Only one individual shared in Michael's heart the unbounded friendship he felt for his chief. This privileged being was a Breton sailor, gloomy and taciturn, who formed a complete antithesis to him, and whom, owing to his slowness, the crew had favoured with the characteristic name of Bowline, which he had accepted, and was so accustomed to answer to it, that he had almost forgotten the name he previously bore.
The service the Count had done Michael, the latter had rendered to Bowline: hence he was attached to the Breton through this very service, and while mocking and teasing him from morning till night, he had a sincere friendship for him.
The Breton understood Michael, and so far as his reserved and slightly demonstrative nature permitted, he testified on every occasion his gratitude to the Basque, by letting himself be completely directed and governed by him in all the actions of his life, without ever attempting to revolt against the frequent exorbitant demands of his mentor.
If we have dwelt so long on the character of these two men, it is because they are destined in the course of this work to play an important part; and the reader must be acquainted with them, in order to understand the facts we shall have to record.
The Count and his sailor continued to advance along the streets, the one reflecting and amusing himself the other remaining, through respect, a few paces in the rear, and desperately smoking a pipe, whose stem was so short that the bowl almost touched his lips.
While walking thus straight before them, the promenaders soon reached the end of the town, and turned into a lane bordered by aloes, which led, with a rather steep incline, to the top of a hill, whence could be enjoyed the entire panorama of the bay of Algeciras, which, we may remark in a parenthesis, is the finest in the world.
It was about two in the afternoon, the hottest moment of the day. The sun profusely poured down its torrid beams, which made the pebbles in the road sparkle like diamonds.
Hence everybody had gone within doors to enjoy the siesta, so that, since landing, the two sailors had not met a living creature; and if the Arabian Nights, which were not translated till a century later, had been known at the time, the Count, without any great effort of the imagination, might have believed himself transported to that city where all the inhabitants had been sent to sleep by a wicked impostor, so complete was the silence around him, while the landscape had the aspect of a desert. To complete the illusion, the breeze had fallen, there was not a breath of air, and the vast expanse of water stretched out at their feet was as motionless as if composed of ice.
The Count stopped, pensively gazing with an absent eye at his frigate, which at this distance was scarce as large as a skiff.
Michael smoked more than ever, and admired the country with straddling legs, and his arm behind his back, in that position so liked by sailors.
"Hilloh!" he said suddenly.
"What is the matter with you?" the Count asked him, as he turned round.
"Nothing the matter with me, Captain," he replied, "I am only looking at a lady who is coming up here at a gallop. What a fancy to go at that pace in such a heat as this."
"Where is she?" asked the Count.
"Why, there, Captain," he said, stretching out his hand to larboard.
The Count turned his eyes in the direction which Michael indicated to him.
"Why, that horse has bolted," he exclaimed, a moment later.
"Do you think so, Captain?" the sailor remarked, calmly.
"Zounds! I am certain of it. Look, now that she is nearer to us. The rider is clinging despairingly to the mane. The unhappy girl is lost!"
"Very possibly," Michael said, philosophically.
"Quick, quick, my lad!" the Captain shouted, as he rushed to the side where the horse was coming up. "We must save the lady, even if we perish!"
The sailor made no answer; he merely took the precaution of withdrawing his pipe from his mouth and placing it in his pocket, and then he set out at a run behind his captain.
The horse came on like a whirlwind. It was a barb of the purest Arab race, with a small head, and legs fine as spindles. It bounded furiously with all four legs on the narrow path it was following, with eyes full of flashes, and apparently snorting fire through its dilated nostrils. The lady on its back, half reclining on its neck, had seized its long mane with both hands, and, half insane with terror, as she felt herself lost, she uttered stifled cries at intervals.
Very far in the rear, several horsemen, who formed almost imperceptible dots on the horizon, were coming up at full speed.
The track on which the horse was engaged, was narrow and rocky, and led to a precipice of frightful depth, toward which the animal was dashing with a headlong speed.
A man must either be mad, or endowed with a lion's courage, to try and save this unhappy woman under such conditions, when he had ninety-nine chances in a hundred of being crushed, without succeeding in rescuing her from death.
The two sailors, however, made no reflections of this nature, and without hesitation resolved to make a supreme effort. They stood facing each other on either side of the track, and waited without exchanging a word. They understood one another.
Two or three minutes elapsed, and then the horse passed like a tornado; but with the speed of thought the two men dashed forward, seized it by the bridle, and, hanging their whole weight on it, allowed themselves to be dragged onward by the furious animal.
There was for a moment a terrible struggle between intelligence and brute strength. At length the brute was conquered. The horse stumbled, and fell panting on the ground.
At the moment of its fall, the Count removed in his arms, the lady so miraculously saved, and he bore her to the side of the road, where he respectfully laid her down.
Terror had certainly deprived her of consciousness.
The Count guessing that the horsemen coming up, were relations or friends of her to whom he had just rendered so great a service, repaired the disorder in his clothes and awaited their arrival, while gazing admiringly at the young lady lying at his feet.
She was a charming young creature, scarce seventeen years of age, with a delicate waist, and marked and adorably beautiful features; her long black silky hair had escaped from the comb that confined it and fell in perfumed curls over her face, on which a slight flush presaged a speedy return to life.
The young lady's dress, which was very rich and remarkably elegant, would have led to the supposition that she was of high rank, had not the stamp of aristocracy, spread over her entire person, removed all doubts on that score.
Michael, with his characteristic coolness which nothing ever upset, had remained by the side of the horse which, calmed by the fall and trembling in all its limbs, had allowed itself to be raised without offering the slightest resistance; the Basque after removing the saddle, had plucked a wisp of grass, and began rubbing the horse down, while admiring it, and muttering every now and then.
"I don't care, it's a noble and beautiful animal! It would have been a pity had it rolled over that frightful precipice; I am glad it is saved."
The worthy sailor did not think the least bit in the world of the young lady, for his entire interest was concentrated on the horse.
When he had finished rubbing down, he put the saddle and bridle on again and led the horse up to the Count.
"There," he said with an air of satisfaction, "now the horse is calm; poor creature, a child could guide it with a thread."
In the meanwhile the horsemen rapidly approached, and soon came up to the two French sailors.
CHAPTER VI
In the meanwhile the horsemen rapidly approached, and soon came up to the two French sailors.
CHAPTER VI
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT
These horsemen were four in number. Two of them appeared to be persons of importance, the other two were domestics.
On coming within a few steps of the Count, the first two dismounted, threw their bridles to the footman and advanced, hat in hand, towards the gentleman, whom they saluted with exquisite politeness.
The Count courteously returned their greeting, while taking a side-glance at them.
The first was a man of about sixty; he was tall, his demeanour was graceful and his face appeared handsome at the first glance, for the expression was imposing, although gentle and even kind. Still, on examining it with greater attention, it was possible to see from the gloomy fire of his glance, which seemed at times to emit magnetic flashes, that this gentleness was merely a mask intended to deceive the vulgar; his projecting cheek bones, his wide retiring forehead, his nose bent like a bird's beak and his square chin denoted a cold cruelty blended with a strong dose of obstinacy and pride.
This man wore a handsome hunting dress covered with lace, and a heavy gold chain, called a fanfaronne, was passed several times round his ostrich plumed hat.
This fanfaronne had been brought into fashion by the adventurers who returned from New Spain; and though very ridiculous, it had been enthusiastically adopted by the haughty Castilians.
This gentleman's companion, much younger than he, but dressed quite as richly, had one of those faces whose features at the first glance appear so commonplace and insignificant, that you do not take the trouble of looking at them, and an observer might pass close by without seeing them, but his small grey eyes sparkling with cleverness, half hidden under bushy eyebrows, and the curl of his thin sarcastic lip, would have completely contradicted any physiognomist, who might take this person for a man of common intellect and ordinary capacity.
The elder of the two riders bowed a second time.
"Sir," he said, "I am the Duc de Peñaflor; the person whose life you have saved by running such a risk of losing your own, is my daughter, Doña Clara de Peñaflor."
As the Count came from Languedoc, he spoke Spanish as purely as his mother tongue.
"I am delighted, sir," he replied with a graceful bow, "at having served as the instrument of providence to preserve a child for her father."
"I think," the second rider observed, "that it would be as well to offer Doña Clara some succour; my dear cousin seems to be seriously indisposed."
"It is only emotion," the young man replied; "that caused this fainting fit, which, if I am not mistaken, is beginning to wear off."
"Yes indeed," said the Duke, "I think I saw her make a slight movement, it will be better not to trouble her, but let her regain her senses quietly; in that way, we shall avoid a shock whose results are sometimes very dangerous to delicate and nervous organisations, like that of my dear child."
All this was spoken with a cold, dry, steady voice, very different to what a father ought to have employed, whose daughter had just miraculously escaped death.
The young officer did not know what to think of his real or feigned indifference.
It was only Spanish hauteur. The Duke loved his daughter as much as his proud and ambitious nature allowed him to do, but he would have been ashamed to let it be seen, especially by a stranger.
"Sir," the Duke resumed a moment later, as he stepped aside to display the gentlemen who accompanied him, "I have the honour of presenting to you my cousin and friend, Count Don Stenio de Bejar y Sousa."
The two gentlemen bowed to each other.
The Count had no motive to maintain an incognito, and saw that the moment had arrived to make himself known.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I am Count Ludovic de Barmont Senectaire, Captain in the Navy, and commanding the French frigate the Erigone, now anchored in Algeciras Bay."
On hearing the Count's name pronounced, the Duke's face turned frightfully pale; he frowned till his eyebrows joined, and he gave him a strangely meaning glance.
But this emotion did not last longer than a flash: by a violent effort of the will the Spaniard thrust back to the bottom of his heart, the feelings that agitated him; his previous impassiveness returned to his face, and he bowed with a smile.
The ice was broken between the three gentlemen, for they saw they were equals; their manner at once changed, and they became as affable as they had at first been stiff and reserved.
The Duke was the first to renew the conversation in the most friendly voice.
"You are doubtless taking advantage of the truce made a short time back, between our two nations, my lord, to visit our country?"
"Pardon me, my lord Duke, I was not aware that hostilities had ceased between our two armies. I have been at sea for a long time, and without news of France; chance alone brought me to this coast a few hours ago, and I sought shelter in Algeciras Bay, to await a change of wind to pass the Straits."
"I bless the accident, Count, since I owe to it my daughter's safety."
Doña Clara had opened her eyes, and, though still very weak, she was beginning to account for the position in which she found herself.
"Oh," she said, in a soft and humorous voice, and with an inward shudder, "had it not been for that gentleman, I should be dead!" and she attempted to smile, while fixing on the young man her large eyes full of tears, with an expressive gratitude it is impossible to describe.
"How do you feel, my daughter?" the Duke asked. "I am quite well, now, I thank you, papa," she replied; "when I felt that Moreno no longer obeyed the bit, and was running away, I believed myself lost, and terror caused me to faint; but where is my poor Moreno?" she added a moment after, "Has any misfortune happened to him?"
"Reassure yourself, señorita," the Count replied with a smile, and pointing to the horse, "here he is, all right, and quite calmed; if you like you can ride back on him without the slightest apprehension."
"I certainly will mount my good Moreno," she said, "I bear him no ill will for his prank, although it nearly cost me dear."
"My lord," the Duke then said, "I venture to hope that we shall not part thus, and that you will deign to accept the cordial hospitality which I offer you at my castle."
"My time is not my own, unfortunately, my lord Duke, and duty demands my immediate presence on board. Be assured I deeply regret my inability to accept your kind offer."
"Do you then expect to set sail so soon?"
"No, sir; on the contrary, I hope," he replied, laying a certain stress on the words, "to remain here some time longer."
"In that case," the Duke remarked with a smile, "I do not consider myself beaten. I am certain we shall meet again soon, and become more intimate acquaintances."
"That is my most eager desire, sir," the young man said, taking a side glance at Doña Clara, who hung her head with a blush.
The Count then took leave, and proceeded in the direction of Algeciras, while the horsemen slowly retired in exactly the opposite direction.
The Captain walked on very thoughtfully, reflecting on the singular adventure of which he had so suddenly been the hero; recalling the slightest details, and admiring in memory the beauty of the young lady, whose life he had been so fortunate as to save.
Being constantly absorbed by the thousand claims of his rude profession, and nearly always at sea, the Count, though almost twenty-five years of age, had never yet loved; he had not even thought about it; the few women he had hitherto met had produced no effect on his heart, his mind had always remained free in their presence, and no serious engagement had as yet disturbed its tranquillity. Hence it was with a certain terror mingled with astonishment, that while reflecting on the meeting which had suddenly interrupted his quiet walk, he perceived that the beauty of Doña Clara and her gentle voice had left a powerful impression on his mind, that her image was ever present, and that his memory with implacable fidelity ever recalled even its apparently most indifferent details, the short interview he had had with her.