the devotion of enriquez-第4部分

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back；　and　her　narrow　eyebrows　prettily　knit　toward　the　ceiling　in

an　effort　of　memory。



〃Something　of　Chopin's；〃　suggested　the　geologist；　ardently。



〃That　exquisite　sonata！〃　pleaded　the　doctor。



　〃Suthin'　of　Rubinstein。　　Heard　him　once；〃　said　a　gentleman　of

Siskiyou。　　〃He　just　made　that　pianner　get　up　and　howl。　　Play　Rube。〃



She　shook　her　head　with　parted　lips　and　a　slight　touch　of　girlish

coquetry　in　her　manner。　　Then　her　fingers　suddenly　dropped　upon　the

keys　with　a　glassy　tinkle；　there　were　a　few　quick　pizzicato　chords；

down　went　the　low　pedal　with　a　monotonous　strumming；　and　she

presently　began　to　hum　to　herself。　　I　startedas　well　I　mightfor

I　recognized　one　of　Enriquez'　favorite　and　most　extravagant　guitar

solos。　　It　was　audacious；　it　was　barbaric；　it　was；　I　fear；　vulgar。

As　I　remembered　itas　he　sang　itit　recounted　the　adventures　of

one　Don　Francisco；　a　provincial　gallant　and　roisterer　of　the　most

objectionable　type。　　It　had　one　hundred　and　four　verses；　which

Enriquez　never　spared　me。　　I　shuddered　as　in　a　pleasant；　quiet

voice　the　correct　Miss　Mannersley　warbled　in　musical　praise　of　the

PELLEJO；　or　wineskin；　and　a　eulogy　of　the　dicebox　came　caressingly

from　her　thin　red　lips。　　But　the　company　was　far　differently

affected：　the　strange；　wild　air　and　wilder　accompaniment　were

evidently　catching；　people　moved　toward　the　piano；　somebody

whistled　the　air　from　a　distant　corner；　even　the　faces　of　the

geologist　and　doctor　brightened。



〃A　tarantella；　I　presume？〃　blandly　suggested　the　doctor。



Miss　Mannersley　stopped；　and　rose　carelessly　from　the　piano。　　〃It

is　a　Moorish　gypsy　song　of　the　fifteenth　century；〃　she　said　dryly。



〃It　seemed　sorter　familiar；　too；〃　hesitated　one　of　the　young　men；

timidly；　〃like　as　ifdon't　you　know？you　had　without　knowing　it；

don't　you　know？〃he　blushed　slightly〃sorter　picked　it　up

somewhere。〃



〃I　'picked　it　up；'　as　you　call　it；　in　the　collection　of　medieval

manuscripts　of　the　Harvard　Library；　and　copied　it；〃　returned　Miss

Mannersley　coldly　as　she　turned　away。



But　I　was　not　inclined　to　let　her　off　so　easily。　　I　presently　made

my　way　to　her　side。　　〃Your　uncle　was　complimentary　enough　to

consult　me　as　to　the　meaning　of　the　appearance　of　a　certain

exuberant　Spanish　visitor　at　his　house　the　other　night。〃　　I　looked

into　her　brown　eyes；　but　my　own　slipped　off　her　velvety　pupils

without　retaining　anything。　　Then　she　reinforced　her　gaze　with　a

pince…nez；　and　said　carelessly：



〃Oh；　it's　you？　　How　are　you？　　Well；　could　you　give　him　any

information？〃



〃Only　generally；〃　I　returned；　still　looking　into　her　eyes。　　〃These

people　are　impulsive。　　The　Spanish　blood　is　a　mixture　of　gold　and

quicksilver。〃



She　smiled　slightly。　　〃That　reminds　me　of　your　volatile　friend。　　He

was　mercurial　enough；　certainly。　　Is　he　still　dancing？〃



〃And　singing　sometimes；〃　I　responded　pointedly。　　But　she　only　added

casually；　〃A　singular　creature；〃　without　exhibiting　the　least

consciousness；　and　drifted　away；　leaving　me　none　the　wiser。　　I　felt

that　Enriquez　alone　could　enlighten　me。　　I　must　see　him。



I　did；　but　not　in　the　way　I　expected。　　There　was　a　bullfight　at　San

Antonio　the　next　Saturday　afternoon；　the　usual　Sunday　performance

being　changed　in　deference　to　the　Sabbatical　habits　of　the

Americans。　　An　additional　attraction　was　offered　in　the　shape　of　a

bull…and…bear　fight；　also　a　concession　to　American　taste；　which　had

voted　the　bullfight　〃slow；〃　and　had　averred　that　the　bull　〃did　not

get　a　fair　show。〃　　I　am　glad　that　I　am　able　to　spare　the　reader　the

usual　realistic　horrors；　for　in　the　Californian　performances　there

was　very　little　of　the　brutality　that　distinguished　this　function

in　the　mother　country。　　The　horses　were　not　miserable；　worn…out

hacks；　but　young　and　alert　mustangs；　and　the　display　of

horsemanship　by　the　picadors　was　not　only　wonderful；　but　secured　an

almost　absolute　safety　to　horse　and　rider。　　I　never　saw　a　horse

gored；　although　unskillful　riders　were　sometimes　thrown　in　wheeling

quickly　to　avoid　the　bull's　charge；　they　generally　regained　their

animals　without　injury。



The　Plaza　de　Toros　was　reached　through　the　decayed　and　tile…strewn

outskirts　of　an　old　Spanish　village。　　It　was　a　rudely　built　oval

amphitheater；　with　crumbling；　whitewashed　adobe　walls；　and　roofed

only　over　portions　of　the　gallery　reserved　for　the　provincial

〃notables；〃　but　now　occupied　by　a　few　shopkeepers　and　their　wives；

with　a　sprinkling　of　American　travelers　and　ranchmen。　　The

impalpable　adobe　dust　of　the　arena　was　being　whirled　into　the　air

by　the　strong　onset　of　the　afternoon　trade　winds；　which　happily；

however；　helped　also　to　dissipate　a　reek　of　garlic；　and　the　acrid

fumes　of　cheap　tobacco　rolled　in　cornhusk　cigarettes。　　I　was

leaning　over　the　second　barrier；　waiting　for　the　meager　and

circuslike　procession　to　enter　with　the　keys　of　the　bull　pen；　when

my　attention　was　attracted　to　a　movement　in　the　reserved　gallery。

A　lady　and　gentleman　of　a　quality　that　was　evidently　unfamiliar　to

the　rest　of　the　audience　were　picking　their　way　along　the　rickety

benches　to　a　front　seat。　　I　recognized　the　geologist　with　some

surprise；　and　the　lady　he　was　leading　with　still　greater

astonishment。　　For　it　was　Miss　Mannersley；　in　her　precise；　well…

fitting　walking…costumea　monotone　of　sober　color　among　the　parti…

colored　audience。



However；　I　was　perhaps　less　surprised　than　the　audience；　for　I　was

not　only　becoming　as　accustomed　to　the　young　girl's　vagaries　as　I

had　been　to　Enriquez'　extravagance；　but　I　was　also　satisfied　that

her　uncle　might　have　given　her　permission　to　come；　as　a　recognition

of　the　Sunday　concession　of　the　management；　as　well　as　to

conciliate　his　supposed　Catholic　friends。　　I　watched　her　sitting

there　until　the　first　bull　had　entered；　and；　after　a　rather　brief

play　with　the　picadors　and　banderilleros；　was　dispatched。　　At　the

moment　when　the　matador　approached　the　bull　with　his　lethal　weapon

I　was　not　sorry　for　an　excuse　to　glance　at　Miss　Mannersley。　　Her

hands　were　in　her　lap；　her　head　slightly　bent　forward　over　her

knees。　　I　fancied　that　she；　too；　had　dropped　her　eyes　before　the

brutal　situation；　to　my　horror；　I　saw　that　she　had　a　drawing…book

in　her　hand　and　was　actually　sketching　it。　　I　turned　my　eyes　in

preference　to　the　dying　bull。



The　second　animal　led　out　for　this　ingenious　slaughter　was；

however；　more　sullen；　uncertain；　and　discomposing　to　his　butchers。

He　accepted　the　irony　of　a　trial　with　gloomy；　suspicious　eyes；　and

he　declined　the　challenge　of　whirling　and　insulting　picadors。　　He

bristled　with　banderillas　like　a　hedgehog；　but　remained　with　his

haunches　backed　against　the　barrier；　at　times　almost　hidden　in　the

fine　dust　raised　by　the　monotonous　stroke　of　his　sullenly　pawing

hoofhis　one　dull；　heavy　protest。　　A　vague　uneasiness　had　infected

his　adversaries；　the　picadors　held　aloof；　the　banderilleros

skirmished　at　a　safe　distance。　　The　audience　resented　only　the

indecision　of　the　bull。　　Galling　epithets　were　flung　at　him；

followed　by　cries　of　〃ESPADA！〃　and；　curving　his　elbow　under　his

short　cloak；　the　matador；　with　his　flashing　blade　in　hand；　advanced

andstopped。　　The　bull　remained　motionless。



For　at　that　moment　a　heavier　gust　of　wind　than　usual　swept　down

upon　the　arena；　lifted　a　suffocating　cloud　of　dust；　and　whirled　it

around　the　tiers　of　benches　and　the　balcony；　and　for　a　moment

seemed　to　stop　the　performance。　　I　heard　an　exclamation　from　the

geologist；　who　had　risen　to　his　feet。　　I　fancied　I　heard　even　a

faint　cry　from　Miss　Mannersley；　but　the　next　moment；　as　the　dust

was　slowly　settling；　we　saw　a　sheet　of　paper　in　the　air；　that　had

been　caught　up　in　this　brief　cyclone；　dropping；　dipping　from　side

to　side　on　uncertain　wings；　until　it　slowly　descended　in　the　very

middle　of　the　arena。　　It　was　a　leaf　from　Miss　Mannersley's

sketchbook；　the　one　on　which　she　had　been　sketching。



In　the　pause　that　followed　it　seemed　to　be　the　one　object　that　at

last　excited　the　bull's　growing　but　tardy　ire。　　He　glanced　at　it

with　murky；　distended　eyes；　he　snorted　at　it　with　vague　yet

troubled　fury。　　Whether　he　detected　his　own　presentment　in　Miss

Mannersley's　sketch；　or　whether　he　recognized　it　as　an　unknown　and

unfamiliar　treachery　in　his　surroundings；　I　could　not　conjecture；

for　the　next　moment　the　matador；　taking　advantage　of　the　bull's

concentration；　with　a　complacent　leer　at　the　audience；　advanced

toward　the　paper。　　But　at　that　instant　a　young　man　cleared　the

barrier　into　the　arena　with　a　single　bound；　shoved　the　matador　to

one　side；　caught　up　the　paper；　turned　toward　the　balcony　and　Miss

Mannersley　with　a　gesture　of　apology；　dropped　gaily　before　the

bull；　knelt　down　before　him　with　an　exaggerated　humility；　and　held

up　the　drawing　as　if　for　his　inspection。　　A　roar　of　applause　broke

from　the　audience；　a　cry　of　warning　and　exasperation　from　the

attendants；　as　the　goaded　bull　suddenly　charged　the　stranger。　　But

he　sprang　to　one　side　with　great　dexterity；　made　a　courteous

gesture　to　the　matador　as　if　passing　the　bull　over　to　him；　and

still　holding　the　paper　in　his　hand；　re…leaped　the　barrier；　and

rejoined　the　audience　in　safety。　　I　did　not　wait　to　see　the　deadly；

dominant　thrust　with　which　the　matador　received　the　charging　bull；

my　eyes　were　following　the　figure　now　bounding　up　the　steps　to　the

balcony；　where　with　an　exaggerated　salutation　he　laid　the　drawing

in　Miss　Mannersley's　lap　and　vanished。　　There　was　no　mistaking　that

thin　lithe　form；　the　narrow　black　mustache；　and　gravely　dancing

eyes。　　The　audacity　of　conception；　the　extravagance　of　execution；

the　quaint　irony　of　the　sequel；　could　belong　to　no　one　but

Enriquez。



I　hurried　up　to　her　as　the　six　yoked　mules　dragged　the　carcass　of

the　bull　away。　　She　was　placidly　putting　up　her　book；　the　unmoved

focus　of　a　hundred　eager　and　curious　eyes。　　She　smiled　slightly　as

she　saw　me。　　〃I　was　just　telling　Mr。