Chapter XVI: The Señorita of the Window Pane

The fog lifted from Monterey Bay, for a few fleeting moments hung in aerial battlements over land and water, then dissolved in the alchemic sun-rays. The blue stretches of water laughed and sang on the beach. Soft southern winds purred among the crags which edged the ocean, rustled the tree branches, waved the flowers, rested on the tiled roofs of the white city, and fanned the calm-souled populace.

Another day had begun in the capital.

It was some minor feast day. The bells of the church on the town outskirts rang their call to service. A moment's silence. In the distance a clear note sounded, its limpid melody clinging in the air. Another note, and yet another, and another, until the breath of the countryside was resonant. It was the chimes of San Carlos Carmelo, a league away.

A young officer rode slowly along El Camino Real leading into Monterey from the north. A dozen or more mounted carbineers followed him.

Peon children stared curiously at the uniformed men, and whispered among themselves of the great caballero whose scabbard clinked against his silver-mounted stirrup with each forward movement of the horse.

"Whither bound, Señor Capitan Morando?" called a group of churchgoers.

"To the house of Colonel Barcelo."

"The Colonel and his señora are already in the church," some one said.

The Captain bowed and smiled, but continued his way.

He led his men to the square, then walked to the Barcelo mansion.

Benito, the porter, guarded the entrance.

"Have my unworthy eyes the honor of beholding Captain Morando, of San José?"

"I am Captain Morando, and I wish to see Señora Valentino."

"I am honored to lead you within." The man bowed low. "The señora is in the reception hall."

He conducted Morando to a large room opening directly on the courtyard. Wide doors lying ajar invited the refreshing air to enter, as well the morning sun.

"The Captain Morando," the porter announced.

"You are taking the sun, I see, señora."

"At my lazy ease, Captain. Please be seated."

They chatted for a little on different topics, till she said:

"Captain Morando, I spoke to you, the morning after Mendoza's baile, of the combined civil and military governorship of California when England comes. I sent for you to-day that I might talk this matter over further with you."

"I am highly flattered to call on Señora Valentino. A delightful woodland ride is followed by this more than delightful meeting." The young man placed his hand on his breast and inclined gracefully to the lady. She acknowledged the compliment by a single movement of the head.

"You do not forget that you have come this morning along El Camino Real--the King's Highway?"

"It is fit, truly, to be the highway of a king."

"Our Captain is appreciative. No?"

"In the past months I have followed it from San Diego to Sonoma, and have seen something of the magnificent framework of which this highway is the vertebræ."

The lustrous brown eyes smiled at him. "It has been traveled by vice-regal governor and Mexican envoy. This room received them. On that dais," pointing to a platform at the end of the apartment, "obeisance has been paid from the noblest the land held."

"Ah! this, then, was the state reception room," looking about with interest.

"Those straight-backed chairs along the wall held waiting grandees when California belonged to Spain; and governors for this province were sent from the homeland. Privy councils were held here. Agreements of state were formulated and signed here. Much of the history of California was made in this place. The house, from being the governmental palace, passed, in Mexican times, to private ownership."

"O, I see, señora."

"Captain, the old days must have been glorious, but, after all, they were but seeds of more significant times. The new governor will have vastly greater opportunity than the others ever dreamed of."

"I cannot doubt it, señora."

"Then, my Captain, be the first English governor in Monterey. The office will be yours for the taking."

"You speak to me, señora, of high office endowed with great power ready to my hand. Mindful as I am of your consideration, I could not, if I would, accept a place for which I have had no training, and for which I feel no aptitude."

"A modest captain! Your words do you credit, my soldier. But, you have not yet looked on all sides of the question. You would be the front of the incoming administration. Back of you would stand men who have had experience in applied statecraft, but who lack the unusual qualifications you possess successfully to represent English rule to the residents of this province."

"Still, señora, I would be occupying a position in which I would be entirely inexperienced."

"But think, Captain; consider. With time comes the experience."

"Again I thank you, señora. But, when I feel free to do so I shall leave California and seek a career elsewhere."

"California needs you. Castilian ideals and Castilian faith need you."

"I shall fail no duty, señora."

"But the governorship?" persistently.

"Señora, my friend, may I ask you to believe me when I say I could not accept it."

"Well, Captain, the formal offer, nevertheless, will come to you in a short time."

She touched a bell. Her maid entered.

"Atila, please bring us coffee and some of those dulces for which Alfonsa, the cook, is so famous."

The girl soon reappeared with a small table covered with a white cloth, and on which was dainty china ready for the serving. A pot of steaming coffee and a plate of freshly made sweet cake were added. A small vase of purple violets furnished adornment.

Gentle breezes stole into the room, carrying with them the nestling of the leaves in the patio and the perfume of the growing things.

"What a land of enchantment you have at your very side!" indicating the out-of-doors.

"Sometimes I fancy this to be a wishing-chair," indicating the one on which she was sitting. "Then the patio becomes unique. I often sit by the hour, and frame around it pictures of life as I would like to live it. That space outside is transformed into a jungle, the birds, my brothers and sisters, while the riotous colors embellish the leafy homes of the little people. Sweet woodsy odors refresh me, and I repose in the shady recesses, my heart singing the songs of Utopialand."

"Most pleasing fancies, indeed, my señora."

"They are my refuge. I lose myself in fancyland to crowd out other and unhappy memories." Her eyes grew troubled. Her face lost its curves of power.

"My dear Señora Valentino," began the soldier, his chivalry touched, "your husband is gone from you, but----"

Her gesture stopped him.

"I anticipate your words, Captain. It is not what I have lost that makes me sad. It is the absence of what forms the warp and woof of a woman's life, the things I have never had."

"What they can be I do not know, señora. I cannot imagine a life more filled than yours, except for the loss of----"

Again her gesture left his sentence incomplete.

"Captain Morando, forgive me if I say such words mock me."

"Señora, the world is at your feet. The bravest and the proudest court your smiles. At that ball in Madrid I saw our commander lead you to the king, and together they bowed over your hand, while the multitude applauded. Can you not even now hear them? 'Viva! Viva! the fairest and gentlest in the kingdom! Viva! Señora Valentino!'"

"Not that, Captain; not that," deprecatingly. "Praise from the lips fills not the heart. Five years ago a prima donna thrilled all Europe. King and subject alike did her homage. In Paris the noble were honored by drawing her carriage to the opera house, having detached the horses. Yet last year she died alone and heartbroken."

"But for you, my dear lady!"

"It almost overcomes me, Captain, when I look back over my life. I rarely have courage to do so." She knit her brows.

"You know Señora Barcelo is my half sister only?" abruptly.

"No, I did not."

"My father was an elderly man when he married my mother. His daughter, now Señora Barcelo, was then nearly grown. My mother died when I was three years old, my father, a few months later. I can scarcely remember either. My half sister married and went away. I was placed in the convent of Maria del Pilar, in Madrid."

"Maria del Pilar!"

She nodded.

"I was in the division of the convent assigned to the daughters of hidalgo worth. I was reared there, on the strictest monastic lines. I was naturally light-hearted. Perhaps my grave teachers did not understand me, for they fettered my spirit by restrictions most onerous. If they had only taken the little motherless child to their arms and kissed away the loneliness!

"One day I was in punishment for some infraction of discipline. The penalty was to remain alone in the dormitory, on the topmost floor of the building. I heard martial music in the square before the convent. I knew that the cadets of San Sebastian military school were drilling there."

"Why, señora, I----"

She continued. "The windows were stained except one pane, not a large one, which had been broken and replaced by plain glass. I climbed to it--the pane was rather high--and witnessed the military maneuvers. I remember the captain of one company as well as if it were yesterday, his youthful figure and trim uniform, his sword against his shoulder, his intent face."

Morando was listening closely.

"Whenever I could I watched that cadet corps at its evolutions on the plaza. Often I stole away from study to the dormitory.

"One day the captain saw me. He waved his sword. I tapped the glass. That formed a code of signals."

The soldier smiled.

"The years went on. I saw my young captain become a colonel; saw his smooth lip darken with mustachios. His eyes and sword flashed at me the first time he wore the colonel's chevrons.

"A firm hand on my shoulder startled me one day. 'Step down, señorita,' came the voice of our prefectress of discipline. 'Now let me see this great sight!' My colonel was waving his sword toward the window. He turned away when the new face came in view, but not in time to prevent the sister prefectress seeing the salutation.

"A council was called. My teachers decided that a very grave breach of discipline had been committed. The prefectress, even with inspection from a nearer window, could not designate the cadet who had waved his sword. 'How long has this continued?' they demanded. I told them. They were greatly shocked.

"I was ordered to point out the military student who had been so indiscreet as to carry on flirtation with a hidalgo's daughter in Pilar Convent. I refused to do so, nor could they overcome my will. I feared for him. The mother superior vowed she would have him 'broken.' She was the cardinal's sister, and all-powerful.

"My penalty soon came. The head of my family, a cousin, was called. He took as grave view of my conduct as had my teachers. 'A marriage must be arranged for the imprudent girl at once. A man of years and firmness should be found. This levity must yield to correction,' he decided.

"Colonel Valentino had been a widower for several years. He was my cousin's intimate friend. The wedding day was set before I even saw my future husband.

"I objected to the marriage, but the Spanish conventions of our class are as unyielding as stone. What could I do, but finally consent? At seventeen I found myself married to a man old enough to be my father. There was nothing in common between us. He meant to be kind. He was just, as he was courageous and able. I accompanied him on diplomatic missions and learned much, but knew no happiness. Then he went to Morocco, and death. I am here to work in a cause I believe to be right, but----"

She bowed her head. "If I gained the whole world for England, it would not fill one empty cranny of my heart."

Morando did not know what to say in response.

"I have never known a father's care, nor a mother's love. Add to this unhappy childhood. Add again a loveless and childless marriage, and you have my life."

"My dear señora! My dear señora!" His words stopped. He was standing before the lady, who also arose, her eyes flashing, her tones vibrating.

"I was in Constantinople, Great Britain's agent, when the news came of Colonel Valentino's death. I started at once for Spain. A storm raged on the Sea of Marmora. I took the wedding ring from my finger and threw it into the foam. The roar of the tempest and the shriek of the cordage was the requiem of that marriage-symbol. I wish I could bury the past and its memories as deep as is buried that ring. But memories will not down," she went on passionately. "Some unquiet spirit possesses them. They trouble my sleep at night; they walk with me in the day. And, O, my Captain, the future!" She closed her eyes with a little shudder, as if to blot out unpleasant sights.

"My dear lady, you forget what you are in the lives of others. Even that embryo soldier, the cadet of San Sebastian's, welcomed his colonelcy the more because the girl-face in the little diamond pane would brighten when she saw the uniform. The inspiration to win honors came in no small degree from that topmost spot of grim old Pilar Convent."

He looked intently at her, his voice throbbing with emotion.

"My señora, have you known--did you know--do you not----" His voice broke.

She said nothing, but her eyes searched his.

"O, señora--that night at the ball in Madrid--that night when you----"

"What, my Captain?"

His words came more steadily.

"When I saw you at General Guerrero's ball I was beset by voices from the past calling to me, persistently calling. I was introduced to you. The voices called louder. Still were they incoherent. The evening grew. I danced with you. I could not fathom the meaning of that call which sounded with increasing insistency. The days passed. I concluded that some wraith of dreams had hovered over me. At the merienda, when again introduced to you, I did not, for the moment, recognize the Señora Valentino of that military ball. You reminded me of our previous meeting, which I immediately recalled, the difference in your gown explaining my lack of recognition. As I talked with you the past spoke again to me, and in language I could not comprehend.

"O, señora, need I tell you that I was that cadet-lad who for three years waved his sword in greeting to the girl at the window! I have never forgotten you."

"But when the face did not again appear at the window?"

"I saw the stern visage replace yours, and afterward there was a blank. I had no way to reach you."

"Yes," calmly, "the incident was closed. My betrothal was arranged, and you started on your campaigns."

"I had no thought punishment would come to you."

"It came."

"My dear lady, I would have saved you at any cost had I known. My heart bleeds that I was in any way the cause of tragedy in your life."

"You are more than kind, Captain."

"I wish I could give back to you those lost years."

"Your wish is most generous, señor."

"Before an unwilling marriage should have been forced on you I would have scaled those barbed walls to bear you away with me, after the manner of the knights of old."

"But you did not know. The walls were unsealed. From the girls' dormitory I went into life--and such a life it has been! The soldier-lad's life was different."

Her bosom was heaving, her breath coming in quick catches. She crumpled into a chair, and covered her face with her hands.

"O, señora, señora!" moving a step nearer.

A storm of sobbing was the only reply.

He knelt by her side.

"O, señora! My dear señora!"

He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Look at me, my poor, crushed señorita of the window pane."

She let one hand drop to her side, the other reached to his. The velvet eyes brimming with tears looked piteously at him.

"I ask--I beg of you--O, señora----"

Somehow she came into his arms.

"Until to-day I never knew that you were the señorita of the window."

"You were the knight who went to the wars and left forlorn his lady."

A fresh sob convulsed her. The compelling personality of the señora was gone. The imperious, beautiful woman was submerged in a being clinging and tender.

The man made an effort to speak, but his tongue refused to obey. Finally: "Señora, I too am desolate. My sympathy for you is yet the greater because my own heart has been bereft. Señora----"

A heavy foot was on the vestibule floor. Colonel Barcelo entered.

"Benito, the scoundrel, asleep in the sun! Actually asleep! A pretty sentinel! 'Pon my soul! I smell coffee. I've had no breakfast and am hungry as a wolf."

He pushed forward.

"Why, here's Morando! Glad some one was here in my place to entertain you. My wife's sister hasn't felt herself since that confounded affair over on the Mendoza grant. He should be told of the birds of prey that infest the place. Time he should set those prize native riflemen of his to killing off such pests. Caramba! but that coffee smells good. Is there any of it left?"

Señora Barcelo had followed her husband into the room.

"Crisostimo! Why, you have not even said good morning to the Captain! Of course breakfast will be ready for us at once."

"I hope so! Hope so! Morando, I heard this morning the most wonderful sermon of my life. Something I didn't expect to be able to say in this town. Padre Osuna, of Mission San José, preached. 'Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not,' was his text. Applied it to the Indians of the province, our duties to them, and all that. I've never been so near heaven in my life as when he was speaking. Looked at my watch when he began--force of habit, you know. Looked again when he finished. 'Twas just fifty-seven minutes. I would have sworn it wasn't ten.

"Come in!" he called, in response to an insistent knock at the door.

It was Benito.

"A messenger from Señor Berryessa is at the outer gate. He seeks Captain Morando. Renegades last night attacked some outlying corrals, killed and wounded a number of vaqueros, then set off by starlight toward the eastern passes, taking many cattle and horses."

Morando hastened to the door.

"Pity you can't stay and have coffee with us," said Barcelo.

The Captain's spurs were already jingling on the pavement. "Adios!" he called back.

"A fine fellow, that!" the Colonel remarked. "Sorry I was out when he first came. In the new order I'll have men enough to crush out the renegades once for all. The Captain won't be run so off his feet then."