Elizabeth Robins

“ All that hot afternoon I sit in the stuffy stateroom with Mrs. Steele. The wind has veered to the other side and not a breath stirs the curtains at our little window. About four o'clock the "Church of England" knocks at the door. She is profuse in proffers of assistance, and kindly tells me I am looking very badly. "You'd better go out for a little air," she says; "you'll find my daughter and Baron de Bach sitting in the breeze on the other side. ”

“ Finally we are stowed in rooms opening on the wide veranda that encloses the patio. A hasty toilet and we meet the Baron in the vestibule downstairs. We wander about the crooked streets [192] from shop to shop, getting at a jeweller's some ancient coins, unalloyed gold and silver rudely stamped and cut out in irregular shapes, the only currency when Central America was a Spanish province. We are longest in the great market, buying curious pottery from the Indians—calabash cups, brilliant serapes of native weaving and lovely silk rebosas. ”

“ Steele looks a little like her handsome self in the proofs shown us next day. Miss Rogers develops an unflattering likeness to a dutch doll—I am as black as a Congo negro and wear the scowl of a brigand, while Baron de Bach, after carefully brushing his hair and twirling his moustache to the proper curve, comes out with a white [73] blot instead of a face; a suggestion of one eye peers shyly forth from the moon-like mask, and the Peruvian is greatly disgusted. I shall ever regard an amateur's camera as a great moral engine for the extirpation of personal vanity. ”

“ The small servant nodding on the veranda takes us past the palm-shaded patio, and through the dark vestibule.
"Gracias!" I say to the dusky little servitor as the huge door opens.
"Si! Si! Dthousand thanks," [206] mutters the Baron as the bolts fall behind us, and we are out in the moonlit street. He draws my hand through his arm.
"What makes your heart beat so?" I say.
"Come on the right side;" he changes me quickly to the other arm, and I laugh at my acuteness, little dreaming what the Baron's well-disguised excitement foreboded. We turn down a narrow, ill-lighted street. ”

“ I had scarcely a mouthful of breakfast."
"We haf another breakfast at Escuintla, mees, a gude one," says Señor Noma, passing through our coach to the smoking-car. I am consoled and full of interest at the prospect, as the dingy little train moves off. Mrs. Steele and I are facing each other, while the Baron sits behind me and points out the most noteworthy features of this notable expedition. We are in the tropics truly; the heat is overpowering, and the Baron leans over the back of my seat with my rough Mazatlan fan, and uses it with a generous devotion that tires him and does not cool me. ”

“ A great white rock juts up in the bay like a fragment of some Titan's fortress; a lighthouse stares out to sea from a cliff at the harbour's entrance; the tall cocoa palms wave their fern leaves in the blind [40] ing sunshine, and red-roofed houses huddle below the dome of the Cathedral rising white above the town.
The harbour soon swarms with the countless boats of the natives coming with fruit and wares to sell or hoping to earn a few reales by rowing the curious to the wharf.
Señor Noma engages the largest of these boats and invites as many as it will hold to go ashore with him. ”

“ Steele on deck. The Baron is waiting—he looks pale and rather graver than usual.
"Good-morning, Señorita," he says, and we shake hands. "Haf you sleep?"
"Oh, yes," I say, accepting the [104] coffee he has ordered. "I always sleep."
The first faint flush of the coming splendour spreads above the hills as we push off from the San Miguel. Deeper and deeper grow the purple and the saffron till long shafts of golden light shoot up from hilltop to high heaven, and the great red sun of the tropics peers an instant over the mountain wall that shuts in Acapulco. ”

“ Steele sends the Baron out to look after me, and when he has bought a basket full of pineapples, sappadillos, mangoes and grenadillas, he proposes a little walk up the road. We have twenty minutes yet, he says, and Mrs. Steele is stopping to buy some grass baskets and fans. We walk up the dusty little highway, and the burning sun beats down strong and hot in our unaccustomed faces. ”

“ The waiter starts at the last word and takes up a clay carafe.
The Baron shakes his head and gives some brief command in Spanish. The servant looks sulky and puts down the bottle.
"What do you mean?" I say, with still smarting tongue. "Is it Spanish etiquette to ask a lady to supper and then refuse her a glass of water?"
"Madame," says the Peruvian quietly to Mrs. Steele, "no von here [85] drink vater; it makes always fery seeck," and he signs to the servant to serve the next course. ”

“ Steele, Baron de Bach brings me, and we are soon followed by Captain Ball and his wife, and Miss Rogers, a pretty girl with her photographic camera and her mamma, who is an Episcopal clergyman's wife, and so proud of the circumstance that the gentlemen [41] have dubbed her "The Church of England."
The Mexican oarsmen make one think of comic opera brigands, except that they look rather dirtier and their speech is music without song. We land at a rude wharf in the low sea wall and pass through groups of dark-skinned natives who eye us with sleepy interest. ”

“ Each booth is in charge of one or more women, and here and there is a man resplendent in overshadowing sombrero, with heavy silver braid wound about the crown. The women have the scantiest of clothing, arms and neck bare, dark eyes glittering, and dusky unkempt hair. The atmosphere is stifling, but we must endure it long enough to get some of the wares. ”

“ When I was twenty I [68] would have made a hero out of that man instead of calmly picking out his foibles—girls are not what they used to be."
I retire to my stateroom after breakfast to read. The Baron retaliates by becoming aware of pretty Miss Rogers' existence. Pretty Miss Rogers' mamma is conspicuously polite to him, and pretty Miss Rogers' self offers to play the piano to his violin. It is Mrs. Steele who brings me these tidings and assures me that Miss Rogers plays well, and, as for the Baron de Bach, he is a master! ”

“ The dark young man gathers for [48] Mrs. Steele and the Baron de Bach for me.
"LOOK, SENORITA!"
"You ask me vonce vhat kind was a Castilian rose. Look, Señorita, so weich so süss, so fein, wie die Castilien Frauen," and he hands me a pale pink rose, loose-petalled, fragile, and very fragrant. With great bunches in our hands we leave the hospital garden, and I notice with irritation that the dark young man in bidding me good-bye, long life and happiness, salutes me as "Señora." ”

“ I am afraid to admire the curious designs and archaic workmanship, for everything I notice approvingly the Peruvian straightway buys, and we soon have a basket full.
"Ah! Figurines you must haf!" he exclaims as we approach a booth populous with little clay figures, tiny men and women in native dress, engaged in native avocations. These evidence no small cleverness in the modeller, and the Baron insists on taking a dozen. Far on the other [79] side of the market some Indian women crouch in a semi-circle over an open air fire.
"What are they doing?" asks Mrs. Steele. ”

“ I sit bolt upright in bed staring straight before me at the great shaft of yellow sunlight that lies across the floor. "You and I go not back to San Miguel unless you air my vife." Was it a curious dream or had he said those words?
"Are you hurrying, Blanche?" calls Mrs. Steele. "It won't do to miss our last train unless you've de [222] cided you would like to stay in Guatemala."
I fly out of bed and begin to rush into my clothes. Mrs. Steele's voice has a touch of sarcasm in it that reminds me she may still be dissatisfied and suspicious about last night. ”

“ At all events he must not be allowed to suppose that I notice, much less care for, his defection," and I turn to talk animatedly with Captain Ball about Mazatlan. His wife comes up with an aggressive-looking Californian who has asked several persons to present him, but I've successfully evaded his acquaintance till now.
"It's not often we have the pleasure of a word with you," says Mrs. Ball, after introducing her companion. "Baron de Bach is such a [70] monopolist. Just see how he is engrossing Miss Rogers now. What a pretty girl she is, and how well she plays. ”

“ How vell you know men! But not me, Blanca—not a Peruvian. I know it ees better for you, as vell as for myself, dthat you marry me. You haf nefer been so gentle and so gude as since I hold you near dthat baranca. But you did not like it! You loaf me, but you air like a vild deer; you air so easy startle, and so hard to hold. But I vill be zo gude to Blanca, I vill make her glad I vas so strong not to let her haf her own way. If you keess me and zay before God you marry me, I take you back to Casa 47—if not, Madame Steele go alone to San Miguel. ”

“ Steele and I sit in the background, and I'm afraid I think but little of the service. Now what perversity is in the mind of man, I meditate, that blinds him to such real beauty and accomplishment as Miss Rogers is blessed with? Of course, I'm not such a fool as not to see that with all my sadly palpable defects of face and temper, the big Peruvian finds me somehow interesting and "Miss Rogair a nice girl, but, like a dthousand odthers I haf know, a leedle stupeed." ”

“ You think to get some Peruvian amusement out of frightening a woman; well, you had better go to a bull-fight. I detest you! Let me go or I'll cry out!"
He puts one hand over my mouth and holds me as in a vise.
"Dthank you, Blanca! You gif me courage. I haf tell you how a Peruvian loaf; I vill tell you how he plan. In dthe bay off Panama ees my yacht. I vill keep you in Guatemala vhile I send for her, and dthen ve go to Peru, to Ceylon—anyvhere you like but America. I write Madame Steele you air my vife, and she vill soon zee ve air not to be find; [212] she vill go back to New York. ”

“ As I walk the deck with the Baron that evening he tells me about his lovely sister, "Alvida," and about Peruvian customs.
"My sister ees dthe most beautiful voman in Peru; she haf many suitors, but she ees nefer allow to see dthem except when dthe family air [144] vidth her. It ees not like your country; a man can nefer know dthe voman he loaf till he marry her."
"Very stupid custom," I say. "I wouldn't give a fig for such love. You could only care for the face or the fortune of a woman so hemmed about. ”

“ Steele looks a little self-reproached.
"No, dear, I know you don't care about my staying," I answer, "but I'm a little tired of the deck."
The "Church of England" drones on about Nellie, who is "such a child, only seventeen; so unsophisticated and so unworldly."
"Just imagine, she quite snubs that handsome Peruvian nobleman, and he is really delightful, you know."
We draw a simultaneous sigh of [122] relief when the "Church of England" leaves us to ourselves.
"Blanche," says Mrs. Steele, "you've been fighting again with the Baron. ”

“ He would have forgotten all about me before this and gone over to pretty Miss Rogers and the study of photography except that I've been a bit obdurate—unusually so, he is naïve enough to assure me, and his vanity is piqued."
Mrs. Steele lays down her brush and begins to coil up the long, soft hair.
"My dear, you are very old for your years. ”

“ Steele groups the party, and we succeed in getting several unusually grotesque and dreadful pictures. If anything could cure one person's sentimental regard for another, it would be the sight of just such amateur caricatures as were turned out that afternoon. ”

“ A few words between the "moso" and the Baron, the latter smiles a little.
"Très curieux, dthat old voman forget to put in dthat plantain!"
Mrs. Steele's amusement is most offensive.
"My dear, you are in the power of the interpreter; you will find our friend less manageable on shore than on board the San Miguel."
The Baron looks innocence itself and creates a diversion by throwing pieces of roll out over the lattice to [87] the street children, whose black eyes and black fingers appear through the slats. ”

“ The Peruvian puts his hand before his eyes.
"I listen not to anydthing you zay."
"Yes, you will. You know you would half kill the man who would strike a woman. Some half-mad man has done worse than strike me, Guillermo, and his name is Guillermo de Bach. You are so strong, and you say you love me; will you take my part against this man?"
The moon comes out of a cloud, [215] and shows me a white face above my own, drawn tense with emotion. "It ees all settle, Blanca ”

“ I say coolly, but I am conscious of a twinge; what if I do like him more than I want to think?
"It ees not fancy, Señorita; you do not know yourself you care, but you do." [146]
"Nonsense; I know all about it. I'm not a sentimental person and I don't mind telling you in plain English I like you. I must like you rather more than usual, or I wouldn't see so much of you." By this time we are away from the rest of the passengers, down by the smokestack. ”

“ You take too much care of your hands; they are whiter and softer [181] than most women's—such hands are good for nothing."
"I vill show you you can be meestake." His face is quite changed, and there's something dimly threatening in the deep eyes.
"When will you show me?" I say, affecting a carelessness I do not quite feel.
"Perhaps in Guatemala." I leave that side of the platform and lean out over the other. "Come back, Blanca; it ees not zafe!"
His tone is entirely too dictatorial. I close my hand firmly round the iron rail and lean out further still. ”

“ Mrs. Steele observes, as we sit alone in our corner of the deck, while over on the opposite side Baron de Bach stands laughing and chatting with pretty Miss Rogers.
"Mrs. Steele," I whisper, "I be [130] lieve he only does it for our edification and because I said the reading tired me. Let us go to our stateroom; the wind is on our side to-day." We read and sleep in seclusion until evening.
[133]
CHAPTER V THE BARON IS CRAZED WITH MADNESS
t dinner, refreshed with my long rest, I feel unusually light-hearted and gay. ”

“ It seems hotter and closer in the cramped little car. Mrs. Steele grows faint.
"Come in dthe air." The Baron [176] and I support her to the door. She recovers a little and the Peruvian returns for his valise. He brings out a silver travelling flask and sprinkles a white silk handkerchief with delicious eau de Cologne and gives it to Mrs. Steele. I can see it refreshes her, and I throw the Peruvian a grateful glance for his thoughtfulness. From the platform we have a far finer view of the country. The rugged wilderness of the Cordilleras hems us in on every side. ”