New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1876-01-02
. little later than your wont TOMORROW,
senior, please. Goodnight"

/ vi.
In the Gale del Obispo the sidewalks
are but twenty inches wide. When, there
fore, the Senorita Luisa, bsving risen Ut an
hour which the ladies of Havana call early,
walked to the drawing-ro0m window, ana
leaned her cheek against the iron grating in
contemplation of the newly finished man
sion, it is not strange that the dark face OF
a passer, who happened at the moment
to be picking his way along the narrow
| walk, came very near to her own.
1t was the face Of Don Joaquin.
For an instant they were eye to eye; but
the senorita fell back step, and he, with
all his hearts blood in his brow, prom21ly
touched his hat, murmured apologetlcally,
and passed across to the new house. 4
man with q pair OF compaeses began an
eager speech to him, but he answered in Q
mOnosyllable, and turned to move OIL. As
he did go he sent quick black-eyed glance
acrOes to the grating, looked on up to the
cornice of the house. ran his eye along from
| one bOuse-tOp to another, and walked away.
She had left the window.
Though the driver of his v0laute saluted
thrice. the don passed it without seeing
him. He saw nothing nothing. he walked
as one in sleep; but his heart, which at sight
of that form at the window had started and
| flinched like q sick man when something
falls. was awake, with the old cry OF Tive!
| Gaining his be- chamber, he locked him
self out Of sight and hearing of the world,
! and fell down, with his head between his
hands. to hold communion with the foolish
| vow that had wrecked bis life.
o Tulsa, Tulsa! 0 GOO! o cruel, idle
| vow! o morsel of pride for princedom of
love! o wretched life at this whipping post
of a sworn promise! O blindness! o little.
| little VOW. holding the neck to the ground!
| o life! o suicide! o shame if the oath be
broken. 0 agony if the oath be kept! o
Luisa, Luisa and 0 false friend! and o
false and traitorous counsel!
It was nearly suneet when he arose.
Going to a small drawer, above which
stood a crucifix, he took from it q silver pis-
toll, and carefully noting that it was
freshly charged, thrust it into his bosom.
His face was that of q man ruined
by cruel fraud, and bent on
a sudden terrible reprisal. But, "Her
face once more first" he said aloud, took up
his hat and coat, and walked forth.
He enters the Gale del Obisbo. and re-
traces his morning walk. At every step he
is greeted with the deterential bows Of his
many acquaintance, and returns them
measure for measure. But there is one &C.
quaintance in Havana, if he is now in his
path, woe betide that man.
Don Joaquin comes in sight of his goal.
0 heart! how hateful looks his gaudy
he is almost opposite the window. His
heart stops.
Can he command his steps, By force of
will yes.
Can he lift his eyes, Yes-no-yes. He
gathers all his strength; he looks across the
way. Oh, torture oh, delight there she
stands, as she used to stand SO often in the
happy times at Marianao.
She was leaning gracefully against the
grating, with one beautiful hand upon it,
slender, softly moulded figure, her upward
turned face little pale, and q light from
heaven falling upon her head and making
tender the gentle majesty of her long down
sweeping summer robes. Truly, truly, not
like the Creoles of Cuba. From her fair
temples the auburn hair waved back in its
old luxuriance, half caught in the comb,
and half escaping away on her shoulders,
and one bold ripglet-ah, so we'll remem-
bered ran round and touched her snowy
throat. Her eyes a siugle moment were
gazing upward; suddenly they turned to
his, then fell
But did Don Joaquin 20 to happy couch
that night All. no. Memory was waiting
for him, like creditor, in his bed chamber,
night foated, ghost-like, sometimes before
and sometimes behind him. with the whisper
now of the old vow and now Of . listless
promise but lately extorted by friend. A
friend A traitor And on the head Of the
Englishman he let fall such silent curse
as Cuban can. At a certain hour, which
he seemed to have fixed upon. he stood pre-.
pared to go once more into the streets. He
paused and looked forth at a window. The
beautiful harbor of Havana, with all its
bravery of decks and spars and shimmering
waters. lay asleep in the soft light of the |
moon. The peaceful scene was not without
Its effect upon him. For q moment the
n of nd an hS1 cd nd no fhnu
within himself how the great heart Of
true man, thus treighted with hopes and
enterprises, might lie still with bliss under |
the smile Of fair, true woman. But he |
turned himself. and was gone.
He went to the Hotel de Ingletarra. The |
object of his search was not there. He ven
tured into the Casino, cautiously, fearing to |
was not there. He walked in the shadows |
of the Alameda. He was mo- there. He |
called cab and rode into the street, and |
to the dim number of the wooden flOored |
counting room; but when he looked up at |
its window all was dark. The night wore |
by; all Havana slumbered; lights disap-
peared; the footsteps of the dull seronos
began to echo against the silent walls; vet |
Don Joaquin still paced in and out among
the lights and shadows. The cock crew,
but the spectral memory staid. He was |
carried at last by mere vacancy of coniect- |
ure to the fish market; but his enemy was |
not there.
Early in the morning the vainly sought
Engilshman entered his cOunting-roOm and |
sat down at his desk. 1t was habit with
him. But this time he first opened an iron
safe. aud taking from it the tiny silver urn
that Don joaquin had once sent him. set it
on the desk, reseated himself and began to
write. Presently he heard tootstep on the
threshold. He looked up. Don JOAQUIN
stood before him.
But what saw Don Joaquin! A face go
drawn with anguish that astonishment held
him fast.
"Hello, Justiniani!" said the Englishmap.
huskily; Il was about to write to you.
What fetches you out go e'rly?"
The answer was slow and sOlemnly pas
slOnate:
Il coma to keel-a your
you'll make great mistake if you do"
said the Englishman, looking quietly but
You hasa play the r-rascal 7"
"Mr. Justiniani," replied the Englishman,
~ went last night to De Griialva's to ask
him for his neice's hand"
Don Joaquin's hand went slowly to his
bosom.
II had not been there two minutes before
discovered that she is your old sweetheart
from Marianao. l had never suspected it.
foolishly took it for granted that her name
was the same as her uncle's. came awav.
sir, saying to myself that by rights Mr.. JUS.
tiniani ought to be allowed to speak first. l
came to your door last night, but it was
locked: l know, now, what you we're do
ing. have been walking the streets all
night. I'm tired. Now, sir, suppose you're
ready to commencing shooting; il so" He
made motion as if to resume his pen.
Don Joaquin had something to say. He
extended his beautiful hand toward his
friend, opened his lips to speak, closed them