Part 25

Whether it was that yesterday had given her a lesson in self-control, or whether Pilar had contrived to whisper some word concerning her brother, I could not tell; but if Monica changed colour I could not see it, perhaps because a darkening of the sky outside had begun to deepen the rich dusk of the cathedral.

For her own sake I scarcely dared look at her; and my silence must have passed with the others for the shyness of a young soldier among strangers. But I did look at Carmona, feeling his eyes upon me, and met a stare as searching as Röntgen rays.

His face is not one easy to read; but for once the windows of his mind were wide open. If he had recognized me, and guessed the trick which had been played on him he would have worn a very different expression; but he was bewildered, uneasy, as he had been yesterday when he saw Monica lean forward, blushing, to gaze at a masked man in a motor-car.

He realized the likeness between Cristóbal O’Donnel y Alvarez and his own dangerous, though ineligible rival, Casa Triana. I could see the thought dart into his mind and rankle; I could see him push it into a dark corner kept for the rubbish of imagination. I knew how he was telling himself that there could be no connection or collusion between the O’Donnel family and Casa Triana. I hoped he also soothed his anxiety by reminding himself that in all probability Casa Triana, in the blue Gloria car once seen by his chauffeur, was busily forgetting Monica Vale in some distant part of Europe. Carmona had admitted one mistake yesterday: he would not be ready to fall into another to-day.

Lady Vale-Avon was also gazing somewhat sharply at the young Spanish officer, a brother of those old acquaintances of the Duke’s. But now she coaxed her eyesight by lifting a lorgnette which, as Mary Stuart, she had not been able to carry on the night of our former meeting; and when a questioning glance at Carmona met with no alarming answer, the suspicious frown faded from her forehead.

After a few words we all, as if with one accord, began to move on upon the tour of inspection; and still there was no sign of Dick.

I would defy anyone to hold out for more than five minutes against the charm of the Cherub. Without raising his voice above a honeyed murmur, and with nothing particular to say, by sheer force of cherubic, Andaluz charm of manner he fascinated the Duchess of Carmona, and even Lady Vale-Avon, to whom he was a new type. She had been studying Spanish with an eye to the future, for she understood and answered Colonel O’Donnel; but with apparent innocence and real subtlety he contrived to keep the Duke busy explaining him, and murmured so many funny things that even Carmona was obliged occasionally to burst out laughing.

Meanwhile, Monica, Pilar, and I were left to follow behind, greatly against the will of the Duke, as I guessed by the sulky set of his shoulders.

“Quick, quick, into this chapel,” whispered Pilar, “before they look round. Then they won’t know where we’ve disappeared, and you’ll have five minutes grace.” As she spoke, she caught Monica by the arm, and whisked her into the Capilla del Condestable. Once behind the iron lattice, she darted away as if moved by a sudden passion to gaze at the carved altar piece.

“How wonderful!” said Monica. I caught her hands, which she held out to me, and then we laughed into each other’s eyes, in sheer happiness and triumph over fate. “To think that you’re here, after all.”

“Wherever you are, I’m going to be, while you want me,” said I, “and until we know whether I shall have to take you away.”

“I might have known you wouldn’t fail me,” she said. “But I was so unhappy yesterday. When I saw that handkerchief I knew at once who you were, though I should never have guessed, with those awful goggles, and I couldn’t help giving a jump, and getting red. But I shall never be so stupid again. I’ll be prepared for anything. Just a whisper from Señorita O’Donnel was enough this time. While we shook hands she said, ‘Something’s going to happen.’ So I was ready. Only it does seem too good to be true.”

“Here’s the glove and the rose you threw me,” I said, showing them inside my coat.

“Here’s the music you played to me,” she answered, touching her heart; and I would have given a year of my life to kiss her. “Oh, tell me, is Miss O’Donnel any relation to you, really?”

“Only a very good and clever friend,” said I, for there was not much time to waste in explaining things more or less irrelevant. “All this was her idea, to give me a chance of getting near you. And, as Cristóbal’s my name too, as well as her brother’s, the thing has been managed without a fib. Brother Cristóbal has leave. Friend Cristóbal will spend it with the family; that is, they’re all going in that red car you saw yesterday—wherever you go. It would save a lot of anxiety if you could tell where that will be.”

“I can’t,” said Monica. “I fancy mother’s afraid I might find some way of letting you know; anyway, the Duke is always talking about how pleasant it is not to make plans beforehand, but to let each day arrange itself. I don’t know how or where we’re to spend the time before we get to Seville; but for Holy Week we’re to be at the Duke’s house. I’m not afraid of anything, though, now you’re near; and I think I shall let myself be happy, in spite of the Duke, for your Spain is glorious, and I love it. I wish it weren’t the Duke’s Spain too!”

“He thinks it’s all his,” said I. “Is he bothering you much?”

“No. He’s being nice to me. You know, I refused him in Biarritz; but mother came in while I was doing it, and told him that I was too young to know my own mind; that he must be patient, and she could almost promise I’d change it. I said I wouldn’t, but that made no difference. And as mother wanted to come on this trip, I had to come too. I have an idea they’ve made up a plan between them that I shall be left in peace till Seville, if I behave myself. If they suspect who you really are, though, it will be dreadful. I don’t know what will happen.”

“They can’t make you marry Carmona,” I said.

“No. How could they? such things can’t be done nowadays; at least, I suppose they can’t; and yet, when people are strong and determined, and unscrupulous too, one never knows what they may be planning, what they may be capable of doing. Often, in the night, I try to think what they could do, and tell myself they could do nothing, unless I consented, which, of course, I never would. Oh, I shall be very happy and safe now. It will even be amusing, or it would be if I were sure the Duke couldn’t harm you.”

“He tried yesterday and failed,” said I. “If he tries again, he’ll fail again. But for the present, he thinks it was a false alarm, and perhaps believes I’ve stopped in Biarritz, sulking.”

“It was dangerous for you to come,” said Monica.

I laughed. “Don’t I look like the sort of fellow who can take care of himself—and maybe the girl he loves, too?”

“Yes, yes,” she answered. “How I love you, and how proud I am of you. If you should stop caring—if you should find it wasn’t worth while—”

“We’ve too few moments together to discuss impossibilities.”

“Ah, but you have known me such a short time. Suppose you should see someone else—” and she glanced at Pilar’s pretty, heart-shaped face, and the velvet eyes raised in contemplation of a carved Madonna.

“There’s nobody else but you in the world,” I had begun, when Pilar beckoned. “They’re coming,” she said. “You must be looking at this sweet little panel, Lady Monica. Cristóbal, go instantly and stare as hard as you can at San Gerónimo on the other side. See, that pet who is twisting his dear feet.”

It was thus they found us; the two girls chatting over the perfection of the tombs of the constable and his wife; the soldier blind to the charms of his sister’s companion, and wrapped in reverent contemplation of a wooden masterpiece.