Cartaret

“ He knew that he was impudent, and he felt that only his host’s reverence for the laws of hospitality prevented an open resentment. Nevertheless, Cartaret was bound to find out what he could, and this time he was rewarded.
“There is good enough to live with me,” said Don Ricardo stiffly, “my lady sister, the Doña [Pg 258] Dolorez Eulalia Vitoria.” He looked out across the chasm.
Cartaret caught his breath. There was an awkward pause. Then, glancing up, he saw, coming toward them along the terrace, the figure of a woman-servant that seemed startlingly familiar.
It was Chitta. ”

“ He would never tell her that he loved her.
And then, very early on an evening in May, Destiny, who had been somnolent under the soft influence of Spring, awoke and once more took a hand in Cartaret’s affairs and those of the Lady of the Rose.
Cartaret had just returned from a mission to Lepoittevin’s shop and, having there disposed of a particularly bad picture, had put money in his purse: Chitta was waiting on the stairs and accepted the bulk of his earnings with her usual bad grace. He went into his studio, leaving the door ajar. The cool breeze of the Spring twilight fluttered the curtains ”

“ Then he looked at her again. Her hair, in sharp contrast to the tint of her face, was a shining blue-black; though her features were almost classical in their regularity, her mouth was [Pg 19] generous and sensitive, and, under even black brows and through long, curling lashes, her eyes shone frank and blue. Cartaret decided to remain.
“You are an artist?” he inquired.
“Leave this room!” She stamped a little foot. “Leave this room instantly!”
Cartaret stooped to one of the canvases that were piled against the wall nearest him. He turned its face to her. ”

“ A violent negative. Chitta bobbed toward [Pg 151] Cartaret’s rifled stores and then toward the street, as if to include other stores in the same circle of depredation. She was also plainly indignant at the idea that she would permit her mistress to be hungry.
“Oh,” said Cartaret, “I see! You are a consistent thief.” ”

“ Evening, which comes so suddenly in the Cantabrians, was falling before the luxuriant verdure lessened and he came to a break in the forest. Below him, billow upon billow, the foothills fell away in rolling waves of green. Above, the jagged circle of the horizon was a line of salient summits and tapering spires of every tint of blue—turquoise, indigo, mauve—mounting up and up like the seats in a Titanic amphitheater, to the royal purple of the sky.
Cartaret had turned in his saddle to look at the [Pg 244] magnificent panorama. ”

“ Charlie Cartaret would have told you—indeed, he frequently did tell his friends—that the mere fact of a man being an artist was no proof that he lacked in the uncommon sense commonly known as common. Cartaret was quite insistent upon this and, as evidence in favor of his contention, he was accustomed to point to C. Cartaret, Esq. He, said Cartaret, was at once an artist and a practical man: it was wholly impossible, for instance, to imagine him capable of any silly romance. ”

“ A moment more, and Don Ricardo was giving her orders in the Basque tongue.
“Our servants,” he said apologetically when she had gone, “are faithful, but stupid.” His gray eyes peered at Cartaret searchingly. “Very stupid, sir,” he added. “For instance, you, sir, know something of our customs; you know that [Pg 259] centuries-old tradition—the best of laws—makes it the worst of social crimes for a Basque to marry any save a Basque——”
He stopped short, holding Cartaret with his eyes. Cartaret nodded. ”

“ There was Chitta, groveling on the stone floor of the circular room, her face hidden in her hands; there was Vitoria, her arms outstretched, struck rigid in the act of repulsing Cartaret; and there were the two men—the American white, but determined and unafraid; the Basque with a dull red spreading on his tanned cheeks—facing each other as pugilists, entering the ring, face each other at pause during the fleeting instant before they begin to circle for an opening. ”

“ Were you his bitterest blood-enemy and knocked at the castle-gate [Pg 240] for a night’s shelter, he himself, Ricardo d’Alegria, would greet you and wait upon you, and keep you safe until morning.”
“And then shoot my head off?” suggested Cartaret.
The innkeeper smiled: “I know nothing; but the lord at the castle knows.”
“I suppose he hasn’t a drop of any blood but Basque blood in him?”
“Monsieur, there is but one way in which a foreigner may marry even the humblest Basque, and that is by some act that saves the Basque’s entire line. Thus even the humblest. ”

“ The Lady clapped her pretty hands. She laughed with delight.
“This,” she said, “is a surprise! I had not known that we were to have strawberries. It is so like Chitta. She is so kind and thoughtful, monsieur. Always she has for me some surprise like this.”
“It is a surprise,” said Cartaret. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”
[Pg 165] She served the berries while Chitta stalked away.
“I find,” confessed the Lady in English, “that they are not so good below as they seemed on the top. You will not object?”
Oh, no: Cartaret wouldn’t object. ”

“ There was an Ethenard-Eskurola at La Isla de los Faisanes when the French Louis XI arranged there with our Henry the marriage of the Duc de Guienne. Always they have been lords and over-lords—always.”
“I see,” said Cartaret. “And the present lord lives near here at the castle?”
“As all his fathers lived before him. At their place and in their manner. What they did, he does; what they believed, he believes. Monsieur, even the ancient Basque traditions of hospitality are there a law infringeable. ”

“ On that day the annual siege of Paris ended, [Pg 125] the city fell before her invaders, and by the time that Cartaret went into the streets, the army of occupation was in possession. The Luxembourg Gardens, the very benches along the Boul’ Miche’ were full of lovers: he could not stir from the house without encountering them. ”

“ Vitoria leaned on the rampart. She was panting a little from her climb; her cheeks were flushed, and her whole face glowing.
“It is as if we were gods on some star,” she said, “looking down upon a world that is strange to us.”
She was speaking in English. Cartaret bent closer. Pledges of mere friendship ceased, for the moment, to appear of primary importance: he wanted, suddenly, to make the most of a little time.
“Am I never to see you alone?” he asked.
She forsook the view of Paris to give him a second’s glance. There was something roguish in it.
“Chitta,” she said, “has not yet arrived.” ”

“ Cartaret worked gladly now, because he was, however little she might guess it, working for Vitoria. He had left for himself precisely enough to keep him alive, but every third or fourth day he would have the happiness of slipping a little silver into Chitta’s horny palm: Chitta came readily to the habit of waiting for him on the stair. He grew happier day by day, and looked—as who does not?—the better for it. He sought out Seraphin and Varachon; he bought brandy for Houdon; went to hear Devignes sing, and once he had Armand Garnier to luncheon. ”

“ Cartaret had inherited his excellent constitution, but his family all suffered from one disease: the disease of too much money on the wrong side of the house. When oil was found in Ohio, it was found in land belonging to his father’s brother, but Charlie’s father remained a poor lawyer to the end of his days. Uncle Jack had children of his own and a deserved reputation for holding on to his pennies. He sent his niece to a finishing-school, where she could be properly prepared for that state of life to which it had not pleased Heaven to call her, [Pg 51] and he sent his nephew to college. ”

“ In the town hall of the seaport of St Malo there hangs a portrait of Jacques Cartier, the great sea-captain of that place, whose name is associated for all time with the proud title of 'Discoverer of Canada.' The picture is that of a bearded man in the prime of life, standing on the deck of a ship, his bent elbow resting upon the gunwale, his chin supported by his hand, while his eyes gaze outward upon the western ocean as if seeking to penetrate its mysteries. ”

“ Carteret; “Prince Royal is his father. I’m certain about it because he’s marked with our Prince Royal brand.”
The Major and Lady Withers looked at Mr. Carteret, and then at each other. Their eyes seemed to say, “We must humor this person until attendants from the madhouse can be brought to secure him.”
“Perhaps,” said Lady Withers, “you would care to see your horses.”
“I should like to see the other one,” he answered stubbornly, and they went into the stable.
Lady Withers paused before a box-stall which was boarded up to the ceiling. ”

“ If the republic in many of its features cannot compare for sheer interest with its neighbours, it has yet a commanding claim to the attention of antiquarians, for it possesses the city of Cartagena, which was the most ancient and strongest of the Spanish power in South America. The renown of the city’s prototype in Spain, itself inheriting the name of the still more ancient and famous colony, Carthage, was transplanted to the New World, and for two centuries it enjoyed the esteem of the whole maritime world. Its sun-bleached walls still endure, stern relics of the power of Spain. ”

“ Carteret poured a quantity of it from the bottle and threw it out of the window, resolving to be on the safe side. Then he looked at his boots and his pink coat and white leathers, which were laid out upon the bed. “I don’t think there can be any danger,” he thought, “if I turn up after they have started. I loathe stopping in all day.” He dressed leisurely, ordered his second horse to be sent on, and some time after the rest of the household had gone to the meet he sallied forth. ”

“ The horse made no attempt to run away, and Mr. Carteret caught it. One glance showed him that there was mud on its ears, mud on its rump, and that one of the pommels was broken. Immediately, although he had never seen horse or saddle before, a strange and unreasonable apprehension seized him. He felt that it was Miss Rivers’s horse; and yet his common sense told him that the idea was absurd. She was probably not out hunting, and if she were, the chances were a thousand to one against it being she. Nevertheless, he opened the sandwich-box strapped to the saddle and took out the silver case. ”

“ CARTERET, SIR GEORGE (c. 1610–1680) , English politician, was born between 1609 and 1617 on the island of Jersey, where his family had long been prominent landholders. He was the son of Helier de Carteret of St Ouen, and in his youth was trained to follow the sea. In 1639 he became comptroller of the English navy. During the Civil War he was active in behalf of the king. In 1643 he succeeded by reversion from his uncle, Sir Philip Carteret, to the post of bailiff of Jersey, and in the same year was appointed by the king lieutenant-governor of the island. ”

“ Here is a young man with a bad arm and something extremely important on his mind that is for your ear alone, and he’ll unquestionably get killed if he goes near enough that horse to tell you about it. Be a good girl,” he added in a whisper, “and be kind to him. Perhaps he’s worth it.” A quick flush came into the girl’s face. And Mr. Carteret, without glancing back, hurried out of the paddock.
Just outside the gate he ran into Lady Withers, the Major, and Mr. Tappingwell-Sikes, who had just arrived. They had been following as fast as they could. ”

“ Four more days Cartier lingered in the bay. Again he sent boats from the ships in the hope of finding the westward passage, but to his great disappointment and grief the search was fruitless. The waters were evidently landlocked, and there was here, as he sadly chronicled, no thoroughfare to the westward sea. He met natives in large numbers. Hundreds of them—men, women, and children—came in their canoes to see the French explorers. They brought cooked meat, laid it on little pieces of wood, and, retreating a short distance, invited the French to eat. ”

“ Profoundly impressed with the vast extent and unbounded resources of the countries described in Cartier's narrative, the king decided to assume the sovereignty of this new land, and to send out for further discovery an expedition of some magnitude. At the head of it he placed Jean Francois de la Roque, Sieur de Roberval, whom, on January 15, 1540, he created Lord of Norumbega, viceroy and lieutenant-general of Canada, Hochelaga, Saguenay, Newfoundland, Belle Isle, Carpunt, Labrador, the Great Bay, and Baccalaos. ”

“ We shall only repeat the just observation of the Editor of the Naval Chronicle, that “this diabolical attempt to blast his reputation, could not have happened to a man whose tried and established character was better able to stand. His services, especially when commanding the gun-boat flotilla in the Scheldt, and when defeating Buonaparte’s designs at Boulogne, sufficiently prove his merits.”
On the 4th Mar. 1814, Captain Carteret, then in company with the Cygnus frigate, captured the Bunker’s Hill, American privateer (formerly H.M. brig Linnet) of 14 guns and 86 men. ”

“ Cartoner, of the Foreign Office, who is still biding his time, is not tired of Spain yet—and it must be remembered that Cartoner knows the Peninsula. He began to know it twenty years ago, and his knowledge is worthy of the name, inasmuch as it moves with the times. Some day there will be a war in Spain, and we shall fight either for or against the Don, which exercise Englishmen have already enjoyed more than once. Cartoner hopes that it may come in his time, when, as he himself puts it, he will be “there or thereabouts.” ”