The Spanish jade

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The Spanish Jade

By
MAURICE HEWLETT

Illustrated and Decorated by

W. HYDE

YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT, 1906, igoy, BY HARPBR & BROTHERS

COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE& COMPANY
PUBLISHED, MAY, 1908

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN

INTRODUCTION

Cada pitta hfle (let every jade go spin) —

SANCHO PANZA. x

ALMOST alone in Europe stands Spain,
the country of things as they are. The
Spaniard weayes no glamour about facts,
apologises for nothing, extenuates noth-
ing. Lo que ha de ser no puede faltar!
If you must have an explanation, here
it is. Chew it, Englishman, and be con-
tent: you will get no other. One result
of this is that Circumstance, left naked,
is to be seen more often a strong than a
pretty thing; and another that the English-
man, inveterately a draper, is often horrified
and occasionally heartbroken. The Span-
iard may regret, but cannot mend the
organ. His own will never suffer the same
fate. Chercher le midi a quatorze heures
is no foible of his.

The state of things cannot last; for the

ix

THE SPANISH JADE

sentimental pour into the country now,
and insist that the natives shall become as
self-conscious as themselves. The Sud-
Express brings them from England and
Germany, vast ships convey them from
New York. Then there are the news-
papers, eager as ever to make bricks
without straw. Against Teutonic travellers
and journalists no idiosyncrasy can stand
out. The country will run to pulp, as a
pear, bitten without by wasps and within
by a maggot, will get sleepy and drop.
That end is not yet, the Lord be praised,
and will not be in your time or mine.
The tale I have to tell — an old one, as
we reckon news now — might have hap-
pened yesterday; for that was when I was
last in Spain, and satisfied myself that
all the concomitants were still in being.
I can assure you that many a Don Luis
yet, bitterly poor and bitterly proud, starves
and shivers, and hugs up his bones in his
capa between the Bidassoa and the Man-
zanares; many a wild-hearted, unlettered

THE SPANISH JADE xi

Manuela applies the inexorable law of the
land to her own detriment, and, with a
sob in her breath, sits down to her spinning
again, her mouldy crust and cup of cold
water, or worse fare than that. Joy is
not for the poor, she says — and then,
with a shrug, Lo que ha de ser . . . /
But as a matter of fact it belongs to
George Borrow's day, this tale, when gentle-
men rode a-horseback between town and
town, and followed the river-bed rather than
the road. A stranger then, in the plains of
Castile, was either a fool who knew not
when he was well off, or an unfortunate,
whose misery at home forced him afield.
There was no genus Tourist; the traveller
was conspicuous and could be traced from
Spain to Spain. When you get on you'll
see; that is how Tormillo weaselled out
Mr. Manvers, by the smell of his blood.
A great, roomy, haggard country, half desert
waste and half bare rock, was the Spain of
1860, immemorially old, immutably the same,
splendidly frank, acquainted with grief and

xii THE SPANISH JADE

sin, shameless and free; like some brown
gipsy wench of the wayside, with throat
and half her bosom bare, who would laugh
and show her teeth, and be free with
her jest; but if you touched her honour,
ignorant that she had one, would stab you
without ruth and go her free way, leaving
you carrion in the ditch. Such was the
Spain which Mr. Manvers visited some
fifty years ago.

THE SPANISH JADE

The Spanish Jade

CHAPTER I

THE PLEASANT ERRAND

INTO the plain beyond Burgos, through
the sunless glare of before-dawn, upon
a soft-padding ass that cast no shadow
and made no sound; well upon the
stern of that ass, and with two bare
heels to kick him; alone in the immensity
of Castile, and as happy as a king may be,
rode a young man on a May morning,
singing to himself a wailing, winding chant
in the minor, which, as it had no end, may
well have had no beginning. He only
paused in it to look before him between
his donkey's ears; and then — "Arre, burra,
hi jo de perra!" -he would drive his heels
into the animal's rump. In a few minutes
the song went spearing aloft again ....
"En batalla-a-a temero-o-sa-a I "

THE SPANISH JADE

I say that he was young; he was very
young, and looked very delicate, with his
transparent, alabaster skin, lustrous gray
eyes, and pale, thin lips. He had a sagging
straw hat upon his round and shapely
head, a shirt — and a dirty shirt — open
to the waist. His faja was a broad band
of scarlet cloth wound half a dozen times
about his middle, and supported a murder-
ous long knife. For the rest, cotton drawers,
bare legs, and feet as brown as walnuts.
All of him that was not whitey-brown
cotton or red cloth was the colour of the
country; but his cropped head was black,
and his eyes were very light gray, keen,
restless, and bold. He was sharp-featured,
careless, and impudent; but when he smiled
you might think him bewitching. His
name he would give you as Esteban Vincaz
- which it was not; his affair was pressing,
pleasant, and pious. Of that he had no
doubt at all. He was intending the murder
of a young woman.

His eyes, as he sang, roamed the sun-

THE SPANISH JADE

struck land, and saw everything as it should
be. Life was a grim business for man
and beast and herb of the field, no better
for one than for the other. The winter
corn in patches struggled sparsely through
the clods; darnels, tares, dead-nettle, and
couch, the vetches of last year, and the this-
tles of next, contended with it, not in vain.
The olives were not yet in flower, but the
plums and sloes were powdered with white;
all was in order. When a clump of smoky
blue iris caught his downward looks, he
slipped off his ass and snatched a handful
for his hat. "The Sword-flower," he called
it, and accepting the omen with a chuckle,
jumped into his seat again and kicked the
beast with his naked heels into the shamble
that does duty for a pace. As he decorated
his hat-string he resumed his song:

" En batalla temerosa
Andaba el Cid castellano
COD. Bucar, ese rey moro,
Que contra el Cid ha llegado
A le ganar a Valencia . . .

He hung upon the pounding assonances,

6 THE SPANISH JADE

and his heart thumped in accord, as if his
present adventure had been that crowning
one of the hero's.

Accept him for what he was, the grace-
less son of his parents — horse-thief, sheep-
thief, contrabandist, bully, trader of women
— he had the look of a seraph when he
sang, the complacency of an angel of the
Weighing of Souls. And why not? He
had no doubts; he could justify every
hour of his life. If money failed him,
wits did not; he had the manners of a gen-
tleman — and a gentleman he actually was,
Hidalgo by birth — and the morals of a
hyaena, that is to say, none at all. I doubt
if he had anything worth having except
the grand air; the rest had been discarded
as of no account. Schooling had been
his, he had let it slip; if his gentlehood had
been negotiable he had carded it away.
Nowadays he knew only elementary things
— hunger, thirst, fatigue, desire, hatred, fear.
What he craved, that he took, if he could.
He feared the dark, and God in the Sacra-

THE SPANISH JADE

ment. He pitied nothing, regretted nothing;
for to pity a thing you must respect it, and
to respect you must fear; and as for regret,
when it came to feeling the loss of a thing
it came naturally also to hating the cause
of its loss ; and so the greater lust swallowed
up the less. He had felt regret when
Manuela ran away; it had hurt him, and
he hated her for it. That was why he
intended at all cost to find her again, and
to kill her; because she had been his amiga,
and had left him. Three weeks ago it had
been, at the fair of Pobledo. The fair had
been spoiled for him, he had earned nothing
and lost much; esteem, to wit, his own
esteem, mortally wounded by the loss of
Manuela, whose beauty had been a mark,
and its possession an asset; and time -
valuable time — lost in finding out where
she had gone. Friends of his had helped
him ; he had hailed every arriero on the road
from Pamplona to La Coruna; and when
he had what he wanted he had only delayed
for one day, to get his knife ground. He

8 THE SPANISH JADE

knew exactly where she was, at what hour
he should find her, and with whom. His
tongue itched and brought water into his
mouth when he pictured the meeting. He
pictured it now, as he jogged and sang and
looked contentedly at the endless plain.

Presently he came within sight, and>
since he made no effort to avoid it, presently
again into the street of a mud-built village.
Few people were astir. A man slept in an
angle of a wall, flies about his head; a dog
in an entry scratched himself with ecstasy ; a
woman at a doorway was combing her child's
hair, and looked up to watch his coming.

Entering in his easy way, he looked to
the east to judge of the light. Sunrise
was nearly an hour away; he could afford
to obey the summons of the cracked bell,
filling the place with its wrangling, with
the creaking of its wheel. He hobbled his
beast in the little plaza, and followed
some straying women into church.

Immediately confronting him at the door
was a hideous idol. A huge and brown

THE SPANISH JADE 9

wooden Christ, with black horsehair tresses,
staring white eyeballs, staring red wounds,
towered before him, hanging from a cross.
Esteban knelt to it on one knee, and, remem-
bering his hat, doffed it sideways over his
ear. He said his two paternosters, and then
performed one odd ceremony more. Several
people saw him do it, but no one was sur-
prised. He took the long knife from his
faja running his finger lightly along the
edge, laid it flat before" the Cross, and,
looking up at the tormented God, said
Him another pater. That done, he went
into the church, and knelt upon the floor
in company with kerchiefed women, children,
a dog or two, and some beggars of incredi-
ble age and infirmities beyond description,
and rose to one knee, fell to both, covered
his eyes, watched the celebrant, or the
youngest of the women, just as the server's
little bell bade him. Single ceremonies,
done by rote and common to Latin Europe ;
certainly not learned of the Moors.

Mass over, our young avjnger prepared

10 THE SPANISH JADE

to resume his journey by breaking his
fast. A hunch of bread and a few raisins
sufficed him, and he ate these sitting on
the steps of the church, watching the women
as they loitered on their way home. Este-
ban had a keen eye for women; pence only,
I mean the lack of them, prevented him
from being a collector. But the eye is
free; he viewed them all from the stand-
point of the cabinet. One he approved.
She carried herself well, had fine ankles,
and wore a flower in her hair like an Andalu-
sian. Now, it was one of his many grudges
against fate that he had never been in
Andalusia and seen the women there.
For certain, they were handsome ; a Sevil-
lana, for instance ! Would they wear flowers
in their hair — over the ear — unless they
dared be looked at? Manuela was of
Valencia, more than half Gitana: a wonder-
fully supple girl. When she danced the
jota it was like nothing so much as a snake
in an agony. Her hair was tawny yellow,
and very long. She wore no flower in it,

THE SPANISH JADE 11

but bound a red handkerchief in and out
of the plaits. She was vain of her hair —
heart of God, how he hated her!

Then the priest came out of church, fat
dew-lapped, greasy, very short of breath, but
benevolent. "Good day, good day to you," he
said. ** You are a stranger. From the North ?"

"My reverence, from Burgos."

"Ha, from Burgos this morning! A
fine city, a great city."

'Yes, sir, it's true. It is where they
buried our lord the Campeador."

"So they say. You are lettered! And
early afoot."

'Yes, sir. I am called to be early. I
still go South."

"Seeking work, no doubt. You are
honest, I hope?"

'Yes, sir, a very honest Christian. But
I seek no work. I find it."

'You are lucky," said the priest, and
took snuff. "And where is your work?
In Valladolid, perhaps?"

Esteban blinked hard at that last question.

THE SPANISH JADE

"No, sir," he said. "Not there/' Do
what he might he could not repress the
bitter gleam in his eyes.

The old priest paused, his fingers once
more in the snuff-box. "There again you
have a great city. Ah, and there was a
time when Valladolid was one of the greatest
in Castile. The capital of a kingdom!
Chosen seat of a king! Pattern of the true
Faith!" His eyelids narrowed quickly.
"You do not know it?"

"No, sir," said Esteban gently. "I
have never been there."

The priest shrugged. "Vaya! it is no
affair of mine," he said. Then he waved
his hand, wagging it about like a fan. " Go
your ways," he added, "with God."

"Always at the feet of your reverence,"
said Esteban, and watched him depart.
He started after him, and looked sick.

Altogether he delayed for an hour and a
quarter in this village: a material time.
The sun was up as he left it — a burning
globe, just above the limits of the plain.

CHAPTER H

THE TRAVELLER AT LARGE

AHEAD of Esteban, some five or six
hours, or rather, converging upon
a common centre so far removed from our
friend, was one Osmund Manvers, a young
English gentleman of easy fortune, indepen-
dent habits, and analytical disposition; also
riding, also singing to himself, equally early
afoot, but in very different circumstances.
He bestrode a horse tolerably sound, had a
haversack before him reasonably stored.
He had a clean shirt on him, and another
embaled, a brace of pistols, a New Testa-
ment and a "Don Quixote"; he wore brown
knee-boots, a tweed jacket, white duck
breeches, and a straw hat as little pictur-
esque as it was comfortable or convenient.
Neither revenge nor enemy lay ahead of
him; he travelled for his pleasure, and so

13

14 THE SPANISH JADE

pleasantly that even Time was his friend.
Health was the salt of his daily fare, and
curiosity gave him appetite for every minute
of the day.

He would have looked incongruous in
the elfin landscape — in that empty plain,
under that ringing sky — if he had not
appeared to be as extremely at home in it
as young Esteban himself; but there was
this further difference to be noted, that
whereas Esteban seemed to belong to the
land, the land seemed to belong to Mr.
Manvers — the land of the Spains and all
those vast distances of it, the enormous space
of ground, the dim blue mountains at the
edge, the great arch of sky over all. He
might have been a young squire at home,
overlooking his farms, one eye for the tillage
or the upkeep of fence and hedge, another
for a covey or a hare in a furrow He was
as serene as Esteban and as con tented; but
his comfort lay in easy possession, not in
being easily possessed. Occasionally he
whistled as he rode, but, like Esteban,

THE SPANISH JADE 15

broke now and again into a singing voice,
more cheerful, I think, than melodious.

" If she be not fair for me,
What care I how fair she be ?"

An old song. But Henry Chorley made a
tune for it the summer before Mr. Manvers
left England, and it had caught his fancy,
both the air and the sentiment. They had
come aptly to suit his scoffing mood, and to
help him salve the wound which a Miss
Eleanor Vernon had dealt his heart — a
Miss Eleanor Vernon with her clear, dis-
dainful eyes. She had given him his first
acquaintance with the hot-and-cold disease.
"If she be not fair for me!" Well, she
was not to be that. Let her go spin then,
and — "What care I how fair she be?"
He had discarded her with the Dover cliffs
and resumed possession of himself and his
seeing eye. By this time a course of desul-
tory journeying through Britanny and the
West of France, a winter in Paris, a
packet from Bordeaux to Santander had
cured him of his hurt. The song came

16 THE SPANISH JADE

unsought to his lips, but had no wounded
heart to salve.

Mr. Manvers was a pleasant looking
young man, sanguine in hue, gray in the
eye, with a twisted sort of smile by no means
unattractive. His features were irregular,
but he looked wholesome; his humour was
fitful, sometimes easy, sometimes unaccount-
ably stiff. They called him a Character
at home, meaning that he was liable to
freakish asides from the common rutted
road, and could not be counted on. It
was true. He for his part called himself
an observer of Manners, which implied
that he had rather watch than take a side;
but he was both hot-tempered and quick-
tempered, and might well find himself in
the middle of things before he knew it.
His crooked smile, however, seldom deserted
him, seldom was exchanged for a crooked
scowl; and the light beard which he had
allowed himself in the solitudes of Paris led
one to imagine his jaw less square than
it really was.

THE SPANISH JADE 17

I suppose him to have been five-foot-ten
in his boots, and strong to match. He had a
comfortable income, derived from land in
Somersetshire, upon which his mother, a
widow lady, and his two unmarried sisters
lived, and attended archery meetings in
company of the curate. The disdain of
Miss Eleanor Vernon had cured him of a
taste for such simple joys, and now that, by
travel, he had cured himself of Miss
Eleanor, he was travelling on for his
pleasure, or, as he told himself, to avoid
the curate. Thus neatly he referred to his
obligations to Church and State in Somer-
setshire.

By six o'clock on this fine May morning
he had already ridden far — from Sahagun,
indeed, where he had spent some idle days
lounging and exchanging observations on
the weather with the inhabitants. He had
been popular, for he was perfectly simple,
and without airs; never asked what he did
not want to know, and never refused to
answer what it was obviously desired he

18 THE SPANISH JADE

should. But man cannot live upon small
talk; and as he had taken up his rest in
Sahagun in a moment of impulse — when he
saw that it possessed a church dome covered
with glazed green tiles — so now he left it.

"High heaven!" he had cried, sitting up
in bed, "what the deuce am I doing here?
Nothing. Nothing on earth. Let 's get out
of it." So out he had got, and could not
ask for breakfast — at four in the morning.

He rode fast, desiring to make way
before the heat began, and by six o'clock,
with the sun above the horizon, was not
sorry to see towers and pinnacles, or to hear
across the emptiness the clangorous notes
of a deep-toned bell. "The muezzin calls
the faithful, but for me another summons
must be sounded. That town will be
Palencia. There I breakfast, by the grace
of God. Coffee and eggs."

Palencia it was, a town of pretence, if
such a word can be applied to anything
Spanish, where things either are or are not,
and there 's an end. It was as drab as the

THE SPANISH JADE 19

landscape, as weather-worn and austere;
but it had a squat officer sitting at the receipt
of custom, which Sahagun had not, and a
file of anxious peasants before him, bargain-
ing for their chickens and hay.

Upon the horseman's approach the func-
tionary raised himself, looking over the
heads of the crowd as at a greater thing,
saluted, and inquired for gate dues with
his patient eyes. "I have here," said
Manvers, who loved to be didactic in a
foreign language, "a shirt and a comb, the
New Testament, the ' History of the Ingen-
ious Gentleman, Don Quixote de la
Mancha,' and a tooth-brush."

Much of this was Greek to the doganero,
who however understood that the stranger
was referring in tolerable Castilian to a pro-
vincial gentleman of degree. The name and
Manvers's twisted smile together won him
the entry. The officer just eased his peaked
cap. "Go with God, sir," he directed.

"Assuredly," said Manvers, "but pray
assist me to the inn."

THE SPANISH JADE

The Providencia was named, indicated,
and found. There was an elderly man in
the yard of it, placidly plucking a live fowl,
a barbarity with which our traveller had
now ceased to quarrel.

"Leave your horrid task, my friend,"
he said; "take my horse and feed him."

The bird was released, and after shaking,
by force of habit, what no longer, or only
partially, existed, rejoined his companions.
They received him coldly, but he soon showed
that he could pick as well as be picked.

"Now," said Manvers to the ostler, "give
this horse half a feed of corn, then some
water, then the other half feed ; but give
him nothing until you have cooled him
down. Do these things, and I present you
one peseta. Omit any of them, and I
give you nothing at all. Is that a bargain ?"

The old man haled off the horse, mutter-
ing that it would be a bad bargain for his
Grace, to which Manvers replied that we
should see. Then he went into the Provi-
dencia for his coffee and eggs.

CHAPTER in

DIVERSIONS OF TRAVEL

IF SAHAGUN puts you out of conceit
with Castile, you are not likely to be' put
in again by Palencia ; for a second rate town
in Castile is like a piece of the plain enclosed
by a wall, and only emphasises the desolation
at the expense of the freedom; and as in a
windy square all the city garbage is blown
into corners, so the walled town seems to
collect and set to festering the disreputable
creatures of the waste.

Mr. Manvers, his meal over, hankered
after broad spaces again. He walked the
arcaded streets and cursed the flies, he
entered the Cathedral and was driven out
by the beggars. He leaned over the bridge
and watched the green river, and that set
him longing for a swim. If his maps told
hhii the truth, some few leagues on the road

21

THE SPANISH JADE

to Valladolid should discover him a fine
wood, the wood of La Huerca, beyond
which, skirting it, in fact, should be the
Pisuerga. Here he could bathe, loiter
away the noon, and take his merienda,
which should be the best Palencia could
supply.

" Muera Marta,
Y muera harta"

"Let Martha die, but not on an empty
stomach," he said to himself. He knew
his Don Quixote better than most Span-
iards.

He furnished his haversack, then, with
bread, ham, sausages, wine, and oranges,
ordered out his horse, satisfied himself that
the ostler had earned his fee, and departed
at an ambling pace to seek his amusements.
But, though he knew it not, the finger of
fate was upon him, and he was enjoying
the last of that perfect leisure without which
travel, love-making, the arts and sciences,
or the rearing of a family are but weariness
and disgust. Just outside the gate of

THE SPANISH JADE

Palencia he had an adventure which occu-
pied him until the end of this tale, and,
indeed, some way beyond it.

The Puerta de Valladolid is really no gate
at all, but a gateway. What walls it may
once have pierced have fallen away from
it in their fight with time, and now but tresses
and rubbish-heaps, a moat of blurred
outline and much filth alone testify to former
pretensions. Beyond was to be found a
sandy waste, miscalled an alameda, a lit-
tered place of brown grass, dust, and loose
stones, fringed with parched acacias and
diversified by hillocks, upon which, in for-
mer days of strife, standards may have been
placed, mangonels planted, perhaps Napo-
leonic cannon.

It was upon one of these mounds, which
was shaded by a tree, that Manvers ob-
served, and paused in the gateway to
observe, the doings of a group of persons,
some seven boys and lads, and a girl. A
kind of uncouth courtship seemed to be in
progress, or (as he put it) the holding of a

THE SPANISH JADE

rude court. He thought to see a Circe of
picaresque Spain with her swinish rout
about her. To drop metaphor, the young
woman sat upon the hillock, with half a
dozen tatterdemalions round her in various
stages of amorous enchantment.

He set the girl down for a gipsy, for he
knew enough of the country to be sure that
no marriageable maiden of worth could be
courted in this fashion. Or if not a gipsy
then a thing of naught, to be pitied if the
truth were known, at any rate to be skirted.
Her hair, which seemed to be of a dusty
gold tinge, was knotted up in a red hand-
kerchief; her gown was of blue faded to
green, her feet were bare. If a gipsy, she
was to be trusted to take care of herself;
if but a sunburnt vagrant she could be let
to shift; and yet he watched her curiously,
while she sat as impassive as a young Sphinx,
and wondered to himself why he did it.

Suppose her of that sort you may see any
day at a fair, jigging outside a booth in red
bodice and spangles, a waif, a little who-

THE SPANISH JADE 25

knows-who, suppose her pretty to death —
what is she even then but an iridescent
bubble, as one might say, thrown up by some
standing pool of vice, as filmy, very nearly
as fleeting, and quite as poisonous ? It struck
him as he watched — not the girl in partic-
ular, but a whole genus centred in her —
as really extraordinary, as an obliquity of
Providence, that such ephemerids must
abound, predestined to misery; must come
and sin, and wail and go, with souls inside
them to be saved, which nobody could save,
and bodies fair enough to love, which
nobody could stoop to love. Had the
scheme of our Redemption scope enough for
this — for this trifle, along with Santa Teresa,
and the Queen of Sheba, and Isabella the
Catholic? He perceived himself slipping
into the sententious on slight pretence —
but presently found himself engaged.

Hatless, shoeless, and coatless were the
oafs who surrounded the object of his specu-
lations, some lying flat with elbows for-
ward and chin to fist, some creeping and

26 THE SPANISH JADE

scrambling about her to get her notice or
fire her into a rage, some squatting at an
easy distance with ribaldries to exchange.
But there was one, sitting a little above her
on the mound, who seemed to consider
himself in a sort her proprietor. He was
master of the pack, warily on the watch,
able by position and strength to prevent
what he might at any moment choose to
think an infringement of his rights. A
sullen, grudging, silent, and jealous dog,
Manvers saw him, and asked himself how
long she would stand it. At present she
seemed unaware of her surroundings.

He saw that she sat broodingly, as if
ruminating on more serious things, such as
famine or thirst, her elbows on her knees and
her face in her two hands. That was the
true gipsy attitude, he knew, all the world
over. So intent she was, that she was
careless of her person, careless that her
bodice was open at the neck, and that more
people than Manvers were aware of it. A
flower was in her mouth, or he thought so,

THE SPANISH JADE 27

judging from the blot of scarlet thereabouts;
her face was set fixedly toward the town
- too fixedly that he might care — since
she cared so little — whether she saw him
there or not. And after all, not she, but
the manners of the game centred about
her, was what mattered.

Manners, indeed! The fastidious in our
young man was all on edge; he became a
critic of Spain. Where in England, France,
or Italy could you have witnessed such a
scene as this ? Or what people but the
Spaniards among the children of Noah
know themselves so certainly lords of the
earth that they can treat women, mules,
prisoners, Jews, and bulls according to the
caprices of appetite ? That an Italian
should make public display of his property
in a woman, or his scorn of her, was a
thing unthinkable; yet, if you came to
consider it, so it was that a Spaniard
should not. Set aside, said he to himself,
the grand air, and what has the Spaniard
which the brutes have not?

28 THE SPANISH JADE

Hotly questioning the attendant heavens,
Manvers saw just such an act of mastery,
when the lumpish fellow above the girl
put his hand upon her, and kept it there,
and the others thereupon drew back and
ceased their tricks, as if admitting posses-
sion had and seisin taken, as the lawyers
call it. To Manvers a hateful thing. He
felt his blood surge in his neck. "Damn

him! I've a mind ! And they pray to

a woman!"

But the girl did nothing — neither moved,
nor seemed to be aware. Then the drama
suddenly quickened, the actors serried, and
the acts, down to the climax, followed fast.

Emboldened by her passivity, the oaf
advanced by inches, visibly. He looked
knowingly about him, collecting approval
from his followers, he whispered in her ear,
hummed gallant airs, regaled the company
with snatches of salt song. Fixed as the
Sphinx and unfathomable, she sat on brood-
ingly until, piqued by her indifference,
maybe, or swayed by some wave of desire,

THE SPANISH JADE 29

he caught her round the waist and buried
his face in her neck — and then, all at once,
she awoke, shivered, and collected herself,
without warning shook herself free, and
hit her bully a blow on the nose with all
her force.

He reeled back, with his hands to his
face; the blood gushed over his fingers.
Then all were on their feet and a scuffle
began, the most unequal you can con-
ceive, and the most impossible. It was
all against one, with stones flying and
imprecations after them, and in the midst
the tawny-haired girl fighting like one
possessed.

A minute of this — hardly so much —
was more than enough for Manvers, who,
when he could believe his eyes, pricked
headlong into the fray, and began to lay
about him with his crop. "Dogs, sons of
dogs, down with your hands!" he cried, in
Spanish which was fluent, if imaginative.
But his science with the whip was beyond
dispute, and the diversion, coming suddenly

30 THE SPANISH JADE

from behind, scattered the enemy into
headlong flight.

The field cleared, the girl was to be seen.
She lay moaning on the ground, her arms
extended, her right leg twitching. She
was bleeding at the ear.

CHAPTER IV

TWO ON HORSEBACK

NOW Manvers was under fire, for the
enemy, reinforced by stragglers from
the town, had unmasked a battery of stones,
and was making fine practice from the
ruins of the wall. He was hit more than
once, his horse more than he; both were
exasperated, and he in particular was
furious at the presence of spectators who,
comfortably in the shade, watched, and had
been watching, the whole affair with envi-
able detachment of mind and body. With
so much to chafe him, he may be pardoned
for some irritability.

He dismounted as coolly as he could,
and led his horse about to cover her from
the stones. "Come," he said, as he stooped
to touch her, "I must move you out of this.
Saint Stephen — blessed young man — has

31

THE SPANISH JADE

forestalled this means of going to heaven.
Oh, damn the stones!"

He used no ceremony, but picked her
up as if she had been a dressmaker's dummy,
and set her on her feet, where, after sway-
ing about, and some balancing with her
hands, she presently steadied herself, and
stood, dazed and empty-eyed. Her cheek
was cut, her ear was bleeding; her hair was
down, the red handkerchief uncoiled; her
dusky skin was stained with dirt and
scratches, and her bosom heaved riotously
as she caught for her breath.

'Take your time, my dear," said Man-
vers kindly. And she did, by tumbling
into his arms. Here then was a situation
for the student of Manners; a brisk dis-
charge of stones from an advancing line of
skirmishers, a strictly impartial crowd of
sightseers, a fidgety horse, and himself em-
barrassed by a girl in a faint.

He called for help and, getting none,
shook his fist at the callous devils who
ignored him; he inspected his charge, who

THE SPANISH JADE 33

looked as pure as a child in her swoon, all
her troubles forgotten and sins blotted out;
he inquired of the skies, as if hopeful that
the ravens, as of old, might bring him help ;
at last, seeing nothing else for it, he picked
up the girl in both arms and pitched her on
to the saddle. There, with some adjusting,
he managed to prop her while he led the
horse slowly away. He had to get the reins
in his teeth before he had gone ten yards.
The retreat began.

It was within two hours of noon, or noth-
ing had saved him from a retirement as
harassing as Sir John Moore's. It was
the sun, not ravens, that came to his
help. Meantime the girl had recovered
herself somewhat and, when they were
out of sight of the town and its inhabitants,
showed him that she had by sliding from
the saddle and standing firmly on her feet.

"Hulloa!" said Manvers. "What's the
matter now ? Do you think you can walk
back ? You can't you know." He addressed
her in his best Castilian. "I am afraid

34 THE SPANISH JADE

you are hurt. Let me help - " but she
held him off with a stiffening arm, while
she wiped her face with her petticoat, and
put herself into some sort of order. She
did it deftly and methodically, with the
practised hands of a woman used to the
public eye. She might have been an actress
at the wings, about to go on. Nor would
she look at him or let him see that she was
aware of his presence until all was in order
— her hair twisted into the red handker-
chief, the neck of her dress pinned together,
her torn skirt nicely hung. Her coquetry, her
skill in adjusting what seemed past praying
for, her pains with herself, were charming to
see and very touching. Manvers watched
her closely, and could not deny her beauty.
She was a vivid beauty, fiercely coloured,
with her tawny gold hair, sunburnt skin,
and jade-green, far-seeing eyes, her coiled
crimson handkerchief and blue-green gown.
She was finely made, slim, and in contour
hardly more than a child; and yet she
seemed to him very mature, a practised

35

hand, with very various knowledge deep
in her eyes, and a wide acquaintance behind
her quiet lips. With her re-ordered toilet
she had taken on self-possession and dignity,
a reserve which baffled him. Without any
more reason than this he felt for her a kind
of respect which nothing, certainly, in
what he had seen of her circumstances
could justify. Yet he gave her her title —
which marks his feeling.

"Senorita," he said, "I wish to be of
service to vou. Command me. Shall I

•/

take you back to Palencia?"

She answered him seriously. "I beg
that you will not, sir."

"If you have friends ' he began, and

she said at once, "I have none.'*

"Or parents?"

"None."

"Relatives?"

"None, none."

"Then your "

"I know what you would say. I have
no house."

36 THE SPANISH JADE

"Then," said Manvers, looking vaguely
over the plain, "what do you wish me to do
for you ?"

She was now sitting by the roadside, very
collectedly, looking down at her hands in
her lap. "You will leave me here, if you
must," she said; "but I would ask your
charity to take me a little farther from
Palencia. Nobody has ever been kind to
me before." She said this quite simply,
as if stating a fact. He was moved.

"You were unhappy in Palencia?"

"Yes," she said, "I would rather be left
here." The enormous plain of Castile,
treeless, sun-struck, empty of living thing,
made her words eloquent.

"Absurd," said Manvers. "If I leave
you here you will die."

"In Palencia," said the girl, "I cannot
die." And then her grave eyes pierced
him, and he knew what she meant.

"Great God!" said Manvers. "Then
I shall take you to a convent."

She nodded her head. "Where you

THE SPANISH JADE 37

will, sir," she replied. Her gravity, far
beyond her seeming station, gave value
to her confidence.

"That seems to me the best thing I can
do with you," Manvers said; "and if you
don't shirk it there is no reason why I
should. Now, can you stick on the saddle
if I put you up?"

She nodded again. "Up you go then."
He would have swung her up sideways,
lady-fashion; but she laughed and cried,
"No, no," put a hand on his shoulder, her
left foot in the stirrup, and swung herself into
the saddle as neatly as a groom. There she sat
astride, like a circus-rider, and stuck her arm
akimbo as she looked down for his approval.

"Bravo," said Manvers. 'You have
been a-horseback before this, my girl. Now
you must make room for me." He got up
behind her and took the reins from under
her arm. With the other arm it was neces-
sary to embrace her; she allowed it sedately.
Then they ambled off together, making a
Darby and Joan affair of it.

38 THE SPANISH JADE

But the sun was now close upon noon,
burning upon them out of a sky of brass.
There was no wind, and the flies were
maddening. After a while he noticed that
the girl simply stooped her head to the heat,
as if she were wilting like a picked flower.
When he felt her heavy on his arm he saw
that he must stop. So he did, and plied
her with wine from his pocket-flask, feeding
her drop by drop as she lay back against
him. He got bread out of his haversack
and made her eat: she soon revived, and
then he learned the fact that she had eaten
nothing since yesterday's noon. "How
should I eat," she asked, "when I have
earned nothing?"

"Nohow, but by charity," he agreed.
"Had Palencia no compassion ?" She grew
dark and would not answer him at first ; pres-
ently asked, had he not seen Palencia?

"I agree," he said. "But let me ask
you, without indiscretion if I may, how did
you propose to earn your bread in Palencia ?"

"I would have worked in the fields for

THE SPANISH JADE 39

a day, sir," she told him, "but no longer,
for I have to get on."

" Where do you wish to go ?"

"Away from here."

"To Valladolid?"

She looked up into his face — her head
was still near his shoulder. "To Vallado-
lid ? Never there."

This made him laugh. "To Palencia?
Never there. To Valladolid ? Never there.
Where then, lady of the sea-green eyes ?"

She veiled her eyes quickly. "To Ma-
drid, I suppose. I wish to work."

"Can you find work there?"

"Surely. It is a great city."

"Do you know it?"
'Yes, I was there long ago."

"What did you do there?"

"I worked. I was very well there."
She sat up and looked back over his shoul-
der. She had done that once or twice
before, and now he asked her what she was
looking for. She desisted at once : "Noth-
ing," was her answer.

40 THE SPANISH JADE

He made her drink from the flask again
and gave her his pocket handkerchief to
cover her head. When she understood
she laughed at him without disguise. Did
he think she feared the sun ? She bade
him look at her neck — which was walnut
brown, and sleek as satin; but when he
would have taken back his handkerchief
she refused it, and put it over her head
like a hood, and tied it under her chin.
She then turned herself round to face him.

"Is it so you would have it, sir?" she
asked and looked bewitching.

"My dear," said Manvers, "you are a
beauty." Shall he be blamed if he kissed
her? Not by me, since she never blamed
him.

Her clear-seeing eyes searched his face;
her kissed mouth looked very serious, and
also very pure. Then, as he observed her
ardently, she coloured and looked down,
and afterward turned herself the way they
were to go, and with a little sigh settled
into his arm.

THE SPANISH JADE 41

Manvers spurred his horse, and for some
time nothing was said between them. But
he was of a talkative habit, with a trick
of conversing with himself for lack of a
better man. He asked her if he was for-
given, and felt her answer on his arm,
though she gave him none in words. This
was not to content him. "I see that you
will not," he said, to tease her. "Well, I
call that hard after my stoning. I had
believed the ladies of Spain kinder to their
cavaliers than to grudge a kiss for a cart-
load of stones at the head. Well, well, I 'm
properly paid. Laws go as kings will, I
know. God help poor men!" He would
have gone on with his baiting had she not
surprised him.

She turned him a burning face. "Cab-
allero, caballero, have done!" she begged
him. ;<You rescued me from worse than
death — and what could I deny you ?
See, sir, I have lived fifteen, seventeen years
in the world, and nobody — nobody, I
say — has ever done me a kindness before.

42 THE SPANISH JADE

And you think that I grudge you!" She
was really unhappy, and had to be com-
forted.

They became close friends after that.
She told him her name was Manuela, and
that she was a Valencian by birth. A
Gitana? No, indeed. She was a Chris-
tian. "You are a very bewitching Chris-
tian, Manuela," he told her, and drew her
face back, and kissed her again. I am told
that there's nothing in kissing, once: it's
the second that counts. In the very act
- for eyes met as well as lips — he noticed
that hers wavered on the way to his, beyond
him, over the road they had travelled; and
the ceremony over, he again asked her why.
She passed it off as before — saying that
she had looked at nothing, and begged him
to go forward.

Ahead of them now, through the crystal-
line flicker of the heat, he saw the dark rim
of the wood, the cork forest of La Huerca
for which he was looking, which hid the
river from 'his aching eyes. No foot-burnt

THE SPANISH JADE 43

wanderer in Sahara ever hailed his oasis
with heartier thanksgiving; but it was still
a league and a half away. He addressed
himself to the task of reaching it, and we
may suppose Manuela respected his efforts.
At any rate, there was silence between the
pair for the better part of an hour — what
time the unwinking sun, vertically over-
head, deprived them of so much as the sight
of their own shadows, and drove the very
crows with wings adust to skulk in the
furrows. The shrilling of crickets, the
stumbling hoofs of an overtaxed horse,
and the creaking of saddle and girth made
a din in the deadly stillness of this fervent
noon, and, since there was no other sound
to be heard, it is hard to tell how Manvers
was aware of a traveller behind him, unless
he was served by the sixth sense we ail have,
to warn us that we are not alone.

Sure enough, when he looked over his
shoulder he was aware of a donkey and his
rider drawing smoothly and silently near.
The pair of them were so nearly of the colour

44 THE SPANISH JADE

of the ground, he had to look long to be
sure; and, as he looked, Manuela suddenly
leaned sideways and saw what he saw. It
was just as if she had received a stroke of
the sun. She stiffened; he felt the thrill
go through her; and when she resumed her
first position she was another person.

CHAPTER V

THE AMBIGUOUS THIRD

GOD save your grace," said Esteban;
for it was he who, sitting well back
upon his donkey's rump, with exceedingly
bright eyes and a cheerful grin, now forged
level with Manvers and his burdened steed.
Manvers gave him a curt good day, and
thought him an impudent fellow — which was
not justified by anything Esteban had done.
He had been discretion itself; and, indeed,
to his eyes there had been nothing of neces-
sity remarkable in the pair on the horse.
If a lady — duchess or baggage — happened
to be sharing the gentleman's saddle, an
arrangement must be presumed, which could
not possibly concern himself. That is the
reasonable standpoint of a people who mind
their own business and credit their neigh-
bours with the same preoccupation.

45

46 THE SPANISH JADE

But Manvers was an Englishman and
could not for the life of him consider
Esteban as anything but a puppy for seeing
him in a compromising situation. So much
was he annoyed that he did not remark any
longer that Manuela was another person,
sitting stiffly, strained against his arm,
every muscle on the stretch, as taut as a
ship's cable in the tideway, her face in rigid
profile to the newcomer.

Esteban was in no way put out. " Many
good days light upon your grace!" he cheer-
fully repeated — so cheerfully that Manvers
was appeased.

"Good day, good day to you," he said.
"You ride light and I ride heavy, otherwise
you had not overtaken us."

Esteban showed his fine teeth, and waved
his hand toward the hazy distance; from
the tail of his eye he watched Manuela in
profile. "Who knows that, sir? Lo que
ha de ser — as we say. Ah, who knows
that ?" Manuela strained her face forward.

"Well," said Manvers, "I do, for exam-

THE SPANISH JADE 47

pie. I have proved my horse. He 's a
Gallician, and a good goer. It would want
a brave borico to outpace him."

Esteban slipped into the axiomatic, as
all Spaniards will. "There's a providence
of the road, sir, and a saint in charge of
travellers. And we know, sir, a coda
puerco viene su San Martin." Manuela
stooped her body forward, and peered
ahead, as one strains to see in the dark.

'Your proverb is oddly chosen, it seems
to me," said Manvers. Esteban gave a
little chuckle from his throat.

"A proverb is a stone flung into a pack
of starlings. It may scare the most, but
may hit one. By mine I referred to the
ways of providence, under a figure. Destiny
is always at work."

"No doubt," said Manvers, slightly bored.

"It might have been your destiny to have
outpaced me: the odds were with you. On
the other hand, as you have not, it must
have been mine to have overtaken you."

"You are a philosopher ?" asked Manvers,

48 THE SPANISH JADE

fatigue deliberately in his voice. Esteban's
eyes shone intensely: he had marked the
changed inflection.

"I studied the Humanities at Salamanca,"
he said carelessly. "That was when I
was an innocent. Since then I have learned
in a harder school. I am learning still — •
every day I learn something new. I am
a gentleman born, as your grace has per-
ceived, why not a philosopher ?"

Manvers was rather ashamed of himself.
"Of course, of course! Why not indeed?
I am very glad to see you, while our ways
coincide."

Esteban raised his battered straw,
kiss the feet of your grace, and hope your
grace's lady," Manuela quivered, "is
not disturbed by my company; for to tell
you the truth, sir, I propose to enjoy your
own as long as you and she are agreeable.
I am used to companionship." He shot
a keen glance at Manuela, who never moved.

"She will speak for herself, no doubt,"
said Manvers; but she did not. The gleam

THE SPANISH JADE 49

in Esteban's light eyes gave point to his
next speech.

"I have a notion that the seiiora is not
of your mind, sir," he said, "and am sorry.
I can hardly remain as an unwelcome third
in a journey. It would be a satisfaction
to me if the seiiora would assure me that
I am wrong." Manuela now turned her
head with an effort and looked down upon
the grinning youth.

"Why should I care whether you stay
or go ?" she said. Her eyelids flickered
over her eyes as though he were dust in
their light. He showed his teeth.

"Why indeed, senora? God knows I
have no reputation to bring you, though the
company of a gentleman, the son of a
gentleman, never comes amiss, they say.
But two is company, and three is a fair.
I have found it so, and so doubtless has
your ladyship."

She made him no answer, and had turned
away her face long before he had finished.
After that the conversation was mainly of

50 THE SPANISH JADE

his making; for Manuela would say nothing,
and Manvers had nothing to say. The cork
wood was plain in front of him now; he
thanked God for the prospect of food and
rest. In fifteen minutes, thought he, he
should be swimming in the Pisuerga.

The forest began tentatively, with heath,
sparse trees, and mounds of cistus and
bramble. Manvers followed the road,
which ran through a portion of it, until he
saw the welcome thickets on either hand,
deep tunnels of dark, and shadowy places
where the sun could not stab ; then he turned
aside over the broken ground, and Esteban's
donkey picked a dainty way behind him.
When he had reached what seemed to him
perfection, he pulled up.

"Now, young lady," he said. "I will
give you food and drink, and then you
shall go to sleep, and so will I. After-
ward we will consider what had best be
done with you."

"Yes, sir," she replied in a whisper.
Manvers dismounted and held out his hand

THE SPANISH JADE 51

to her. There was no more coquetting
with the saddle. She scarcely touched
his hand, and did not once lift her eyes to
him — but he was busy with his haversack
and had no thoughts for her.

Esteban meantime sat the donkey, look-
ing gravely at his company, blinking his
eyes, smiling quietly, recurring now and
then to the winding minor air which had
been in his head all day. He was perfectly
unhampered by any doubts of his welcome,
and watched with serious attention the
preparations for a meal in the open which
Manvers was making with the ease and
dispatch of one versed in camps.

Ham and sausage, rolls of bread, a
lettuce, oranges, cheese, dates, a bottle of
wine, another of water, salt, olives, a knife
and fork, a plate, a corkscrew ; every article
was in its own paper, some were marked
in pencil, what they were. All were spread
out upon a horse-blanket; in good enough
order for a field-inspection. Nothing was
wanting, and Esteban was as keen as a

52 THE SPANISH JADE

wolf. Even Manvers rubbed his hands.
He looked shrewdly at his neighbour.

"Good aljorjas, eh?"

" Excellent indeed, sir," said Esteban ,
hoarsely. It was hard to see this food, and
know that he could not eat of it. Manuela
was sitting under a tree, her face in her
hands.

" How far away," said Manvers, "is the
water, do you suppose ?"

" The water ? " Esteban collected himself
with a start. " The water ?" He jerked his
head toward the display on the blanket.
"It is under your hand, caballero. That
bottle I take it, holds water."

Manvers laughed. 'Yes, yes. I mean
the river. I am going to swim in the
river. Don't wait for me." He turned to
the girl. "Take some food, my friend.
I'll be back before long."

Her swift transitions bewildered him.
She showed him now a face of extreme
terror. She was on her feet in a moment,
rigid, and her eyes were so pale that her

THE SPANISH JADE 53

face looked empty of eyes, like a mask.
What on earth was the matter with her?
He understood her to be saying, "I must
go where you go. I must never leave
you," words like that; but they came
from her mouthed rather than voiced, as
the babbling of a mad woman. All that
was clear was that she was beside herself
with fright. Looking to Esteban for an
explanation, he surprised a triumphant
gleam in that youth's light eyes, and saw
him grinning — as a dog grins, with the
lip curled back.

But Esteban spoke. "I think the lady
is right, sir. Affection is a beautiful thing."
He added politely, "The loss will be mine."

Manvers looked from one to the other
of these curious persons so clearly con-
scious of each other, yet so strict to avoid
recognition. His eyes rested on Manuela.
"What's the matter, my child?" She
met his glance furtively, as if afraid that
he was angry; plainly she was ashamed
of her panic. Her eyes were now col-

54 THE SPANISH JADE

lected, her brow cleared and the tension
of her arms relaxed.

"Nothing is the matter," she said in a
low voice. "I will stay here." She was
shaking still; she held herself with both
her hands, and shook the more.

"I think that you are knocked over by
the heat and all the rest of your troubles,"
said Manvers, "and I don't wonder. Re-
pose yourself here — eat — drink. Don't
spare the victuals, I beg. And as for you,
my brother, I invite you, too, to eat what
you please. And I place this young lady
in your charge. Don't forget that. She 's
had a fright, and good reason for it ; she 's
been hurt. I leave her in your care, with
every confidence that you will protect
her."

Every word spoken was absorbed by
Esteban with immense relish. The words
pleased him, to begin with, by their Spanish
ring. Manvers had been pleased himself.
It was the longest speech he had yet made
in Castilian; but he had no notion, of

THE SPANISH JADE 55

course, how exquisitely apposite to the
situation they were.

Esteban became superb. He rose to the
height of the argument, and to that of
his inches, took off his old hat and held it
out the length of his arm. "Let the lady
fear nothing, senor caballero of my soul. I
engage the honour of a gentleman that she
shall have every consideration at my hands
which her virtues merit. No more"- - he
looked at the sullen beauty between him
and the Englishman — "No more, for that
would be idolatrous; and no less, for
that would be injustice. Vaya, caballero,
vaya Vd. con Dios."

Manvers nodded and strolled away.

CHAPTER VI

A SPANISH CHAPTER

HIS removal snapped a chain. These
two persons became themselves.

Manuela with eyes ablaze strode over
to Esteban. "Well," she said. "You
have found me. What is your pleasure ?"

He sat very still on his donkey, watching
her. He rolled himself a cigarette, still
watching, and as he lighted it, looked at
her over the flame.

"Speak, Esteban," she said quivering;
but he took two luxurious inhalations
first, discharged in dense columns through
his nose. Then said, breathing smoke,
"I have come to kill you, Manuelita -
from Pobledo in a day and a half."

She had folded her arms, and now
nodded. "I know it. I have expected you."

"Of course," said Esteban, inhaling

56

THE SPANISH JADE 57

enormously. He shot the smoke upward
toward the light, where it floated and
spread out in radiant bars of blue. Manuela
was tapping her foot.

"Well, I am here," she said. "I might
have left you, but I have not. Why don't
you do what you intended ?"

'There is plenty of time," said Esteban,
and continued to smoke. He began to
make another cigarette.

"Do you know why I chose to stay with
you?" she asked him softly. "Do you
know, Esteban ?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Not at all."

" It was because I had a bargain to make
with you."

He looked at her inquiringly; but he
shrugged: "It will be a hard bargain for
you, my girl," he told her.

"I believe you will agree to it," she said
quickly, "seeing that of my own will I
have remained here. I will let you kill
me as you please — on a condition."

"Name your condition," said Esteban.

58 THE SPANISH JADE

"I will only say now that it is my wish to
strangle you with my hands."

She put both hers to her throat. " Good,"
she said. "That shall be your affair.
But let the caballero go free. He has
done you no harm."

"On the contrary," said Esteban. "I
shall certainly kill him when he returns.
Have no doubt of that — and then I shall
have his horse."

Immediately, without fear, she went
up to him where he sat his donkey. She
saw the knife in his /aja, but had no fear
at all. She came quite close to him, with
an ardent face, with eyes alight. She
stretched out her"arms like a man on a cross.

"Kill, kill, Esteban! But listen first.
You shall spare that gentleman's life, for
he has done you no wrong."

He laughed her down. "Wrong! And
you come to me to swear that on the Cross
of Christ? Daughter of swine, you lie."

Tears were in her eyes, which made
her blink and shake her head — but she

59

came closer yet in a passion of entreaty.
She was so close that her bosom touched
him. "Kill, Esteban, kill — but love me
first!" Her arms were about him now,
as if she must have love of him or die.
"Esteban, Esteban!" she was whispering as
if she hungered and thirsted for him. He
shivered at a memory. "Love me once, love
me once, Esteban!" Close and closer she
clung to him; her eyes implored a kiss.

"Loose me, you jade," he said, less
sharply, but she clove the closer to him,
and one hand crept downward from his
shoulder, as if she would embrace him by
the middle. "Too late, Manuelita, too
late," he said again, but he was plainly
softening. She drew his face toward hers
as if to kiss him, then whipped the long
knife out of his girdle and drove it with
all her sobbing force into his neck. Esteban
uttered a thick groan, threw his head up
and rocked twice. Then his head dropped,
and he fell sideways off his donkey.

She stood staring at what she had done.

CHAPTER VII

THE SLEEPER AWAKENED

MANVERS returned whistling from his
bath, at peace with all the world of
Spain, in a large mood of benevolence and
charitable judgment. His mind dwelt
pleasantly on Manuela, but pity mixed with
his thought; and he added some prudence
on his own account. "That child — she's
no more — I must do something for her.
Not a bad 'un, I '11 swear, not funda-
mentally bad. I don't doubt her as I
doubt the male : too glib by half. She 's
distractingly pretty — what nectarine colour!
The mouth of a child — that droop at
the corners — and as soft as a child's too."
He shook his head. "No more kissing, or
I shall be in a mess."

When he reached his tree and his lunch-
eon, to find his companions gone, he was

60

THE SPANISH JADE 61

a little taken aback. His genial proposals
were suddenly chilled. " Queer couple
- 1 had a notion that they knew something
of each other. So they 've made a match
of it."

Then he saw a brass crucifix lying
in the middle of his plate. "Hulloa!"
he stooped to pick it up. It was still
warm. He smiled and felt a glow come
back. "Now that 's charming of her.
That 's a pretty touch — from a pretty girl.
She's no baggage, depend upon it." The
string had plainly hung the thing round
her neck, the warmth was that of her
bosom. He held it tenderly while
he turned it about. "I '11 warrant now
that was all she had upon her. Not a
maravedi beside. I know it 's the last
thing to leave 'em. I 'm repaid, more
than repaid. I '11 wear you for a bit, my
friend, if you won't scorch a heretic."
Here he slipped the string over his head,
and dropped the cross within his collar.
"I '11 treat you to a chain in Valladolid,"

62 THE SPANISH JADE

was his final thought before he consigned
Manuela to his cabinet of memories.

He poured and drank, hacked at his
ham-bone and ate. "By the Lord," he
went on commenting, "they've not had
bite or sup. Too busy with their match-
making? Too delicate to feast without
invitation ? Which ?" He pondered the
puzzle. He had invited Manuela, he was
sure; had he included her swam? If not,
the thing was clear. She would n't eat
without him, and he could n't eat without
his host. It was the best thing he knew
of Esteban.

He finished his meal, filled and lit a
pipe, smoked half 'of it drowsily, then lay
and slept. Nothing disturbed his three
hours' rest, not even the gathering cloud
of flies, whose droning over a neighbouring
thicket must have kept awake a lighter
sleeper. But Manvers was so fast that
he did not hear footsteps in the road, nor
the sound of picking in the peaty ground.

It was four o'clock and more when he

THE SPANISH JADE 63

awoke, sat up, and looked at his watch.
Yawning and stretching at ease, he then
became aware of a friar, with a brown
shaven head and fine black beard, who
was digging near by. This man, whose
eyes had been upon him, waiting for recog-
nition, immediately stopped his toil, struck
his spade into the ground, and came
toward him, bowing as he came.

"Good evening, senor caballero," he
said. "I am Fray Juan de la Cruz, at
your service; from the convent of N. S.
de la Pefia near by. I have to be my
own grave-digger; but will you be so
obliging as to commit the body while I
read the office?"

To this abrupt invitation Manvers could
only reply by staring. Fray Juan apolo-
gised.

"I imagined that you had perceived
my business," he said, "which truly is
none of yours. It will be an act of charity
on your part — therefore its own reward."

"May I ask you," said Manvers, now

64 THE SPANISH JADE

on his feet, "what, or whom, you are
burying ?"

"Come," the friar replied. "I will show
you the body." Manvers followed him
into the thicket.

"Good God, what's this?" The star-
ing light eyes of Esteban Vincaz had no
reply for him. He had to turn away, sick at
the sight.

Fray Juan de la Cruz told him what he
knew. A young girl, riding an ass, had
come to the church of the convent, where
he happened to be, cleaning the sanctuary.
The Reverend Prior was absent, the broth-
ers were afield. She was in haste, she
said, and the matter would not allow of
delay. She reported that she had killed
a man in the wood of La Huerca, to save
the life of a gentleman who had been kind
to her, who had, indeed, but recently
imperilled his own for hers. "If you
doubt me," she had said, "go to the forest
to such and such a part. There you will
find the gentleman asleep. He has a

THE SPANISH JADE 65

crucifix of mine. The dead man lies
not far away, with his own knife near
him, with which I killed him. Now," she
had said, " I trust you to report all I
have said to that gentleman, for I must
be off."

"Good God!" said Manvers again.

"God indeed is the only good," said
Fray Juan, "and His ways past finding
out. But I have no reason to doubt this
girl's story. She told me, moreover, the
name of the man — or his names, as you
may say."

"Had he more than one then?" Manvers
asked him, but without interest. The
dead was nothing to him, but the deed
was much. This wild girl, who had been
sleek and kissing but a few hours before,
now stood robed in tragic weeds, fell pur-
pose in her green eyes! And her child's
mouth — stretched to murder! And her
youth — hardy enough to stab!

"The unfortunate young man," said
Fray Juan, "was the son of a more unfortu-

THE SPANISH JADE

nate father; but the name that he used
was not that of his house. His father,
it seems " but Manvers stopped him.

"Excuse me — I don't care about his
father or his names. Tell me anything
more that the girl had to say."

"I have told you everything, sefior
caballero," said Fray Juan; "and I will
only add that you are not to suppose that
I am violating the confidences of God.
Far from that. She made no confession
in the true sense, though she promised me
that she would not fail to do so at the
earliest moment. I had it urgently from
herself that I should seek you out with her
tale, and rehearse it to you. In justice to
her, I am now to ask you if it is true, so
far as you are concerned in it."

Manvers replied, "It's perfectly true.
I found her in bad company at Palencia;
a pack of ruffians was about her, and she
might have been killed. I got her out of
their hands, knocked about and wounded,
and brought her so far on the road to the

THE SPANISH JADE 67

first convent I could come at. That
poor devil there overtook us about a league
from the wood. She had nothing to say
to him, nor he to her, but I remember
noticing that she did n't seem happy after
he had joined us. He had been her lover,
I suppose ?"

"She gave me to understand that,"
said Fray Juan gravely. Manvers here
started at a memory.

"By the Lord," he cried, "I '11 tell you
something. When we got to the wood,
I wanted to bathe in the river, and was
going to leave those two together. Well,
she was in a taking about that. She wanted
to come with me — there was something
of a scene." He recalled her terror, and
Esteban's snarling lip. "I might have
saved all this — but how was I to know ?
I blame myself. But what puzzles me
still is why the man should have wanted
my life. Can you explain that?

Fray Juan was discreet. "Robbery,"
he suggested, but Manvers laughed.

68 THE SPANISH JADE

"I travel light," he said. "He must
have seen that I was not his game. No,
no," he shook his head. "It could n't have
been robbery."

Fray Juan, I say, was discreet; and it
was no business of his. But it was certainly
in his mind to say that Esteban need not
have been the robber, nor Manvers's port-
manteau the booty. However, he was
silent, until the Englishman muttered, " God
in heaven, what a country!" and then he
took up his parable.

"All countries are very much the same,
as I take it, since God made them all
together, and put man up to be the master
of them, and took the woman out of his
side to be his blessing and curse at once.
The place whence she was taken, they say,
can never fully be healed until she is
restored to it; and when that is done, it is
not a certain cure. Such being the plan
of this world, it does not become us to
quarrel with its manifestations here or
there. Senor caballero, if you are ready

THE SPANISH JADE 69

I will proceed. Assistance at the feet, a
handful of earth at the proper moment are
all I shall ask of you." He slipped a
surplice over his head. The office was
said.

"Fray Juan," said Manvers at the end,
"will you take this trifle from me? A
mass, I suppose, for that poor devil's soul
would not come amiss."

Fray Juan took that as a sign of grace,
and was glad that he had held his tongue.
"Far from it," he said, "it would be
extremely proper. It shall be offered, I
promise you."

"Now," said Manvers after a pause,
"I wonder if you can tell me this. Which
way did she go off?"

Fray Juan shook his head. "No lo se.
She came to me in the church, and spoke,
and passed like the angel of death. May
she go with God!"

"I hope so," said Manvers. Then he
looked into the placid face of the brown
friar. "But I must find her somehow."

70 THE SPANISH JADE

Upon that addition he shut his mouth with
a snap. The survey which he had to endure
from Fray Juan's patient eyes was the best
answer to it.

"Oh, but I must, you know," he said.

"Better not, my son," said Fray Juan.
"It seems to me that you have seen enough.
Your motives will be misunderstood."

Manvers laughed. "They are rather
obscure to me — but I can't let her pay
for my fault."

"You may make her pay double," said
Fray Juan.

"No," said Manvers decisively, "I won't.
It's my turn to pay now."

The Friar shrugged. "It is usually the
woman who pays. But, lo que ha de
ser . . . /"

The everlasting phrase! :'That proverb
serves you well in Spain, Fray Juan,"
said Manvers, who was in a staring fit.

"It is all we have, that matters. Other
nations have to learn it; here we
know it."

THE SPANISH JADE 71

Manvers mounted his horse and, stoop-
ing from the saddle, offered his hand.
"Adios, Fray Juan."

"Vaya Vd. con Dios!" said the friar
and watched him away. " Pobrecita /" he
said to himself — "unhappy Manuela!"

CHAPTER VIII

REFLECTIONS OF AN ENGLISHMAN

BUT Manvers was well upon his wayv
riding with squared jaw, with rein
and spur toward Valladolid. He neither
whistled nor chanted to the air; he was.
vacuus viator no longer, travelled not for
pleasure but to get over the leagues. For
him this country of distances and great
air was not Castile, but Broceliande; a
land of enchantments and pain. He was
no longer fancy-free, but bound to a quest.
Consider the issue of this day of his.
From bathing in pastoral he had been
suddenly soused into tragedy's seething-
pot. His idyll of the tanned gipsy with
her glancing eyes and warm lips had been
spattered out with a brushful of blood; the
scene was changed from sunny life to wan
death. Here were the staring eyes of a

THE SPANISH JADE 73

dead man, and his mouth twisted awry
in its last agony. He could not away with
the shock, nor divest himself of a share
in it. If he, by mischance, had taken up
with Manuela, he had taken up with
Esteban too.

The vanished players in the drama
loomed in his mind larger for that fateful
last act. The tragic shock and the mask
enhanced them. What mystery lay behind
Manuela's sidelong eyes ? What sin or suf-
fering ? What knowledge, how gained, jus-
tified Esteban's wizened saws ? These two
were wise before their time ; when they ought
to have been flirting on the brink of life,
here they were, breasting the great flood,
familiar with death, hating and stabbing!

A pretty child with a knife in her hand;
and a boy murdered — what a country !
And where stood he, Manvers, the squire
of Somerset, with his thirty years, his
university education and his seat on the
bench ? Exactly level with the curate,
to be counted on for an archery meeting!

74 THE SPANISH JADE

Well enough for diversion; but when seri-
ous affairs were on hand, sent out of the
way. Was it not so, that he, the child of
the party, was dismissed to bathe while
his elders fought out their deadly quarrel ?
I put it in the interrogative; but he
himself smarted under the answer to it.
And although he never formulated the
thought, and made no plans, and could
make none, I have no doubt but that
his wounded self-esteem, seeking a salve,
found it in the assurance that he would
protect Manuela from the consequences
of her desperate act; that his protection
was his duty and her need. The
English mind works that way; we can-
not endure a breath upon our fair
surface. We direct the operations of this
world, or the devil 's in it.

Manvers was not, of course, in love with
Manuela. He was sentimentally engaged
in her affairs, and very sure that they were,
and must be, his own. Yet I don't know
whether the waking dream which he had

THE SPANISH JADE 75

upon the summit of that plateau of brown
rock which bounds Valladolid upon the
North was the cause or consequence of his
implication.

He had climbed this sharp ridge, because
a track wavered up it which cut off some
miles of the road. It was not easy going
by any means, but the view rewarded him.
The land stretched away to the four quar-
ters of the compass and disappeared into
a copper -brown haze. He stood well
above the plain, which seemed infinite.
Cornland and waste, river-bed and moor,
were laid out below him as in a geographer's
model. He thought that he stood up there
apart, contemplating time and existence.
He was indeed upon the convex of the
world, projecting from it into illimitable
space, consciously sharing its mighty surge.

This did not belittle him. On the con-
trary, he felt something of the helmsman's
pride, something of the captain's on the
bridge. He was driving the world. He
soared, perched up there apart from men

76 THE SPANISH JADE

and their concerns. All Spain lay at his
feet; he marked the way it must go. It
was possible for him now to watch a man
crawl, like a maggot, from his cradle, and
urge a painful way to his grave. And,
to his exalted eye, from cradle to grave
was but a span's length.

From such sublime investigation it was
but a step to sublimity itself. His soul
seemed separate from his body; he was
dispassionate, superhuman, all-seeing and
all - comprehending. Now he could see
men as winged ants, crossing each other,
nearing, drifting apart, interweaving, float-
ing in a cloud, blown high, blown low by
wafts of air; and here, presently, came
one, Manvers, and there, driven by a gust,
went another, Manuela.

At these two insects, as one follows
idly one gull in a flock, he could look
with interest, and without emotion. He
saw them drift, touch, and part, and
each be blown its way, helpless mote
in the dust of the great plain. From one

to the other he turned his eyes. The
Manvers gnat flew the straighter course,
holding to an upper current; the Manuela
wavered, but tended ever to a lower plane.
The wind from the mountains of Asturias
freshened and blew over him. In a singular
moment of divination he saw the two
insects of his vision caught in the draught
and whirled together again. A spiral flight
upward was begun; in ever-narrowing cir-
cles they climbed, bid fair to soar. They
reached a steadier stream, they sped along
together; but then, as a gust took them, they
dipped below it and steadily declined^
wavering, whirling about each other. Down
and down they went, until they were lost
to his eye in the dust of heat. He saw them
no more.

Manvers came to himself, and shook
his senses back into his head. The sun
was sinking over Portugal, the evening
wind was chill. Had he been dreaming?
What sense of fate was upon him ? "Come
up, Rosinante, take me out of the cave of

78 THE SPANISH JADE

Montesinos." He guided his horse in and
out of the boulder-strewn track to the
edge of the plateau; and there before him,
many leagues away, like a patch of white-
wash splodged down upon a blue field,
lay Valladolid, the city of burning and
pride.

CHAPTER IX

A VISIT TO THE JEWELLER'S

TF GOD in His majesty made the
•*• Spains and the nations which people
them, perhaps it was His mercy that
convoked the Spanish cities — as His
servant Philip piled rock upon rock and
called it Madrid — and made cess-pits for
the cleansing of the country.

Behold the Castilian, the Valencian, the
Murcian on his glebe, you find an exact
relation established; the one exhales the
other. The man is what his country is,
tragic, hagridden, yet impassive, patient
under the sun. He stands for the natural
verities. You cannot change him, move, nor
hurt him. He can earn neither your praises
nor reproach. As well might you blame
the staring noon of summer or throw a
kind word to the everlasting hills. The

79

80 THE SPANISH JADE

bleak pride of the Castillano, the flint
and steel of Aragon, the languor which
veils Andalusian fire — travelling the lands
which gave them birth, you find them
scored in large over mountain and plain
and river-bed, and bitten deep into the
hearts of the in dwellers. They are as
seasonable there as the flowers of waste
places, and will charm you as much. So
Spanish travel is one of the restful relaxa-
tions, because nothing jars upon you.
You feel that you are assisting a destiny,
not breaking it. Not discovery is before
you so much as realisation.

But in the city Spanish blood festers,
and all that seemed plausible in the open
air is now monstrous, full of vice and de-
spair. Whereas outside, the man stood
like a rock, and let Fate seam or bleach
him bare, here, within walls, he rages,
shows his teeth, blasphemes, or sinks into
sloth. You will find him heaped against
the walls like ordure, hear him howl for
blood in the bull-ring, appraising women

81

as if they were dainties in the alamedas,
loaf, scratch, pry where none should
pry, go begging with his sores, trade his
own soul or his mother's. His pride be-
comes insolence, his tragedy hideous revolt,
his impassivity swinish, his rock of suffi-
ciency a rock of offence. God in His
mercy, or the devil in his despite, made
the cities of Spain.

And yet the man, so superbly at his
ease in his enormous spaces, is his own
conclusion when he goes to town; the
permutation is logical. He is too strong
a thing to break his nature; it will be aggra-
vated but not deflected. Leave him to
swarm in the plaza and seek his nobler
brother. Go out by the Gate, descend
the winding suburb, which gives you the
burnt plains and far blue hills, now on one
hand, now on the other, as you circle down
and down, with the walls mounting as you
fall; touch once more the dusty earth,
traverse the deep shade of the ilex-avenue;
greet the ox-teams, the filing mules, as

82 THE SPANISH JADE

they creep up the hill to the town: you are
bound for their true, great Spain. And
though it may be ten days since you saw
it, or fifty years, you will find nothing
altered. The Spaniard is still the flower
of his rocks. O dura tellus Iberice !

From the window of his garret Don
Luis Ramonez de Alavia could overlook
the town wall, and by craning his neck
out sideways could have seen, if he had a
mind, the cornice angle of the palace of
his race. It was a barrack in these days,
and had been so since ruin had settled
down on the Ramonez with the rest of
Valladolid. That had been in the six-
teenth century, but no Ramonez had made
any effort to repair it. Every one of them
did as Don Luis was doing now, and ac-
cepted misery in true Spanish fashion. Not
only did he never speak of it, he never
thought of it either. It was; therefore it
had to be.

He rose at dawn, every day of his life,
and took his sop in coffee in his bedgown,

THE SPANISH JADE 83

sitting on the edge of his bed. He heard
mass in the Church of Las Angustias, in
the same chapel at the same hour. Once
a month he communicated, and then the
sop was omitted. He was shaved in the
barber's shop — Gomez the Sevillian kept
it — at the corner of the plaza. Gomez,
the little, dapper, black-eyed man, was a
friend of his — his newspaper and his doctor.
He took a high line with Gomez, as you
may when you owe a man twopence a week.

That over, he took the sun in the plaza,
up and down the centre line of flags in fine
weather, up and down the arcade if it
rained. He saw the diligencia from Madrid
come in, he saw the diligencia for Madrid
go out. He knew, and accepted, the salutes
of every arriero who worked in and out
of the city, and passed the time of day
with Micael the lame water-seller, who
never failed to salute him.

At noon he ate an onion and a piece of
cheese, and then he dozed till three. As
the clock of the University struck that

84 THE SPANISH JADE

hour he put on his capa — summer
and winter he wore it, with melancholy
and good reason; by ten minutes past
he was entering the shop of Sebastian
the goldsmith, in the Plaza San Benito,
in the which he sat till dusk, motionless
and absorbed in thought, talking little,
seeming to observe little, and yet judging
everything in the light of strong common
sense.

Summer or winter, at dusk he arose,
flecked a mote or two of dust from his
capa, seated his beaver upon his gray head,
grasped his malacca, and departed with a
"Be with God, my friend." To this
Sebastian the goldsmith invariably replied,
**At the feet of your grace, Don Luis.'*

He supped sparingly, and the last act of
his day was his one act of luxury : his cup of
chocolate or glass of agraz, according to
season, at the Cafe de la Luna in the Plaza
Mayor. This was his title to table and
chair, and the respect of all Valladolid
from dusk until nine — on the last stroke

THE SPANISH JADE 85

of which, saluting the company, who rose
almost to a man, he retired to his garret
and thin bed.

Pepe, the head waiter at the Luna,
who had been there for thirty years,
Gomez the barber, who was sixty-three
and looked forty, Sebastian the gold-
smith, well over middle age, and the old
priest of Las Angustias, who had confessed
him every Friday and said mass at the
same altar every morning since his ordina-
tion (God knows how long ago) would
have testified to the fact that Don Luis
had never once varied his daily habits
within time of memory.

They would have been wrong of course,
like all clean sweepers; for in addition
to his inheritance of ruin, misfortunes
had graved him deeply. Valladolid knew
it well. His wife had left him, his son
had gone to the devil. He bore the first
blow like a stoic, not moving a muscle
nor varying a habit: the second sent
him on a journey. The barber, the

86 THE SPANISH JADE

water-seller, Pepe the waiter, Sebastian
the deft were troubled about him for a
week or more. He came back, and hid his
wound, speaking to no one of it; and no
one dared to pity him. And although he
resumed his routine and was outwardly
the same man, we may trace to that last
stroke of Fortune the wasted splendour of
his eyes, the look of a dying stag, which,
once seen, haunted the observer. He was
extraordinarily handsome, except for his
narrow shoulders and hollow eyes, flaw-
lessly clean in person and dress; a tall
straight, hawk-nosed, sallow gentleman.
The Archbishop of Toledo was his first
cousin, a cadet of his house. He was
entitled to wear his hat in the presence of
the Queen, and he lived upon fivepence
a day.

Manvers, reaching Valladolid in the
evening, reposed himself for a day or two,
and recovered from his shock. He saw
the sights, conversed with affability with
all and sundry, drank agraz in the Cafe

THE SPANISH JADE 87

de la Luna. He must have beamed with-
out knowing it upon Don Luis, for his
brisk appearance, twisted smile, and abrupt
manner were familiar to that watchful
gentleman by the time that, sweeping aside
the curtain like a buffet of wind, he entered
the goldsmith's shop in the Plaza San
Benito. He came in a little before twilight
one afternoon, holding by a string hi one
hand some swinging object, taking off
his hat with the other as soon as he was
past the curtain of the door.

" Can you," he said to Sebastian, in very
fair Spanish, " take up a job for me a little
out of the common ?" As he spoke he
swung the object into the air, caught it
and enclosed it with his hand. Don Luis,
in a dark corner of the shop, sat back
in his accustomed chair and watched him.
He sat very still, a picture of mournful
interest, shrouding his mouth with his hand.

Sebastian, first master of his craft in a
city of goldsmiths, was far too much the gen-
tleman to imply that any command of his

88 THE SPANISH JADE

customer need not be extraordinary. Bow-
ing with gravity, and adjusting the glasses
upon his fine nose, he replied that when
he understood the nature of the business
he should be better instructed for his
answer. Thereupon Manvers opened his
hand and passed over the counter a brass
crucifix.

It is difficult to disturb the self-posses-
sion of a gentleman of Spain; Sebastian
did not betray by a twitch what his feel-
ings or thoughts may have been. He
gravely scrutinised the battered cross, back
and front, was polite enough to ignore the
greasy string, and handed it back without
a single word. It may have been worth
half a real; to watch his treatment of it
was cheap at a dollar.

Manvers, however, flushed with annoy-
ance, and spoke somewhat loftily. "Am
I to understand that you will, or will not
oblige me?"

Sebastian temperately replied, "You are
to understand, senor caballero, that I

THE SPANISH JADE 89

am at your disposition, but that also that
I do not yet know what you wish me to
do" Manvers laughed, and the air was
clearer.

"A thousand pardons," he said, "a
thousand pardons for my stupidity. I
can tell you in two minutes what I want
done with this thing." He held it in the
flat of his hand, and looked from it to the
jeweller, as he succinctly explained his
wishes.

"I want you," he said, "to encase this
cross completely, in thin gold plates."
Conscious of Sebastian's portentious gravity,
perhaps of Don Luis in his dark corner,
he showed himself a little self-conscious also,
and added, "It's a curious desire of mine,
I know, but there 's a reason for it, which
is neither here nor there. Make for me
then," he went on, "of thin gold plates,
a matrix to hold this cross. It must have
a lid, also, which shall open upon hinges,
here" — he indicated the precise points —
"and close with a clasp, here. Let the

90 THE SPANISH JADE

string also be encased in gold. I don't
know how you will do it — that is a matter
for your skill ; but I wish the string to remain
where it is, intact, within a gold covering.
This casing should be pliable, so that the
cross could hang, if necessary, round the
neck of a person — as it used to hang.
Do I make myself understood?"

The Castilians are not a curious people,
but this commission did undoubtedly inter-
est Sebastian the jeweller. Professionally
speaking, it was a delicate piece of work;
humanly, could have but one explanation.
So, at least, he judged.

What Don Luis may have thought of
it, there 's no telling. If you had watched
him closely you would have seen the
pupils of his eyes dilate, and then contract
— just as those of a caged owl, when
he becomes aware of a mouse circling
round him.

But while Don Luis could be absorbed
in the human problem, it was not so
with his friend. Points of detail engaged

THE SPANISH JADE 91

him in a series of suggestions which
threatened to be prolonged, and which
maddened the Englishman. Was the out-
line of the cross to be maintained in the
casing? Undoubtedly it was, otherwise
you might as well hang a card-case round
your neck! The hinges, now — might
they not better be here and here, than there
and there ? Manvers was indifferent as to the
hinges. The fastening ? Let the fastening
be one which could be snapped- to, and
open upon a spring. The chain — ah,
there was some nicety required for that.
From his point of view, Sebastian said,
with the light of enthusiasm irradiating his
face, that that was the cream of the job.

Manvers, wishing to get out of the shop,
begged him to do the best he could, and
turned to go. At the door he stopped short
and came back. There was one thing more.
Inside the lid of the case, in the centre of
the cross, he wished to have engraved the
capital letter M, and below that a date — 12
May, 1861. That was really all, except

92 THE SPANISH JADE

that he was staying at the Parador de las
Diligencias, and would call in a week's
time. He left his card — Mr. Osmund
Manvers, Filcote Hall, Taunton; Oxford
and Cambridge Club — elegantly engraved.
And then he departed, with a jerky salute
to Don Luis, grave in his corner.

That card, after many turns back and
face, was handed to Don Luis for inspec-
tion, while Sebastian looked to him for
light over the rim of his spectacles.

"M. for Manvers," he said presently,
since Don Luis returned the card without
comment. "That is probable, I imagine."

"It is possible," said Don Luis with
his grand air of indifference. "With an
Englishman anything is possible."

Sebastian did not pretend to be indifferent.
He hummed an air, and played it out with
his fingers on the counter as he thought.
Then he flashed into life. "The twelfth
of May! That is just a week ago. I
have it, Senor Don Luis! Hear my expla-
nation. This thing of naught was presented

THE SPANISH JADE 93

to the gentleman upon his birthday —
the twelfth of May. The giver was poor,
or he would have made a more consider-
able present; and he was very dear to the
gentleman, or he would not have dared
to present such a thing. Nor would the
gentleman, I think, have treated it so
handsomely. Handsomely!" He made a
rapid calculation. "Ah, que! He is paying
its weight in gold." Now — this was in
his air of triumph — now what had Don
Luis to say?

That weary but unbowed antagonist
of hunger and despair, after shrugging
his shoulder, considered the matter, while
Sebastian waited. :* Why do you suppose,"
he asked at length, "that the giver of this
thing was a man ?"

"I do not suppose it," cried Sebastian,
"I never did suppose it. The cross has
been worn" — he passed his finger over
its smooth back — " and recently worn.
Men do not carry such things about them,
unless they are "

94 THE SPANISH JADE

"What this gentleman is," said Don
Luis. "A woman gave him this. A
wench." Sebastian bowed, and with spark-
ling eyes readjusted his inferences.

"That being admitted, we are brought
a little further. M. does not stand for
Manvers — for what gentleman would
give himself the trouble to engrave his
own name upon a cross ? It is the initial
of the giver's name — and observe, Senor
Don Luis, he is very familiar with her, since
he knows her but by one." He looked
through his shop window to the light, as
he began a catalogue. "Maria — Mari-
quita — Maritornes — Marger ita — Mariana —

Mercedes — Miguela " He stopped

short, and his eyes encountered those of
his friend, fast upon him, ominous and
absorbing. He showed a certain confu-
sion. "Any one of these names, it might
be, Senor Don Luis."

"Or Manuela." said the other, still
regarding him steadily.

"Or Manuela — true," said Sebastian

THE SPANISH JADE 95

with a bow, and a perceptible deepening
of colour.

"In any case " — Don Luis rose, removed
a speck of dust from his capa, and ad-
justed his beaver — "In any case, my
friend, we may assume the 12th of May
to be our gentleman's birthday. Adios,
hermano."

Sebastian was about to utter his usual
ceremonial assurance, when a thought
drove it out of his head.

"Stay, stay a moment, Don Luis of my
soul!" He snapped his fingers together
in his excitement.

"Ah que!" muttered Don Luis, who
had his hand upon the latch.

"A birthday — what is it? A thing
of every year. Is he likely to receive a
brass crucifix worth two maravedis every
year, and every year to sheathe it in gold?
Never ! This marks a solemnity — a great
solemnity. Listen, I will tell you. It
marks the end of a liaison. She has left
him — but tenderly; or he has left her —

96 THE SPANISH JADE

but regretfully. It becomes a touching
affair. Do you not agree with me?"

Don Luis raised his eyebrows. "I have
no means of agreeing with you, Sebastian.
It may mark the end of a story — or the
beginning. Who knows ?" He threw out
his arms and let them drop. "Senor
God, who cares?"

CHAPTER X

FUKTHER EPISODES IN THE LIFE OF DON LUIS
RAMONEZ

GOLDSMITHING is the art of Valla-
dolid, and Sebastian was its master.
That was the opinion of the mystery, and his
own opinion. He never concealed it; but he
had now to confess that Manvers had given
him a task worthy of his powers. To cut out
and rivet the links of the chain, which was
to sheathe a piece of string and leave it
all its pliancy — "I tell you, Don Luis of
my soul," he said, peering up from his
board, "there is no man in our mystery
who could cope with it — and very few
frail ladies who could be worthy of it."
Don Luis added that there could be few
young men who could be capable of com-
manding it; but Sebastian had now con-
ceived an admiration for his client.

97

98 THE SPANISH JADE

"Fantasia, vaya! The English have the
hearts of poets in the bodies of beeves.
Did your grace ever hear of Dona Juanita
— who in the French war ran half over
Andalusia in pursuit of an Englishman ?
I heard my father tell the tale. Not his
person claimed her, but his heart of a poet.
Well, he married her, and from camp to
camp she trailed after him, while he helped
our nation beat Buonaparte. But one day
they received the hospitality of a certain
hidalgo, and had removed many leagues
from him by the next night, when they
camped beside a river. Dinner was eaten
in the tents, and dessert served up in a
fine bowl. 'Sola!' says the Englishman,
'that bowl — it is not ours, my heart?'
'No,' says Juanita, 'it is the hidalgo's, and
was packed with our furniture in the hurry
of departing.' 'Por Dios!' says the English-
man, 'it must be returned to him.' But
how ? He could not go himself, for at that
moment there entered an alguazil with news
of the enemy. What then? 'Juanita will

THE SPANISH JADE 99

go,' says the Englishman, and went out,
buckling his sword. Senor Don Luis, she
went, on horseback, all those leagues, beset
with foes, in the night, and rendered back
the bowl. I tell you, the heart of poets!"

Don Luis, who had been nodding his
high approval, now stared "Ah, que!
But the poet was Dona Juanita, it seems
to me," he said.

"Pardon me, dear sir, not at all. Our
Spanish ladies are not fond of travel. It
was the Englishman who inspired her.
He was a poet with a vision. In his vision
he saw her going. Safely, then, he could
say, she will go, because he, to whom time
was nothing, saw her in the act. He did
not give directions — he went out to engage
the enemy. Then she went — vaya!"

'You may be sure," Sebastian went on,
"that my client is a poet and a fine fellow.
You may be sure that the gift of this trifle
has touched his heart. It was not given
lightly. The measure of his care is the
measure of its worth in his eyes."

100 THE SPANISH JADE

Don Luis allowed the possibility, by
raising his eyebrows and tilting his head
sideways; a shrug with an accent, as it
were. Then he allowed Sebastian to clinch
his argument by saying that the English-
man seemed to be getting the better of his
emotion; for here was a week, said he, and
he had not once been into the shop to inquire
for his relic. Sebastian was down upon
the admission. "What did I tell you,
my friend? Is not that the precise action
of our Englishman who said, *Juanita
will ride/ and went out and left her at the
table ? Precisely the same ! And Juanita
rode — and I, by God, have wrought at
the work he gave me to do, and finished
it. Vaya, Don Luis, it is not amiss."

It had to be confessed that it was not;
and Manvers calling one morning later
was as warm in his praises as his Spanish
and his temperament would admit. He
paid the bill without demur.

Sebastian, though he was curious, was
discreet. Don Luis, however, thought

THE SPANISH JADE 101

proper to remark upon the crucifix, when
he chanced to meet its owner in the Church
of Las Angustias.

That church contains a famous statue
of Juan de Juni's, a Mater dolor osa most
tragic and memorable. Manvers, in his
week's prowling of the city, had come
upon it by accident, and visited it more
than once. She sits, Our Lady of Sorrows,
upon a rock, in her widow's weeds, exhibit-
ing a grief so intense that she may well
have been made larger than life, in order
to support a misery which would crush a
mortal woman. It is so fine, this emblem
of divine suffering, that it obscures its
tawdry surroundings, its pinchbeck taber-
nacle, gilding and red paint. When she
is carried in a paso, as whiles she is, no
spangled robe is put over her, no priest's
vestment, no crown or veil. Seven swords
are driven into her bosom: she is uncon-
scious of them. Her wounds are within;
but they call her in Valladolid Senora de
los Cuchillos.

102 THE SPANISH JADE

It was in the presence of this august
mourner that Manvers was found by
Don Luis Ramonez after mass. He had
been present at the ceremony, but not
assisting, and had his crucifix open in
the palm of his hand when the other
rose from his knees and saw him.

After a moment's hesitation the old
gentleman stayed till the worshippers had
departed, and then drew near to Manvers,
and bowed ceremoniously.

"You will forgive me for remarking
upon what you have in your hand, senor
caballero," he said, "when I tell you that
I was present, not only at the commission-
ing of the work, but at its daily progress to
the perfection it now bears. My friend, Don
Sebastian, had every reason to be contented
with his masterpiece. I am glad to learn
from him that you were no less satisfied."

Manvers, who had immediately shut
down his hand, now opened it. 'Yes,"
he said, "it's a beautiful piece of work.
I am more than pleased."

THE SPANISH JADE 103

"It is a setting," said Don Luis, "which,
in this country, we should give to a relic
of the True Cross."

Manvers looked quickly up. "I know,
I know. It must seem to you a piece of
extravagance on my part— — . But there
were reasons, good reasons. I could hardly
have done less."

Don Luis bowed gravely, but said noth-
ing. Manvers felt impelled to further dis-
cussion. Had he been a Spaniard he
would have left the matter where it was;
but he was not, so he went awkwardly on.

"It's a queer story. For some reason
or another I don't care to speak of it. The
person who gave me this trinket did me —
or intended me — an immense service,
at a great cost."

"She, too," said Don Luis, looking at
the Dolorosa, "may have had her reasons."

"It was a woman," said Manvers, with
quickening colour, " I see no harm in saying
so. I was going to tell you that she believed
herself indebted to me for some trifling

104 THE SPANISH JADE

attention I had been able to show her
previously. That is how I explain her
giving me the crucifix. It was her way
of thanking me — a pretty way. I was
touched."

Don Luis waved his hand. "It is very
evident, sefior caballero. Your way of
recording it is exemplary: her way, perhaps,
was no less so."

'You will think me of a sentimental
race," Manvers laughed, "and I won't
deny it — but it 's a fact that I was touched."

Don Luis, who, throughout the conversa-
tion, had been turning the crucifix about,
now examined the inscription. He held
it up to the light that he might see it better.
Manvers observed him, but did not take
the hint which was thus, rather bluntly,
conveyed him. The case once more in his
breast-pocket, he saluted Don Luis and
went his way.

Shortly afterward he left Valladolid on
horseback.

Perhaps a week went by, perhaps ten

THE SPANISH JADE 105

days; and then Don Luis had a visitor one
night in theCafede la Luna, a mean-looking,
pale, and harassed visitor with a close-
cropped head, whose eyebrows flickered
like summer fires in the sky, who would
not sit down, who kept his felt hat rolled
in his hands, whose deference was extreme,
and accepted as a matter of course. He
was known in Valladolid, it seemed. Pepe
knew him, called him Tormillo.

"A sus pies" was the burthen of his
news so far, a los pies de Vd., Senor Don
Luis."

Don Luis took no sort of notice of him,
but continued to smoke his cigarette. He
allowed the man to stand shuffling about
for some three minutes before he asked
him what he wan ted-
That was exactly what Tormillo found
it so difficult to explain. His eyebrows
ran up to hide in his hair, his hands crushed
his hat into his chest. "Quien sabe?" he
gasped to the company, and Don Luis
drained his glass.

106 THE SPANISH JADE

Then he looked at the man. "Well,
Tormillo ?"

Tormillo shifted his feet. "Ha!" he
gasped, "who knows what the senores
may be pleased to say? How am I to
know ? They ask for an interview, a short
interview in the light of the moon. Two
caballeros in the Campo Grande — ready
to oblige your Excellency."

"And who, pray, are these caballeros?
And why do they stand in the Campo?"
Don Luis asked in his grandest manner.
Tormillo wheedled in his explanations.

"That which they have to report, Seiior
Don Luis," he began, craning forward,
whispering, grinning his extreme goodwill
—"Oho! it is not matter for the Cafe.
It is matter for the moon, and the shade
of trees. And these caballeros -

Don Luis paid the hovering Pepe his
shot, rose and threw his cloak over his
shoulder. "Follow me," he said, and,
saluting the company, walked into the
plaza. He crossed it, and entered a narrow

THE SPANISH JADE 107

street, where the overhanging houses make
a perpetual shade. There he stopped.
'Who are these gentlemen?" he said
abruptly. Tormillo seemed to be swim-
ming.

;' Worthy men, Senor Don Luis, worthy
of confidence. To me they said little; it
is for your grace's ear. They have titles.
They are written across their foreheads.
It is not for me to speak. Who am I,
Tormillo, but the slave of your nobility?"

The more he prevaricated, the less Don
Luis pursued him. Stiffening his neck,
shrouded in his cloak, he now stalked
stately from street to street until he came
to the Puerta del Carmen, through the
battlements of which the moon could be
seen looking coldly upon Valladolid. He
was known to the gatekeeper, who bowed,
and opened him the wicket.

The great space of the Campo Grande lay
like a silver pool, traversed only by the thin
shadows of the trees. At the further end
of the avenue which leads directly from

108 THE SPANISH JADE

the gate two men were standing close
together. Beyond them a little were two
horses, one snuffing at the bare earth, the
other with his head thrown up, and ears
pricked forward. Don Luis turned sharply
on his follower.

"Guardia Civil?"

"Si, senor, si," whispered Tormillo, and
his teeth clattered like castanets. Don
Luis went on without faltering, and did
not stay until he was within easy talking
distance of the two men. Then it was
that he threw up his head, with a fine
gesture of race, and acknowledged the
saluting pair. Tormillo, at this point,
turned aside and stood miserably under a
tree, wringing his hands.

"Good evening to you, friends. I am
Don Luis Ramonez, at your service."

The pair looked at eaca other: presently
one of them spoke.

"At the feet of Senor Don Luis."
'Your business is pressing, and secret?"

THE SPANISH JADE 109

"Si, senor Don Luis, pressing and secret,
and serious. We have to ask your grace
to be prepared."

"I thank you. My preparations are
made already. Present your report."

He took a cigarette from his pocket,
and lit it with a steady hand. The flame
of the match showed his brows and deep-
set eyes. If ever a man had acquaintance
with grief printed upon him, it was he.
But throughout the interview the glowing
weed could be seen, a waxing and waning
rim of fire, lighting up his gray moustache,
and then hovering in mid-air, motionless.

The officer appointed to speak presented
his report in these terms.

"We were upon our round about the
wood of La Huerca six days ago, and had
occasion to visit the Convent of La Pefia.
Upon information received from the Prior
we questioned a certain religious, who
admitted that he had recently buried a man
in the wood. After some hesitation, which
we had the means of overcoming, he

110 THE SPANISH JADE

conducted us to the grave. We disinterred
the deceased, who had been murdered.
Senor Don Luis "

"Proceed," said Don Luis coldly. "I
am listening."

"Sir," said the officer, "it was the body of
a young man who had come from Pobledo.
He called himself Esteban Vincaz." Tor-
millo, under his tree across the avenue, howled
and rent himself. Don Luis heard him.

" Precisely," he said to the officer. " Have
the goodness to wait while I silence that
dog over there." He went rapidly over
the roadway to Tormillo, grasped him by
the shoulder, and spoke to him in a vehement
whisper. That was the single action by
which he betrayed himself. He returned
to his interview.

"I am now at leisure again. Let us
resume our conversation. You questioned
the religious, you say? When did the
assassination take place?"

"Don Luis, it was upon the twelfth of
May."

THE SPANISH JADE 111

"Ah," said Don Luis, "the twelfth of
May ? And did he know who committed it ?"

"Senor Don Luis, it was a woman."

The wasted eyes were upon the speaker,
and made him nervous. He turned away
his head. But Don Luis continued his
cross-examination.

" She was a fair woman, I believe ? A
Valencian ?"

"Senor, si," said the man. "Fair and
false, a Valencian."

Of Valencia they say, "La came es herba,
la herba agua, el hombre muger, la muger
nada."

"Her name," said Don Luis, "began
with M."

"Senor, si. It was Manuela, the dancing
girl — called La Valenciana, La Fierita,
and a dozen other things. But, pardon
me the liberty, your worship had been
informed ?"

"I knew something," said Don Luis,
"and suspected something. I am much
obliged to you, my friends. Justice will

112 THE SPANISH JADE

be done. Good night to you." He turned,
touching the brim of his hat; but the man
went after him.

"A thousand pardons, Senor Don Luis,
but we have our duty to the state."

"Eh!" said Don Luis sharply. "Well,
then, you had best set to work upon it."

"If your worship has any knowledge
of the whereabouts of this woman -

"I have none," said Don Luis. "If
I had I would impart it, and when I have
it shall be yours. Go now with God."

He crossed the pathway of light, laid
his hand on the shoulder of the weeping
Tormillo. "Come, I need you," he said.
Tormillo crept after him to his lodging,
and the Guardias Civiles made themselves
cigarettes.

The following day a miracle was reported
in Valladolid. Don Luis Ramonez was
not in his place in the Cafe de la Luna.
Sebastian the goldsmith, Gomez the pert
barber, Pepe the waiter, Micael the water-
seller of the Plaza Mayor knew nothing

THE SPANISH JADE 113

of his whereabouts. The old priest of
Las Angustias might have told if his lips
had not been sealed. But in the course
of the next morning it was noised about
that his worship had left the city for
Madrid, accompanied by a servant.

CHAPTER XI

GIL PEREZ DE SEGOVIA

BEFORE he left Valladolid Manvers had
sold his horse for what he could get,
and had taken the diligencia as far as Se-
govia. Not a restful conveyance, the diligencia
of Spain: therefore, in that wonderful city
of towers, silence, and guarded windows he
stayed a full week, in order, as he put it,
that his bones might have time to set.
There it was that he became the property
of Gil Perez, who met him one day on the
doorstep of his hotel, saluted him with a
flourish and said in dashing English, "Good
morning, Mister. I am the man for you. I
espeak English very good, Dutch, what
you like. I show you my city; you pleased
— eh?" He had a merry brown face,
half of a quiz and half of a rogue, was
well-dressed in black, wore his hat, which

114

THE SPANISH JADE 115

was now in his hand, rather over one ear.
Manvers met his saucy eyes for a minute,
saw anxiety behind their impudence,
could not be angry, burst into a laugh, and
was heartily joined by Gil Perez.

"That very good," said Gil. "You
laugh, I very glad. That tell me is all right."
He immediately became serious. "I serve
you well, sir, there 's no mistake. I am
Gil Perez, too well known to the land-
lord of this hotel. You see ?" He showed
his teeth, which were excellent, and
he had also, Manvers reflected, shown
his hand, for what it was worth — which
argued a certain security.

"Gil Perez," he said, on an impulse,
"I shall take you at your word. Do you
wait where you are." He turned back
into the inn and sought his landlord, who
was smoking a cigar in the kitchen while
the maids bustled about. From him he
learned what there was to be known of
Gil Perez; that he was a native of Cadiz
who had been valet to an English officer

116 THE SPANISH JADE

at Gibraltar, followed him out to the Crimea,
nursed him through dysentery (of which
he had died), and had then begged his
way home again to Spain. He had been
in Segovia a year or two, acting as guide
or interpreter when he could, living on
nothing a day mostly, and doing pretty
well on it.

"He has been in prison, I shall not
conceal from your honour," said the land-
lord. "He stabbed a man under the ribs
because he had insulted the English. Gil
Perez loves your nation. He considers
you to be the natural protectors of the
poor. He will serve you well, you may
be sure."

"That's what he told me himself," said
Manvers.

The landlord rested his eyes — large,
brown, and solemn as those of an ox -
upon his guest. "He told you the truth,
senor. He will serve you better than he
would serve me. You will be his god."

"I hope not," said Manvers, and went

THE SPANISH JADE 117

out to the door again. Gil Perez, who
had been smoking out in the sun, threw
his papelito away, stood at attention and
saluted smartly.

"What was the name of your English
master ?" Manvers asked him. Gil replied
at once.

; ' E call Capitan Rodney. Royalorse
Artillery. 'E say 'Gunner.' 'E was a
gentleman, sir."

"I 'm sure he was," said Manvers.

"My master espeak very good Espanish.
'E say 'damn your eyes' all the time; and
call me 'Little devil' just the same. Ah,"
said Gil Perez, shaking his head. "E
very good gentleman to me, sir — good
master. I loved 'im. 'E dead." For
a minute he gazed wistfully at the sky;
then, as if to clinch the sad matter, he
turned to Manvers. "I bury 'im all right,"
he said briskly, and nodded inward the
fact.

Manvers considered for a moment. "I '11
give you," he said, and looked at Gil keenly

118 THE SPANISH JADE

as he said it, "I'll give you one peseta a
day." He saw his eyes fade and grow
blank, though the genial smile hovered
still on his lips. Then the light broke out
upon him again.

"All right, sir," he said. "I take, and
thank you very much."

Manvers said immediately, "I '11 give
you two," and Gil Perez accepted the
correction silently, with a bow. By the
end of the day they were on the footing of
friends, but not without one short crossing
of swords. After dinner, when Manvers
strolled to the door of the inn, he found
his guide waiting for him. Gil was in a
confidential humour, it seemed.

"You care see something, sir?"

"What sort of a thing, for instance?"
he was asked.

Gil Perez shrugged. "What you like,
sir." He peered into his patron's face,
and there was infinite suggestion in his
next question. 'You see fine women?"

Manvers had expected something of the

THE SPANISH JADE 119

sort and had a steely stare ready for him.
"No, thanks," he said drily, and Gil saluted
and withdrew. He was at the door next
morning, affable yet respectful, confident
in his powers of pleasing, of interesting,
of arranging everything; but he never
presumed again. He knew his affair.

Three days' sightseeing taught master
and man their bearings. Manvers got
into the way of forgetting that Gil Perez
was there, except when it was convenient
to remember him; Gil, on his part, learned
to distinguish between his patron's solilo-
quies and his conversation. He never
made a mistake after the third day. If
Manvers, in the course of a ramble, stopped
abruptly, buried a hand in his beard and
said aloud that he would be shot if he knew
which way to turn, Gil Perez watched him
closely, but made no remark.

Even, "Look here, you know, this won't
do," failed to move him beyond a state
of tension, like that of a cat on the act
to pounce. He had found out that

120 THE SPANISH JADE

Manvers talked to himself, and was put
about by interruptions; and if you realise
how sure and certain he was that he
knew much better than his master what
was the very thing, or the last thing, he
ought to do, you will see that he must
have put considerable restraint upon himself.

But loyalty was his supreme virtue.
From the moment Manvers had taken him
on at two pesetas a day he became the
perfect servant of a perfect master. He
could have no doubt, naturally, of his
ability to serve — his belief in himself
never wavered; but he had none either
in his gentleman's right to command. I
believe if Manvers had desired him to
cut off his right hand he would have com-
plied with a smile. "Very good, master.
You wanta my 'and ? I do. "

If he had a failing, it was this: nothing
on earth would induce him to talk his
own language to his master. He was un-
moved by encouragement, unconvinced by
the fluency of Manvers's Castilian periods;

THE SPANISH JADE 121

he would have risked his place upon
this one point of honour.

"Espanish no good, sir, for you an' me,"
he said once with an irresistible smile.
'Too damsilly for you. Capitan Rodney,
'e teach me Englisha speech. Now I
know it too much. No, sir. You know
what they say — them filosofistas ?" he
asked him on another encounter. "They
say, God Almighty 'e maka this world
in Latin - - ver' fine for thata big
job. Whata come next? Adamo 'e
love 'is lady in Espanish — esplendid
for maka women love. That old snaka
' e speak to 'er in French — that persuade
'er too much. Then Eva she esplain
in Italian — ver' soft espeech. Adamo
'e say, That all righta. Then God
Almighty ver' savage. 'E turn roun'
on them two. 'E say, That be damned,
'e say, in English. They understand 'im
too much. Believe me — is the best for
you an' me, sir. All people understan'
thata espeech."

122 THE SPANISH JADE

Taken as a guide, he installed himself
as body servant, silently, tactfully, but
infallibly. Manvers caught him one
morning putting boots by his door. "Hul-
loa, Gil Perez," he called out, "what are
you doing with my boots?"

Gil's confidential manner was a thing
to drink. " That mozo, master — 'e fool.
'E no maka shine. I show 'im how
Capitan Rodney lika 'is boots. See 'is a face
in 'em." He smirked at his own as he
spoke, and was so pleased that Manvers
said no more.

The same night he stood behind his
master's chair. Manvers contented him-
self by staring at him. Gil Perez smiled
with his bright eyes and became exceed-
ingly busy. Manvers continued to stare,
and presently Gil Perez was observed to
be sweating. The poor fellow was
self - conscious for once in his life.
Obliged to justify himself, he leaned to
his master's ear.

" That mozo, sir, too much of a dam f ooL

THE SPANISH JADE 123

Imposs' you estand 'im. I tell 'im, This
gentleman no like garlic down 'is neck.
I say, you breathe too 'ard, my fellow
- too much garlic. This gentleman say,
Crikey, what a stink! That no good."

There was no comparison between the
new service and the old; and so it was
throughout. Gil Perez drove out the
chambermaid and made Manvers's bed;
he brushed his clothes as well as his
boots, changed his linen for him, saw to
the wash — in fine, he made himself in-
dispensable. But when Manvers announced
his coming departure, there was a short
tussle, preceded by a pause for breath.

Gil Perez inquired of the sky, searched
up the street, searched down. A group
of brown urchins hovered, as always,
about the stranger, ready to risk any deadly
sin for the chance of a maravedi or the
stump of a cigar.

Gil snatched at one by the bare shoulder
and spoke him burning words. " Canalla"
he cried him, "horrible flea! Thou makest

124 THE SPANISH JADE

the air to reek — impossible to breathe.
Fly, thou gnat of the midden, or I crack
thee on my thumb."

The boys retired swearing, and Gil, with
desperate calling-up of reserves, faced his
ordeal. :*Ver' good, master, we go when
you like. We see Escorial — fine place —
see La Gran j a, come by Madrid thata
way. I get 'orses *ow you please."
Then he had an inspiration, and beamed
all over his face. "Or mules! We 'ave
mules. Mules cheap, ' orses dear too much
in Segovia."

Manvers could see very well what he
was driving at. "I think I '11 take the
diligencia, Gil Perez."

Gil shrugged. 'Ow you like, master.
Fine air, thata way. Ver' cheap way to
go. You take my advice, you go coupe.
I go redonda more cheap. Give me your
passport, master — I take our place."

"Yes, I know," said Manvers. "But
I 'm not sure that I need take you on with
me. I travel without a servant mostly."

THE SPANISH JADE 125

Gil Perez grappled with his task. He
dropped his air of assumption; his eyes
glittered.

"I save you money, master. You find
me good servant — make a difference, yes ?"

"Oh, a great deal of difference," Manvers
admitted. "I like you; you suit me excel-
lently well, but " He considered what

he had to do in Madrid, and frowned
over it. Manuela was there, and he wished
to see Manuela. He had not calculated
upon having a servant when he had promised
himself another interview with her, and
was not at all sure that he wanted one.
On the other hand, Gil might be useful
in a number of ways — and his discretion
and tact were proved. While he hesitated,
Gil Perez saw his opportunity and darted in.

"I know Madrid too much," he said.
"All the ways, all the peoples I know.
Imposs' you live 'appy in Madrid withouta
me." He smiled all over his face — and
when he did that he was irresistible. 'You
try," he concluded, just like a child.

126 THE SPANISH JADE

Manvers, on an impulse, drew from his
pocket the gold-set crucifix. "Look at
that, Gil Perez," he said, and put it in his
hands.

Gil looked gravely at it, back and front.
He nodded his approval. "Pretty thing"-
and he decided offhand. "In Valladolid
they make."

"Open it," said Manvers; but it was
opened before he had spoken. Gil's eyes
widened, while the pupils of them contracted
intensely. He read the inscription, pon-
dered it; to the crucifix itself he gave but
a momentary glance. Then he shut the
case and handed it back to his master.

"I find 'er for you," he said soberly;
and that settled it.

CHAPTER XII

A GLIMPSE OF MANUELA

GIL PEREZ had listened gravely to the
tale which his master told him. He
nodded once or twice, and asked a few
questions in the course of the narrative —
questions of which Manvers could not im-
mediately see the bearing. One was con-
cerned with her appearance. Did she wear
rings in her ears ? He had to confess that he
had not observed. Another was interjected
when he described how she had grown stiff
under his arm when Esteban drew alongside.

Gil had nodded rapidly, and became im-
patient as Manvers insisted on the fact.
"Of course, of course!" he had said, and
then he asked, Did she stiffen her arm
and point the first and last fingers of it,
keeping the middle pair clenched ?

Manvers understood him, and replied that

127

128 THE SPANISH JADE

he had not noticed any such thing, but that
he did not believe she feared the Evil Eye.
He went on with his story uninterrupted
until the climax. He had found the cruci-
fix, he said, on his return from bathing,
and had been pleased with her for leaving
it. Then he related the discovery of the
body and his talk with Fray Juan de la
Cruz. Here came in Gil's third question.
"Did she return your 'andkerchief ?" he
asked — and sharply.

Manvers started. "By George, she never
did!" he exclaimed. "And I don't wonder
at it," he said, on reflection. "If she had
to knife that fellow, and confess to Fray
Juan, and escape for her life, she had
enough to do. Of course, she may have
left it in the wood."

Gil Perez pressed his lips together.
"She got it still," he said. "We find
'er — I know where to look for it."

If he did he kept his knowledge to him-
self, though he spoke freely enough of
Manuela on the way to Madrid.

THE SPANISH JADE 129

'This Manuela," he explained, "is a
Valenciana — where you find fair women
with black men. Valencianos like Moors
— love too much white women. I think
Manuela is not Gitanilla ; she is what
you call a Alfanalf . Then she is like the
Gitanas, as proud as a fire, but all the
same a Christian — make free with 'er-
self. A Gitana never dare love Christian
man — imposs' she do that. Sometimes all
the same she do it. I think Manuela
made like that."

Committed to the statement, he presently
saw a cheerful solution of it. "Soon see!"
he added, and considered other problems.
"That dead man follow Manuela to kill
'er," he decided. "When 'e find 'er with
you, master, 'e say, 'Now I know why you
run, hija de perra. Now I kill two and
get a 'orse.' You see?"

"Yes," said Manvers, "I see that. And
you think that he told her what he meant
to do ?"

"Of course Je tell," said Gil Perez

130 THE SPANISH JADE

with scorn. "Make it too bad for 'er.
Make 'er feel sick."

"Brute!" cried Manvers; but Gil went
blandly on.

" 'E 'ate 'er so much that 'e feel
'ungry and thirsty. 'E feed before 'e
kill. Must do it — too 'ungry. Then she
go near 'im, twisting 'erself about —
showing 'erself to please 'iin. 'You kiss
me, my 'eart,' she say; *I love you all the
same. Kiss me — then you kill.' 'E
look at 'er — she very fine girl — give
pleasure to see. 'E think, *I love 'er
first — strangle after' — and go on looking.
She 'old 'im fast and drag down 'is
'ead — all the time she know where
'e keep navaja. She cling and kiss —
then nip out navaja, and click! 'E
dead man." Enthusiasm burned in his
black eyes, he stood cheering in his
stirrups. "Sefior Don Dios! that very fine!
I give twenty dollars to see 'er make
'im love."

Manvers, for his part, grew the colder

THE SPANISH JADE 131

as his man waxed warm. He was clear,
however, that he must find the girl and
protect her from any trouble that might
ensue. She had put herself within the law
to save him from the knife; she must
certainly be defended from the perils of
the law.

From what he could learn of Spanish
justice that meant money and influence.
These she should have; but there should
be no more pastorals. Her kisses had been
sweet, the aftertaste was sour in the mouth.
Gil Perez with his eloquence and dramatic
fire had cured him of hankering after more
of them. The girl was a rip, and there
was an end of it.

He did not blame himself in the least
for having kissed a rip — once. There was
nothing in that. But he had kissed her
twice — and that second kiss had given
significance to the first. To think of it
made him sore all over; it implied a tender
relation, -it made him seem the girl's lover.
Why, it almost justified that sick-faced,

132 THE SPANISH JADE

grinning rascal, whose staring eyes had
shocked him out of his senses. And what
a damned fool he had made of himself
with the crucifix! He ground his teeth
together as he cursed himself for a senti-
mental idiot.

For the rest of the way it was Gil Perez
who cried up the quest — until he was
curtly told by his master to talk about
something else; and then Gil could have
bitten his tongue off for saying a word
too much.

A couple of days at the Escorial, with
nothing of Manuela to interfere, served
Manvers to recover his tone. Before he
was in the capital he was again that good
and happy traveller, to whom all things
come well in their seasons, to whom the
seasons of all things are the seasons at
which they come. He liked the bustle
and flaunt of Madrid, he liked its brazen
front, its crowded carreras, and appetite
for shows. There was hardly a day when
the windows of the Puerta del Sol had not

THE SPANISH JADE 133

carpets on their balconies. Files of halber-
diers went daily to and from the Palace
and the Atocha, escorting some gilded,
swinging coach; and every time the Madril-
enos serried and craned their heads. "Viva
Isabella!" "Abajo Don Carlos /" or some-
times the other way about, the cries went
up. Politics buzzed all about the square
in the morning; evening brimmed the
cafes.

Manvers resumed his soul, became again
the amused observer. Gil Perez bided
his time, and contented himself with
being the perfect body-servant, which he
undoubtedly was.

On the first Sunday after arrival, with-
out any order, he laid before his master
a ticket for the corrida, such a one as
comported with his dignity; but not until
he was sure of his ground did he pre-
sume to discuss the gory spectacle.
Then, at dinner, he discovered that
Manvers had been more interested in the
spectators than the fray, and allowed

134 THE SPANISH JADE

himself free discourse. The Queen and
the Court, the alcalde and the Prime
Minister, the manolos and manolas — he
had plenty to say, and to leave unsaid.
He just glanced at the performers — impos-
sible to omit the espada — Corchuelo, the
first in Spain. But the fastidious in Man-
vers was awake and edgy. He had not
liked the bull-fight; so Gil Perez kept out
of the arena. "I see one very grand old
gentleman there, master," was one of his
chance casts. ;*You see 'im? 'E grandee
of Espain, too much poor, proud all the
same. Put 'is 'at on so soon the Queen
come in — Don Luis Ramonez de Alavia."

"Who's he?" asked Manvers.

"Great gentleman of Valladolid," said
Gil Perez. " Grandee of Espain — no
money — only pride." He did not add,
as he might, that he had seen Manuela,
or was pretty sure that he had. That was
delicate ground.

But Manvers, who had forgotten all
about her, went cheerfully his ways, and

THE SPANISH JADE 135

amused himself in his desultory fashion.
After the close-pent streets of Segovia, where
the wayfarer seems throttled by the houses,
and one looks up for light and pants toward
the stars and the air, he was pleased by
the breath of Madrid. The Puerta del
Sol was magnificent — like a lake ; the
Alcala and San Geronimo were noble
rivers, feeding it. He liked them at dawn
when the hosepipe had been newly at work
and these great spaces of emptiness lay
gleaming in the mild sunlight, exhaling
freshness like that of dewy lawns. When,
under the glare of noon, they lay slumbrous,
they were impressive by their prodigality
of width and scope ; in the bustle and hum of
dusk, with the cafes filling, and spilling over
on to the pavements, he could not tire of them ;
but at night, the mystery of their magic en-
thralled him. How could one sleep in such a
city ? The Puerta del Sol was then a sea of
dark fringed with shores of bright light. The
two huge feeders of it — with what argo-
sies they teemed! Shrouded craft!

136 THE SPANISH JADE

That touch of the East, which yqu can
never miss in Spain, wherever you may be,
was unmistakable in Madrid, in spite of
Court and commerce, in spite of newspaper,
of Stock Exchange, or Cortes. The cloaked
figures moved silently, swiftly, seldom in pairs,
without speech, with footfall scarcely audible.
Now and again he heard the throb of a guitar,
now and again, with sudden clamour, the clack
of castanets. But such noises stopped on
the instant, and the traffic was resumed -
whatever it was — secret, swift, impene-
trable business.

For the most part this traffic of the night
was conducted by men — young or old,
as may be. The capa hid them all, kept
their semblance as secret as their affairs.
Here and there, but rarely, walked a
woman, superbly, as Spanish women will,
with a self-sufficiency almost arrogantly
strong, robed in white, hooded with a
white veil. The mantilla came streaming
from the comb, swathed her pale cheeks
and enhanced her lustrous eyes; but from

THE SPANISH JADE 137

top to toe she was (whatever else she may
have been, and it was not difficult to guess)
in white. Manvers watched them pass and
repass; at a distance they looked like
moths, but close at hand showed the
carriage and intolerance of queens. They
looked at him fairly as they passed, un-
ashamed and unconcerned. Their eyes
asked nothing from him, their lips wooed
him not. There was none of the invitation
such women extend elsewhere; far other-
wise, it was the men who craved, the
women who dispensed. When they listened,
it was as to a petitioner on his knees,
when they gave, it was like an alms. Impe-
rious, free-moving, high-headed creatures,
they interested him deeply.

It was true, as Gil Perez was quick to see,
that at his first bull-fight he had been un-
moved by the actors, but stirred to the deeps
by the spectators; if he had cared to see
another, it would have been to explore the
secrets of this wonderful people, who could
become animals without ceasing to be men

138 THE SPANISH JADE

and women. But why jostle on a bench,
why endure the dust and glare of a corrida
when you can see what Madrid can show
you: the women by the Manzanares, or
the nightly dramas of the streets ?

Love in Spain, he began to learn, is a
terrible thing; a grim tussle of wills, a
matter of life and death, of meat and drink.
He saw lovers, still as death, with upturned
faces, tense and white, eating the iron of
guarded balconies. Hour by hour they
would stand there, waiting, watching, hop-
ing on. No one interfered, no one remarked
them. He heard a woman wail for her lover
— wail and rock herself about, careless of
who saw or heard her, and indeed neither
seen nor heard. Once he saw a couple
close together, vehement speech between
them. A lovers' quarrel, terrible affair!
The words seemed to scald. The man
had had his say, and now it was her turn.
He listened to her, touched but not per-
suaded— had his reasons, no doubt. But
she! Manvers had not believed the heart

THE SPANISH JADE

of a girl could hold such a gamut of emo-
tions. She was young, slim, very pale ; her
face was as white as her robe. But her eyes
were like burning lakes; and her voice,
hoarse though she had made herself,
had a cry in it as sharp as a violin's to cut
the very soul of you. She spoke with her
hands too, with her shoulders and bosom,
with her head and stamping foot. She
never faltered, though she ran from scorn
of him to deep scorn of herself, and appealed
in turn to his pride, his pity, his honour,
and his lust. She had no reticence, set
no bounds: she was everything or nothing;
he was a god, or dirt of the kennel. In
the end — and what a climax ! — she
stopped in the middle of a sentence,
covered her eyes, sobbed, gave a broken
cry, turned, and fled away.

The man, left alone, spread his arms
out and lifted his face to the sky, as if
appealing for the compassion of Heaven.
Manvers could see by the light of a lamp
which fell upon him that there were tears

140 THE SPANISH JADE

in his eyes. He was pitying himself
deeply. "Senor Jesu, have pity!" he heard
him saying. :* What could I do ? Woe
upon me, what could I do ?"

To him there, as he stood wavering,
returned suddenly the girl. As swiftly as
she had gone she came back, like a white
squall. "Ah, son of a thief! Ah, son of a
dog!" and she struck him down with a knife
over the shoulder-blade. He gasped, groaned,
and dropped; and she was upon his breast
in a minute, moaning her pity and love.
She stroked his face, crooned over him,
lavished the loveliest vocables of her tongue
upon his worthless carcass, and won him
by the very excess of her passion. The
fallen man turned in her arms, and met
her lips with his.

Manvers shaking with excitement, left
them. Here again was a Manuela ! Manu-
ela, her burnt face on fire, her eyes
blown fierce by rage, her tawny hair
streaming in the wind; Manuela with a
knife, hacking the life out of Esteban,

THE SPANISH JADE 141

came vividly before him. Ah, those soft
lips of hers could bare the teeth; within
an hour of his kissing her she must have
bared them, when she snarled on that
other. And her eyes which had peered
into his, to see if liking were there — how
had they gleamed upon the man she slew ?
Her sleekness then was that of the cat;
but she had had no claws for him.

Why had she left him her crucifix ? After
all, had she murdered the fellow, or pro-
tected herself ? She told the monk that she
had been driven into a corner — to save
Manvers and herself. Was he to believe
that — or his own eyes ? His eyes had just
seen a Spanish girl with her lover, and his
judgment was warped. Manuela might be
of that sort — she had not been so to him.
Nor could she ever be so, since there was
no question of love between them now,
and never could be.

"Come now," thus he reasoned with
himself, "Come now, let us be reasonable.'*
He had pulled her out of a scuffle and she

142 THE SPANISH JADE

had been grateful; she was pretty, he had
kissed her. She was grateful, and had
knifed a man who meant him mischief
— and she had left him a crucifix.

Gratitude again. What had her gipsy
skin and red kerchief to do with her heart ?
" Beware, my son, of the pathetic fallacy,"
he told himself, and as he turned into
the carrera San Geronimo, beheld Manuela
robed in white pass along the street.

He knew her immediately, though her
face had but flashed upon him, and there
was not a stitch upon her to remind him
of the ragged creature of the plain. A
white mantilla covered her hair, a white
gown hid her to the ankles. He had a
glimpse of a white stocking, and remarked
her high-heeled white slippers. Startling
transformation! But she walked like a
free-moving creature of the open, and
breasted the hot night as if she had been
speeding through a woodland way. That
was Manuela, who had killed a man to
save him.

THE SPANISH JADE 143

After a moment or so of hesitation he
followed her, keeping his distance. She
walked steadily up the carrera, looking
neither to right nor to left. Many re-
marked her, some tried to stop her. A
soldier followed her pertinaciously, till,
presently she turned upon him in splendid
rage and bade him be off.

Manvers praised her for that, and, quick-
ening, gained upon her. She turned up a
narrow street on the right. It was empty.
Manvers, gaining rapidly, drew up level.
They were now walking abreast, with only
the street-way between them; but she kept a
rigid profile to him — as severe, as proud
and fine as the Arethusa's on a coin of
Syracuse. The resemblance was striking;
straight nose, short lip, rounded chin; the
strong throat, unwinking eyes, looking
straight before her; and adding to these
beauties of contour her splendid colouring
and carriage of a young goddess, it is not
too much to say that Manvers was dazzled.

It is true; he was confounded by the excess

144 THE SPANISH JADE

of her beauty and by his knowledge of her
condition. His experiences of life and
cities could give him no parallel; but they
could and did give him a dangerous sense
of power. This glowing, salient creature
was for him, if he would. One word, and
she was at his feet.

For a moment, as he walked nearly
abreast of her, he was ready to throw every-
thing that was natural to him to the winds.
She stirred a depth hi him which he had
known nothing of. He felt himself trem-
bling all over — but while he hesitated
a quick step behind caused him to look
round. He saw a man following Manuela,
and presently that it was Gil Perez.

And Gil, with none of his own caution,
walked on her side of the street and,
overtaking her, took off his hat and
accosted her by some name which caused
her to turn like a beast at bay. Nothing
abashed, Gil asked her a question which
clapped a hand to her side and sent her
cowering to the wall. She leaned panting

THE SPANISH JADE 145

there while he talked rapidly, explaining
with suavity and point. It was very interest-
ing to Manvers to watch these two together,
to see, for instance, how Gil Perez com-
ported himself out of his master's presence ;
or how Manuela dealt with one of her
own nation. They became strangers to
him, people he had never known. He felt
a foreigner indeed.

The greatest courtesy was observed,
the most exact distance. Gil Perez kept
his hat in his hand, his body at a
deferential angle. His weaving hands
were never still. Manuela, her first act
of royal rage ended, held herself su-
perbly. Her eyes were half closed, her
lips tightly so; and she so contrived as to
get the effect of looking down upon him
from a height. Manvers imagined that
his name or person was being brought into
play, for once Manuela looked at her
companion and bowed her head gravely.
Gil Perez ran on with his explanations,
and apparently convinced her judgment,

146 THE SPANISH JADE

for she seemed to consent to something
which he asked of her; and presently
walked on her way with a high head, while
Gil Perez, still holding his hat, and still
explaining, walked with her, but a little
way behind her.

A cooling experience. Manvers strolled
back to his hotel and his bed, with his
unsuspected nature deeply hidden again
out of sight. He wondered whether Gil
Perez would have anything to tell him in
the morning, or whether, on the other hand,
he would be discreetly silent as to the
adventure. He wondered next where that
adventure would end. He had no reason
to suppose his servant a man of refined
sensibilities. Remembering his eloquence
on the road to Madrid, the paean he blew
upon the fairness of Valencian women,
he laughed. "Here's a muddy wash upon
my blood-boltered pastoral," he said aloud.
"Here's an end of my knight-errantry
indeed!"

There was nearly an end of him — for

THE SPANISH JADE 147

almost at the same moment he was con-
scious of a light step behind him and of a
sharp stinging pain and a blow in the back.
He turned wildly round and struck out
with his stick. A man, doubled in two,
ran like a hare down the empty street and
vanished into the dark. Manvers, feeling
sick and faint, leaned to recover himself
against a doorway, and probably fell; for
when he came to himself he was in his
bed in the hotel, with Gil Perez and a
grave gentleman in black standing beside
him.

CHAPTER XIII

CHIVALRY OF GIL PEREZ

HE FELT stiff and stupid, with a
roasting spot in his back between
his shoulders; but he was able to see the
light in Gil Perez's eyes — which was a
good light, saying, "Well so far --but I
look for more." Neither Gil nor the
spectacled gentleman in black — the sur-
geon, he presumed — spoke to him, and
disinclined for speech himself, Manvers lay
watching their tiptoe ministrations, with
spells of comfortable dozing in between,
in the course of which he again lost touch
with the world of Spain.

When he came to once more he was
much better, and felt hungry. He saw
Gil Perez by the window, reading a little
book. The sun-blinds were down to darken
the room; Gil held his book slantwise to

148

THE SPANISH JADE 149

a chink and read diligently, moving his
lips to pronounce the words.

"Gil Perez/* said Manvers, "what are

you reading?" Gil jumped up at once.

'You better, sir? Praised be God! I

read," he said, "a little Catholic book

which calls itself 'The Garden of the Soul'

- ver' good little book. What you call

ver' 'ealthy — ver' good for 'im. But

you are better, master. You 'ungry —

I get you a broth." Which he did, having

it hot and hot in the next room.

"Now I tell you all the 'istory of this
affair," he said. "Last night I seen Manuela
out a walking. I follow 'er too much —
salute 'er — she lift 'er 'ead back to strike
me dead. I say, 'Senorita, one word.
Why you give your crucifix to my master —
ha ?' Sir, she began to shake — 'ead shake,
knee shake; I think she fall into 'erself.
You see flowers in frost all estiff, stand
up all right. By 'n by the sun, 'e climb the
sky — thosa flowers they fall esquash —
all rotten insida. So Manuela fall into

150 THE SPANISH JADE

'erself . Then I talk to 'er — she tell me
all the 'istory of thata time. She kill
Esteban Vincaz, she tell me — kill 'im
quick just what I told you. Becausa why ?
Becausa she dicksure Esteban kill you.
But I say to 'er, Manuela that was too bad,
lady. Kill Esteban all the same. Ver'
good for 'im, send 'im what you call
kingdom-come like a shot. But you leava
that crucifix on my master's plate — make
him tender, too sorry for you. 'E think,
thata nice girl, very. I like 'er too much.
Now 'e 'as your crucifix in gold, lika piece
of Vera Cruz, lika Santa Teresa's finger,
and all the world know you kill Esteban
Vincaz and 'e like you. Sir, I make 'er
sorry — she begin to cry. I think" - and
Gil Perez walked to the window — "I think
Manuela ver' fine girl — lika rose. Now,
master" — and he returned to the bed— " I tell
you something. That man who estab you
las' night was Tormillo. You know who ?"
Manvers shook his head. "Never heard
of him, my friend. Who is he?"

THE SPANISH JADE 151

'E is servant to Don Luis Ramonez,
the same I see at the corrida. I tell you
about 'im — no money, all pride."

Manvers stared. "And will you have
the goodness to tell me why Don Luis
should want to have me stabbed ?"

"I tell you, sir," said Gil Perez. "Este-
ban Vincaz was Don Bartolome Ramonez,
son to Don Luis. Bad son 'e was, if you
like, sir. WiF oats, what you call. All
the sama nobleman, all the sama only son
to Don Luis."

Manvers considered this oracle with what
light he had. "Don Luis supposes that
I killed his son, then," he said. "Is that it ?"

' 'E damsure," said Gil Perez,blinking fast.

"On Manuela's account — eh?"

"Like a shot!" cried Gil Perez with
enthusiasm.

"So of course he thinks it is his duty to
kill me in return."

"Of course 'e does, sir," said Gil. "I
tell you, 'e is proud like the devil."

"I understand you," said Manvers.

152 THE SPANISH JADE

"But why does he hire a servant to do his
revenges ?"

"Because 'e think you dog," Gil replied
calmly. " 'E not beara touch you witha
poker."

Manvers laughed, and said, " We '11 leave
it at that. Now I want to know one more
thing. How on earth did Don Luis find
out that I was in the wood with Manuela
and his son?"

"Ah," said Gil Perez, "now you aska
me something. Who knows ?" He shrug-
ged profusely. Then his face cleared.
"Leave it to me, sir. I ask Tormillo."
He was on his feet, as if about to find the
assassin there and then.

"Stop a bit," said Manvers, "stop a bit,
Gil. Now I must tell you that I also saw
Manuela last night."

"Ah," said Gil Perez softly; and his
eyes glittered.

"I saw her in the street," Manvers
continued, watching his servant. "She was
all in white."

THE SPANISH JADE 153

Gil Perez blinked this fact. :<Yes, sir,"
he said. "That is true. Poor girl." His
eyes clouded over. "Poor Manuela!" he
was heard to say to himself.

"I followed her for a while," said Man-
vers, "and saw you catch her up, and stop
her. Then I went away; and then that
rascal struck me in the back. Now do
you suppose that Don Luis means to serve
Manuela the same way?"

Gil Perez did not blink any more. " I think
'e wisha that," he said ; "but I think 'e won't."

"Why not?"

"Because I tell Manuela what I see at
the corrida. She was there too. She know
it already. Bless you, she don't care."

"But I care," said Manvers sharply.
"I 've got her on my conscience. I don't
intend her to suffer on my account."

"That," said Gil Perez, "is what she
wanta do." He looked piercingly at his
master. :< You know, sir, I ask 'er for your
'andkerchief."

"Well?" Manvers raised his eyebrows.

154 THE SPANISH JADE

"I tell you whata she do. She look
allaways in the dark. Nobody there.
Then she open 'er gown — so " — and
Gil held apart the bosom of his shirt. "I
see it in there." There were tears in Gil's
eyes. "Poor Manuela!" he murmured,
as if that helped him. "I make 'er give
it me. No good she keepa that in there."

"Where is it?" he was asked. He tried
to be his jaunty self but failed.

"Not 'ere, sir. I 'ave it — I senda to
the wash." Manvers looked keenly at
him, but said nothing. He had a suspicion
that Gil Perez was telling a lie.

"You had better get her out of Madrid,"
he said after a while. "There may be
trouble. Let her go and hide herself
somewhere until this has blown over.
Give me my pocket-book." He took a
couple of bills out and handed them to
Gil. "There's a hundred for her. Get
her into some safe place — and the sooner
the better. We '11 see her through this
business somehow."

THE SPANISH JADE 155

Gil Perez — very unlike himself — sud-
denly snatched at his hand and kissed
it. Then he sprang to his feet again and
tried to look as if he had never done such
a thing. He went to the door and put his
head out, listening. "Doctor coming," he
said. "All righta leave you with 'im."

"Of course it's all right," said Manvers.
But Gil shook his head.

"Don Luis make me sick," he said.
"No use 'e come here."

'You mean that he might have another
shot at me?"

Gil nodded; very wide-eyed and serious
he was. " 'E try. I know 'im too much."
Manvers shut his eyes.

"I expect he '11 have the decency to wait
till I 'm about again. Anyhow, I '11 risk
it. What you have to do is to get Manuela
away."

;'Yes sir," said Gil in his best English,
and admitted the surgeon with a bow.
Then he went lightfooted out of the room
and shut the door after him.

156 THE SPANISH JADE

He was away two hours or more, and
when he returned seemed perfectly happy.

"Manuela quite safa now," he told his
master.

" Where is she, Gil?" he was asked, and
waved his hand airily for reply.

"She all right, sir. Near 'ere. Quita
safe. Presently I see *er." He could not
be brought nearer than that. Questioned
on other matters, he reported that he had
failed to find either Don Luis or Tormillo,
and was quite unable to say how they knew
of his master's relations with the Valencian
girl, or what their further intentions were.
His chagrin at having been found wanting
in any single task set him was a great
delight to Manvers, and amused the slow
hours of his convalescence.

His wound, which was deep but not dan-
gerous, healed well and quickly. In ten
days he was up again and inquiring for
Manuela's whereabouts. Better not see
her, he was advised, until it was perfectly
certain that Don Luis was appeased. Gil

THE SPANISH JADE 157

promised that in a few days' time he would
give an account of everything.

It is doubtful, however, whether he would
have kept his word had not events been
too many for him. One day after dinner
he asked his master if he might speak to
him. On receiving permission, he drew
him apart into a little room, the door of
which he locked.

"Hulloa, Gil Perez/ said Manvers, "what
is your game now ?"

"Sir, " said Gil, holding his head up, and
looking him full in the face. "I must
espeak to you about Manuela. She is in
the Carcel de la Corte — to-morrow they
take 'er to the Audiencia about that assas-
sination." He folded his arms and waited,
watching the effect of his words.

Manvers was greatly perturbed. "Then
you 've made a mess of it," he said angrily.
* You've made a mess of it."

"No mess," said Gil Perez. "She tell
me must go to jail. I say, all righta,
lady."

158 THE SPANISH JADE

'You had no business to say anything
of the sort," Manvers said. "I am sorry
I ever allowed you to interfere. I am
very much annoyed with you, Perez." He
had never called him Perez before — and
that hurt Gil more than anything. His
voice betrayed his feelings.

'You casta me off — call me Perez,
lika stranger ! All right, sir — what you
like," he stammered. "I tell you Manuela
very fine girl — and why the devil I
make 'er bad ? No, sir, that imposs'.
She too good for me. She say, Don Luis
estab my saviour! Never never, for me!
I show Don Luis what's whata, she say.
I give myself up to justice; then 'e keepa
quiet — say, That 's all right. So she say
to Paquita — that big girl who sleep with

'er when — when " he was embarrassed.

"Mostly always sleep with her," he ex-
plained.— "She say, 'Give me your veil,
Paquita de mi alma.9 Then she cover
'erself and say to me, 'Come, Gil Perez.'
I say, 'Senorita, where you will.' We go to

THE SPANISH JADE 159

the Car eel de Corte. Three of four alguacils
in the court see 'er come in; saluta 'er
'Good day, senora — at the feet of your
grace,' they say; for they think, * 'ere comes
a dam fine woman to see 'er lover.' She
eshiver and lift 'erself. T am no senora,'
she essay. 'Bad girl. Nama Manuela.
I estab Don Bartolome Ramonez de Alavia
in the wood of La Huerca. You taka me
- do what you like.' Sir, I say, thata
very fine thing. I would kissa the 'and
of any girl who do that — same I kissa
your 'and." His voice broke. "By God,
I would!"

"What next?" said Manvers, moved
himself.

"Sir," said Gil Perez, "those alguacils
clacka the tongue. 'Soho, la Manola!'
say one, and lift 'er veil and look at 'er.
All those others come and look too. They
say she dam pretty woman. She standa
there and look at them, lika they were
dirt down in the street. Then I essay
'Senors, you pleasa conduct this lady to

160 THE SPANISH JADE

the carcelero in two minutes, or you pay
me, Gil Perez, 'er esservant. Thisa lady
'ave friends/ I say. 'Better for you, senores
you fetcha carcelero.9 They look at me
sharp — and they thinka so too. Then
the carcelero 'e come, and I espeak with
'im and say, 'We 'ave too much money.
Do what you like.5 3

"And what did he do?" Manvers asked.

"He essay, 'Lady come with me.' So
then we go away witha carcelero, and I
eshow my fingers — so — to those algua-
cils and say, 'Dam your eyes, you fellows,
vayan ustedes con Dios! Then the car-
celero maka bow. 'E say to Manuela,
'Senora, you 'ave my littla room. All by
yourself. My wifa she maka bed — you
first-class in there. Nothing to do with
them dogs down there. I give them what-
for lika shot,' say the carcelero. So I pay
'im well with your bills, sir, and see Manuela
all the time every day."

He took rapid strides across the room
— but stopped abruptly and looked at

THE SPANISH JADE 161

Manvers. There was fire in his eyes.
"She lika saint, sir. I catch 'er on 'er
knees before our Lady of Atocha. I 'ear
'er words all broken to bits. I see 'er
estrike 'er breasts — Oh, God, that make
me mad! She say, 'Oh, Lady, you with
your sorrow and your love — you know
me very well. Bad girl, too unfortunate,
too miserable — your daughter all the sama,
and your lover. Give me a great *eart,
lady, that I may tell all the truth — all

-all — all! If 'e thoughta well of me,'
she say, crying like one o'clock, 'let 'im
know me better. No good 'e think me
fine woman — no good 'e kissa me '

- the delicacy with which Gil Perez
treated this part of the history, which
Manvers had never told him, was a beauti-
ful thing — "'I wanta tell 'im all my
'istory. Then 'e say, pah, what a beast!
and serva me right.' Sir, then she bow
righta down to the grounda, she did, and
covered 'er 'ead. I say, 'Manuela, I love
you with alia my soul — but you do well,

162 THE SPANISH JADE

my 'eart.' And then she turn on me and
tell me to go quick."

"So you are in love with her, Gil?"
Manvers asked him. Gil admitted it.

"I love 'er the minute I see 'er at the
corrida. My 'earta go alia water — but
I know 'er. I say to myself, 'That is la
Manuela of my master Don Osmundo.
You be careful, Gil Perez."

Manvers said, "Look here, Gil, I'm
ashamed of myself. I kissed her, you
know."

'Yes sir," said Gil, and touched his
forehead like a groom.

"If I had known that you — but I had
no idea of it until this moment. I can
only say -

"Master," said Gil, "saya nothing at
all. I love Manuela lika mad — that quite
true; but she thinka me dirt on the pave-
ment."

"Then she's very wrong," Manvers said.

"No, sir," said Gil, "thata true. All
beautiful girls lika that. I understanda

THE SPANISH JADE 163

too much. But look 'ere — if she belong
to me, that all the same, because I belong
to you. You do what you like with 'er.
I say, That all the same to me!"

"Gil Perez," said Manvers, "you're
a gentleman, and I 'm very much ashamed
of myself. But we must do what we can
for Manuela. I shall give evidence, of
course. I think I can make the judge
understand."

Gil was inordinately grateful, but could
not conceal his nervousness. "I think
the Juez, 'e too much friend with Don
Luis. I think 'e know what to do all the
time before. Manuela 'ave too mucha
trouble. Alia same she ver* fine girl,
most beautiful, most unhappy. That do
'er good if she cry."

"I don't think she'll cry," Manvers
said, and Gil Perez snorted.

"She cry! By God, she never! She
Espanish girl, too mucha proud, too mucha
dicksure what she do with Don Bartolome.
She know she serve 'im right. Do againa

164 THE SPANISH JADE

all the time. What do you think 'e do with
'er when 'e 'ave 'er out there in Pobledo
an' all those places ? Vaya ! I tell you,
sir. 'E want to live on 'er. 'E wanta
make 'er too bad. Then she run lika
devil. Sir, I tell you what she say to me
other days. 'When I saw 'im come long-
side Don Osmundo,' she say, 'I look in 'is
face an* I see Death. 'E grin at me -
then I know why 'e come. 'E talk very
nice — soft, lika gentleman — then I know
what 'e want. I say, 'Son of a dog, never ! ' '

"Poor girl," said Manvers, greatly con-
cerned.

"Thata quite true, sir,'* Gil Perez agreed.
:< Very unfortunate fine girl. But you know
what we say in Espain. Make yourself
'oney, we say, and the flies willa suck you.
Manuela too much 'oney all the time. I
know that, because she tell me everything,
to tell you."

"Don't tell me," said Manvers.

"Bedam if I do," said Gil Perez.

CHAPTER XIV

TRIAL BY QUESTION

THE court was not full when Manvers
and his advocate, with Gil Perez
in attendance, took their places; but
it filled up gradually, and the Judge of First
Instance, when he took his seat upon the
tribunal, faced a throng not unworthy of a
bull-fight. Bestial, leering, inflamed faces,
peering eyes agog for mischief, all the nervous
expectation of the sudden, the bloody, or
terrible were there.

There was the same dead hush when
Manuela was brought in as when they throw
open the doors of the toril, and the throng
holds its breath. Gil Perez drew his with a
long whistling sound, and Manvers, who
could dare to look at her, thought he had
never seen maidenly dignity more beautifully
shown. She moved to her place with a

165

166 THE SPANISH JADE

gentle consciousness of what was due to
herself very touching to see.

The crowded court thrilled and murmured,
but she did not raise her eyes ; once only did
she show her feeling, and that was when she
passed near the barrier where the spectators
could have touched her by leaning over.
More than one stretched his hand out, one
at least his walking cane. Then she took
hold of her skirt and held it back, just as
a girl does when she passes wet paint.
This little touch, which made the young
men jeer and whisper obscenity, brought
the water to Manvers's eyes. He heard
Gil Perez draw again his whistling breath
and felt him tremble. Directly Manuela
was in her place, standing, facing the
assize, Gil Perez looked at her, and never
took his eyes from her again. She was
dressed in black, and her hair was smooth
over her ears, knotted neatly on the nape
of her neck.

The Judge, a fatigued, monumental per-
son with a long face, pointed whiskers,

THE SPANISH JADE 167

and the eyes of a dead fish, told her to
stand up. As she was already standing,
she looked at him with patient inquiry;
but he took no notice of that. Her self-
possession was indeed remarkable. She
gave her answers quietly, without hesitation,
and when anything was asked her which
offended her, either ignored it or told the
questioner what she thought of it. From
the outset Manvers could see that the
Judge's business was to incriminate her
beyond repair. Her plea of guilty was
not to help her. She was to be shown
infamous.

The examination ran thus:

Judge: You are Manuela, daughter
of Incarnacion Presa of Valencia, and
have never known your father ? (Manuela
bows her head.) Answer the Court.

Manuela: It is true.

Judge: It is said that your father was
the gitano Sagruel.

Manuela: I don't know.

Judge: You may well say that. Re-

168 THE SPANISH JADE

member that you are condemning your
mother by such answers. Your mother
sold you at twelve years old to an unfrocked
priest named Tormes.

Manuela: Yes. For three pesos.

Judge: Disgraceful transaction! This
wretch taught you dancing, posturing, and
all manner of wickedness ?

Manuela: He taught me to dance.

Judge: How long were you in his
company ?

Manuela: For three years.

Judge: He took you from fair to fair;
you were a public dancer?

Manuela: That is true.

Judge: I can imagine — the court can
imagine — your course of life during this
time. This master of yours, this Tormes,
how did he treat you?

Manuela: Very ill.

Judge: Be more explicit, Manuela.
In what way?

Manuela: He beat me. He hurt me.

Judge: Why so?

THE SPANISH JADE 169

Manuela: I cannot tell you any more
about him.

Judge: You refuse ?

Manuela: Yes.

Judge: The court places its inter-
pretation upon your silence. (He looked
painfully round as if he regretted the absence
of the proper means of extracting answers.
Manvers heard Gil Perez curse him under
his breath.)

The Judge made lengthy notes upon
the margin of his docket, and then pro-
ceeded.

Judge: The young gentleman, Don
Bartolome Ramonez, first saw you at the
fair of Salamanca in 1859?

Manuela: Yes.

Judge: He saw you often, and followed
you to Valladolid, where his father Don
Luis lived ?

Manuela: Yes.

Judge: He professed his passion for
you, gave you presents ?

Manuela: Yes.

170 THE SPANISH JADE

Judge: You persuaded him to take
you away from Tormes ?

Manuela: No.

Judge: What do I hear?

Manuela: I said no. It was because
he said that he loved me that I went with
him. He wished to marry me, he said.

Judge: What! Don Bartolome Ra-
monez marry a public dancer! Be careful
what you say there, Manuela.

Manuela: He told me so, and I believed
him.

Judge: I pass on. You were with him
until the April of this year — you were with
him two years.

Manuela: Yes.

Judge: And then you found another
lover, and deserted him ?

Manuela: No. I ran away from him
by myself.

Judge: But you found another lover.

Manuela: No.

Judge: Be careful, Manuela. You will
trip in a moment. You ran away from

THE SPANISH JADE 171

Don Bartolome when you were at Pob-
ledo, and you went to Palencia. What did
you do there?

Manuela: I cannot answer you.

Judge: You mean that you will not.

Manuela: I mean that I cannot.

Judge: This is wilful prevarication
again. I have authority to compel you.

Manuela: You have none.

Judge: We shall see, Manuela, we
shall see. You left Palencia on the 12th
of May in the company of an Englishman ?

Manuela: Yes.

Judge: He is here in court?

Manuela: Yes.

Judge: Do you see him at this moment ?

Manuela: Yes. (But she did not turn
her head to look at Manvers until the
Judge forced her.)

Judge: I am not he. I am not likely
to have taken you from Palencia and your
proceedings there. Look at the English-
man. (She hesitated for a little while, and
then turned her eyes upon him with such

172 THE SPANISH JADE

gentle modesty that Manvers felt nearer
to loving her than he had ever done. He
rose slightly in his seat and bowed to her:
she returned the salute like a young queen.
The Judge had gained nothing by
that.) I see that you treat each other with
ceremony; there may be reasons for that.
We shall soon see. This gentleman then
took you away from Palencia in the direc-
tion of Valladolid, and made you certain
proposals. What were they?

Manuela: He proposed that I should
return to Palencia.

Judge: And you refused?

Manuela: Yes.

Judge: Why?

Manuela: I could not go back to Palencia.

Judge: Why?

Manuela: There were many reasons.
One was that I was afraid of seeing Esteban
there.

Judge: You mean Don Bartolome Ram-
onez de Alavia ? (She nodded) Answer me.

Manuela: Yes, yes.

THE SPANISH JADE 173

Judge: You are impatient because
your evil deeds are coming to light. I am
not surprised; but you must command
yourself. There is more to come. (Man-
vers who was furious, asked his advocate
whether something could not be done.
Directly her fear of Esteban was touched
upon, he said, the Judge changed his
tactics. The advocate smiled. "Be pati-
ent, sir," he said. "The Judge has been
instructed beforehand." 'You mean,"
said Manvers, "that he has been bribed."
"I did not say so," the advocate replied.)

The Judge returned to Palencia. " What
other reasons had you ?" was his next
question but Manuela was clever enough
to see where her strength lay. " My fear of
Esteban swallowed all other reasons." She
saved herself, and with unconcealed chagrin
the Judge went on toward the real point.

Judge: The Englishman then made you
another proposal ?

Manuela: Yes, sir. He proposed to
take me to a convent.

174 THE SPANISH JADE

Judge: You refused that?

Manuela: No, sir. I should have been
glad to go to a convent.

Judge: You, however, accepted his third
proposal, namely, that you should be under
his protection?

Manuela: I was thankful for his pro-
tection when I saw Esteban coming.

Judge: I have no doubt of that. You had
reason to fear Don Bartolome's resentment ?

Manuela: I knew that Esteban intended
to murder me.

Judge: Don Bartolome overtook you.
You were riding before the Englishman
on his horse ?

Manuela: Yes. I could not walk. I
was ill.

Judge: Don Bartolome remained with
you until the Englishman ran away?

Manuela; He did not run away. Why
should he ? He went away on his own affairs.

Judge: (After looking at his papers):
I see. The Englishman went away after
the pair of you had killed Don Bartolome ?

THE SPANISH JADE 175

Manuela: That is not true. He went
away to bathe, and then I killed Esteban
with his own knife. I killed him because
he told me that he intended to murder me,
and the English gentleman who had been
kind to me. I confess it — I confessed
it to the alguacils and the carcelero. You
may twist what I say as you will, to please
your friends, but the truth is in what
I say.

Judge: Silence. It is for you to answer
the questions which I put to you. You
forget yourself, Manuela. But I will take
your confession as true for the moment.
Supposing it to be true, did you not stab
Don Bartolome in the neck in order that
you might be free?

Manuela: I killed him to defend myself
and an innocent person. I have told you so.

Judge: Why should Don Bartolome wish
to kill you?

Manuela: He hated me because I had
refused to do his pleasure. He wished
to make me bad

176 THE SPANISH JADE

Judge: (Lifting his hands and throwing
his head up) Bad! Was he not jealous
of the Englishman?

Manuela: I don't know.

Judge: Did he not tell you that the
Englishman was your lover? Did you
not say so to Fray Juan de la Cruz ?

Manuela: He spoke falsely. It was not
true. He may have believed it.

Judge: We shall see. Have patience,
Manuela. Having slain your old lover,
you were careful to leave a token for his
successor. You left more than that: your
crucifix from your neck, and a message
with Fray Juan.

Manuela: Yes. I told Fray Juan the
whole of the truth, and begged him
to tell the gentleman, because I wished
him to think well of me. I told him that
Esteban -

Judge: Softly, softly, Manuela. Why
did you leave your crucifix behind you ?

Manuela: Because I was grateful to
the gentleman who had saved my life at

THE SPANISH JADE 177

Palencia; because I had nothing else to
give him. Had I had anything more
valuable I would have left it. Nobody
had been kind to me before.

Judge: You know what he has done
with your crucifix, Manuela?

Manuela: I do not.

Judge : What are you saying ?

Manuela: The truth.

Judge: I have the means of confuting
you. You told Fray Juan that you were
going to Madrid.

Manuela : I did not.

Judge: In the hope that he would tell
the Englishman.

Manuela : If he told the gentleman that
he lied.

Judge : It is then a singular coincidence
which led to your meeting him here in
Madrid ?

Manuela: I did not meet him.

Judge: Did you not meet him a few
nights before you surrendered to justice ?

Manuela : No.

178 THE SPANISH JADE

Judge : Did you meet his servant ?

Manuela: I cannot tell you.

Judge : Did not the Englishman pay for
your lodging in the Carcel de la Corte ? Did
he not send his servant every day to see you ?

Manuela: The gentleman was lying
wounded at the hotel. He had been stabbed
in the street.

Judge : We are not discussing the English-
man's private affairs. Answer my questions.

Manuela: I cannot answer them.

Judge: You mean that you will not,
Manuela. Did you not know that the
Englishman caused your crucifix to be set
in gold, like a holy relic?

Manuela: I did not know it.

Judge: We have it on your own con-
fession that you slew Don Bartolome
Ramonez in the wood of La Huerca, and
you admit that the Englishman was pro-
tecting you before that dreadful deed was
done, that he has since paid for your treat-
ment in prison, and that he has treasured
your crucifix like a sacred relic.

THE SPANISH JADE 179

Manuela: You are pleased to say these
things. I don't say them. You wish to
incriminate a person who has been kind
to me.

Judge: I will ask you one more
question, Manuela. Why did you give
yourself up to justice ?

Manuela: (After a painful pause,
speaking with high fervour and some
approach to dramatic effect). I will answer
you, Senor Juez. It was because I knew
that Don Luis would contrive the death
of Don Osmundo if I did not prove him
innocent.

Judge (Rising, very angry) : Silence !
The court cannot entertain your views of
persons not concerned in your crime.

Manuela: But — (she shrugged and
looked away).

Judge: You can sit down.

CHAPTER XV

NEMESIS — DON LUIS

MANVERS'S reiterated question of how
in the name of wonder Don Luis or
anybody else knew what he had done with
Manuela's crucifix was answered before
the day was over; but not by Gil Perez or
the advocate whom he had engaged to
defend the unhappy girl.

This personage gave him to understand
without disguise that there was very little
chance for Manuela. The Judge, he said, had
been "instructed." He clung to that
phrase. When Manvers said, "Let us in-
struct him a little," he took snuff and re-
plied that he feared previous "instruction"
might have created a prejudice. He under-
took, however, to see him privately before
judgment was delivered, but intimated that
he must have a very free hand.

180

THE SPANISH JADE 181

Manvers's rejoinder took the shape of a
blank cheque with his signature upon it.
The advocate, fanning himself with it in
an abstracted manner, went on to advise
the greatest candour in the witness-box.
"Beware of irritation, dear sir," he said.
"The Judge will plant a banderilla here
and there, you may be sure. That is his
method. You learn more from an angry
man than a cool one. For my own part,"
he .went on, "you know how we stand —
without witnesses. I shall do what I can,
you may be sure."

"I hope you will get something useful
from the prisoner," Manvers said. "A
little of Master Esteban's private history
should be useful."

"It would be perfectly useless, if you
will allow me to say so," replied the advo-
cate. "The Judge will not hear a word
against a family like the Ramonez. So
noble and so poor! Perhaps you are
not aware that the Archbishop of Toledo
is Don Luis's first-cousin ? That is so."

182 THE SPANISH JADE

"But is that allowed to justify his rip
of a son in goading a girl on to murder ?"
cried Manvers.

The advocate again took snuff, shrug-
ging as he tapped his fingers on the box.
"The Ramonez say, you see, sir, that Don
Bartolome may have threatened her, moved
by jealousy. Jealousy is a well-understood
passion here. The plea is valid and good."

"Might it not stand for Manuela too?'*
he was asked.

"I don't think we had better advance
it, Don Osmundo," he said, after a signifi-
cant pause.

Gil Perez, pale and all on edge, had been
walking the room like a caged wolf. He
swore to himself — but in English, out
of politeness to his master. "Thata dam
thief! Ah, Juez of my soul, if I see
you twist in 'ell is good for me." Presently
he took Manvers aside and, his eyes full
of tears, asked him, "Sir, you escusa
Manuela, if you please. She maka story
ver' bad to 'ear. She no like — I see 'er

THE SPANISH JADE 183

red as fire, burn like the devil, sir. She
ver' unfortunata girl — too beautiful to
live. And all these 'ogs — O my God, what
can she do ?" He opened his arms, and
turned his pinched face to the sky. " What
can she do, O my God ?" he cried. " So beau-
tiful as a rose, an' so poor' an' so a child!
You sorry, sir, 'ey ?" he asked, and Manvers
said he was more sorry than he could say.

That comforted him. He kissed his mas-
ter's hand, and then told him that Manuela
was glad that he knew all about her. "She
dam glad, sir, that I know. She say to
me las' night — * What I shall tell the
Juez will be the very truth. Senor Don
Osmundo shall know what I am,' she
say. 'To 'im I could never say it. To
thata Juez too easy say it. To-morrow,'
she say, ' 'e know me for what I am — too
bad girl.' "

"I think she 's a noble girl," said Manvers.
"She's got more courage in her little finger
than I have in my body. She 's a girl in a
thousand."

184 THE SPANISH JADE

Gil Perez glowed, and lifted up his
beaten head. "Esplendid — eh ?" he cried
out. "By God, I serve Jer on my knees."

On returning to the court, the beard and
patient face of Fray Juan greeted our
friend. He had very little to testify, save
that he was sure the Englishman had known
nothing of the crime. The prisoner had
told him her story without haste or passion.
He had been struck by that. She said
that she killed Don Bartolome in a hurry
lest he should kill both her and her bene-
factor. She had not informed him, nor
had he reported to the gentleman, that she
was going to Madrid. The Englishman
said that he intended to find her, and
witness had strongly advised him against
it. He had told him that his motives would
be misunderstood. "As, in fact, they have
been, brother?" the advocate suggested.
Fray Juan raised his eyebrows, and sighed.
"Quien sabe?" was his answer.

Manvers then stood up and spoke his testi-
mony. He gave the facts as the reader

THE SPANISH JADE 185

knows them, and made it clear that Manuela
was in terror of Esteban from the moment
he appeared, and even before he appeared.
He had noticed that she frequently glanced
behind them as they rode, and had asked
her the reason. Her fear of him in the
wood was manifest, and he blamed himself
greatly for leaving her alone with the young
man.

"I was new to the country, you
must understand," he said. "I could see
that there was some previous acquaintance
between those two, but could not guess
that it was so serious. I thought, however,
that they had made up their differences
and gone off together when I returned
from bathing. When Fray Juan showed
me the body and told me what had been
done, I was very much shocked. It had
been, in one sense, my fault, for if I had
not rescued her, Esteban would not have
suspected me, or intended my death. That
I saw at once; and my desire of meeting
Manuela again was that I might defend

186 THE SPANISH JADE

her from the consequences of an act which
I had, in that one sense, brought about — •
to which she had at any rate been driven
on my account."

I" will ask you, sir," said the Judge,
"one question upon that. Was that also
your motive in having the crucifix set in
pure gold?"

"No," said Manvers, "not altogether.
I doubt if I can explain that to you."

"I am of that opinion myself," said the
Judge with an elaborate bow. "But the
court will be interested to hear you."

The court was.

"This girl," Manvers said, "was plainly
most unfortunate. She was ragged, poorly
fed, had been ill-used, and was being
shamefully handled when I first saw her. I
snatched her out of the hands of the wretches
who would have torn her to pieces if I had
not interfered. From beginning to end
I never saw more shocking treatment of a
woman than I saw at Palencia. Not to
have interfered would have shamed me

THE SPANISH JADE 187

for life. What then? I rescued her, as
I say, and she showed herself grateful in a
variety of ways. Then Esteban Vincaz came
up and chose to treat me as her lover. I
believe he knew better, and think that my
horse and haversack had more to do with
it. Well, I left Manuela with him in the
wood — hardly, I may suggest, the act of
a lover — and never saw Esteban alive
again. But I believed Manuela's story
absolutely; I am certain she would not lie
at such a time, or to such a man as Fray
Juan. The facts were extraordinary, and
her crime, done as it was in defence of
myself, was heroic — or I thought so.
Her leaving of the crucifix was, to me, a
proof of her honest intention. I valued
the gift, partly for the sake of the giver,
partly for the act which it commemorated.
She had received a small service from me,
and had returned it fifty-fold by an act
of desperate courage. To crown her charity
she left me all that she had in the world.
I do not wonder myself at what I did. I

188 THE SPANISH JADE

took the crucifix to a jeweller at Valladolid,
had it set as I thought it deserved — and
I see now that I did her there a cruel wrong."

"Permit me to say, sir," said the trium-
phant Judge, "that you also did Don
Luis Ramonez a great service. Through
your act, however intended, he has been
enabled to bring a criminal to justice."

"I beg pardon," said Manvers, "she
brought herself to justice — so soon as
Don Luis Ramonez sent his assassin out
to stab me in the back, and in the dark.
And this again was a proof of her heroism,
since she thought by these means to satisfy
his craving for human blood."

Manvers spoke incisively and with sever-
ity. The court thrilled, and the murmuring
was on his side. The Judge was much
disturbed. Manuela alone maintained her
calm, sitting like a pensive Hebe, her
cheek upon her hand.

The Judge's annoyance was extreme. It
tempted him to wrangle.

"I beg you, sir, to restrain yourself.

THE SPANISH JADE 189

The court cannot listen to extraneous
matter. It is concerned with the considera-
tion of a serious crime. The illustrious
gentleman of your reference mourns the
loss of his only son."

"I fail," said Manvers, "to see how
my violent death can assuage his grief."
The Judge was not the only person in
court to raise his eyebrows; if Manvers
had not been angry he would have seen
the whole assembly in the same act, and
been certified that they were not with him
now. His advocate whispered him urgently
to sit down. He did, still mystified. The
Judge immediately retired to consider his
judgment.

M anvers's advocate left the court and was
away for an hour. He returned very
sedately to his place, with the plainly
expressed intention of saying nothing. The
court buzzed with talk, much of it directed at
the beautiful prisoner, whose person, bear-
ing, motives, and fate were freely dis-
cussed. Oddly enough, at that moment

190 THE SPANISH JADE

half the men in the hall were ready to
protect her.

Manvers felt his heart beating, but could
neither think nor speak coherently. If
Manuela were to be condemned to death,
what was he to do? He knew not at all
— but the crisis to which his own affairs
and his own life were now brought turned
him cold. He dared not look at Gil
Perez. The minutes dragged on.

The Judge entered the court and
sat in his chair. He looked very much
like a codfish — with his gaping mouth
and foolish eyes. He pulled one of his
long whiskers and inspected the end of it;
detected a split hair, separated it from
its happier fellows, shut his eyes, gave a
vicious wrench to it and gasped as it
parted. Then he stared at the assembly
before him, as if to catch them laughing,
frowned at Manvers who sat before him
with folded arms; lastly he turned to the
prisoner, who stood up and looked him
in the face.

THE SPANISH JADE 191

"Manuela," he said, "you stand con-
demned upon your own confession of
murder in the first degree — murder of a
gentleman who had been your benefactor,
of whose life and protection you desired,
for reasons of your own, to be ridded.
The court is clear that you are guilty and
cannot give you any assurance that your
surrender to justice has assisted the minis-
ters of justice. Those diligent guardians
would have found you sooner or later,
you may be sure. If any one is to be
thanked it is perhaps the foreign gentleman,
whose candour" — and here he had the
assurance to make Manvers a bow —
" whose candour, I say, has favourably
impressed the court. But, nevertheless,
the court, in its clemency, is willing to
allow you the merits of your intention.
It is true that justice would have been
done without your confession; but it may
be allowed that you desired to stand well
with the laws, after having violated them
in an outrageous manner. It is this desire

192 THE SPANISH JADE

of yours which inclines the court to mercy.
I shall not inflict the last penalty upon
you, nor exact the uttermost farthing which
your crime deserves. The court is willing
to believe that you are penitent, and con-
demns you to perpetual seclusion in the
Institution of the Recogidas de Santa
Maria Magdalena."

Manuela was seen to close her eyes; but
she collected herself directly. She looked
once, piercingly, at Manvers, then sur-
rendered herself to him who touched her
on the shoulder, turned and went out of
the court.

Everybody was against her now; they
jeered, howled, hissed, and cursed her. A
spoiled plaything had got its deserts.
Manvers turned upon them in a white
fury. "Dogs," he cried, "will nothing
shame you!" but nobody seemed to hear
or heed him at the moment, and Gil
Perez whispered in his ear, "That no good,
master. This canalla all the same swine.
You come with me, sir, I tell you dam

THE SPANISH JADE 193

good thing." He had recovered his old
jauntiness, and swaggered before his master,
clearing the way with oaths and threat-
enings.

Manvers followed him in a very stern
mood. By the door he felt a touch on the
arm, and, turning, saw a tall elderly gentle-
man cloaked in black. He recognised
him at once by his hollow eye-sockets and
smouldering, deeply set eyes. 'You will
remember me, senor caballero, in the
shop of Sebastian the goldsmith," he
said; and Manvers admitted it. He re-
ceived another bow, and the reminder.
"We met again, I think, in the Church of
Las Angustias in Valladolid."

"Yes, indeed," Manvers said, "I remem-
ber you very well."

"Then you remember, no doubt, saying
to me with regard to your crucifix, which
I had seen in Sebastian's hands, then in
your own, that it was a piece of extrava-
gance on your part. You will not withdraw
that statement to-day, I suppose."

194 THE SPANISH JADE

That which lay latent in his words was
betrayed by the gleam of cold fire in his
eyes. Manvers coloured. 'You have
this advantage of me, seiior," he said,
"that you know to whom you are speaking,
and I do not."

"It is very true, senor Don Osmundo,"
the gentleman said severely. "I will en-
lighten you. I am Don Luis Ramonez
de Alavia, at your service."

Manvers turned white. He had indeed
made Manuela pay double. So much for
sentiment in Spain.

CHAPTER XVI

THE HERALD

A CARD of ample size and flourished
characters, bearing the name of El
Marques de Fuenterrabia, was brought
up by Gil Perez.

" Who is he?" Manvers inquired; and
Gil waved his hand.

'This olda gentleman," he explained,

'e come Embassador from Don Luis.
'E say, 'What you do next, senor Don Os-
mundo ?' You tell 'im, sir — is my advice."

"But I don't know what I am going to
do," said Manvers irritably. "How thtr
deuce should I know?"

"You tell 'im that, sir," Gil said softly.
"Thata best of all."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, sir, then 'e tell you what DOP
Luis, 'e do."

195

196 THE SPANISH JADE

"Show him in," said Manvers.

The Marques de Fuenterrabia was a
white-whiskered, irascible personage, of
stately manners and slight stature. He
wore a blue frock-coat and nankeen trousers
over riding-boots. His face was one uni-
form pink, his eyes small, fierce, and blue.
They appeared to emit heat as well as
light; for it was a frequent trick of their
proprietor's to snatch at his spectacles
and wipe the mist from them with a bandana
handkerchief. Unglazed, his eyes showed
a blank and indiscriminate ferocity which
Manvers found exceedingly comical.

They bowed to each other — the Mar-
ques with ceremonious cordiality, Manvers
with the stiffness of an Englishman to an
unknown visitor. Gil Perez hovered in the
background, as it were, on the tips of his toes.

The Marques, having made his bow,
said nothing. His whole attitude seemed
to imply, "Well, what next?"

Manvers said that he was at his service;
and then the Marques explained himself.

THE SPANISH JADE 197

"My friend, Don Luis Ramonez de
Alavia," he said, "has entrusted me with
his confidence. It appears that a series
of occurrences, involving his happiness,
honour, and dignity at once, can be traced
to your Excellency's intromission in his
affairs. I take it that your Excellency
does not deny "

"Pardon me," Manvers, said "I deny
it absolutely."

The Marques was very much annoyed.
"Que! Que!'9 he muttered and snatched
off his spectacles. Glaring ferociously
at them, he wiped them with his ban-
dana.

"If Don Luis really imagines that I
compassed the death of his son," said
Manvers, "I suppose he has legal remedy.
He had better have me arrested and have
done with it."

The Marques, his spectacles on, gazed
at the speaker with astonishment. "Is
it possible, sir, that you can so misconceive
the mind of a gentleman as to suggest legal

198 THE SPANISH JADE

process in an affair of the kind? What-
ever my friend Don Luis may consider
you, he could not be guilty of such a dis-
courtesy. One may think he is going too
far in the other direction, indeed — though
one is debarred from saying so under the
circumstances. But I am not here to
bandy words with you. My friend Don
Luis commissions me to ask your Excel-
lency for the name of a friend, to whom
the arrangements may be referred for
ending a painful controversy in the usual
manner. If you will be so good as to
oblige me, I need not intrude upon you
again."

"Do you mean to suggest, sefior Mar-
ques," said Manvers, after a pause, "that
I am to meet Don Luis on the field?"

"Pardon?" said the Marques, in such
a way as to answer the question.

"My dear sir," he was assured, "I
would just as soon fight my grandfather.
The thing is preposterous." The Marques
gasped for air, but Manvers continued.

THE SPANISH JADE 199

"Had your friend's age been anywhere
near my own, I doubt if I could have
gratified him after what took place the
other day. He caused a man of his to stab
me in the back as I was walking down a
dark street. In my country we call that
a dastard's act.'* The Marques started,
and winced as if he was hurt; but he re-
membered himself and the laws of war-
fare, and when he spoke it was within the
extremes of politeness.

"I confess, sir," he said, "that I was
not perpared for your refusal. It puts
me in a delicate position, and to a cer-
tain extent I must involve my friend also.
It is my duty to declare to you that it
is Don Luis's intention to break the laws
of Spain. An outrage has been committed
against his house and blood which one
thing only can efface. Moved by ex-
treme courtesy, Don Luis was prepared
to take the remedy of gentlemen ; but, since
you have refused him that, he is driven to
the use of natural law. It will be in your

200 THE SPANISH JADE

power — I cannot deny — to deprive him
of that also; but he is persuaded that you
will not take advantage of it. Should you
show any signs of doing so, I am to say,
Don Luis will be forced to consider you
outside the pale of civilisation, and to
treat you without any kind of toleration.
To suggest such a possibility is painful to
me, and I beg your pardon very truly
for it." In truth the Marques looked
ashamed of himself.

Manvers considered the very oblique
oration to which he had listened. "I
hope I understand you, senor Marques,"
he said. 'You intend to say that Don
Luis means to have my life by all means ?"

The Marques bowed. "That is so, senor
Don Osmundo."

"But you suggest that it is possible that I
might stop him by informing the authorities ?"

"No, no," said the Marques hastily, "I
did not suggest that. The authorities
would never interfere. The British Em-
bassy might perhaps be persuaded — but

THE SPANISH JADE 201

you will do me the justice to admit that I
apologise for the suggestion."

"Oh, by all means," said Manvers.
"You thought pretty badly of me — but
not so badly as all that."

"Quite so," said the Marques; and then
the surprising Gil Perez descended from
mid-air, and bowed to the stranger.

"My master, Don Osmundo, sefior Mar-
ques, is incapable of such conduct," said
he — and looked to Manvers for approval.

He struggled with himself, but failed.
His guffaw must out, and exploded with
violent effect. It drove the Marques back
to the door and sent Gil Perez scudding
on tiptoe to the window.

'You are magnificent, all of you!" cried
Manvers. 'You flatter me into conni-
vance. Let me state the case exactly.
Don Luis is to stab or shoot me at sight,
and I am to give him a free hand. Is
that what you mean ? Admirable. But
let me ask you one question. Am I not
supposed to protect myself?"

202 THE SPANISH JADE

The Marques stared. "I don't think
I perfectly understand you, Don Osmundo.
Reprisals are naturally open to you. We
declare war, that is all."

"Oh," said Manvers. 'You declare
war? Then I may go shooting too?"

"Naturally," said the Marques. "That
is understood."

"No dam fear about that," said Gil
Perez to his master.

CHAPTER XVH

LA RECOGIDA

SISTER CHUCHA, the nun who took
first charge of newcomers to the
Penitentiary, was fat and kindly, and not
very discreet. It was her business to
measure Manuela for a garb and to see
to the cutting of her hair. She told the
girl that she was by far the most handsome
penitent she had ever had under her hands.
"It is a thousand pities to cut all this
beauty away," she said; "for it is obvious
you will want it before long. So far as
that goes you will find the cap not unbe-
coming; and I '11 see to it that you have a
piece of looking-glass — though, by ordi-
nary, that is forbidden. Good gracious,
child, what a figure you have! If I had
one quarter of your good fortune I should
never have been religious."

203

-204 THE SPANISH JADE

She went on to describe the rules of
the institution, the hours and nature of the
work, the offices in Chapel, the recreation
times and hours for meals. Manuela, she
said, was not the build for rope and mat
work.

"I shall get Reverend Mother to put you
to housework, I think," she said. "That
will give you exercise, and the chance of
an occasional peep at the window. You
don't deserve it, I fancy; but you are so
handsome that I have a weakness for you.
All you have to do is to speak fairly to
Father Vicente and curtsey to the Reverend
Mother whenever you see her. Above
all, no tantrums. Leave the others alone,
,and they '11 let you alone. There 's not
one of them but has her scheme for getting
away, or her friend outside. That 's occu-
pation enough for her. It will be the same
with you. Your friends will find you out.
You '11 have a novio spending the night in
the street before to-morrow's over, unless
I 'm very much mistaken." She patted

THE SPANISH JADE 205

her cheek. "I '11 do what I can for you,
my dear."

Manuela curtseyed, and thanked the
good nun. "All I have to do," she said,
"is to repent of my sin — which has become
very horrible to me,."

" La-la-la ! " cried Sister Chucha. " Keep
that for Father Vicente, if you please, my
dear. That is his affair. Our patroness
led a jolly life before she was a saint.
No doubt, you should not have stabbed
Don Bartolome, and of course the Ram-
onez would never overlook such a thing.
But we all understand that you must
save your own skin if you could — that 's
very reasonable. And I hear that there
was another reason." Here she chucked
her chin. "I don't wonder at it," she
said with a meaning smile.

The girl coloured and hung her head.
She was still quivering with the shame
of her public torture. She could still see
Manvers's eyes stare chilly at the wall
before them, and believe them to grow

206 THE SPANISH JADE

colder with each stave of her admissions.
Her one consolation lay in the thought
that she could please him by amendment
and save him by conviction; so it was
hard to be petted by Sister Chucha. She
would have welcomed the whip, would
have hugged it to her bosom - — the rod of
Salvation, she would have called it; but
compliments on her beauty, caresses of
cheek and chin — was she not to be allowed
to be good? As for escape, she had no
desire for that. She could love her Don
Osmundo best from a distance. What
was to be gained, but shame, by seeing
him?

Her shining hair was cut off; the cap, the
straight prison garb were put on. She
stood up, slim-necked, an arrowy maid
with her burning face and sea-green eyes
chastened by real humility. She made
a good confession to Father Vincente,
and took her place among her mates.

It was true, what Sister Chucha had
told her. Every penitent in that great

THE SPANISH JADE 207

and gaunt building was thrilled with one
persistent hope, worked patiently with that
in view, and under its spell refrained from
violence or clamour. There was not one
face of those files of gray-gowned girls
which, at stated hours, entered the chapel,
knelt at the altar, or stooped at painful
labour through the stifling days, which did
not show a gleam. Stupid, vacant, vicious,
morose, pretty, sparkling, whatever the face
might be, there was that expectation to
redeem or enhance it, to make it human,
to make it womanish. There was, or there
would be, some day, any day, a lover outside
— to whom it would be the face of all faces.

Manuela had not been two hours in the
company of her fellow-prisoners before
she was told that there were two ways of
escape from the Recogidas. Religion or
marriage these were; but the religious
alternative was not discussed.

Sister Chucha, it transpired, had chosen
that way — "But do you wonder?" cried the
girl who told Manuela, with shrill scorn —

208 THE SPANISH JADE

most of the sisters had once been penitents

"Vaya! Look at them, my dear!" cried
this young Amazon, conscious of her own
charms.

She was a plump Andalusian, black-
eyed, merry, and quick to change her
moods. Love had sent her to Saint
Mary Magdalene, and love would take
her out again.

That Chucha, she owned, was a kind
soul. She always put pretty ones to house-
work - "it gives us a chance at the
windows. I have Fernando who works
at the sand-carting in the river. He
never fails to look up this way. Some
day he will ask for me." She peered at
herself in a pail of water, and fingered her
cap daintily. "How does my skirt hang
now, Manuela? Too short, I fancy. Did
you ever see such shoes as they give you
here! Lucky that nobody can see you."

This was the strain of everybody's talk
in the house of Las Recogidas — in the
whitewashed galleries where they walked

THE SPANISH JADE 209

in squads under the eye of a nun who sat
reading a good book against the wall, in
the court, where they lay in the shade to
rest, prone with their faces hidden in their
arms, or with knees huddled up and eyes
fixed hi a stare. They talked to each
other in the hoarse, tearful staccato of
Spain, which, beginning low, seems to
gather force and volume as it runs until,
like a beck in flood, it carries speaker and
listener over the bar into tossing waves of
yeasty water.

Manuela, through all, kept her thoughts
to herself, and spoke nothing of her own
affairs. There may have been others like
her, fixed to the great achievement of
justifying themselves to their own stan-
dard: she had no means of knowing.
Her standard was this, that she had purged
herself by open confession to the man
whom she loved. She was clean, sweet-
ened, and full of heart. All she had to do
was to open wide her house that holiness
might enter in.

210 THE SPANISH JADE

Besides this she had, at the moment,
the consciousness of a good action; for
she firmly believed that by her surrender
to the law she had again saved Manvers
from assassination. If Don Luis could
only cleanse his honour by blood, he
now had her heart's blood. That should
suffice him. She grew happier as the
days went on.

Meanwhile it was remarked upon by
Mercedes and Dolores and a half dozen
more that distinguished strangers came to
the gallery of the chapel. The outlines of
them could be described through the grille;
for behind the grille was a great white
window which threw them into high
relief.

It was the fixed opinion of Mercedes
and Dolores that Manuela had a n^vio.

CHAPTER

THE NOVIO

IT IS true that Manvers had gone
to the Chapel of the Recogidas to
look for, or to look at, Manuela. This
formed the one amusing episode in his
week's round in Madrid, where otherwise
he was extremely bored, and where he
only remained to give Don Luis a chance
of waging his war.

To be shot at in the street, or stabbed
in the back as you are homing through
the dusk are, to be sure, not everybody's
amusements, and in an ordinary way
they were not those of Mr. Manvers. But
he found that his life gained a zest
by being threatened with deprivation, and
so long as that zest lasted he was willing
to oblige Don Luis. The weather was
insufferably hot, one could only be abroad
211

THE SPANISH JADE

early in the morning or late at night — •
both the perfection of seasons for the
assassin's game.

Yet nothing very serious had occurred
during the week following the declaration
of war. Gil Perez could not find Tormillo,
and had to declare his suspicions of a
Manchegan teamster, who had jostled his
master in the Puerta del Sol and made as if
to draw his knife, were without foundation.
What satisfied him was that the Manchegan,
that same evening, stabbed somebody else
to death. "That show 'e is good fellow
— too much after 'is enemy," said Gil
Perez affably. So Manvers felt justified
in his refusal to wear mail or carry either
revolver or sword-stick ; and by the end of the
week he forgot that he was a marked man.

On Sunday he told Gil Perez that he
intended to visit the Chapel of the Recogi-
das. The rogue's face twinkled. "Good,
sir, good. We go. I show you Manuela
all-holy like a nun. I know whata she
do. Look for 'eaven all day. That

THE SPANISH JADE 213

Chucha she tell me something — and the
portero, 'e damgood fellow."

Resplendent in white duck trousers, Mr.
Manvers was remarked upon by a purely
native company of sightseers. Quick-
eyed ladies in mantillas were there, making
play with their fans and scent-bottles;
attendant cavaliers found something of
which to whisper in the cool-faced English-
man with his fair beard, blue eyes and
eye-glass, his air of detachment, which
disguised his real feelings, and of readiness
to be entertained, which they misinter-
preted.

The facts were that he was painfully
involved in Manuel a' s fate, and uncom-
fortably near being in love again with the
lovely unfortunate. She was no longer a
pretty thing to be kissed, no longer even
a handsome murderess; she was become a
heroine, a martyr, a thing enskied and
sainted.

He had seen more than he had been

214 THE SPANISH JADE

meant to see during his ordeal in the
Audiencia — her consciousness of him-
self, for instance, as revealed in that last
dying look she had given him, that long
look before she turned and followed her
jailers out of court. He guessed at her
agonies of shame, he understood how
it was that she had courted it; in fine, he
knew very well that her heart was in his
keeping — and that 's a dangerous posses-
sion for a man already none too sure of
the whereabouts of his own.

When the organ music thrilled and
opened, and the Recogidas filed in — some
hundred of them — his heart for a moment
stood still, as he scanned them through the
gloom. They were dressed exactly alike in
dull clinging gray, all wore close-fitting white
caps, were nearly all dead-white in the
face. They all shuffled, as convicts do
as they move close — ordered to their
work afield.

It shocked him that he utterly failed
to identify Manuela — and it brought him

THE SPANISH JADE 215

sharply to his better senses that Gil Perez
saw her at once.

"See her there, master, see there my
beautiful," the man groaned under his
breath, and Manvers looked where he
pointed, and saw her; but now the glamour
was gone. Gil was her declared lover. The
Squire of Somerset could not stoop to be
his valet's rival.

The Squire of Somerset, however, observed
that she held herself more stiffly than her
co-mates, and shuffled less. The prison
garb clothed her like a weed; she had the
trick of wearing clothes so that they draped
the figure, not concealed it, were as wrax
upon it, not a cerement. That which
fell shapeless and heavily from the shoulders
of the others, upon her seemed to grow
rather from the waist — to creep upward
over the shoulders, as ivy steals clinging
over a statue in a park. Here, said he,
is a maiden that cannot be hid. Call
her a murderess, she remains perfect woman;
call her convict, Magdalen, she is some

216 THE SPANISH JADE

man's solace. He looked at Gil Perez,
motionless and intent by his side, and
heard his short breath. There is her mate,
he thought to himself, and was saved.

They filed out as they had come in.
They all stood, turned toward the exit, and
waited until they were directed to move.
Then they followed each other like sheep
through a gateway, looking, so far as he
could see, at nothing, expecting nothing
and remembering nothing. A down-trod-
den herd, he conceived them, their wits
dulled by toil. He was not near enough
to see the gleam which kept them alive.
Nuns gave them their orders with authori-
tative hands, quick always, and callous
by routine, probably not intended to be
so harsh as they appeared. He saw one
girl pushed forward by the shoulder with
such suddenness that she nearly fell; another
flinched at a passionate command, another
scowled as she passed her mistress. He
watched to see how Manuela, who had
come in one of the first and must go out

THE SPANISH JADE 217

one of the last, would bear herself, and
was relieved by a pretty and enheartening
episode.

Manuela, as she passed, drew her hand
along the top of the bench with a lingering,
trailing touch. It encountered that of the
nun in command, and he saw the nun's
hand enclose and press the penitent's. He saw
Manuela's look of gratitude, and the nun's
smiling affection; he believed that Manuela
blushed. That gratified him extremely, and
enlarged his benevolent intention.

Had Gil Perez seen it? He thought
not. Gil Perez's black eyes were fixed
upon Manuela's form. They glittered like
a cat's when he watches a bird in a
shrubbery. The valet was quite unlike
himself as he followed his master home-
ward and asked leave of absence for
the evening — for the first time in his
period of service. Manvers had no doubt
at all how that evening was spent — in
rapt attention below the barred windows of
the House of the Recogidas.

218 THE SPANISH JADE

That was so. Gil Perez "played the
bear/* as they call it, from dusk till the
small hours — perfectly happy, in a rapture
of adoration which the Squire of Somerset
could never have realised. All the romance
which, if we may believe Cervantes, once
transfigured the life of Spain, and gilded
the commonest acts till they seemed confi-
dent appeals for the applause of God,
feats boldly done under heaven's thronged
barriers, is nowadays concentred in this
one strange vigil which all lovers have to
keep.

Gil Perez the quick, the admirable ser-
vant, the jaunty adventurer, the assured
rogue, had vanished. Here he -stood be-
neath the stars, breathing prayers and
praises — a little valet sighing for a con-
victed Magdalen, a young knight keeping
watch beneath his lady's tower. And he
was not alone there: at due intervals along
the frowning walls were posted other
servants of the sleeping girls behind them;
other knights at watch and ward.

THE SPANISH JADE 219

The prayer he breathed was the prayer
breathed too for Dolores or Mercedes in
prison. "Virgin of Atocha, Virgin of the
Pillar, Virgin of Sorrow, of Divine Com-
passion, send happy sleep to thy handmaid
Manuela, shed the dew of thy love upon
her eyelids, keep smooth her brows, keep
innocent her lips. Dignify me, thy ser-
vant, Gil Perez, more than other men, that
I may be worthy to sustain this high honour
of love."

His eyes never wavered from a certain
upper window. It was as blank as all the
rest, differed in no way from any other
of a row of five-and- twenty. To him it
was the pride of the great building.

"O fortunate stars!" he whispered to him-
self, "that can look through these and see
my love upon her bed. O rays too much
blessed, that can kiss her eyelids, and touch
lightly upon the scented strands of her hair !
O breath of the night, that can fan in her
white neck and stroke her arm stretched
out over the coverlet! To you, night-wind,

220 THE SPANISH JADE

and to you, stars, I give an errand;
you shall take a message from me to lovely
Manuela of the golden tresses. Tell her
that I am watching out the dark; tell her
that no harm shall come to her. Whisper
in her ear, mingle with her dreams, and
tell her that she has a lover. Tell her
also that the nights in Madrid are not
like those in Valencia, and that she would
do well to cover her arm and shoulder up
lest she catch cold, and suffer."

There spoke the realist, the romantic realist
of Spain; for it is to be observed that Gil
Perez did not know at all whereabouts
Manuela lay asleep, and could not, natur-
ally, know whether her arm was out of
bed or in it. He had forgotten also that
her hair had been cut off - - but these are
trifles. Happy he! he had forgotten much
more than that.

When Manvers told him that he intended
to pay Manuela a visit on the day allowed,
Gil Perez suffered the tortures of the

THE SPANISH JADE 221

damned. Jealous rage consumed his
vitals like a corroding acid, which reason
and loyalty had no power to assuage. Yet
reason and loyalty played out their allotted
parts, and it had been a fine sight to see
Gil grinning and gibbering at his own
white face in the looking-glass, shaking
his finger at it and saying to it, in English
(since it was his master's shaving-glass),
"Gil Perez, my fellow, you shut up!" He
said it many times, for he had nothing
else to say - - jealousy deprived him of
his wits, and he felt better for the
discipline. When Manvers returned there
was no sign upon Gil's brisk person of the
stormy conflict which had ravaged it.

Manvers had seen her and, by Sister
Chucha's charity, had seen her alone.
The poor girl had fallen at his feet and
would have kissed them if he had not
lifted her up. "No, my dear, no," he said;
"it is I who ought to kneel. You have
done wonders for me. You are as brave

222 THE SPANISH JADE

as a lion, Manuela; but I must get you away
from this place."

"No, no, Don Osmundo," she cried,
flushing up, "indeed I am better here."
She stood before him, commanding her-
self, steeling herself in the presence of this
man she loved against any hint of her
beating heart.

He had himself well in hand. Her
beauty, her distress and misfortune could
not touch him now. All that he had for
her was admiration and pure benevolence.
Fatal offerings for a woman inflamed:
so soon as she perceived it her courage
was needed for another tussle. Her blood
lay like lead in her veins, her heart sank
to the deeps of her, and she must screw
it back again to the work of the day.

He took her hand, and she let him have
it. What could it matter now what he
had of hers? "Manuela," he said, "there
is a way of freedom for you, if you will
take it. A man loves you truly, and
asks nothing better than to work for you.

THE SPANISH JADE 223

I know him — he 's been a good friend to
me. Will you let me pay you off my debt ?
His name is Gil Perez. You have seen
him, I know. He's an honest man, my
dear, and loves you to distraction. What
are you going to say to him if he asks
for you?"

She stood, handfast to the man who
had kissed her — and in kissing her had
drawn out her soul through her lips; who
now was pleading that another man might
have her dead lips. The mockery of the
thing might have made a worse woman
laugh horribly; but this was a woman made
pure by love. She saw no mockery, no dis-
crepancy in what he asked her. She
knew he was in earnest, and wished her
nothing but good.

And she could see, without knowing
that she saw, how much he desired to be
rid of his obligation to her. Therefore,
she reasoned, she would be serving
him again if she agreed to what he
proposed. Here — if laughing had been

224 THE SPANISH JADE

her mood — was matter for laughter,
that when he tried to pay her off he was
really getting deeper into debt. Look at
it in this way: You owe a fine sum,
principal and interest, to a Jew; you go to
him and propose to borrow again of him
in order that you may pay off the first
debt and be done with it. The Jew might
laugh but he would lend; and Manuela,
who hoarded love, hugged to her heart the
new bond she was offered. The deeper he
went into debt the more she must lend
him ! There was pleasure in this — shrill
pleasure not far off from pain; but she
was a child of pleasure, and must take
what she could get.

Her grave eyes, uncurtained, searched
his face. "Is this what you desire me to
do? Is this what you ask of me?"

"My dear," said he, "I desire your
freedom. I desire to see you happy and
cared for. I must go away. I must go
home. I shall go more willingly if I know
that I have provided for my friend."

THE SPANISH JADE 225

She urged a half-hearted plea. "I am
very well here, Don Osmundo. The sisters
are kind to me, the work is light. I might
be happy here "

"What!" he cried. "In prison!"

"It is what I deserve," she said; but he
would not hear of it.

;'You are here through my blunders,"
he insisted. "If I hadn't left you with
that scoundrel in the wood this would
never have happened. And there's another

thing which I must say " He grew

very serious. "I 'm ashamed of myself
— but I must say it." She looked at her
hands in her lap, knowing what was coming.

"They said, you know, that Esteban
must have thought me your lover." She
sat as still as death. "Well — I was."

Not a word from her. "My dear," he
went on painfully — for Eleanor Vernon's
clear gray eyes were on him now, "I
must tell you that I did what I had no
business to do. There 's a lady in England
who — whom — I was carried away — I

226 THE SPANISH JADE

thought " He stopped, truly shocked

at what he had thought her to be. "Now
that I know you, Manuela, I tell you
fairly I behaved like a villain."

Her face was flung up like that of a
spurred horse; she was on the point to
reveal herself — to tell him that in that
act of his lay all her glory. But she
stopped in time — and resumed her droop-
ing, and her dejection. "I must serve
him still — serve him always," was her
burden.

"I was your lover truly," he continued,
"after I knew what you had risked for me,
what you had brought yourself to do for
me. Not before that. Before that I had
been a thief — a brute. But after it I
loved you — and then I had your cross
set in gold — and betrayed you into Don
Luis's mad old hands. All this trouble is
my fault — you are here through me -
you must be got out through me. Gil
Perez is a better man than I am ever likely
to be. He loves you sincerely. He loved

THE SPANISH JADE 227

you before you gave yourself up. You
know that, I expect . . .

She knew it, of course, perfectly well;
but she said nothing.

"He would n't wish to bustle you into
marriage, or anything of the sort. He 's a
gentleman, is Gil Perez, and I shall see
that he does n't ask for you empty-handed.
I am sure he can make you happy; and I
tell you fairly that the only way I can be
happy myself is to know that I have made
you amends." He got up — at the end
of his resources. "Let me leave his case
before you. He '11 plead it in his own
way, you '11 find. I can?t help thinking
that you must know what the state of his
feelings is. Think of him as kindly as you
can and think of me, too, Manuela, as
a man who has done you a great wrong,
and wants to put himself right if he may."
He held out his hand. "Good-bye, my
dear. I '11 see you again, I hope — or
send a better man."

"Good-bye, Don Osmundo," she said,

228 THE SPANISH JADE

and gave him her hand. He pressed it
and went away, feeling extremely satisfied
with the hour's work. Eleanor Vernon's
clear gray eyes smiled approvingly upon
him. "Damn it all," he said to himself,
"I Ve got that tangle out at last." He
began to think of England — Somerset-
shire — Eleanor — partridges. "I shall
get home, I hope, by the first," he said.

"He's a splendour, your novio, Manue-
lita," said Sister Chucha, and emphasised
her approval with a kiss. "Fie!" she
cried, "what a cold cheek! The cheek
of a dead woman. And you with a hidalgo
for your novio!"

CHAPTER XIX

THE WAR OPENS

RETURNING from his visit, climbing
the Calle Mayor at that blankest
hour of the summer day when the sun is
at his fiercest, raging vertically down upon
a street empty of folk but glittering like
glass, and radiant with quivering air,
Manvers was shot at from a distance, so
far as he could judge, of thirty yards. He
heard the ball go shrilling past him and
then splash and flatten upon a church
wall beyond. He turned quickly, but
could see nothing. Not a sign of life was
upon the broad way, not a curtain was lifted,
not a shutter swung apart. To all intents and
purposes he was upon the Castilian plains.
Unarmed though he was, he went back
upon his traces down the hill, expecting
at any moment that the assassin would flare

229

230 THE SPANISH JADE

out upon him and shoot him down at
point-blank. He went back in all some
fifty yards. There was no man lurking
that he could discover. After a few mo-
ments' irresolution — whether to stand or
proceed — he decided that the sooner he was
within walls the better. He turned again and
walked briskly toward the Puerta del Sol.
Sixty yards or so from the great
plaza, within sight of it, he was fired at
again, and this time he was hit in the
muscles of the left arm. He felt the
burning sting, the shock and the aching.
The welling of blood was a blessed relief.
On this occasion he pushed forward, and
reached his inn without further trouble.
He sent for Gil Perez, who whisked off for
the surgeon; by the time he brought one
in Manvers was feverish, and so remained
until the morning, tossing and jerking
through the fervent night, with his arm
stiff from shoulder to finger-points.

'Thata dam thief, sir, 'e count on you
never looka back," said Gil Perez, nodding

THE SPANISH JADE 231

grimly. "Capitan Rodney, 'e all the same
as you. Walka 'is blessed way, never
taka no notice of anybody. See 'im at
Sevastopol do lika that all the time. So
then this assassin 'e creep after you lika
one o'clock up Calle Mayor, leta fly at
you twice, three time, four time — so
longa you let 'im. You walka backward,
'e never shoot --you see."

Manvers felt that to walk backward
would be at least as tiresome as to walk
forward and be shot at in a city which
now held little for him but danger and
ennui. Not even Manuela's fortunes could
prevail against boredom. As he lay upon
his hateful bed, disgust with Spain .grew
upon him hand over hand. He became
irritable. To Gil Perez he announced his
determination. This sort of thing must end.

Gil bowed and rubbed his hands. 'You
go 'ome, sir ? Is besta place for you.
Don Luis, 'e kill you for sure. You go,
'e go 'ome esleep on 'is olda bed — too
much satisfy." Under his breath he added,

THE SPANISH JADE

"Poor Manuela — my poor beautiful!
She is tormented in vain!"

Manvers told him what had passed in
the House of the Recogidas. "I spoke
for you, Gil. I think she will listen to you."

Gil lifted up his head. "Every nighta,
when you are asleep, sir, I estand under
the wall. I toucha — I say, 'Keep safa
guard of Manuela, you wall.' If she
'ave me I maka 'er never sorry for it. I
love 'er too much. But I think she call
me dirt. I know all about 'er too much."

What he knew he kept hidden; but one
day he went to the Recogidas and asked
to see Sister Chucha. He was obsequious,
but impassioned, full of cajolery, but not
for a moment did he try to impose upon
his countrywoman by any assumption of
omniscience. That was reserved for his
master, 'and was indeed a kind of compli-
ment to his needs. Sister Chucha heard
him at first with astonishment.

"Then it was for you, Gil Perez, that
the gentleman came here?"

THE SPANISH JADE 233

Gil nodded. "It was for me, sister.
How could it be otherwise ?"

"I thought that gentleman was interested."

Gil peered closely into her face. "That
gentleman is persecuted. Manuela can
save him from the danger he stands in —
but only through me. Sister, I love her
more than life and the sky, but I am con-
tent, and she will be content that life shall
be dumb and the sky dark if that gentle-
man may go free. Let me speak with
Manuela — you will see."

The nun was troubled. "Too many
see Manuela," she said. "Only yesterday
there came here a man."

"Ha!" said Gil Perez fiercely. "What
manner of a man?"

"A little man," she told him, "that

came in creeping, rounding his shoulders

- so, and swimming with his hands. He

saw Manuela, and left her trembling.

She was white and gray — and very cold."

'That man," said Gil, folding his arms,

* ' was our enemy. Let me now see Manuela. ' *

234 THE SPANISH JADE

It was more a command than an entreaty.
Sister Chucha obeyed it. She went away
without a word, and returned presently,
leading Manuela by the hand. She
brought her into the room, released her,
and stood, watching and listening.

Eyes leaped to meet — Manuela was
on fire, but Gil's fire ate up hers.

"Senorita, you have surrendered in vain.
These men must have blood for blood.
The patron lies wounded, and will die
unless we save him. Seiiorita, you are
willing, and I am willing — speak."

She regarded him steadily. 'You know
that I am willing, Gil Perez."

"It was Tormillo you saw yesterday?"
"Yes, Tormillo — like a toad."
"He was sent to mock you in your
pain. He is a fool. We will show him a fool
in his own likeness. Are you content to die ?"
"You know that I am content."
He turned to the nun. "Sister Chucha,
you will let this lady go. She goes out
to die — I, who love her, am content that

THE SPANISH JADE 235

she should die. If she dies not, she returns
here. If she dies, you will not ask for her.'*

The sister stared. " What do you mean, you
two ? How is she to die ? When ? Where ?"

"She is to die under the knife of Don
Luis," said Gil Perez. "And I am to lay
her there."

'You, my friend! And what have you
to do with Don Luis and his affairs ?"

"Manuela is young," said Gil "and
loves her life. I am young, and love
Manuela more than life. If I take her
to Don Luis and say, ' Kill her, senor Don
Luis, and in that act kill me also,5 I think

he will be satisfied. I can see no other
i

way of saving the life of Don Osmundo."
"And what do you ask me to do?" the
nun asked presently.

"I ask you to give me Manuela presently
for one hour or for eternity. If Don Luis
rejects her, I bring her back to you here
- on the word of an old Christian. If
he takes her, she goes directly to God,
where you would have her be. Sister

236 THE SPANISH JADE

Chucha," said Gil Perez finely, "I am
persuaded that you will help us."

Sister Chucha looked at her hands -
fat and very white hands. 'You ask me
to do a great deal — to incur great danger
— for a gentleman who is nothing to me."

"He is everything to Manuela," said
Gil softly. "That you know."

"And you, Gil Perez — what is he to
you ?" This was Sister Chucha's sharpest.
Gil took it with a blink.

"He is my master — that is something. He
is more to Manuela. And she is everything
to me. Sister, you may trust me with her."

The nun turned from him to the motion-
less beauty by her side.

"You, my child, what do you say to
this project? Shall I let you go?"

Manuela wavered a little. She swayed
about and balanced herself with her hands.
But she quickly recovered.

"Sister Chucha," she said, "let me go."
The soft green light from her eyes spoke
for her.

CHAPTER XX

MEETING BY MOONLIGHT

BY MOONLIGHT in the sheeted park
four persons met to do battle for the
life of Mr. Manvers, while he lay grumb-
ling and burning in his bed, behind the
curtains of it. Don Luis Ramonez was
there, the first to come — tall and gaunt,
with undying pride in his hollow eyes,
like a spectre of rancour kept out of the
grave. Behind him Tormillo came creeping,
a little restless man, dogging his master's
footsteps, watching for word or sign from
him. These two stood by the lake in the
huge empty park, still under its shroud
of white moonlight.

Don Luis picked up the corner of his
cloak and threw it over his left shoulder.
He stalked stately up and down the arc of a
circle which a stone seat defined. Tormillo

237

238 THE SPANISH JADE

sat upon the edge of the seat, his elbows on
his knees, and looked at the ground. But
he kept his master in the tail of his eye.
Now and again furtively, but as if he
loved what he feared, he put his hand
into his breast and felt the edge of his
long knife.

Once indeed, when Don Luis on his sentry-
march had his back to him, he drew out
the blade and turned it under the moon,
watching the cold light shiver and flash up
along it and down. No fleck or flaw was
upon it, it showed the moon whole within its
face. This pair, each absorbed in his own
business, waited for the other.

Tormillo saw them coming and marked
it by rising from his seat. He peered
along the edge of the water to be sure,
then he wrent noiselessly toward them,
looking back often over his shoulder at
Don Luis. But his master did not seem
to be aware of any one. He stood still,
looking over the gloomy lake.

Tormillo, having gone half way, waited.

THE SPANISH JADE 239

Gil Perez hailed him. "Is that you,
Tormillo?" The muffled figure of a girl
by his side gave no sign.

"It is I, Gil Perez. Be not afraid."

"If I were afraid of anything, I should
not be here. I have brought Manuela
of her own will."

"Good," said Tormillo. "Give her to
me. We will go to Don Luis."

'Yes, you shall take her. I will remain
here. Senorita, will you go with him ?"

Manuela said, "I am ready."

Tormillo turned his face away, and
Gil Perez with passion whispered to Man-
uela: "My soul, my life, Manuela. One
sign from you, and I kill him!"

She turned him her rapt face. "No
sign from me, brother — no sign from me."

"My life," sighed Gil Perez. "Soul
of my soul!" She held him out her hand.

"Pray for me," she said. He snatched
at her hand, knelt on his knee, stooped
over it, and then, jumping up, flung him-
self from her.

240 THE SPANISH JADE

"Take her, you, Tormillo."

Tormillo took her by the hand, and
they went together toward the semi-
circular seat, in whose centre stood Don
Luis like a black statue. Soft-footed went
she, swaying a little, like a gossamer
caught in a light wind. Don Luis half
turned, and saluted her.

"Master," said Tormillo, "Manuela is
here." As if she were a figure to be
displayed he lightly threw back her veil.
Manuela stood still and bowed her head
to the uncovered gentleman.

"I am ready, senor Don Luis," she said.
He came nearer, watching her, saying
nothing.

"I killed Don Bartolome your son,"
she said, "because I feared him. He
told me that he had come to kill me;
but I was beforehand with him there.
It is true that I loved Don Osmundo, who
had been kind to me."

"You killed my son," said Don Luis,
"and you loved the Englishman."

THE SPANISH JADE 241

"I own the truth," she said, "and am
ready to requite you. I thought to have
satisfied you by giving myself up — but
you have shown me that that was not
enough. Now, then, I give you myself of
my own will, if you will let Don Osmundo
go free. Will you make a bargain with
me ? He knew nothing of Don Bartolome
your son."

Don Luis bowed. Manuela turned her
head slowly about to the still trees, to the
sleeping water, to the moon in the clear
sky, as if to greet the earth for the last
time. For one moment her eyes fell on
Gil Perez afar off - - on his knees with his
hands raised to heaven.

"I am ready," she said again, and bowed
her head. Tormillo put into Don Luis's
hands the long knife. Don Luis threw
it out far into the lake. It fled like a streak
of light, struck, skimmed along the sur-
face, and sank without a splash. He
went to Manuela and put his hand on her
shoulder. She quivered at his touch

THE SPANISH JADE

"My child," said he, "I cannot touch
you. You have redeemed yourself. Go
now, and sin no more."

He left her and went his way, stately,
along the edge of the water. He stalked
past Gil Perez at his prayers as if he saw
him not — as may well be the case. But
Gil Perez got upon his feet as he went by,
and saluted him with profound respect.

Immediately afterward he went like the
wind to Manuela. He found her crying
freely on the stone seat, her arms upon
the back of it and her face hidden in her
arms. She wept with passion; her sobs
were pitiful to hear. Tormillo, not at all
moved, waited for Gil Perez.

"Esa te quiere bien que te hace llorar,"
he said: "She loves thee well; that makes
thee weep."

"I weep not," said Gil Perez; "it is
she that weeps. As for me, I praise God."

"Aha, Gil Perez," Tormillo began -
then he chuckled. "For you, my friend,
there 's still sunlight on the wall."

THE SPANISH JADE 243

Gil nodded. "I believe it." Then he
looked fiercely at the other man. "Go
you with God, Tormillo, and leave me
with her."

Tormillo stared, spat on the ground.
"No need of your 'chuck chuck* to an
old dog.. I go, Gil Perez. Adios, her-
mano."

Gil Perez sat on the stone seat, and
drew Manuela-'s head to his shoulder.
She suffered him.

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