The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 21, 1904, Page 3

get home to your b ¥ou down the gorge He @id not wait for any reply, but leaping nimbly from his horse ran to- ward the man and seized his bridie ‘ome, now, rascall” he cried, “I am threat, so unlooked for a re- t parts they were to play, san speechless with sur- le he sat unable and it was not until hat his horse was actu- ed to cock it. maladroit, and a butt end of Ar- t the weapon arged as it fell ed through the But Come, now, Don Ramon, you will shoo Do you n at pistc angerous thin Drotect yc m yourself. lue your precious B ring dan bbing dame met the and related, but a trap. Do not fall ve enemies in Cadi—why fqr- God's name, I ask you to be answered them by ordering be saddled. follow my wife,” he said, t the road carry me where it will” CHAPTER XVL lights when Cad! was ablaze with Esther's rriage drove through its busy streets. It was the diner’s hour, and a window disclosed ani- mated many & restaurant re- minded The avenue they followed ts title “boulevard.” abounded- on trams flashed by rosperous poor re- There were might have appeared street, smart the parks, intain city, thrusting itse wedge between France and Spa. nued prc le heiped E scurity, and left her glad thet she was alone. From the moment when the Moor had disappeared at the western gate none challenged or ad- dressed her. The coachman drove dog- gedly like one who obeyed a distant master; the hussars were left behind; she entered the city like a simple tour- %t and went on unrecognized to an anknown destination. Their way lay by the boulevard for nearly a mile, and thence, quitting it, carried them to a spacious park and ul- timately to the Prado, an open square with a cathedral and a palace upon either hand. Here Esther observed with some interest a gathering of the people, which she imagined must be waiting for the passing of some proces- sion or spectacle. It was quite out of her thoughts that the idlers had come together to witness her arrival in the capital, and for some minutes she paid before I ;3 ‘no attention to the group, mor asked THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. : herself what its presence signified. Such indifference the crowd did not long permit her. Running with the carriage, the outposts of the mob anon began to jeer and mock her, some cast stones which rattled in the wheels— even well-dressed loiterers pointed a finger at her and seemed to approve the outcry. It was so sudden, so unlooked for, so cruel, that Bsther had scarcely time to be afraid. The hussars coming up at a gallop closed about her car- riage and beat the ruffians off; she sank back, asking what it could mean or what s had done to these people that they should judge her so harshly. Iron courage alone can stand against the h ty of an angry mob—and ave as she was, felt her k within her. Of what was his the omen; what fate awaited her v which could so receive her? loomed dark, indeed—she that she was but one in a nation, a heipless girl in the of men without heart or scruple. hu nad come up at the first rm, and their presence, if it did not the least left them > weapons than their ng and hooting, they carriage pass into the and even Id hear their sav- the murmur of some drifting away upon Her own interests, passed to those now face and to the eved awaited her. se gate she stood size, square in design orated with canopy and £ light shone out she perceived a uniform and al- carriage had stopped whi cuirass and hel- ver, stood at her side r a frigid welcome. palace, madam, I am Colonel nded by ‘the Duke, my me you in his name.” n with dignity, for ined that she would A never lacked a f act and speech t her when she onel to help her from 1 then followed him up e steps and into a great The barren grandeur of N %o et - 1 to let the ce, he Varez, 10t a plcture relieved rble decorations cold stor ues were ck ed into the museum and face to face quious foot- ther and bow- r could such From the mo- di's palace to flerings there treatment she mate its on would have nsupportable if that it must be r lover sustained her e answered the colonel e but to obey , your master, can to put any fresh affront in his power, but I am voided the charge. speak for himself, “Meanwhile, every- use is at your disposal. this lady. She will troduce a young girl, 1 a mere child pretty. Desjardins— ke her known to you.” face, and felt lesg ence. Mademolsells not hesitate to you must be tired after she began. “It is such m Foix, and the roads 't you come upstairs n is quite ready.” riot Sorry to escape the 3 eyes which watched her from every side of the hall, and she went up- The bedroom to e Desjardins intro- st as cold and bare she had left. A meager proportions py of carved wood iling. The dressing- , stiff and pretentious. as without lights. The satinwood, exceed- , but out of place. A of carpet, new and ugly, feet of the parquet floor ead. A glass chandelier ded electric lamps diffused an light. There were painted figun upon the celling, but damp and dirt had aimost effaced their outline. The one merit which the room possessed for Esther was the fact that she might it her own; and ne sooner was the door shut than she un- loosed her wrap and sank into a chair with a sigh of deep relief. Mademoiselle 1 her turn, did not attempt uise anything. She stood at “I am sorry for you—indeed sorry! Is there anything I can do?” Esther brushed back the hair from her face, and tried if it were possible to understand her presence in that place ed as frankly: rguerite, the daughter of tave Desjardins, the French notary he My father is the Duke’s friend. ‘We have apartments in the palace, and he asked me to help you. I know that you are in trouble, my father said so. The people have been coming to the palace all day—the soldiers send them away. There have been dreadful things Wore. They killed Ferdinand Moretz in the market place this morn- ing. He was Prince Arthur's friend. The newspapers say it is a revolution. I cannot tell you everything. I should be afraid.” Esther said she wished to be told. “Do you know, Marguerite, that I am Prince Arthur's wife?” Marguerite turned away her face, “Yes, yes,” she said; “but they will not call you that in Cadl, Oh, I am very sorry for you—I cannot tell you h®w much! If one loves, one knows. Please let me be your friend; you will have so few in this house.” Esther stooped and kissed her. She began to percelve, if it were but dimly, the true danger ‘of her perilous posi- tion. She knew now what answer had been given to Gaudarez and his mes- sage. The city refused to recognize her marriage. She blamed herself that she had made such a refusal possible. Her own hasty surrendey to Arthur's impetuous will earmed this swift pun- ishment. She did not hide it from herself. ““I do not understand it; it is all & dreadfpl mystery to me, Marguerite,” she said, rising and going to the glass. “Why have they brought me here it they deny my marriage? Has my husband, then, no friends left? Have they all turned against him? Surely it cannot be true that he has none on his side.” “He has many friends, dear madame, many friends, but they dare not speak for him. Since the Duke returned, every one is afralid. The newspapers say that Prince Arthur has betrayed his country. The soldiers turn against him because they are bought with money; the women are jealous of you. If he should return—but no, he will not do that, he is too clever, he knows that they would kill him.” They were almost the words which the Moor had used at Cadi's gate, and Esther could not turn a deaf ear to them any longer. She did not ask how it came about that she had won the friendship of this mysterious Eastern. Enough to know that he spoke the truth—that the trap indeed stood open, and that the end was near. Helpless- ness could but add to her self-re- proach. Reason told her from the first that she was a prisoner in the city; re- lentless enemies surrounded her. What would her own life weigh, she could ask, against the ambition of such a man as Francisco Xavier? Naw, the gloom of the palace impressed her with a sense of her own weakness and im- potency; and while she would admit that she had been foolish, no justice, she argued, could set such a price upon her folly. “You must help me to be brave, Marguerite,” she said. “My friends in England will not forget me. I shall return to my own country and tell my story. English people will not judge me bardly. I am not gfraid to tell them everything.” Marguerite shook her head. “If you could!” she exclaimed with HEAD- RN GELD. §52 S S P77 e [ a child’s excitement. And then lower- ing her voice she added, “We must not speak of it, dear madame; - they are listening to us.” . B . . . . They dined in 2n adjoining room, and were waited upon by an old man- servant in a shabby unifurm. The food was_ excellent, the wine abundaxzt. From time to time there came up to them from the adjacent courtyard the sound of troops upon the march and of bugles blowing, mingled ever and anon with the tumultuous and more distant cries of a great concourse of people giving tongue to its excitement. The omens speke of a waking city and & night of events; but Esther's thoughts were far away, carrying her to St. Girons and the mountain road. She prayed to, God with all the earn- estness she could command that her husband had not quitted the castle. For her own misfortunes she cared nothing. She did not believe, in spite ‘of little Marguerite's convictions, that any greater harm could overtake her in the city than that she had already suffered upofi her journey. She was an Englishwoman, and pride of race de- fied already this puny country and its insignificant people. Far from desir- ing to avoid the issue she would have faced it at once, and her wish was to stand before her judges and to ask of what they accused her. Perhaps she could remember, too, that her fore- fathers had been soldiers; and that if imprudence had given her a youth of poverty, none the less had kinsmen of hers carried their Queen's commis- sion and laid down their lives in thelr country’s servicee A mood of de- flance buoyed her up. Come what might, she determined that these peo- plé should not find her afraid; and when, almost as soon as dicner was done, Colonel Varez returned, she met him 'with dignity, nor did she flinch before his interrogation. “Madaine,” he said, “I must apolo- gize for this intrusion.” She bowed hér head. He continued rapidly: “The Bureau of Security has sore questions to ask you, and the!- officers are here. I must a you to favor them.” She cut him short; the quiet irony of her response amazed Lim. “I am sure that the Bureau of Se- curity is far too important to be kept ‘walting,” she said lightly. “Please let the officers come. in.” He stared at her for a,moment with cold, steely eyes, which seemed to ask what such a change of front might mean; then, without a word, bade her follow him. In an adjoining room she found two men seated before a great table, with a single lamp between them. They wore uniforms of dark blue, their peak caps lay on a chair at their side; one held a document in his hand, the other a pen. When Colonel Varez had left Esther with them they subjected her for some while to shrewd and puckered glances, and many min- utes passed before she was called upon to answer. But she did not mistake their vocation—they were police officers she said. The man who spoke to her put his question so abruptly and in such a formal manner that she would have laughed at him under other cir- cumstances. “Your name-and age, if you please,™ he asked. She started from a reverie and re- plied with great composure: “Since I bear my husband’s name, 1 call myself Esther de Medina Celi; my age is 23.” Both the men looked at her with heavy eyes which seemed to resent her answer. “Yes, that is all very well; but your English name, madame; we want that, if you please.” “Then my name Iis n—Esther Venn, the daughter of Major Venn, an English officer.” They wrote her answer down la- boriously with scratching pens. The second question concerned her hus- -band. “Be pleased to Inform us under what circumstances you met his Highness, Prince Arthur.” “I met him at the house pf my friend, the Duke of Montalvan.” “You were the Duke’s secretar some months, I lh!nklhe employ you?” “I was not his secretary; I was com- panion to his sister. It is true that I helped him in his laboratory, but I do not consider that I was his servant.” “The companion to his sis’ but not his servant! And during ur com- panionship, madame, you found the means to become acquainted with his Highness, Prince Arthur?” “Not so: the Prince found the means to become acquainted with me. He was Introduced to me by Dr. Xavier.” “By whom, madame?” Esther had forgotten that they were not aware of the Duke’s Incogni “By Dr. Xavier—the Duke; you are very stupfd!” They put their heads together and discussed it in a whisper. When the had written three or four lines upor the paper, one of them continued: “No doubt you saw a great deal of his Highness, madame—he was much in your company?” “T saw him once in London and three times in Paris before I was engaged to him.” “Permit me to suggest that you lost no time.” “You may be as r am quite defense! “I beg to differ u; your an- swers are your bes nse. Be care- ful what you say, your words will be repeated before your judges.” “Is it necessary, then, to take all this trouble ** “It is most necessary. We must un- derstand, madame, under what cir- cumstances you have inveigled his Highness into this absurd marrige.” Esther flinched at the base charge. “When I am called upon to defend myself, it must be before gentlemen,” she said, hotly. “Then you refuse to answer?” “Absolutely.” He wrote it down upon the paper, ap- parently pleased at her obstinacy. The next question concerned the place of her marriage. “We understand that a ceremony was performed in the church at St. Eus- tache. You are quite aware that such a contract is null and void in Spain?” “I know nothing about Spain. From the little I have seen I am proud of my ignorance.” “We shall enlighten you, madame.” “Then please begin. You will find a good pupil. I have much to learn. “Remembering that some studies are fdangerous.” ! “I do mot forget it. Please to say that I am an Englishwoman and that I was married at the British Embassy. Your judges will wish to know that— I think they will be interested.” The men stared at each other a Iit- tle blankly. This was not the kind of information they had come there to procure. But it was written down, nevertheless, in a flourishing scrawl and with several blots. “You were married In Paris, ma- dame, and you proceeded thence to the castle of St. Girons. Was it your in- tention to remain there or to return to your own country?” “My intentions were my husband's. They are still so. Really, you wt for 2= you please; I *“We are not in:a hurry, madame; there is plenty of time—perhaps more than you desire.” “Am I to understand that you threaten me?” “If you compel us to—yes.” “And with what?" 5 He shrugged his shoulders. ‘““With justice, madame.” “That must be an unusual punish- ment In this country.” “You are insolent.” No, I am truthful.” The Spaniard put down his pen an- grily. He was not quick at repartee and he could nct ripost such fighting thrusts. Defeated and chagrined he sat, for a little while silent. then tak- ing up his pen again, he proceeded: “If you were set at liberty, ma- dame, would you give us your assur- ance not to molest his Highness again?” “To molest his Highness!'—my as- surance? Do you know what you are saying?” “Perfectly, madame; we require your assurance.” She rose from her chair with calm deliberation. Her face was crimson, but the shaded light did not permit them to detect it. “Then you shall have it—here now: that I decline to answer another word!" Her temper left them amazed. She had crossed the room to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked, and she stood there, tapping the floor with her foot and in vain trying to stifie her emotion. The two, mean- while spoke In low whispers. Present- ly one of them folded up the docu- ment. “Very well, madame, your decision will be reported in the proger quar- ter. We find you obstinate and inso- lent. It is plain that you are not telling us the truth. Until you do so and you you will please consider yourself under arrest.” She made no response. Her hand fumbled with the lock. She would not speak a word. They rosq from the table and the younger man struck a little bell. W door opened Colonel Varez entered and tock in the situation at a gl “You would have been wiser to an- swer the questions 2s his 1o thes gentlemen put to you.” “We desire dame, but ¥ “Your d \es me swered fronical ‘I hawe never met 80 many friends of justice in one day before.” “Madame,” he sald, “I thought you would hs dent.” She resen n of folly. judge, “Permit me, at least, t since I am the “Not so, madame wers to= nig \ore deep= 1y than you thi “Then, ., they shall stand fc the truth is of any va 1 “Madame,” he ses that it is so. Do not bia s because I do my duty.” He stood aside =4 that two troope E the door of a T. at- ever their presence [ A, how- ever greatly it alarmed h r did 1 leave s decided 1. “Those m sorTy e sald. “Im so very much The tréopers door of her her. The lamps her own for she was fr servant gave her m was in Len Switzerland theater’s door; a v the hour of her di recreated be near her. noe common S London, so her could Ba she slept, looked dow ows, and gold green Bl lantern cast the on her tired face. left her u L count for the faith h was In omen of the She lay back upon uttering a deep s herself to spel sist. Not Switzerland fo Xavier's company ing sleep hours found her so scarcely seemed guerite Desj: room at 7 o" the hand before s or answered that the day. “I bring you roses, she said, “roses of Cadi. ad quitted n Francisce such a refresh- The meorning that she dear madame,” And I have news for you when you Oh, please, it is 7 o'clock been to church. She ¢ red from place to p roses in the empt Esther news which gre: her, “They have sent to your luggage; I b arrived. ered Colonel Varesz 1 it—he frightens me, but he thinks of things Your friend, Madame Julia, is com= ing to breakfast with you, but then we shall never be read Captain Pe- cha of the Hu bidden to church. H in church and ® you ever met a friend d it o n and te impossible!™ was nfec- d herself dress- 2 e time. long sleep e glass she t that there was a little flush of color in her cheeks and that her eyes were clear and bright. The morning itseif broke clear and fine. A fresh breeze lifted the misty curtain from the higher peaks; the air was so pure and rare that the distant ice flelds shone like 50 many beds of jewels. In the vale leys below them hills and woods caught up the freshets of the dew and were radiantly green In the momaing light. Nearer to her window the quadrangle of the pal showed Es- ther a company trymen brisk at their dril stood at every gate—tall 1 hite tunics and silver he »and played in the I know. The child's tious and Esther fou ing and laughing She was t be and when she brightness anywhere disturbed ye “They thi we will come to-day.” Ma though answering a on, “but no one quite happen. My father declares it all depends upen the army. Of course, thers are =& great many who would be loyal to