The Saint Paul globe., 1904-06-05


of insects could be heard. 1t seemed
impossible not to believe that they had
all died by a miracle, or else had~been
driven away by a silent panic. But
TWO or more were always on the
watch, directly above with their
heads over the edge; and suddenly
they would begin to talk together in
drowsy terms.
They discussed the flask, which had
been picked up. Was the cup made
of silver, they wondered. Manuel
had appropriated it for his own use.
1t seems Well-he was the capataz.
The 1nglez, should he appear by an
impossible chance, was to be shot
down at once; but Castro must be al
lowed to give himself up. And they
would sn1gger ferociously. Some
times quarrels arose, very noisy,
greath hubbub of chickering's touching
their Jealousies, their fears, their un-
speakable hopes of murder and ra-
pine They did not feel very safe
where they were. Some would main
tain that Castro could not have saved
himself, alone. The Inglez was there,
and even the senorita herself.
Manuel secuted the idea with con-
tempt. He advanced the violence of
the storm, the fury of the waves, the
broken mast, the position of the boat.
Castro and l listened to them day
after day at the mouth of the cave
Our tongues were dry and swollen in
our mouths there was the pressure
OF an iron clutch on our windpipes,
hre In our throats and the pangs Of
munger that tore at us like iron PIN
GERS. But we could hear that the ban
dts above were anxious to be gone;
they had but very few charges for
hni
they were afraid of a collision with
the poems of the hacienda. Glaring at
each other with bloodshot, uncertain
eyes, Castro and l imagined longingly
vision Of men in ponchos squirting
madly out of the woods, bent low,
and swinging riatas over the necks Of
their horses-with the thunder of the
galloping hoofs in the cave. Seraphina
had withdrawn further into the dark
ness. And, with a shrinking fear,
would join her, to eat my heart out by
the side of her tense and mute con-
temptation.
Sometimes Manuel would begin again,
Castro! Castro! Castro!" till he
seemed to stagger the rocks and dis
turb the placid sunshine with an i'm
mense wave of sound. He called upon
his victim to drink once more before
he died.
More than once I would stagger off
far away into the depths of the cavern
In an access of rage, fling myself on
the floor, bite my arms, beat my head
on the rock. 1 would give myself up.
She must be saved from this tortured
death. She had said she would throw
herself over If I left her. But would
she have the strength? 1t was impos-
sible to know. For days 1T seemed
she had been lying perfectly still, on
her side, one hand under her wan
cheek, and only answering Juan"
when / pronounced her name. There
was something awful in our dry
whispers. They were lifeless, like the
tones of the dead, If the dead ever
speak to each other across the earth
separating the graves.
Her forehead was white; her hair
merged into the darkness which was
gathering slowly upon her eyes, her
cheeks, her throat. She was perfectly
still. 1t was cruel, it was odious, 1t
was intolerable, to be so still. This
must end. 1 would carry her out by
main force. She said no word, but
there was in the embrace of those
arms instantly thrown around my neck,
in the feel of those dry lips pressed
upon mine, in the emaciated face. in
the big shining eyes of that being as
light as feather, a passionate mourn
d
Ing to the appointed fate, that sudden
ly overawed my movement of rage /
laid her down again, and covered my
face with my hands. She called out to
Castro. He reeled, as If drunk, and
waited at the head Of her couch, with
his chin dropped on his breast
'Vuestra Senoria," he muttered.
s'Listen well, Castro" Her voice was
very faint, and each word came alone,
as Il shrunk and parched. Can my
gold-the promise of much gold-you
-" % nen-SaSe 'ne hVes
He uttered choking cry and began
to tremble, cropping for her hand.
81, senorita, excellency, 81. 1t would.
Mercy Save me. am too old to hear
this. Gold, yes; much gold. ManueI.
Listen Castro. And Don
Juan?"
His head fell again.
Speak the. truth, Castro"
He struggled with himself, then, rat
ting in his throat, Nshrieked, moi"
with terrible effort. mo. Nothing
can save thy English lover
'Why?" she breathed feebly.
He ragged at her in his weakness.
Why? Because the order had gone
forth; because they dared not dfsobey.
Because she had only gold in the palm
OF ner nanQ, WhlIe SenOr OBr1en held
all their lives in his. The accursed
Juez was for them like death itself
that walks amongst men, taking this
one, leaving another. He was their
life, and their law, and their safety,
and their death-and the cabaIlero had
not killed him.
His voice seemed to wither and dry
up gradually in his throat. He crawIed
away, and we heard him chuckling
horribly somewhere, like q madman.
Seraphina stretched out her hand.
Then, Juan-Why not together-like
this?'
If she had the courage Of this death
must have even more. 1t was a point
of honor. had no wish, and no right
to seek for some easier way out Of life.
But she had a wOIhan'S capacity for
passive endurance, serenity of mind
In this martyrdom confessing to some
thing sinister in the power of love that,
like faith, can move mountains and
order cruel sacrifices. She could have
walked out in perfect safety-and It
was that thought that maddened me.
And there was no sleep; there were
only intervals in which 1 could fall into
a delirious reverie of still lakes, of vast
sheets of water. I waded into them up
to my lips. Never further. They
were smooth and cold as ice. 1 stood
on them shivering and straining for
a draught, burning within with the
fire Of thirst, while q phantom, all pale
and with it's hair streaming, called to
me Courage" from the brink in Sera-
phina's voice. AS to Castro, he was GO
ing mad. He was simply going mad.
as people go mad for want of food