‘what lot is mine
whose foresight preaches peace, my heart so slow
to feel it!’
through these quiet streets the party clattered noisily enough, for the rain had left the rounded stones slippery, and the horses were too tired for a sure step. there were no lights at the street corners, for all had been extinguished at midnight, and the only glimmer of a lamp that relieved the darkness was shining through the stained-glass windows of the cathedral, where the sacred oil burnt night and day.
the queen was evidently expected at the casa del ayuntamiento, for at the approach of the carriage the great doors were thrown open and a number of servants appeared in the patio, which was but dimly lighted. by the general’s orders the small body-guard passed through the doors, which were then closed, instead of continuing their way to the barracks in the alcazar.
this casa del ayuntamiento stands, as many travellers know, in the plaza of the same name, and faces the cathedral, which is without doubt the oldest, as it assuredly is the most beautiful, church in the world. the mansion-house of toledo, in addition to some palatial halls which are of historic renown, has several suites of rooms used from time to time by great personages passing through or visiting the city. the house itself is old, as we esteem age in england, while in comparison to the buildings around it it is modern. built, however, at a period when beauty of architecture was secondary to power of resistance, the palace is strong enough, and general vincente smiled happily as the great doors were closed. he was the last to look out into the streets and across the little plaza del ayuntamiento, which was deserted and looked peaceful enough in the light of a waning moon.
the carriage door was opened by a lacquey, and conyngham gave estella his hand. all the servants bowed as she passed up the stairs, her face screened by the folds of her white mantilla. there was a queer hush in this great house, and in the manner of the servants. the cathedral clock rang out the half-hour. the general led the way to the room on the first floor that overlooks the plaza del ayuntamiento. it is a vast apartment, hung with tapestries and pictures such as men travel many miles to see. the windows, which are large in proportion to the height of the room, open upon a stone balcony, which runs the length of the house and looks down upon the plaza and across this to the great fa?ade of the cathedral. candles, hurriedly lighted, made the room into a very desert of shadows. at the far end, a table was spread with cold meats and lighted by high silver candelabra.
‘ah!’ said concha, going towards the supper-table.
estella turned, and for the first time met conyngham’s eyes. his face startled her. it was so grave.
‘were you hurt?’ she asked sharply.
‘not this time, se?orita.’
then she turned with a sudden laugh towards her father. ‘did i play my part well?’ she asked.
‘yes, my child.’ and even he was grave.
‘unless i am mistaken,’ he continued, glancing at the shuttered windows, ‘we have only begun our task.’ he was reading, as he spoke, some despatches which a servant had handed to him.
‘there is one advantage in a soldier’s life,’ he said, smiling at conyngham, ‘which is not, i think, sufficiently recognised—namely, that one’s duty is so often clearly defined. at the present moment it is a question of keeping up the deception we have practised upon these good people of toledo sufficiently long to enable the queen regent to reach madrid. in order to make certain of this we must lead the people to understand that the queen is in this house until, at least, daylight. given so much advantage, i think that her majesty can reach the capital an hour before any messenger from toledo. two horsemen quitted the bridge of alcantara as we crossed it, riding towards madrid; but they will not reach the capital—i have seen to that.’
he paused and walked to one of the long windows, which he opened. the outer shutters remained closed, and he did not unbar them, but stood listening.
‘all is still as yet,’ he said, returning to the table, where father concha was philosophically cutting up a cold chicken. ‘that is a good idea of yours,’ he said. ‘we may all require our full forces of mind and body before the dawn.’
he drew forward a chair, and estella, obeying his gesture, sat down and so far controlled her feelings as to eat a little.
‘do queens always feed on old birds such as this?’ asked concha discontentedly; and vincente, spreading out his napkin, laughed with gay good humour.
‘before the dawn,’ he said to conyngham, ‘we may all be great men, and the good concha here on the high road to a bishopric.’
‘he would rather be in bed,’ muttered the priest, with his mouth full.
it was a queer scene, such as we only act in real life. the vast room, with its gorgeous hangings, the flickering candles, the table spread with delicacies, and the strange party seated at it—concha eating steadily, the general looking round with his domesticated little smile, estella with a new light in her eyes and a new happiness on her face, conyngham, a giant among these southerners, in his dust-laden uniform—all made up a picture that none forgot.
‘they will probably attack this place,’ said the general, pouring out a glass of wine; ‘but the house is a strong one. i cannot rely on the regiments stationed at toledo, and have sent to madrid for cavalry. there is nothing like cavalry—in the streets. we can stand a siege—till the dawn.’
he turned, looking over his shoulder towards the door; for he had heard a footstep unnoticed by the others. it was concep?ion vara who came into the room, coatless, his face grey with dust, adding a startling and picturesque incongruity to the scene.
‘pardon, excellency,’ he said, with that easy grasp of the situation which always made an utterly unabashed smuggler of him, ‘but there is one in the house whom i think his excellency should speak with.’
‘ah!’
‘the se?orita barenna.’
the general rose from the table.
‘how did she get in here?’ he asked sharply.
‘by the side door in the calle de la ciudad. the keeper of that door, excellency, is a mule. the se?orita forced him to admit her. the sex can do so much,’ he added, with a tolerant shrug of the shoulders.
‘and the other—this larralde?’
concep?ion raised his hand with outspread fingers, and shook it slowly from side to side from the wrist, with the palm turned towards his interlocutor—a gesture which seemed to indicate that the subject was an unpleasant, almost an indelicate, one.
‘larralde, excellency,’ he said, ‘is one of those who are never found at the front. he will not be in toledo to-night—that larralde.’
‘where is the se?orita barenna?’ asked the general.
‘she is downstairs—commanding his excellency’s soldiers to let her pass.’
‘you go down, my friend, and bring her here. then take that door yourself.’
concep?ion bowed ceremoniously and withdrew. he might have been an ambassador, and his salutation was worthy of an imperial court.
a moment later julia barenna came into the room, her dark eyes wide with terror, her face pale and drawn.
‘where is the queen regent?’ she asked, looking from one face to the other, and seeing all her foes assembled as if by magic before her.
‘her majesty is on the road between aranjuez and madrid—in safety, my dear julia,’ replied the general soothingly.
‘but they think she is here. the people are in the streets. look out of the window. they are in the plaza.’
‘i know it, my dear,’ said the general.
‘they are armed—they are going to attack this house.’
‘i am aware of it.’
‘their plan is to murder the queen.’
‘so we understand,’ said the general gently. he had a horror of anything approaching sensation or a scene, a feeling which spaniards share with englishmen. ‘that is the queen for the time being,’ added vincente, pointing to estella.
julia stood looking from one to the other—a self-contained woman made strong by love. for there is nothing in life or human experience that raises and strengthens man or woman so much as a great and abiding love. but julia barenna was driven and almost panic-stricken. she held herself in control by an effort that was drawing lines in her face never to be wiped out.
‘but you will tell them? i will do it. let me go to them. i am not afraid.’
‘no one must leave this house now,’ said the general. ‘you have come to us, my dear, you must now throw in your lot with ours.’
‘but estella must not take this risk,’ exclaimed julia. ‘let me do it.’
and some woman’s instinct sent her to estella’s side—two women alone in that great house amid this man’s work, this strife of reckless politicians.
‘and you, and se?or conyngham,’ she cried, ‘you must not run this great risk.’
‘it is what we are paid for, my dear julia,’ answered the general, holding out his arm and indicating the gold stripes upon it.
he walked to the window and opened the massive shutters, which swung back heavily. then he stepped out on to the balcony without fear or hesitation.
‘see,’ he said, ‘the square is full of them.’
he came back into the room, and conyngham, standing beside him, looked down into the moonlit plaza. the square was, indeed, thronged with dark and silent shadows, while others, stealing from the doorways and narrow alleys with which toledo abounds, joined the groups with stealthy steps. no one spoke, though the sound of their whispering arose in the still night air like the murmur of a breeze through reeds. a hundred faces peered upwards through the darkness at the two intrepid figures on the balcony.
‘and these are spaniards, my dear conyngham,’ whispered the general. ‘a hundred of them against one woman. name of god! i blush for them.’
the throng increased every moment, and withal the silence never lifted, but brooded breathlessly over the ancient town. instead of living men, these might well have been the shades of the countless and forgotten dead who had come to a violent end in the streets of a city where peace has never found a home since the days of nebuchadnezzar. vincente came back into the room, leaving shutter and window open.
‘they cannot see in,’ he said, ‘the building is too high. and across the plaza there is nothing but the cathedral, which has no windows accessible without ladders.’
he paused, looking at his watch.
‘they are in doubt,’ he said, speaking to conyngham. ‘they are not sure that the queen is here. we will keep them in doubt for a short time. every minute lost by them is an inestimable gain to us. that open window will whet their curiosity, and give them something to whisper about. it is so easy to deceive a crowd.’
he sat down and began to peel a peach. julia looked at him, wondering wherein this man’s greatness lay, and yet perceiving dimly that, against such as he, men like esteban larralde could do nothing.
concha, having supped satisfactorily, was now sitting back in his chair seeking for something in the pockets of his cassock.
‘it is to be presumed,’ he said, ‘that one may smoke—even in a palace.’
and under their gaze he quietly lighted a cigarette with the deliberation of one in whom a long and solitary life had bred habits only to be broken at last by death.
presently the general rose and went to the window again.
‘they are still doubtful,’ he said, returning, ‘and i think their numbers have decreased. we cannot allow them to disperse.’
he paused, thinking deeply.
‘my child,’ he said suddenly to estella, ‘you must show yourself on the balcony.’
estella rose at once; but julia held her back.
‘no,’ she said; ‘let me do it. give me the white mantilla.’
there was a momentary silence while estella freed herself from her cousin’s grasp. conyngham looked at the woman he loved while she stood, little more than a child, with something youthful and inimitably graceful in the lines of her throat and averted face. would she accept julia’s offer? conyngham bit his lip and awaited her decision. then, as if divining his thought, she turned and looked at him gravely.
‘no,’ she said; ‘i will do it.’
she went towards the window. her father and conyngham had taken their places, one on each side, as if she were the queen indeed. she stood for a moment on the threshold, and then passed out into the moonlight, alone. immediately there arose the most terrifying of all earthly sounds—the dull, antagonistic roar of a thousand angry throats. estella walked to the front of the balcony and stood, with an intrepidity which was worthy of the royal woman whose part she played, looking down on the upturned faces. a red flash streaked the darkness of a far corner of the square, and a bullet whistled through the open window into the woodwork of a mirror.
‘come back,’ whispered general vincente. ‘slowly, my child—slowly.’
estella stood for a moment looking down with a royal insolence, then turned, and with measured steps approached the window. as she passed in she met conyngham’s eyes, and that one moment assuredly made two lives worth living.
