The record-union., 1894-08-25
V L


ernor- General of Cuba.
VI
On this night a motely crew Of gypsy
musicians from the canyon of LluyanO.
led by an enormous ygpsy of shaggy
beard and breast, appeared at Ell Dique.
Among them was slight, frail gypsy
girl, who often seemed i'll and fainting
beneath the bold gaze and the heartless
salltes of the habitues. The gypsy band
enliyened the luxurious place with it's
gay melodies, one awkward fellow, with
gaunt checks and hollow eyes, playing
with tremendous vigor strange melody
upon the violin.
Its members were we'll paid. we'll fed,
given liberty under escort TO stroll among
the ripDling fountains and dazzling cor
ridors, musical with birds, and, some
time after midnight, after performing a
sweet Anueluslan air, the picturesque
folk passed reluctantly out of the huge
portal, having secured, after much diplo-
macy, the privilege of camping upon the
edge OF the open highway against the
walls of Ell Dique. until noon.
Neither Don Enrique nor the Count had
been seen. The one had lost heavily, and
staggering blindly to his apartment had
flung himself upon his bed unkempt,
unstrung, distraught. The other, salts
fed with his splendid gains and progress,
had also retired early.
But this night Don Enrique could not
sleep. His mind was in that super acute
state which is sometimes, even when
drowned In drink, superior to all condi-
tions and is marvelously sensitive to in
fuences infinitely remote from it's own
immediate surroundings.
he had heard strains Of music this
night which to an extent shook off the
awful influence then upon him and swept
in upon his soul immeasurable remorse
and love like flaming tempest of fire.
At intervals that music again floated in
upon him from out of the night In it at
times came tender madrigal, La Pie
dad" only one living being sung and
played. That one was Donna Feisa.
He staggered to the balcony. No
there were only dozen wandering gyD-
sizes, huddled together beneath him
against the walls of Ell Dique. He again
tried to sleep. He fought the demons of
drink and remorse and the maddening
pangs OF poignant love, until he sank
upon his couch exhausted.
Then in fitful dreams that one who had
made the little madrigal of 'La Piedad"
was in every imaginable human form
lowering above and about him. He saw
her in her sweet home ways; yes, as a
wandering gypsy minstrel, skulking in
the mountains and canonS, even playing
before him and the lascivias who held
him enthralled. The frenzied man even
heard his name called by her, whispered
by her, moaned by her.
'sDon Enriquei Oh, Don EnriqueW
He leaped to his feet in an agony of
fright and remorse.
The frail gypsy harpist was in his al
coba. She flew to him; clung to him,
even in his loathesomeness.
"Don Enrique! Oh, Don Enrique! 1t
7 al.
ComeHf
Then the gypsy girl, sobbing, moaning,
pleading, dragged him to the balcony.
Bewildered, yet clinging to the half wild,
tiny thing who held him, as in a dream,
he suffered her to force him down cum
brous stair her companions were holding
in the calzada below. He found himself
surrounded by an uncouth gypsy band,
and clung TO madly by this one slight
maiden who still sobbed and pleaded
piteously:
Don Enrique! Don Enrique! It is
thy own Felisa! Fly, oh, lily with her
from this wretched placein
Suddenly light shone from the alcoba
above them. A man appeared at the bal
cony. Divining the rescue, with curse
he swiftly descended the stair. He was
confronted by giant gypsy with shaggy
face and breast and with vengeance gleam-
ing from his awful eyes. A slender shaft
of light quivered for an instant from a
stiletto blade; and Basil de Orense fell
dead without an outcry back upon the
massive walls OF Ell Dique; while one
called Pancho Marti spurned him with
his foot and muttered:
''Sleep, ell croupier! Tentador asesino
por mea Griselda!'
They sped with Don Enrique to Havana
as swiftly as their fleet horses would carry
them. He was won again to reason and
right by this brave and devoted woman of
Cuba, and few weeks later found them,
man and wife, upon the broad Atlantic,
bound for dear old CASTLE, whence they
returned, from Arragon, to their own
lovely quinta in Havana.
''And of their future, Don Miguel?n
The stars were shining through the
palms above the murmurous fountain as