The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1894-10-05
JACQUITA.

Midway between Europe and Africa,
Its shores washed by the blue waters OF
the Mediterranean, lies the little island
OF MinOrca. Out of the beaten line of
travel, overlooked by energetic tourists,
it holds its only direct communication
with civilization through tramp steam
ers and an occasional yacht.
Minorca has well nigh forgotten the
outside world, and with true southern
Incidence dreams over its own petty in
terests unless Weakened to sudden but
evanescent activity by some event out
of the common.
The largest city-Port Mahon-clam-
bers up and down the cliffs of its lovely
harbor in an aimless way, and on first
approaching two things strike you, the
dazzling whiteness against the intense
blue of sea and sky and the monotony
of the flat rooted, chimneyless houses.
The cobble paved streets are marvel
ously clean, and the people, in their
quaint, gay costumes, stand out with
picturesque effect against the succeed
walls which line the way.
On a cliff overhanging the harbor and
the city is a plaza called the Alameda,
where a few lex trees afford a grateful
shade. On one of the low stone benches
many a pleasant hour may be dreamed
away, watching the shadows chase each
other over the swelling hills and mead
ows beyond. Now and again the soft
wind watts perfume from the almond
blossoms which lie like flakes of snow
on the bare fields stretching away to the
blue water.
One evening not long ago a young
girl was seated On the low wall watch
ing the sun sinking in the cloudless
sky. The usual three cornered
tilla draped her graceful head, and her
long, slender fingers toyed with the
ends hanging over her shoulders. She
represented one of the better class, with
the intense southern beauty of the peas
ant idealized. Her black hair waved
off a low forehead, guiltless of the
pointed "friz" which disfigured the
face of those who ape the Partisan fash
ion. Her brows were heavy, and her
dark eyes, riveted ON the harbor below,
seemed to reflect the sunset light. She
was watching a large yacht which,
with all sails set, was gliding slowly,
like some stately bird, to its anchorage.
The rafting of the anchor chains
reused her and broke the long silence
which she had so persistently main
tanned with her companion, a young
man of Spanish type. A mixture of
northern blood lightened his olive COM
plexion and refined his sensuous southern
features. His waist was circled by a
red sash, and his workworn hands twist
ed a bright colored turban, fashioned
from a large handkerchief.
His passionate gaze contrasted
strangely with the girls indifference.
La Bella Jacquita'' she was called,
and we'll did she deserve her name!
What was he that he should win her,
after all?
Jacquita looked up and smiled.
, AS when the sun, breaking through
the clouds, bathes the fields in warmth
and light, so did that smile transfigure
the girls fair faoe,
The distant church clock struck 6.
Rising, she drew the folds of her man.
tilla closer, and lifting her eyes to his
said softly, GA Riverdel, Felipel''
His gaze met hers-pride, anger, pas
sion in his eyes. Mastering his excite
ment, he spoke: ~""Jacquita, be CAREFUL
I am not like those silly lads who come
and go at a girls nod. Today 1 offer
you my life, my heart! A mans dearest
hopes and desires have / laid bare. How
have you answered."
He waited. Jacquita pushed the
gravel petulantly with her foot, watch
ing the pebbles fly, with a half hooking
smile on her lips. Again he spoke:
81 know you are La Bella of Ma
hon, but /, too, have pride! Keep your
scores of admirers, but know that from
today there is one less-one man more
Is nothing in the tale of your conquests.
You are La Bella and the man who
makes you love him must needs be more
than human-stronger than Felipe.
Never again will I be ridiculed, Knocked,
as I have been today"
Jacquita trembled slightly, but still
smiled. She waited. Then, looking up,
she said, Felipe, I am sorry but
Felipe had gone.
That night Jacquita wept with fear,
excitement and the triumph of having
brought Felipe so low as to beg her as
he had done that evening. HE will re-
turn" thought she. ''They always do"
Next day the party from the yacht
made the tour of the town. A little boy
of about 6 years of age was the life and
center of interest Of the group. Clad in
a sailor suit, his golden curls waving
nnder his white cap, he formed a strong
contrast to the dark skinned children
who stared as he passed them by. A