The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 21, 1904, Page 2

9 THE SAN FRANCISCO ' SUNDAY CALL. + HIS is the third installment of “Dr. Xavier,” by Max Pemberton. The story be- gan in the issue of August 7. and will be concluded upon ypollowing “Dr. Xav- apnear “Anna the Ad- by Phillips Op- story with plenty of action, life and color. As in the | case _of “Dr. Xavier” “Anna the Adventuress” will be published in four instaliments, thus giving to readers of the Sunday Call a $1 50 book for 20 cents. August 28. jer” will ventur penheim. e + Copyright by Max Pemberton. CHAPTER T was 12 cavalry of Merer XIV. i o’clock when the de into the hamiet and some quarter of an hour later when Esther herself arrived at the inn door and was at once chown up to a spick-and- span bedroc on the first floor. The kindness of t » whose hands she had this refusal to believe that 1li- of her husband was pos- not a little to restore strength although her wrists were still red where the cords had bound them, d her cheeks had lost , her desire to be active make Jight of these to ure the Comte de was well with her. The i a picture for the eye— lean and conspicuous in a A little girl who had 1gland, and was a great attended Esther to 1d not do énough for Uncle Jose who keeps the delighted at a chance of tongue. “I have beap England, 1 in Re- go Me- and I summer time, It is funny to hear si, they say, k .it means ever come from Garvar- d see Gar- iful place English go 1 have hot water, miss? ‘Si, Englis Esther meanwhile laid L illa—the robbers’ had bathed her and ranged ss, he opened a fc hen she 3 ch ces of 1d call her beau- n flattery. The ace, and the deep her eyes, i th fac and would not look in the glass This fit ¢ idency did not long endure. There are depths of despair which, when fathe leave the mind calm and itical. Never from the first k er wanted a woman’s co ved herself of that self-confidence. which is life’s surest staff. Reflection told her that no woman could go through what she had gone through and come out u hed. he was weak, anxi Let there be good news from St. Girons and the co would ¢ e back to her , and the brightness to her eyes. This she did not doubt; and greatly helped by her own good common sense, made what toilet she could and went down to the & manger. Here & tempting breakfast awaited her. Not in vain had the little Spanish girl spent six months in “Regent Park.” Tea was the national drink of England, therefore it must be ready for the En- glish miss, and ready it was, poor yel- low stuff, boiling and tasteless. But the bread was spotless; the omelet, the eggs, the mutton, excellent. And to thege the Comte de Folx, who sat with her, added words of good cheer. He promised her to wait at Merens until they had the news from the hills. “It is iIn my mind,” he sald, “that the Prince was not in the house when these rogues left it. Possibly he had gone to the mnearest post for assistance. If that is ®0, a few hours should bring him to us. You must really make an effort to get well before he comes, madame. I have a great responsibility, and it is my duty to remember it. Please to drink all the wine in that bottle, and when you have drunk it I will order another to be opened.” He pushed a bottle of white wine to her, joining in her amusement at his proposal. She was a little astonished that he avoided discussing those events of which she knew he was thinking deeply. Here, as upon the highroad. no mention was made of her marriage to the Prince; and yet the omission was so discreet that she could not re- sent it. The Count displayed the ur- banity and the polish of a cosmopoli- tan. He had been much in England, had raced his horses there, had shot a Yorkshire moor, was a member of half the jockey clubs, and numbered many acquaintances in the social world. Esther could not help wonder- ing what he would say if he knew her story, her simple life in the old cathedral city, her bitter days of pov- erty and struggie. But she was quite wisc enough to say nothing about them. Ehe encouraged him to talk, “I know all the cities of Europe,” he said, with some pardonzable vanity; “but, really, I would change none of them for this little provincial town of Cadl to which we are going. It has all the advantages of Paris, and is not one-fifth the size. When there is only one playhouse in a city a man does not spend an hour in the morning ask- ing what he shall see at night. Those wko are fond of old buildings discover that our cathedral is as old as the Romans. I suppose it is an advant- age to have things very old, especially when one is referring to one's female relatives and their fortunes. In Cadi you go to a Roman church at 8 o'clock in the morning and fo an English race course at 12. There is 5 o'clock tea at Dumine’s, one of the finest restaurants in Europe; and for a fortnight at least in every year Jean de Reszke at the opera afterward. Our women are the prettiest in the south there are so many,-of them that we do not quarrel. We have a breed of horses which few countries can surpass. If you like rid- ing you will like Cadi. Tell me that you paint, and I will show you Murillo's masterpleces for your models. If you sing there is Felipe Marcia, who will give you the execu- tion of an angel and the abuse of a jockey. Our people are quick in their affections, but changeable. We cry ‘Viva' to:night, and hang the man to- morrow. Duels are to be arranged at all hours of the day and night. You can get a man killed for sixpence, and buy the Judge for threepence-half- penny. Perhaps that is why we are so happy. A careless race, readily victim- ized by an adventurer—such a people is difficult to govern. It demands many qualities in a ruler—will, firmness, an appeal to its romantic side, singular patriotism. Our Prince been too long away from us. I am very glad to hear that he is returning.” She listened to him with eager eyes. Arthur had already told her much of his countrymen; but he viewed them has already from another standpoint than this flippant man of the world. The Count'’s confidence, however, was greatly to her liking. Even at the luncheon table she would listen from time to time for - any sound upon the road which would speak of tidings and the messenger. She was not ungrateful to her compan- ion for his brave effort to divert her thoughts and compel forgetfulness. “I wish I could share your faith,” she exclaimed dubiously in answer to his repeated assurances; “but it is all like a nightmare to me. Imagine it, Count; I was married in Paris the day before yesterday, and here to-day I do not know whether my husband is alive or dead.” He did not appear to hear her, and it was plain that he would not discuss her history. *“Do you think I should be sitting here at my breakfast if I thought the Prince was in danger?” he asked with an honesty he meant to be transparent. “You have been the victim of an im- pudent outrage; but the Civil Guard will sce that justice is done. We make short work with such fellows on the frontier. The Civil Guarc shoots them at sight if it cannot catch them; a rope is all they get when they are taken. Come, let us forget if we can, and go out into the garden. I will «how you the hills above Cadl and we shall see my messenger coming over the pass.” His confidence was infectious and not to be resisted. She went with him to a little garden behind the inn, and there beneath the shadow of a plane tree, coffee was served to them, and they delighted Tn such a panorama of height and valley and fertile fields as only the Pyrenees can show. In the village below them, hussars were gossiping with the maids or loitering before the windowless shop. The door of a neighboring chapel stood open, and the peasants went in and qut, as the musical bells called them. The quiet and repose of it all would have appealed greatly to Esther if her ques- tion had been answered; but it was three o'clock before the horseman ap- peared at the height of the pass, and half-past three when he came clatter- ing up to the inn door. . “The news is good or he would not be in such a hurry,” said the Count, starting to his feet and striding out. “Do not move. I will lose no time.” He went away, and was gone, as she thought, an interminable time. Dis- tressed to the last degree, the victim of an agitation she could not control, Esther rose from her seat and re- strained herself with difficulty from following him. She counted the min- utes of his absence, and losing reckon- ing, she started to count them again. The suspense was intolerable. When the Count returned he told her with a laugh that he had not been a full min- ute away. “Yes, yes,” she crled, entreaty writ- ten in her plendln;\eye!. “but Arthur, my husband, what has happened—" “Absolutely nothing, madame! It is Just as I thought. The Prince had gone to the station when you were ta- ken from the house. He is perfectly well and approves of what I have done. You are to accompany me to Cadi with- out delay. He will follow as soon as may be.” She would have said, “Thank God!"” but something in the Count’s manner alarmed her; and searching his face with her shrewd eyes she told herself that he lied; and so she did not say a word, but turned from him like one who must be alone with her grief. They found a traveling carriage at Merens and a sturdy team of horses to drag them across the pass. Esther R.Igrmx PITIBERTON flflfiififé’k IHE FROI? SV GIRONC thought their progress all tooleisurely; but the road was steep and winding and the hussars were in no hurry. It was four o’clock when they quitted the village, and half-past five when they crossed the frontier, which divides the kingdom of Cadi from the territory of France. Here had been set up a guard station, and formidable officials re- garded the traveler with not a little curiosity, though neither by word nor gesture ‘did they offer her incivility. The country itself was singularly beau- tiful and less rugged than that about St. Girons. Gentle grassy slopes showed many a picturesque chalet or grazing berd. Cattle bells jingled in the silent glades. The snow peaks were far away like a haze of fantastic cloud be- neath an azure sky. Such travel- €rs as they passed spoke of a sturdy race, clean and quick and busy. Anon, the pass carried them into the heatt of a forest where giant trees filtered the welcome sunlight and many a knoll and thicket might have borne Wwitness to an English summer, The Comte, de Folx, riding by Esther's carriage, did not fail to point out the natural beauties of the pass nor te dwell upon them patriotically. “It is a wonderful country,” he said, “and I wonder that so few English vis- it it. ‘Forgive me for saying so, but Yyou are not a people of ideas where travel is concerned. You go to the COFFEE . hWas, FEELEL 70 JHEM I LTFLE " GARDEN BEHTAD e THE 199 Riviera and the sirocco kills you, or You hibernate at Biarritz and bewail your gloom. Here in Cadi, you may take winter or summer as you choose, the snow on the heights, the roses in the valleys. There is no climate so severe, none so gentle in the world. Our invalids go five hundred yards up to the hills and laugh at the doctors. Consumption is unknown among us. If a man coughs, he is a curiosity. We are simple, gay, rich, hospitable to strangers, and, as you will gather from my words, exceedingly modest. In another hour you will see the city it- to self; 1 hope it will be a surprise you; I feel convinced it will.” “At least, I hope to find my there,” she exclaimed, caring little that she interrupted hi “If Cadi puts an end to my anxiety I shall alws grateful to it.” “It can not fail to,” gayly 0 one is anxious in this country. ‘We shall not permit you to be the ex- ception.” She, thought it to be an evasive an- swer, and was greatly harassed by the persistency with which he ignored her own position and the station to which marriage entitled her. That his polish- ed manner concealed something from her she had been sure since she quitted Merens. Yet what it was or what subtle conspiracy prompted his actions was beyond her power to imagine. The Count, meanwhile, had a hundred stcries to divert her and, presently breaking off from them when th: emerged from the defile, he indicated a house upon the hillside and asked her to regard it particularly. “As a friend of its owner,” he said; “you will be Interested in that piace. It is very old but very beautiful; the house of a man who has done much for Cadi. I am referring, of course, to the Miuister, the Duke of Montalvan.’ Esther was greatly interested. The house he indicated stood in a cleft be- tween hills with great woods in tiers behind it and a pretty lake in the hollow of its park. Massive ramparts, flanking towers, the keep and bastion of a castle tified its claim to great antiquity. She wondered if Doctor Xavier were there now. Her sense of isolation wgs lost when she reflected that she was at the gates of her bene- factor's house and that the night might bring him to her. “I should gr v like to see Doctor Xavier,” she said with animation. “It is not a fortnight ago that he left me in Paris. He was very kind to me in England, as I think you know; I lived more than six months in his house. Ot course, he would T~ very surprised to see me. We said good-by like those who will never meet aga Pérhaps it was rot all so purpoceless as it ap- peared. I have long ceased to think about it—for I cann~‘ flatter myself that 1 am the subject of Doctor Xavier's intentions. You would under- stand that, Count?” “I can admit nothing,” he said cava- lierly. “The man who leaves woman out of his calculations is a poor fellow; his pulitical arithmetic cannot be worth much. Let us say that the Duke did not consider Cadi quite as amusing for you as Paris. He would naturally re- member that since you say he Is your friend.” “I have believed him to be so, Count; a friend to me and to my husband.” It was a direct Invitation to him to speak; but the old diplomatist skillfully aveided the dangerous ground. Esther could detect hesitation in every word he spoke. “Cadi owes the Duke much,” he said reflectively, “perhaps her very exist. ence as a nation. If she has been saved from the French, it is Franeisco he responded Xavier who has saved her. I speak of matters with which you cannot be fa- millar. There must always be one dominating mind in the councils of a government. A minority of my coun- trymen has found that mind in the person of the Duke de Montalvan. The rest do not think; they are children of the sun, idlers, living to-day. An ap- peal to their intellect goes for nothing. You must appeal to their heart and sentiment, and the scientific mind fails in this. When the Prince returns, I trust that we shail unite these faction His absence has been greatly resented; but fortunately for him we have short memories in Cadl. You observe how little T touch upon our merits, madame. At the corner by the inn yonder I will leave the city to speak for itself. Tt will not be very long now before you hear the Duke in his own defense.” He spoke as one who would say, My duty s done”; and when he had reined but an instant to look back at the road they had traversed, as though to assure himself that none fol- lowed, he put his horse to the f‘rl"‘:‘f and pressed on like one who would overtake the leaders of the troop. The cavalcade had entered a pleasant wood by this time, and many a shady glen caught up the evening light and gave an entrancing vista of grove and thick- et and the forest's heart. Beyond this wood, where the trees opened out and disclosed a stately avenue, there stood a crazy inn upon the hillside; and from the plateau before its doors Esther first beheld the spires and roofs of that city wherein she was to suffer so much. The sun was setting now, and it flashed crimson stars from many & window above the towering ramparts and splashed with gold the lazy river at the city’s heart. The road itself wound about the hiliside like a silver thread upon a fleld of green. Esther could admit that the scene was a be- witching one, surpassing all that she had imagined of Cadi and its capital The gentle hills, the bordering forests, the multitude of houses, the spires and turrets upstanding through the centu- ries, the hum of the bu te revealed to her a world of which she had ne dreamed. And in this city she would find the man she loved, would answer those tormenting questions which never ceased to present themselves. ot other ideas she had none. Her own po~ sition as the wife of Cadi's Prince must not be remembered, nor would she per- mit herself to consider it. lieved that she v band and that to-night she wo find him. All else must give place to this; her love was prec ating. The Count had left her 2 the hill, nor did sh ther of her escort unt was reached. The ni as ever in the Pyre swept down from th gan to twink ma the Ange pl As »m the thing f w lights tea be- le in ng out fr twilight the road, deepened Est the shadows fell across became aware that some one had den up to her carriage, and when she , thinking it i that sh she p. the whit of no little alarm the ill-omened face Moor. Very surprised to find such a pl d, it tle alarme e more closely abou back in the carr to av glance; but he rode up beld side, and bending over from the sac of a great black horse, he insisted upon being heard. I, Yussuf, senorita; please to she cried- iend, lady.” then what do you wish to say That your husband must not come to Cadi—I, Yussuf, know it. Keep him aw he must not come— they v (o She sat still, fumbling with the veil about her face. From the first this Moor had been a figure of 1 omen w should she pay any at- tention to such a madman's story Nevertheless, her heart beat quickly; she felt that she must hear him to the er “I do not believe y with great composure. husband done?” “He has married a foreigner, lady: He has broken the law. Do not let him return to his judges. They ringing you he that he will follow. of the trap—they will kill him. She uttered a low ery and the fell from her face. At the same r ment the carriage swept up city's gates; guards s she heard many voices w the lights and the streets beyond the barrier. Moor had disappeared in the people. Esther knew not wk he were friend or enemy. The shad- she repl What has m ows seemed to be closing about her life. and and’s the She entered her hus it seemed to her that me mighty prison closed gate behind XV. Arthur c too well ae- quainted with the acter of his countrysmen to doubt for a moment the meaning of the attack upon 8t. G or what the outcome of it w to bs. No sooner had Martinez, the steward, info horsemen at the that they were set them the avier and of t ¥ y which couneils of . his wit hat part ; and while sco was hostile to him in th his Governme No was unable to say pre they had been hired to he did not fe fe nor for the life of the ¥ he under- stood the hazard of the game and en- tered upon it with the courage of his race. “It would be Alonzo of Vie-Dessos .and his band,” he said, leaping to his feet and listening to the frenzied blows upon the gate. “I had never thought of ‘that, Martinez. ‘What, in God's name, do they want here?’ The steward a ed with the quiet cynicism which thirty years of that dangerous servitude had taught him “They will tell you when they have blown open the locles, Highness,” he said cynically. “Listen to that; they are upon the drawbridge already.” It was at this moment that Arthur ran up hurriedly to Esther's room and made such provision as he cpuld for her safety. A quick thinker, it oc- curred to him at once that his oid enemy, the Duke, had struck this blow with a Spaniard's subtlety and more than a Spaniard's swiftness. Under cover of these hired ruffians, whose complicity could be so Ifhtly pur- chased, he had veiled an attack which opportunity elsewhere denied to him. Arthur said at once that his marriage was the key to this open declaration of ho That they would, if the could, ‘earry him to Cadi, there to answer his cnemies in never doubted; and it flas! n hi that he must outwit tk even at the cost, as it would ap cowardice and flight. This w mind when he commanded Esthe lock her door. If he the guard at mit the pass, would get short would b that, eas not wi his £ 1t the st sh man of the inspir: = : st he saw ago, Arthur from all other women of a mutual sympathy strong with days and mi mplete abando the of a passt had which waxed had ated tion. love must plead for him. worst, he thought, Cad! could refuse to recognize ge and leave him 11d be exiles that to, fo g of a to seper resp 1. He began to to face with less enemy tious and a r ne who could st pass. 1 roused him to taken a ha that ich foix 1 the rigors cad left it so y exhaust- its brave gallop degenerated o a mere canter and ul ttle beyond a th came to t he very mome flushed with success, and drawing ause he mu: he began to k that game was with old fer after all. There below on the winding road the first of his pursu- ers emerged from the shadows. Ar- knew not how many followed om the castle; but he perceived ght would help him no longer, g that he would sell his life he permitted his horse to walk waited for the men. relaxation of effort brought a clear understanding of his and a darker side to a mental »m which he could not turn. of height and gorge pire him with an idea. his left hand the rocks went up their snowy peaks in the above. No eye could find the the gorge below him. The road shut out that flash of lights which so cheered utes ago. He believed must be here and wheel- h gardless c he prepared to meet ment nse d man ar ollowed Xa to of i suspense. an v man An int said that n could scarcely but one r ows and ha but adva ma e path. his eyes when 1 from the shad- be eve an 1 yet low him ly hur carried waist, little gold case, he cloud of smc gorge belo the magn “Well,” cried Arthu who the devil are you The man, reinir little way as th onslaught, we that he answered *“I am Ramon of V You must came back to -Pessos, s the house w —to see you han Do oW it I raise my voice I bring the guard? Let me give you & little advice, Ramon of Vic-Dessos—