Captain from Castile (69 page)

So impressed was Carvajal by Pedro's wealth and prospects that, without hesitating too long, he had offered to use all his influence at court in behalf of Cortes's suit before the Emperor. He had even proposed to accompany Pedro north to Valladolid and lend him the weight of his personal support. In his pleasant reverie, the Marquis pictured Pedro's success, in which he would share. It was not too much to hope that the Emperor would recognize his merit with the grant of another fief.

A watchman's distant cry recalled the hour, and he realized that his guests would be soon arriving. Pedro had reached Jaen from Seville only that day and had been met some distance outside of town by his father, by the Marquis himself, and two-score other gentlemen. But he had not yet seen Luisa. Because of this, no outside guests had been invited to witness the betrothal that evening. It was good policy, the I Marquis reflected, to waste no time in making sure of Pedro before so eligible a young man proceeded to court.

Apropos of Luisa, he wondered suddenly where the devil she was. She ought to be downstairs now, and ready.

"If the silly jade," he fumed, "puts on her coquette airs tonight and keeps Their Excellencies waiting, I'll take my riding whip to her be-hmd if It's the last act of my life." 

He applied himself to the bellrope and sent up a servant in hot haste to tell her ladyship and Doiia Antonia that he expected them to attend him on the moment. Then, of course, he continued to wait and mutter

But this evening, for once, he might have spared his fidgets If there was a lookout at the judas downstairs, a tirewoman filled the same office at the window of the mirador. Luisa did not intend to be too early, but she would not for the world have missed standing with her father at the top of the stairs when Pedro entered.

Meanwhile, she gave the last touches to her charm.

"Was it orange blossom or rose water you used then?" Senora Hernandez queried.

"Orange, I think. But what difference does it make. Cousin?" 

"A huge difference. I'm surprised you don't know. You see people associate certain scents with certain hours and persons. Wouldn't you notice it if you went into a church that didn't smell of incense? And supposed Alonso Ponce forgot to put on hyacinth, woudln't he seem different? Well, eso es todo. If you smelled of rose or orange blossom when young de Vargas kissed your hand that evening in the garden, and if the hankerchief you gave him smelled of it, that's your scent for him. He expects it now--I don't mean thinks of it, my love. But if you wear another scent, he'll miss something."

Luisa frowned. "Lord save us, I can't remember. It was ages ago." She appealed to her maid. "Sanchita, do you remember?"

"I think it was rose, your ladyship."

"Why?" 

"Because Your Grace gave me your own vial half full for my nameday."

Luisa reflected. "I believe you're right, Sanchita. Yes, you're right. I did use rose a good deal at that time. Heaven reward you! I was just on the point of orange blossom. But if you're wrong, my wench--'' Luisa's tender eyes hardened. "Bring me a flask of rose.''

She apphed little dabs here and there.

"More on the neck and breast," Antonia advised. "I'll leave vou two alone of course. You won't find him as shy as he was once." 

Luisa smiled and made the necessary additions. But, considering her-self in the mirror, her face grew longer. 

"I wish I wasn't so plump. You can talk about perfume all you like but he can't help noticing the difference." She pecked at an invisible wrinkle on her throat. "I've got so old."

"Mv dear you're perfection!" returned the duenna. "If you'll let Sanchita take one more hitch in your lacings, you'll be as slender as you were at sixteen. Call twenty old, por Dios! But you could stand one more hitch."

Obediently Luisa embraced one of the bedposts, while the maid untied the laces planted a firm knee on Luisa's posterior, and threw weight and muscles into the backward pull. A slight bulge--notling to speak of--showed above and beneath the wooden stays of the corset. Luisa gasped, but an inch had been gained.

"Magnificent!" Antonia praised. "Now talk of being plump! No, Primacita, you are perfection, believe me. Soldiers like Captain de Vargas want no scrawny poppets in bed. And what skin, valgame dios! Like satin." With a pair of tweezers, she removed a single hair that disturbed the delicate arch of her cousin's eyebrow. "
So
, my love."

"A voluminous petticoat reaching to the floor now was dropped over Luisa's head; then an equally long and ample dress of crimson and gold brocade, the bodice molding the corset and buttoned in front with gold buttons. A small net of garnets and topazs slightly compressed the blackness of Luisa's curled hair. Earrings and other jewels were put on. A drop of belladonna widened her eyes into black pools.

Senora Hernandez glowed. "My darling, you are ravishing. I'd like to kiss you if it wasn't for the powder. Now let His Valor come! If he doesn't worship you in that gown, he's blind.
Hermosa
!"

Consulting the mirror again, Luisa agreed. "Yes the dress is becoming. I want him to love me. I can hardly wait. . .Dolores," she called to the girl at the wmdow, "don't you see any lights yet? No. Tell me again how he looked, Cousin. Handsome, you said--"

Dona Antonia had been sent that morning to watch Pedro's entry into town and report her impressions. From the window of the draper's shop, she had an excellent view.

"Yes," she nodded; "that is in a manly way. Not a bit like Alonso Poncle pf course. He looks older than he is. A little hard. Very much nobleman and captain. Nothing of a boy any longer."

"He was a sweet boy," Luisa reflected. " He sounds rather frightening."

"No, not that. But frankly, Primacita, I don't think he's a man to be trifled with. There was one thing I noticed. He has a big mouth, you remember, and a big smile. He came riding at a footpace beacuse of the crowd. Everybody cheering. Now and then he tossed a handful of silver and smiled. But his eyes didn't. He glanced my way, and I could see them--far-off, indifferent. Perhaps he was tired."

"I hope Alonso Ponce behaves," said Luisa. "What is he
has
been my
galan
? A gentleman ought to know when to step back."

"I shouldn't worry," Antonia's eyes danced. "He doesn't want to lose his precious life, my dear. Captain de Vargas will know how to protect his novia from annoyance."

"Yes," murmerd Luisa, "but perhaps--" She glanced at the maid and broke off.

The duenna laughed. "Poo, he hasn't grown up for nothing. Even if he hears of it, he'll think no worse of a little gallantry, provided it's finished. And he'll run his sword through the man who suggests you aren't as chaste as Diana....But I'm wondering," she added, changing the subject, "what kind of bethrothal ring he'll give you. I wager it's out of the ordinary."

Luisa forgot Ponce. "I wonder too. He must be very rich. I suppose he'll have to make over part of the gold to his father." Luisa was too much like the Marquis not to regret it. "Still I guess he's very rich, or Papa--"

"Lights! Torches!," yelped the girl at the window of the mirador. "They're coming my lady."

With a vast rustle, Luisa and Antonia swept out of the room and down the stairs, where they met a second messenger from the frantic Marquis.

However, there was no time for scolding. With the long-prepared smile on his lips and Luisa on his arm, the Marquis de Carvajal took up position at the top of the reception stairs. The lookout at the judas dropped back. Nicolas and Juan laid hold of the door rings. The flunkeys lined the steps, prepared to bow. The doors slowly opened. Behind them showed the flaring of many torches; and out of the light, the expected figures entered: Dona Maria, plump and important, against the knightly leaness of the Alcalde, and behind them a tanned gentleman in gorgeous clothes by the side of the priest who would witness the betrothal; then several attendents, including a pair of tall Indians horrifically plumed. 

"Vamos! Now!" signaled Julio Brica.

Except for one awkward back, upon which the major-domo longer to lay his staff, the household did honor to the Carvajal Palace.

 LXXV

But upon Pedro de Vargas, the ordered lines of bowing servants made only a vague impression. He moved in a cunous unreality that telescoped the past and present. He was the lad who four years ago had sought shelter here and had been refused. He was the fugitive who haa once dreamed of such welcome as the crowning pinnacle of desire. He was the man, rich and feted, who now returned in a triumph that beggered anything he had imagined. For a moment, the various phases intermingled. The dream, too completely realized, still had the semblance of a dream.

As he mounted the broad stairs, his eyes were on Luisa. He had expected to be disappointed, afraid that memory had idealized her. But no, standing there in gold and crimson, she seemed more beautiful than his fancy had recalled, a queen perhaps rather than a princess, but more breath-taking in her maturity. Here, too, the actual left imagination behind.

On the landing, after Dona Maria had been received, he replied to Luisa's deep curtsy with a bow such as he would have made to an empress, a bow enhanced by the splendor of the court suit he had purchased in Seville. Then, dropping to one knee, he raised her hand to his lips.

"You see, I have kept my promise, senora." 

Rising, he bowed to Dona Antonia, and was warmly embraced by the Marquis.

It was a flawless scene, which Julio Brica in the background considered equal to the occasion. 

Don Francisco, who had done his best that day to keep from bursting with pride, exclaimed to Luisa: "A fe mia, senora, you are so enchanting tonight that I would kneel to you myself. But it would be a creaky business and I had best leave it to young joints.... Senora Hernandez your servant, madam." And to the Marquis: "Well, old friend, we've looked forward to this a long time; but, on my honor, it was worth waiting for."

The Marquis cordially agreed. He gave his arm to Dona Maria and led his guests into the state
sala
facing the entrance. It was huge, tapestried, and glimmering with candles. The parish priest followed in a sweat of humility.

Pedro was absorbed by Luisa. How had he ever been able for one moment to forget her? Surely it was by the grace of God that he hadbeen led back through the ups and downs of fortune to his true allegiance. Gracias a Dios!

Of course there was the inevitable small talk. Had the voyage been pleasant? Tell them of New Spain. On that topic, he found himself talking too readily; for, though Don Francisco and Dona Maria drank in every word, and the Marquis combed his beard in attention, Luisa's eyes wandered.

"What funny names!" she smiled. And at another point, "General Cortes sounds sweet.''

It was a remark which somehow forced him to change the subject.

A footman with a salver passed wine.

Then a pause came. The Marquis exchanged nods with Don Francisco. The solemn moment had struck; and, while Doiia Maria expanded with pride, and the old gentlemen looked sentimental, Pedro took Luisa's hand. How soft it felt, how small!

"I, Pedro, will take you, Luisa, for my wife."

"And I, Luisa, will take you, Pedro, for my husband."

De Vargas motioned to one of the panached Indians, who brought a small case. He opened it and drew out a heavy gold ring set with one huge emerald. It was part of his loot in the taking of Tenochtitlan.

No amount of training could hide the dazzlement in Luisa's eyes. She held the ring up in the candlelight.

"But, sefior, how glorious! How beautiful!"

"If it pleases you, it is indeed glorious. It belonged to an Aztec prince, one Guatemozin." But he could see that she wasn't listening, and he broke off.

The Marquis begged for a nearer look. An expert in jewels, he guessed at the value—between four and five thousand pesos. In contrast, the rose diamond which Luisa now presented to Pedro, thus completing the ritual exchange of rings, seemed insignificant. But Carvajal, in a whispered aside to Dona Maria, spoke of it as a family heirloom; and Pedro, pushing it halfway up his finger, kissed it gallantly.

The betrothal goblet was now brought. Luisa drank first, her eyes on Pedro. Then de Vargas, turning the cup to the place her lips had touched, drank in turn.

After they had kissed and the priest had given his blessing in behalf of the Church, the betrothal was complete.

Complete. It struck Pedro suddenly that by this very act his whole life was changed. Feeling the seriousness of the moment, he winced upon finding Luisa already back to her ring, turning it this way and that.

The doors at the end of the sala were thrown wide upon a supper room opening onto the terrace. With apologies by Carvajal for the simpHcity of the entertainment and with compHments on the part of his guests, the company betook itself to a table heavy with wine, friiit, and silver, and lighted by massive candelabra.

Seated at Luisa's left, Pedro watched the play of the candles on her face. She was almost too beautiful. He found himself wishing that he could have found at least one imperfection.

The Marquis, silver goblet in hand, now stood up and made a speech of congratulation. It was long and polished. He sipped the words in a fashion that reminded Pedro of his last visit to the palace when Carvajal had preached on a different text. De Vargas had grown wiser since then. He saw perfectly through the shallow, pretentious man and wondered behind his polite smile how such a father could have produced such a daughter.

"I have an eye for men," said the Marquis. "It is the single talent upon which I venture to pride myself. At the beginning of my acquaintance with Captain de Vargas, I once had the honor of receiving him in my chamber. Rightly he turned to me, the old and devoted friend of your noble house, senores, for redress against an injustice which even now fills me with indignation," Carvajal paused to control his feeling. "How touched I was by his confidence! How eagerly I placed myself at his service! But that is beside the point. What I would say is that even then I clearly discerned his future greatness. 'There,' I said, 'is a cavalier born for success and fame.' "

"Why, bless my soul!" thought Pedro. "What an old cockroach it is!" He could not help glancing at Luisa, whose eyes were on the emerald. In view of their marriage, he must accept Carvajal's hypocrisy. Why quarrel with a man to whom sincerity and insincerity were the same thing? "My greatness!" he reflected. "Because Coatl handed me a weight of gold. That's my greatness."

"And so, illustrious friends," the Marquis concluded, "I drink to this happy occasion and to the union of our two houses."

At the touch of his wife's foot under the table, Don Francisco gave a start and a hurried amen, evidently under the impression that he was in church. With advancing years, he often grew drowsy in the evening. Then, to cover up his slip, he drank the health with a flourish and remarked : —

"On my honor, Don Luis, you have the gift of eloquence. I cannot put my tongue to such choice phrases, being only a humdrum soldier. But in plain language I thank you. May God bless our children and,"

he added with a wink, "bring us a strapping grandson before the year's out!"

The ladies blushed, and the Marquis smiled, indulgent of his noble friend's limitations.

Talk drifted on, with Don Francisco trying to show his son off on the subject of America. It was not difficult. Pedro's face took on a different cast when he spoke of the New World, of the company, of the beloved captains. But at last, seeing the vagueness in Luisa's eyes, he stopped.

"Ladies, my humble excuses. I tire you."

"Ah, no, sefior."

"Well then, I tire myself." He glanced at the moonlit terrace beyond the threshold of the room. "To discuss old wars on such a night! Beautiful sefioras, if you would invite me to a view of the garden. Remember, I have not seen it for a long time."

The old people exchanged knowing glances.

"By all means," said Carvajal. "Mars cannot compete with Cupid on such a night, nor age with youth. Their Excellencies and I will debate the past and let you young ones debate the future in the garden." He added with a twitch of the eyebrow that Seiiora Hernandez understood perfectly, "Dona Antonia, remember your duty."

"Of course, my lord."

And of course, after a few turns up and down the terrace, she excused herself for a moment. Luisa and Pedro wandered down from terrace to terrace and were soon lost in the mazes of the garden.

It was exactly as he had remembered it: the shadowy masses of foliage, the moonlit spaces between, the heavy scent of flowers. A nightingale, hidden in some dark thicket, took up its call.

Yes, destiny had kept faith with Pedro de Vargas. From that first moment of the ray of light in church, through all the ways and days, it had led him to this hour, had crossed every t and dotted every i of the contract—even down to the nightingale. He had reached the perfect goal. Now was the time to take up the thread broken ofT four years ago, continue on the same tone of romance and chivalry, kneel at the feet of his Lady of Honor, and express himself in the grand manner.

But suddenly, with a queer shock, as if he had bumped up against an unexpected wall, he realized that he could not. He had seen too much, lived too hard. Here was his Lady of Honor at the end of the quest, and he hadn't the proper words for her. Destiny had done everything except restore his boyish point of view.

Clearly Luisa expected the former romantic commonplaces. She murmured: "Well, Sir Cavalier, you have kept your vow. In arms and in love you have been faithful." (She spoke her piece so tenderly that no one could have guessed how often she had rehearsed it.) "My prayers have brought you back to me."