It was noon: the house was quiet, for Dona Mercedes had retired after breakfast to take her unfailing siesta, leaving us to our conversation.
In that s.p.a.cious, cool room where I had first reposed in the house, I was lying on the sofa smoking a cigarette. Dolores, seating herself near me with her guitar, said, "Now let me play and sing you to sleep with something very soft." But the more she played and sang the further was I from un-needed slumber.
"What, not sleeping yet, Richard!" she would say, with a little laugh after each song.
"Not yet, Dolores," I would reply, pretending to get drowsy. "But my eyes are getting heavy now. One more song will send me to the region of dreams. Sing me that sweet favourite---
_Desde aquel doloroso momento_."
At length, finding that my sleepiness was all pretence, she refused to sing any more, and presently we drifted once more into the old subject.
"Ah, yes," she replied to that argument about my nationality, which was my only shield, "I have always been taught to believe foreigners a cold, practical, calculating kind of people--so different from us. You never seemed to me like a foreigner; ah, Richard, why will you make me remember that you are not one of us! Tell me, dear friend, if a beautiful woman cried out to you to deliver her from some great misfortune or danger, would you stop to ask her nationality before going to her rescue?"
"No, Dolores; you know that if you, for instance, were in distress or danger I would fly to your side and risk my life to save you."
"I believe you, Richard. But tell me, is it less n.o.ble to help a suffering people cruelly oppressed by wicked men who have succeeded by crimes and treachery and foreign aid in climbing into power? Will you tell me that no Englishman has drawn a sword in a cause like that? Oh, friend, is not my mother-country more beautiful and worthy to be helped than any woman? Has not G.o.d given her spiritual eyes that shed tears and look for comfort; lips sweeter than any woman"s lips, that cry bitterly every day for deliverance? Can you look on the blue skies above you and walk on the green gra.s.s where the white and purple flowers smile up at you and be deaf and blind to her beauty and to her great need? Oh, no, no, it is impossible!"
"Ah, if you were a man, Dolores, what a flame you would kindle in the hearts of your countrymen!"
"Yes, if I were a man!" she exclaimed, starting to her feet; "then I should serve my country not with words only; then I would strike and bleed for her--how willingly! Being only a weak woman, I would give my heart"s blood to win one arm to aid in the sacred cause."
She stood before me with flashing eyes, her face glowing with enthusiasm; then I also rose to my feet and took her hands in mine, for I was intoxicated with her loveliness and almost ready to throw all restraints to the winds.
"Dolores," I said, "are not your words extravagant? Shall I test their sincerity? Tell me, would you give even as much as one kiss with your sweet lips to win a strong arm for your country?"
She turned crimson and cast her eyes down; then, quickly recovering herself, answered:
"What do your words mean? Speak plainly, Richard."
"I cannot speak plainer, Dolores. Forgive me if I have offended once more. Your beauty and grace and eloquence have made me forget myself."
Her hands were moist and trembling in mine, still she did not withdraw them. "No, I am not offended," she returned in a strangely low tone.
"Put me to the test, Richard. Do you wish me to understand clearly that for such a favour as that you would join us?"
"I cannot say," I replied, still endeavouring to be prudent, though my heart was on fire and my words when I spoke seemed to choke me. "But, Dolores, if you would shed your blood to win one strong arm, will you think it too much to bestow the favour I spoke of in the hope of winning an arm?"
She was silent. Then, drawing her closer, I touched her lips with mine.
But who was ever satisfied with that one touch on the lips for which the heart has craved? It was like contact with a strange, celestial fire that instantly kindled my love to madness. Again and yet again I kissed her; I pressed her lips till they were dry and burned like fire, then kissed cheek, forehead, hair, and, casting my arms about her strained her to my breast in a long, pa.s.sionate embrace; then the violence of the paroxysm was over, and with a pang I released her. She trembled: her face was whiter than alabaster, and, covering it with her hands, she sank down on the sofa. I sat down beside her and drew her head down on my breast, but we remained silent, only our hearts were beating very fast. Presently she disengaged herself, and, without bestowing one glance on me, rose and left the room.
Before long I began to blame myself bitterly for this imprudent outburst. I dared not hope to continue longer on the old familiar footing. So high-spirited and sensitive a woman as Dolores would not easily be brought to forget or forgive my conduct. She had not repelled me, she had even tacitly consented to that one first kiss, and was therefore partly to blame herself; but her extreme pallor, her silence, and cold manner had plainly shown me that I had wounded her. My pa.s.sion had overcome me, and I felt that I had compromised myself. For that one first kiss I had all but promised to do a certain thing, and not to do it now seemed very dishonourable, much as I shrank from joining the Blanco rebels. I had proposed the thing myself; she had silently consented to the stipulation. I had taken my kiss and much more, and, having now had my delirious, evanescent joy, I could not endure the thought of meanly skulking off without paying the price.
I went out full of trouble and paced up and down in the orchard for two or three hours, hoping that Dolores might come to me there, but I saw no more of her that day. At dinner Dona Mercedes was excessively affable, showing clearly that she was not in her daughter"s confidence. She informed me, simple soul! that Dolores was suffering from a grievous headache caused by taking a gla.s.s of claret at breakfast after eating a slice of water-melon, an imprudence against which she did not omit to caution me.
Lying awake that night--for the thought that I had pained and offended Dolores made it impossible for me to sleep--I resolved to join Santa Coloma immediately. That act alone would salve my conscience, and I only hoped that it would serve to win back the friendship and esteem of the woman I had learned to love so well. I had no sooner determined on taking this step than I began to see so many advantages in it that it seemed strange I had not taken it before; but we lose half our opportunities in life through too much caution. A few more days of adventure, all the pleasanter for being spiced with danger, and I would be once more in Montevideo with a host of great and grateful friends to start me in some career in the country. Yes, I said to myself, becoming enthusiastic, once this oppressive, scandalous, and besotted Colorado party is swept with bullet and steel out of the country, as of course it will be, I shall go to Santa Coloma to lay down my sword, resuming by that act my own nationality, and as sole reward of my chivalrous conduct in aiding the rebellion, ask for his interest in getting me placed say, at the head of some large _estancia_ in the interior. There, possibly on one of his own establishments, I shall be in my element and happy, hunting ostriches, eating _carne con cuero_, possessing a _tropilla_ of twenty cream-coloured horses for my private use, and building up a modest fortune out of hides, horns, tallow, and other native products.
At break of day I rose and saddled my horse; then, finding the dignified Nepomucino, who was the early bird (blackbird) of the establishment, told him to inform his mistress that I was going to spend the day with General Santa Coloma. After taking a _mate_ from the old fellow, I mounted and galloped out of the village of Molino.
Arrived at the camp, which had been moved to a distance of four or five miles from El Molino, I found Santa Coloma just ready to mount his horse to start on an expedition to a small town eight or nine leagues distant.
He at once asked me to go with him, and remarked that he was very much pleased, though not surprised, at my having changed my mind about joining him. We did not return till late in the evening, and the whole of the following day was spent in monotonous cavalry exercises. I then went to the General and requested permission to visit the Casa Blanca to bid adieu to my friends there. He informed me that he intended going to El Molino the next morning himself and would take me with him. The first thing he did on our arrival at the village was to send me to the princ.i.p.al storekeeper in the place, a man who had faith in the Blanco leader, and was rapidly disposing of a large stock of goods at a splendid profit, receiving in payment sundry slips of paper signed by Santa Coloma. This good fellow, who mixed politics with business, provided me with a complete and much-needed outfit, which included a broadcloth suit of clothes, soft brown hat rather broad in the brim, long riding-boots, and _poncho_. Going back to the official building or headquarters in the plaza, I received my sword, which did not harmonise very well with the civilian costume I wore; but I was no worse off in this respect than forty-nine out of every fifty men in our little army.
In the afternoon we went together to see the ladies, and the General had a very hearty welcome from both of them, as I also had from Dona Mercedes, while Dolores received me with the utmost indifference, expressing no pleasure or surprise at seeing me wearing a sword in the cause which she had professed to have so much at heart. This was a sore disappointment, and I was also nettled at her treatment of me. After dinner, over which we sat talking some time, the General left us, telling me before doing so to join him in the plaza at five o"clock next morning. I then tried to get an opportunity of speaking to Dolores alone, but she studiously avoided me, and in the evening there were several visitors, ladies from the town with three or four officers from the camp, and dancing and singing were kept up till towards midnight.
Finding that I could not speak to her, and anxious about my appointment at five in the morning, I at length retired sorrowful and baffled to my apartment. Without undressing I threw myself on my bed, and, being very much fatigued with so much riding about, I soon fell asleep. When I woke, the brilliant light of the moon, shining in at open window and door, made me fancy it was already daylight, and I quickly sprang up.
I had no means of telling the time, except by going into the large living-room, where there was an old eight-day clock. Making my way thither, I was amazed to see, on entering it, Dolores in her white dress sitting beside the open window in a dejected att.i.tude. She started and rose up when I entered, the extreme pallor of her face heightened by contrast with her long, raven-black hair hanging unbound on her shoulders.
"Dolores, do I find you here at this hour?" I exclaimed.
"Yes," she returned coldly, sitting down again. "Do you think it very strange, Richard?"
"Pardon me for disturbing you," I said; "I came here to find out the time from your clock."
"It is two o"clock. Is that all you came for? Did you imagine I could retire to sleep without first knowing what your motive was in returning to this house? Have you then forgotten everything?"
I came to her and sat down by the window before speaking. "No, Dolores,"
I said; "had I forgotten, you would not have seen me here enlisted in a cause which I looked on only as your cause."
"Ah, then you have honoured the Casa Blanca with this visit not to speak to me--that you considered unnecessary--but merely to exhibit yourself wearing a sword!"
I was stung by the extreme bitterness of her tone. "You are unjust to me," I said. "Since that fatal moment when my pa.s.sion overcame me I have not ceased thinking of you, grieving that I had offended you. No, I did not come to exhibit my sword, which is not worn for ornament; I came only to speak to you, Dolores, and you purposely avoided me."
"Not without reason," she retorted quickly. "Did I not sit quietly by you after you had acted in that way towards me, waiting for you to speak--to explain, and you were silent? Well, senor, I am here now, waiting again."
"This, then, is what I have to say," I replied. "After what pa.s.sed I considered myself bound in honour to join your cause, Dolores. What more can I say except to implore your forgiveness? Believe me, dear friend, in that moment of pa.s.sion I forgot everything--forgot that I--forgot that your hand was already given to another."
"Given to another? What do you mean, Richard? Who told you that?"
"General Santa Coloma."
"The General? What right has he to occupy himself with my affairs? This is a matter that concerns myself only, and it is presumption on his part to interfere in it."
"Do you speak in that tone of your hero, Dolores? Remember that he only warned me of my danger out of pure friendship. But his warning was thrown away; my unhappy pa.s.sion, the sight of your loveliness, your own incautious words, were too much for my heart."
She dropped her face on her hands and remained silent.
"I have suffered for my fault, and must suffer more. Will you not say you forgive me, Dolores?" I said, offering my hand.
She took it, but continued silent.
"Say, dearest friend, that you forgive me, that we part friends."
"Oh, Richard, must we part then?" she murmured.
"Yes--now, Dolores; for, before you are up, I must be on horseback and on my way to join the troops. The march to Montevideo will probably commence almost immediately."
"Oh, I cannot bear it!" she suddenly exclaimed, taking my hands in both hers. "Let me open my heart to you now. Forgive me, Richard, for being so angry with you, but I did not know the General had said such a thing.
Believe me, he imagines more than he knows. When you took me in your arms and held me against your breast it was a revelation to me. I cannot love or give my hand to any other man. You are everything in the world to me now, Richard; must you leave me to mingle in this cruel civil strife in which all my dearest friends and relations have perished."
She had had her revelation; I now had mine, and it was an exceedingly bitter one. I trembled at the thought of confessing my secret to her, now when she had so unmistakably responded to the pa.s.sion I had insanely revealed.
Suddenly she raised her dark, luminous eyes to mine, anger and shame struggling for mastery on her pale face.