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Web of the Golden Spider, The

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<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> <h3>’Twixt Cup and Lip</h3> He took her in his arms and she lay there very quietly, her head upon his shoulder, in the lethargy of exhaustion. She clasped her hands about his neck as a very tired child would do. The curve of her cheek lay near his lips and, though he yearned to do so, he would not kiss it. He did not speak to her, but was satisfied to hold her there in silence. The feel of her heart beating against his, the warmth of her breath as it brushed his bare throat, the perfume of her hair––those things were enough now. After the last long weeks of doubt, after the last day of gruelling fear, after the terror of the last half hour, such things as these were soul-satisfying. So he allowed himself to stand a few minutes there in this dark cell which to him had become suddenly fairer than any garden. Then he spoke softly to her: “Come,” he said, “we will go out into the sunshine now.” She raised her head, looking at him through half-closed eyes. “I––I don’t want to move, David.” He unclasped the hands from about his neck and, placing an arm about her waist, led her slowly out 201 into the corridor. She followed his guidance, resting her weight upon him. And he who had come into this foul place in terror and despair walked out in a dizzy bewilderment of joy. As he passed the open door of Sorez’ cell he hesitated. The evil prompting of his heart was to pass by this man––so to let him go forever out of his life. He had but to move on. He could find a refuge for the girl where she would be safe from this influence, but this would not be possible if he stopped to take Sorez with them. Once the girl knew the man was alive and in this condition her sympathies would be so aroused that she would never desert him. Wilson knew that he must decide instantly. To leave that prison without him was to leave him to his death. He turned towards the cell door; he had promised. The man had evidently recovered his strength somewhat, for he sat upon the edge of the wooden bunk staring about him. He was alone in the cell––the Priest was gone! On the whole, Wilson was glad of this. He felt the better for not having the burden of his death, however richly it was deserved, upon his hands. The girl apparently was still in too much of a daze to recognize Sorez. Wilson spoke to him. “Can you walk?” “God,” he cried. “Who are you? You speak English!” Wilson repeated his question impatiently. “If you can walk, follow me and I’ll take you out of this hole.” <div>202</div> The man tottered to his feet, groping with his hand along the wall. “Here,” said Wilson, overcoming a shrinking repugnance he now felt for the man, “take my arm.” Sorez grabbed it and with this much help was able to get along. And so, with the girl he loved upon one arm and the man he hated upon the other, Wilson made his way along the slippery subterranean galleries. He was practically carrying them both, but the lightness of the one almost made up for the burden of the other. The only thing for which he prayed was that none of those whimpering things he had loosed from their cells should cross his path. This was granted; for all he saw or heard he might have been treading the catacombs. When he came again into the sunlight he was blinded for a second, while the other two clapped their hands over their eyes, suffering for quite a few moments intense pain. Except for being a bit pale, the girl did not look badly. Her hair had become loosened and her gown begrimed, but Wilson still saw her as she was that night when she lay curled up asleep in the big chair. As for Sorez, whether it was the pain of the torture or what, his hair, which before was an iron gray, had turned almost white. The three made their way across the courtyard and again into the palace. He heard noise and confusion on the floors above. The halls were rank with the smell of powder. As they went on they found the floor covered with splinters, and on either side saw the 203 panels rent and torn as though by a huge iron claw. There was still hoarse shouting and the occasional snap of a pistol above, which showed that Stubbs had not yet succeeded in controlling the men. He had no idea as to where it was possible to take the girl and Sorez, but he hoped that he might come upon a room in the palace here where it would be safe to leave them until it was possible to get out into the city. Perhaps, too, if he reached the entrance, he might find Stubbs. Sorez was beginning to weigh heavily upon his arm, and he resented having to sacrifice to him any of the strength he needed for the girl. So he staggered on to the very room where a short while before he had fought for his life. But here he was checked by a noise from without––cheering as from the advance of several hundred men. Was it possible that reënforcements had arrived for the government? If so, this meant immediate danger. They would exact vengeance swiftly and surely upon any man known to be associated with the revolution. This would leave the girl in as bad a plight as that from which he had just rescued her. He shook off Sorez and, picking up the girl, started into the small anteroom; but before he was out of sight the first of the soldiers had sprung up the steps. With an oath three of the men seized him and drew him back, the girl still in his arms, to the door. Jo roused herself and struggled to her feet, facing the strange soldiers without a sign of fear. Wilson reached his holster, but the girl checked his hand, realizing, even in her torpid 204 condition, the uselessness of it. In a minute others flocked up the stairs and around them with noisy demonstration, and soon, following these, the main body of the regiment with a snappy gray-haired officer at their head. The crowd, save for the two guards, gave way from before the trio and left them confronting their leader. By some description of Danbury’s or by instinct, Wilson recognized him as none other than Otaballo. This then was the main body of the Revolutionists! Before he had time to speak Wilson saw that his own identity was beginning to dawn on Otaballo. He stepped forward and spoke the single word: “Americans?” The effect was magical. The soldiers drew back to respectful attention. “Americans,” answered Wilson. The general spoke in broken English. “How came you here?” “I am with Danbury,” answered Wilson. “The girl and the man were in the dungeons below.” “Ah! These are the two captured by the––the late government?” “Yes. I would like shelter for the girl. She is very weak.” “Dios! you shall have refuge at once.” He turned to one of his lieutenants and in Spanish gave his command. “In the name of the Queen seize the house opposite.” He turned back to Wilson. “I will leave you five men; is that enough?” <div>205</div> “Thanks.” Otaballo at the head of his men proceeded to sterner business, throwing out guards through the palace and making the victory secure. Half carrying the girl, Wilson followed the soldiers across the street. Two of them supported Sorez. The house opposite was empty, the occupants having deserted it at the approach of the enemy. It was a rambling, story-and-a-half structure, somewhat elaborately furnished. Wilson placed a guard at the front and rear of the place with orders to admit no one until he had first seen them, and then carried the girl upstairs. She was not asleep, but so nearly numb with the strain that she could neither think nor speak. It seemed to him that there was only one thing to do––let her sleep. Rest at present was more necessary than food. On the second story there was a fine large bedroom, with a big bed covered with snow-white linen. He placed her upon this. “Sleep as long as you wish,” he bade her, though he knew she scarcely heard his voice. “I shall be outside.” Before he closed the door he turned and saw her breathing deeply with closed eyes. It seemed only humane to care for Sorez. On the first floor he found a divan and, with the help of the soldiers, arranged him upon this, where he, too, was soon fast asleep. Then he returned to the second floor and, lying down before her door, was soon unconscious himself. How long he lay so he could not tell, but he was aroused by 206 the sound of shouting outside the house. Springing to his feet, he listened at her door; there was no sound. He opened it and looked within; she lay where he had left her, still sleeping. Going to the window he looked out and was surprised to find the street crowded with citizens. It must have been long after noon, as he could tell by the sun. From all appearances this was some sort of a patriotic demonstration before the old palace. He watched it with indifferent interest until a closed carriage drove up. At this moment he saw Stubbs himself step from the palace and at the side of Otaballo approach the carriage. Here was his opportunity to make known his whereabouts to his partner. He tiptoed to the stairs and descended to the first floor. He warned the guard at the exit once more to admit no one and hurried out to push his way to Stubbs’ side. The crowd recognized him as an American from his dress and opened up a path for him. But even so he would not have reached his goal had not Stubbs seen him and, with a glad shout of welcome neglected his diplomatic duties to grasp the hand of the man he thought dead. At this moment the princess herself stepped from the vehicle and, ignoring the applause of the multitude, turned her attention to Wilson. She hesitated a moment, and then addressed him, speaking faultless English: “Pardon me, but are not you one––one of Mr. Danbury’s friends?” “We both are,” answered Wilson. “Your name is–––” <div>207</div> “Wilson.” “Ah, how fortunate! It is you of all men I wished most to see. If–––” A shout from a thousand throats rent the air. She looked dazed. “If your Highness would bow,” suggested Otaballo. She turned to the gathering, smiled, and bowed. But her scant courtesy was scarcely finished before her eyes were again upon Wilson and the anxious look uppermost in them. “I must see you,” she commanded. “Follow me into the palace.” She raised the hem of her light dress and tripped up the stairs looking more like a schoolgirl than a queen. Wilson and Stubbs followed after Otaballo, who appeared somewhat worried. They entered the palace, and at her request a guard led them into the privacy of a small room––as it happened, the room which Wilson had twice before visited that day. “I asked you to come,” she began a bit nervously, “because you seemed to be the friend of whom Dicky talked to the last–––” “The last!” exclaimed Wilson. “Oh, not that,” she assured him, grasping his fear. “He isn’t––isn’t dead. But you knew he was wounded?” “No,” he answered quickly, “I had not heard.” “Before the palace here and––he was brought to me. His wound isn’t so very serious, the doctor says,––it’s in his leg and he won’t be able to walk for some time.” <div>208</div> “I am sorry for him,” said Wilson, sincerely. “If there is anything I can do–––” “There is! There is! I have had him carried to his boat. He was unconscious and the doctor gave him something to make him sleep.” “Drugged him?” he demanded roughly. “Only so that he would go quietly. Then I gave the sailors orders to sail back home with him.” “But why did you wish him to go back?” “I must tell you, and you will understand. Oh, please to understand! He wanted to––to stay and––and I wanted him to stay. I think if––if it hadn’t been for this trouble we––we would have been married. But now–––” “Your station forbids it,” he finished for her with a note of harshness in his voice. She answered very quietly––so quietly that it chided him. “No, it is not that. He doesn’t need any title men might give him. I would have him King––but my people would only kill him. That is the reason.” “Pardon me,” begged Wilson. “I––I did not understand.” “They are very jealous––my people. He would have many enemies here––enemies who wouldn’t fight fair.” “And he made you Queen for this!” gasped Wilson. “He didn’t know––did he?” “I should say not.” “Now I want you to talk to him if he returns, and 209 tell him he mustn’t come back and get killed. Won’t you?” “I will talk to him if I see him, but––he will come back just the same.” “He mustn’t. You don’t understand fully the danger.” “You couldn’t make him understand.” “Oh!” she cried. She put her clasped hands to her hot cheeks a moment. “If we could keep him away for a month––just a month. Then perhaps I could let someone else––be––be here.” “You mean to abdicate?” “Yes, couldn’t I? The General told me that if I didn’t send him away at once you would all be killed; but perhaps later––when things have quieted–––” “There will always be,” he warned, “a republic in the heart of your kingdom. The quieter––the more danger.” General Otaballo had remained in the rear of the room doing his best to control his impatience, but now he ventured to step forward. He saluted. “Pardon me, your Highness, but they wait to make you their Queen.” “Don’t! Don’t!” she pleaded. “Leave me for to-day just a maid of Carlina. To-morrow–––” “Your Majesty,” answered the General, with some severity, “to-morrow may be too late for all of us.” <div>210</div> “What do you mean?” she asked. “That the situation now is a great deal more serious than your Majesty seems to understand. We are victorious, yes. But it is as difficult to maintain a victory as to win one. To-day the crowd throw up their caps for Beatrice, but if Beatrice spurns them and ignores their loyal cheers, it takes but a trifle to turn their thoughts the other way. Let me escort your Majesty through the city; let me establish you in the palace which has been graced by so many of your kin; let them see you where their grandfathers saw your brave aunt, and the last drop of blood in their veins is yours.” She pouted like a child, her thoughts still upon other things than crowns of human make. “But I don’t want their blood. I don’t want to be Queen. I want to be left alone.” She looked out the window to the blue sky so full of gold and peace, where the birds tumbled at will, their throats bursting with song. “General,” she said, “leave me to-day, at any rate. That is all I ask,––just to-day.” “Your Majesty,” he answered slowly, “it is not mine to grant, not yours to take. Many things may happen in a night,––too many. There will be much talking in the cafés this evening, many gatherings of men, much afoot before dawn. The forces brought in by General Danbury already belong to anyone who will pay them. It is not his fault,––they fought well for their money; but now they are equally ready to fight again for someone else. You alone can hold 211 them to your cause. President Arlano escaped us and is doubtless busy. If we gain the crowd, we are safe against anything he may do; without the crowd, we are in jeopardy. Once the people see you crowned––once they can shout for Beatrice with her before their eyes, a living thing to fight for––they are ours forever.” “But–––” “Your Majesty has not fully considered the alternative; it is that you and I and all the brave men who fought to-day for you will be at the mercy of Arlano,––at the mercy of the man whose father slew your aunt,––at the mercy of the man who tortured to death Banaca. It is a bloody mercy we would get. Beside your own, a thousand lives depend upon what you do before night.” The girl drew back from him in fright. With the memory of her quiet yesterday in the sun; the drowsy yesterdays which preceded it; with the picture of this very man who in the past had never stood to her for anything but a pleasant companion at tea, the present situation seemed absurd and unreal. What was she that her insignificant actions should be of such moment? She had but one object in mind: to place Danbury without the power of all this strife, and she was even balked in that. For the first time she realized fully what a serious crisis he had precipitated. But it was too late for her to check its results. If she went now with General Otaballo, it would leave no possible outlet for her to avoid assuming the title of Queen; 212 she must mount the throne at once. To do this meant to give up the greatest thing in her life. There was no possible escape from it. Only by renouncing Danbury utterly, by keeping him from Carlina, could she save his life. The only alternative was to fly, but this meant the sacrifice of too many other lives dear to her. The loyal, aged man before her who had thrown the remnant of his years into the cause was in itself enough to banish such a thought from her mind. And this was what Dick had come across the seas to accomplish. It was a cruel jest of Fate. In his desire to secure for her all that he in his big heart thought she deserved, he had cheated her of the very thing her soul most craved. Yes, it was cruel, cruel. It would have been easier if he had not told her of his love, if he at least had left it a thing merely to be guessed at, a pleasant dream which she could have kept always as a sort of fairy possibility. Her cheeks lost their color as she faced the man who watched her with fatherly solicitude. He stood waiting like some Nemesis,––waiting with the assurance that she would act as all the royal women of her race had always acted, bravely and loyally. From without there came a fresh cheer from the impatient men who waited for her. “You hear?” he asked gently. Her lips scarcely moved. “Yes, I hear.” For a moment she smothered her face in her hands. This meant so much to her. It was not a matter of a 213 day, a week, a year; it was for a whole weary, lonesome lifetime. Then she faced him. “I will come,” she said. He raised her fingers to his lips. “Your Majesty has the blood of her race.” She turned a white face to Wilson. “That’s it,” she said. “They call me Queen, but you see how helpless I am. You must tell him this and you must not let him come back.” Otaballo held the door wide for her and she passed out. From the bottom of his heart Wilson pitied her, but this very pity brought to his mind that other woman whom he himself had left behind. He hurried out of the building after telling Stubbs where he could be found, and across the street. He took the stairs joyously, three at a time. The door of the room where he had left her stood open. The bed within was empty. <hr class='major' /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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