The Bandolero; Or, A Marriage among the Mountains Read online

  CHAPTER FOUR.

  A PAIR OF COUNTERPARTS.

  It was but a half-heart resolve, and failed me on the following day.

  Again did I traverse the Calle del Obispo; again scrutinise the windowsof the stuccoed mansion.

  As on the day before, the _jalousies_ were down, and my surveillance wasonce more doomed to disappointment. There was no face, no form, noteven so much as a finger, to be seen through the screening lattice.

  Shall I go again?

  This was the question I asked myself on the third day.

  I had almost answered it in the negative: for I was by this time gettingtired of the profitless _role_ I had been playing.

  It was perilous too. There was a chance of becoming involved in a maze,from which escape might not be so easy. I felt sure I could _love_ thewoman I had seen in the window. The powerful impression her eyes hadmade upon me, in twenty seconds of time, was earnest of what mightfollow from a prolonged observation of them. I could not calculate onescaping without becoming inspired by a passion.

  And what if it should not be reciprocated? It was sheer vanity, to haveeven the slightest hope that it might be!

  Better to give it up--to go no more through the street where the fairvision had shewn itself--to try and forget that I had seen it.

  Such were my reflections on the morning of the third day, after myarrival in the Angelic city.

  Only in the morning. Before twilight there was a change. The twilighthad something to do in producing it. On the two previous occasions Ihad mistaken the hour when beauty is accustomed to display itself in thebalconies of La Puebla. Hence, perhaps, my failing to obtain a view ofher who had so interested me.

  I determined to try again.

  Just as the sun's rays were turning rose-coloured upon the snow-crownedsummit of Orizava, I was once more wending my way towards the Calle delObispo.

  A third disappointment; but this time of a kind entirely different fromthe other two.

  I had hit the hour. The _doncella_--of whom for three days I had beenthinking--three nights dreaming--was in the window where I had firstseen her.

  One glance and I was completely disenchanted!

  Not that she could be called plain, or otherwise than pretty. She wasmore than passably so, but still only _pretty_.

  Where was the resplendent beauty that had so strangely, suddenly,impressed me?

  She might have deemed me ill-mannered, as I stood scanning her featuresto discover it; for I was no longer in awe--such as I expected herpresence would have produced. I could now look upon her, without fearof that possibly perilous future I had been picturing to myself.

  After all, the thing was easy of explanation. For six weeks we had beenamong the hills--in cantonment--so far from Jalapa, that it was onlyupon rare occasions we had an opportunity of refreshing our eyes with asight of the fair Jalapenas. We had been accustomed to see only thepeasant girls of Banderilla and San Miguel Soldado, with here and therealong the route the coarse unkempt squaws of Azteca. Compared withthese, she of the Calle del Obispo was indeed an angel. It was thecontrast that had misled me?

  Well, it would be a lesson of caution not to be too quick at falling inlove. I had often listened to the allegement, that circumstances havemuch to do in producing the tender passion. This seemed to confirm it.

  I was not without regret, on discovering that the angel of myimagination was no more than a pretty woman,--a regret strengthened bythe remembrance of three distinct promenades made for the expresspurpose of seeing her--to say nothing of the innumerable vagaries ofpleasant conjecture, all exerted in vain.

  I felt a little vexed at having thrown away my sword-knot!

  I was scarce consoled by the reflection, that my peace of mind was nolonger in peril; for I was now almost indifferent to the opinion whichthe lady might entertain of me. I no longer cared a straw about thereciprocity of a passion the possibility of which had been troubling me.There would be none to reciprocate.

  Thus chagrined, and a little by the same thought consoled, I had ceasedto stare at the senorita; who certainly stared at me in surprise, and asI fancied, with some degree of indignation.

  My rudeness had given her reason; and I could not help perceiving it.

  I was about to make the best apology in my power, by hastening away fromthe spot--my eyes turned to the ground in a look of humiliation--whencuriosity, more than aught else, prompted me to raise them once more tothe window. I was desirous to know whether my repentance had beenunderstood and acknowledged.

  I intended it only for a transitory glance. It became fixed.

  Fixed and fascinated! The woman that but six seconds before appearedonly pretty--that three days before I had supposed supremely beautiful--was again the _angel_ I had deemed her,--certainly the most beautifulwoman I ever beheld!

  What could have caused this change? Was it an illusion--some deceptionmy senses were practising upon me?

  If the lady saw reason to think me rude before, she had double causenow. I stood transfixed to the spot, gazing upon her with my eyes, mysoul--my every thought concentrated in the glance.

  And yet she seemed less frowning than before: for I was sure that shehad frowned. I could not explain this, any more than I could accountfor the other transformation. Enough that I was gratified with thethought of having, not idly, bestowed my sword-knot.

  For some time I remained under the spell of a speechless surprise.

  It was broken--not by words, but by a new _tableau_ suddenly presentedto my view. Two women were at the window! One was the pretty prude whohad well nigh chased me out of the street; the other, the lovely beingwho had attracted me into it!

  At a glance I saw that they were sisters.

  They were remarkably alike, both in form and features. Even theexpression upon their countenances was similar--that similarity that maybe seen between two individuals in the same family, known as a "familylikeness."

  Both were of a clear olive complexion--the tint of theMoriseo-Spaniard--with large imperious eyes, and masses of black hairclustering around their necks. Both were tall, of full form, and shapedas if from the same mould; while in age--so far as appearance went--theymight have been twins.

  And yet, despite these many points of personal similarity, in the degreeof loveliness they were vastly different. She who had been offended bymy behaviour was a handsome woman, and only that--a thing of Earth;while her sister had the seeming of some divine creature whose homemight be in Heaven!