Part 22

“And is it really true,” asked Zuleika, retaining The MacQuern’s hand, “that you want to die for me?”

Well, the Scots are a self-seeking and a resolute, but a shy, race; swift to act, when swiftness is needed, but seldom knowing quite what to say. The MacQuern, with native reluctance to give something for nothing, had determined to have the pleasure of knowing the young lady for whom he was to lay down his life; and this purpose he had, by the simple stratagem of his own handkerchief, achieved. Nevertheless, in answer to Zuleika’s question, and with the pressure of her hand to inspire him, the only word that rose to his lips was “Ay” (which may be roughly translated as “Yes”).

“You will do nothing of the sort,” interposed the Duke.

“There,” said Zuleika, still retaining The MacQuern’s hand, “you see, it is forbidden. You must not defy our dear little Duke. He is not used to it. It is not done.”

“I don’t know,” said The MacQuern, with a stony glance at the Duke, “that he has anything to do with the matter.”

“He is older and wiser than you. More a man of the world. Regard him as your tutor.”

“Do YOU want me not to die for you?” asked the young man.

“Ah, I should not dare to impose my wishes on you,” said she, dropping his hand. “Even,” she added, “if I knew what my wishes were. And I don’t. I know only that I think it is very, very beautiful of you to think of dying for me.”

“Then that settles it,” said The MacQuern.

“No, no! You must not let yourself be influenced by ME. Besides, I am not in a mood to influence anybody. I am overwhelmed. Tell me,” she said, heedless of the Duke, who stood tapping his heel on the ground, with every manifestation of disapproval and impatience, “tell me, is it true that some of the other men love me too, and--feel as you do?”

The MacQuern said cautiously that he could answer for no one but himself. “But,” he allowed, “I saw a good many men whom I know, outside the Hall here, just now, and they seemed to have made up their minds.”

“To die for me? To-morrow?”

“To-morrow. After the Eights, I suppose; at the same time as the Duke. It wouldn’t do to leave the races undecided.”

“Of COURSE not. But the poor dears! It is too touching! I have done nothing, nothing to deserve it.”

“Nothing whatsoever,” said the Duke drily.

“Oh HE,” said Zuleika, “thinks me an unredeemed brute; just because I don’t love him. YOU, dear Mr. MacQuern--does one call you ‘Mr.’? ‘The’ would sound so odd in the vocative. And I can’t very well call you ‘MacQuern’--YOU don’t think me unkind, do you? I simply can’t bear to think of all these young lives cut short without my having done a thing to brighten them. What can I do?--what can I do to show my gratitude?”

An idea struck her. She looked up to the lit window of her room. “Melisande!” she called.

A figure appeared at the window. “Mademoiselle desire?”

“My tricks, Melisande! Bring down the box, quick!” She turned excitedly to the two young men. “It is all I can do in return, you see. If I could dance for them, I would. If I could sing, I would sing to them. I do what I can. You,” she said to the Duke, “must go on to the platform and announce it.”

“Announce what?”

“Why, that I am going to do my tricks! All you need say is ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I have the pleasure to--’ What is the matter now?”

“You make me feel slightly unwell,” said the Duke.

“And YOU are the most d-dis-disobliging and the unkindest and the b-beastliest person I ever met,” Zuleika sobbed at him through her hands. The MacQuern glared reproaches at him. So did Melisande, who had just appeared through the postern, holding in her arms the great casket of malachite. A painful scene; and the Duke gave in. He said he would do anything--anything. Peace was restored.

The MacQuern had relieved Melisande of her burden; and to him was the privilege of bearing it, in procession with his adored and her quelled mentor, towards the Hall.

Zuleika babbled like a child going to a juvenile party. This was the great night, as yet, in her life. Illustrious enough already it had seemed to her, as eve of that ultimate flattery vowed her by the Duke. So fine a thing had his doom seemed to her--his doom alone--that it had sufficed to flood her pink pearl with the right hue. And now not on him alone need she ponder. Now he was but the centre of a group--a group that might grow and grow--a group that might with a little encouragement be a multitude... With such hopes dimly whirling in the recesses of her soul, her beautiful red lips babbled.

Sounds of a violin, drifting out through the open windows of the Hall, suggested that the second part of the concert had begun. All the undergraduates, however, except the few who figured in the programme, had waited outside till their mistress should re-appear. The sisters and cousins of the Judas men had been escorted back to their places and hurriedly left there.

It was a hushed, tense crowd.

“The poor darlings!” murmured Zuleika, pausing to survey them. “And oh,” she exclaimed, “there won’t be room for all of them in there!”