to have." The idea of his becomingblind or paralysed dawned upon him gradually, at first humorously;wondering if he couldn't deal faro as well without the use of his legs,for instance, which were of no account to a man under the table; ifthere could not be raised cards for the blind as well as raised letters.The idea of feeling a "pair" or a "flush" amused him greatly, and thenhe remembered more gravely poor Gordon, who, becoming graduallyparalysed, blew his brains out. "The best thing he could do," hesoliloquised, seriously. The reflection, however, had left such adepressing effect upon his mind that the exaltation of liquor for amoment seemed to be the proper thing for him; but the next moment,remembering his promise to the doctor, he changed his mind, and--with aneffort--his reflections.
For relief he turned his paling face to the window. It gave upon a dustycourtyard, the soil of which was pulverised by the pawing of countlesshoofs during the long, dry summer; upon a tiled roof that rose above anadobe wall, over which again rose the two square whitewashed towers ofthe Mission church. Between these towers he caught a glimpse of darkgreen foliage, and beyond this the shining sea.
It was very hot and dry. Scarcely a wave of air stirred the curtains ofthe window. That afternoon the trade-winds which usually harried andbullied the little Mission of San Antonio did not blow, and a writhingweeping willow near the window, that whipped itself into triflinghysterics on the slightest pretext, was surprised into a stony silence.Even the sea beyond glittered and was breathless. It reminded Jack ofthe mouth of the man he met in Sacramento at the hotel, and again hadquarrelled with in San Francisco. And there, absolutely, was the man,the very man, gazing up at the hotel from the shadows of the courtyard.Jack was instantly and illogically furious. Had Pete been there hewould at once have sent an insulting message; but, while he was lookingat him, a sound rose upon the air which more pleasantly arrested hisattention.
It was an organ. Not a very fine instrument, nor skilfully played; butan instrument that Jack was passionately fond of. I forgot to say thathe
had once occupied the position of organist in the Second PresbyterianChurch of Sacramento, until a growing and more healthy public sentimentdetected an incongruity between his secular and Sunday occupations, anda prominent deacon, a successful liquor-dealer, demanded hisresignation. Although he afterwards changed his attentions to a piano,he never entirely lost his old affections. To become the possessor of alarge organ, to introduce it gradually, educating the public taste, as aspecial feature of a first-class gambling saloon, had always been one ofJack's wildest ambitions. So he raised himself upon his elbow andlistened. He could see also that the adjacent building was really arecent addition to the old Mission church, and that what appeared to bea recess in the wall was only a deeply embrasured window. Presently achoir of fresh young voices joined the organ. Mr. Hamlin listened moreattentively; it was one of Mozart's masses with which he was familiar.
For a few moments he forgot his pain and lassitude, and lying therehummed in unison. And then, like a true enthusiast, unmindful of hissurroundings, he lifted his voice--a very touching tenor, well knownamong his friends--and joined in, drowning, I fear, the feebler pipe ofthe little acolytes within. Indeed, it was a fine sight to see thissentimental scamp, lying sick nigh unto dissolution through a dissipatedlife and infamous profession, down upon his back in the dingy _cuarto_of a cheap Spanish inn, voicing the litanies of the Virgin. Howbeit,once started in he sang it through, and only paused when the antiphonalvoices and organ ceased. Then he lifted his head, and, leaning on hiselbow, looked across the courtyard. He had hoped for the appearance ofsome of the little singers, and had all ready a handful of coin to throwto them, and a few of those ingenious epithets and persuasive argumentsby which he had always been successful with the young. But he wasdisappointed.
"I reckon school ain't out yet," he said to himself, and was about tolie down again, when a face suddenly appeared at the grating of thenarrow window.
Mr. Hamlin as suddenly became breathless, and the colour rose to hispale face. He was very susceptible to female beauty, and the face thatappeared at the grating was that of a very beautiful Indian girl. Hethought, and was ready to swear, that he had never seen anything half solovely. Framed in the recess of the embrasure as a shrine, it might havebeen a shadowed devotional image, but that the face was not soangelically beautiful as it was femininely fascinating, and that thelarge deeply fringed eyes had an expression of bright impatience andhuman curiosity. From his secure vantage behind the curtain Mr. Hamlinknew that he could not be seen, and so lay and absorbed this lovelybronze apparition which his voice seemed to have evoked from the coldbronze adobe wall. And then, as suddenly, she was gone, and the staringsunlight and glittering sea beyond seemed to Mr. Hamlin to have gonetoo.
When Pete returned at sunset, he was amazed and alarmed to find hismaster dressed and sitting by the window. There was a certain brightnessin his eye and an unwonted colour in his cheek that alarmed him stillmore.
"You ain't bin and gone done nuffin' agin de doctor's orders, MahsJack?" he began.
"You'll find the whisky flask all right, unless you've been dippin' intoit, you infernal old hypocrite," responded Jack, cheerfully, acceptingthe implied suspicion of his servant. "I've dressed myself because I'mgoin' to church to-night, to find out where you get your liquor. I'mhappy because I'm virtuous. Trot out that Volney's 'Ruins,' and wade in.You're gettin' out o' practice, Pete. Stop. Because you're religious, doyou expect me to starve? Go and order supper first! Stop. Where in blankare you going? Here, you've been gone three hours on an errand for me,and if you ain't runnin' off without a word about it."
"Gone on an errand foh you, sah?" gasped the astonished Pete.
"Yes! Didn't I tell you to go round and see what was the kind ofreligious dispensation here?" continued Jack, with an unmoved face."Didn't I charge you particularly to observe if the Catholic Church wassuch as a professing Christian and the former organist of the SecondPresbyterian Church of Sacramento could attend? And now I suppose I'vegot to find out myself. I'd bet ten to one you ain't been there at all!"
In sheer embarrassment Pete began to brush his master's clothes withostentatious and apologetic diligence, and said--
"I'se no Papist, Mahs Jack, but if I'd thought"----
"Do you suppose I'm going to sit here without my supper while you abusethe Catholic Church--the only church that a gentlemen"----but thefrightened Pete was gone.
The Angelus bell had just rung, and it lacked a full half hour yetbefore vespers, when Mr. Hamlin lounged into the old Mission church.Only a few figures knelt here and there--mere vague, black shadows inthe gloom. Aided, perhaps, more by intuition than the light of the dimcandles on the high altar, he knew that the figure he looked for was notamong them; and seeking the shadow of a column he calmly waited itsapproach. It seemed a long time. A heavy-looking woman, redolent ofgarlic, came in and knelt nearly opposite. A yellow vaquero, whom Mr.Hamlin recalled at once as one he had met on the road hither,--a manwhose Spanish profanity, incited by unruly cattle, had excited Jack'samused admiration,--dropped on his knees, and with equallycharacteristic volubility began a supplication to the Virgin. Then twoor three men, whom Jack recognised as the monte-players of the "Fonda,"began, as it seemed to Jack, to bewail their losses in lachrymoseaccents. And then Mr. Hamlin, highly excited, with a pulse that wouldhave awakened the greatest concern of his doctor, became nervously andmagnetically aware that some one else was apparently waiting and anxiousas himself, and had turned _his_ head at the entrance of each one of thecongregation. It was a figure Jack had at first overlooked. Safe in theshadow of the column, he could watch it without being seen himself. Evenin the gloom he could see the teeth and eyes of the man he had observedthat afternoon--his old antagonist at Sacramento.
Had it been anywhere else Jack would have indulged his general andabstract detestation of Victor by instantly picking a quarrel with him.As it was, he determined upon following him when he left the church--ofventing on him any possible chagrin or disappointment he might thenhave, as an excitement to mitigate the unsupportable dreariness of theMission. The passions are not so exclusive as moralists imagine, for Mr.Hamlin was beginning to have his breast filled with wrath againstVictor, in proportion as his doubts of the appearance of the beautifulstranger grew stronger in his mind, when two figures momentarilydarkened the church porch, and a rustle of silk stole upon his ear. Afaint odour of spice penetrated through the incense. Jack looked up, andhis heart stopped beating.
It was she. As she reached the stall nearly opposite, she put aside herblack veil, and disclosed the same calm, nymph-like face he had seen atthe window. It was doubly beautiful now. Even the strange complexion hadfor Jack a bewildering charm. She looked around, hesitated for a moment,and then knelt between the two monte-players. With an almost instinctivemovement Jack started forward, as if to warn her of the contaminatingcontact. And then he stopped, his own face crimsoned with shame. For thefirst time he had doubted the morality of his profession.
The organ pealed out; the incense swam; the monotonous voice of thepriest rose upon the close, sluggish air, and Mr. Jack Hamlin dreamed adream. He had dispossessed the cold, mechanical organist, and, seatinghimself at the instrument, had summoned all the powers of reed and voiceto sing the p[ae]ans--ah me! I fear not of any abstract Being, but ofincarnate flesh and blood. He heard her pure, young voice lifted besidehis; even in that cold, passionless commingling there was joyunspeakable, and he knew himself exalted. Yet he was conscious even inhis dream, from his own hurried breathing, and something that seemed toswell in his throat, that he could not have sung a note. And then hecame back to his senses, and a close examination of the figure beforehim. He looked at the graceful, shining head, the rich lace veil, thequiet elegance of attire, even to the small satin slipper that stolefrom beneath her silken robe--all united with a refinement and an air ofjealous seclusion, that somehow removed him to an immeasurabledistance.
The anthem ceased, the last notes of the organ died away, and the ladyrose. Half an hour bef
ore, Jack would have gladly stepped forward tohave challenged even a passing glance from the beautiful eyes of thestranger; now a timidity and distrust new to the man took possession ofhim. He even drew back closer in the shadow as she stepped toward thepillar, which supported on its face a font of holy water. She hadalready slipped off her glove, and now she leaned forward--so near hecould almost feel her warm breath--and dipped her long slim fingers intothe water. As she crossed herself with the liquid symbol, Jack gave aslight start. One or two drops of holy water thrown from her littlefingers had fallen on his face.
