_CHAPTER THIRTEEN_
Connor wakened in the gray hour of the morning, but beyond the windowthe world was much brighter than his room. The pale terraces went downto scattered trees, and beyond the trees was the water of the lake.Farther still the mountains rolled up into a brighter morning. A horseneighed out of the dawn; the sound came ringing to Connor, and he wassuddenly eager to be outside.
In the patio the fountain was still playing. As for the house, he foundit far less imposing than it had been when lantern light picked outdetails here and there. The walls and the clumsy arches were thedisagreeable color of dried mud and all under the arcade was dismalshadow. But the lawn was already a faintly shining green, and thefountain went up above the ground shadow in a column of light. He passedon. The outside wall had that squat, crumbling appearance which everyone knows who has been in Mexico--and through an avenue of trees he sawthe two buildings between which he had ridden the night before. From thelonger a man was leading one of the gray horses. This, then, was thestable; the building opposite it was a duplicate on a smaller scale ofthe house of David, and must be the servants' quarters.
Connor went on toward a hilltop which alone topped the site of themaster's house; the crest was naked of trees, and over the tops of thesurrounding ones Connor found that he commanded a complete view of thevalley. The day before, looking from the far-off mountaintop, it hadseemed to be a straight line very nearly, from the north to the south;now he saw that from the center both ends swung westward. The valleymight be twelve miles long, and two or three wide, fenced by an unbrokenwall of cliffs. Over the northern barrier poured a white line of water,which ran on through the valley in a river that widened above David'shouse into a spacious lake three or four miles long. The river beganagain from the end of the lake and continued straight to the base of thesouthern cliffs. Roads followed the swing of the river closely on eachside, and the stream was bridged at each end of the lake. His angle ofvision was so small that both extremities of the valley seemed a solidforest, but in the central portion he made out broad meadow lands andplowed fields checkering the groves. The house, as he had guessed theevening before, stood into the lake on a slender peninsula. And due westa narrow slit of light told of the gate into the Garden. It gave him acuriously confused emotion, as of a prisoner and spy in one.
He had walked back almost to the edge of the clearing when David, fromthe other side went up to the crest of the hill. Connor was alreadyamong the trees and he watched unobserved. The master of the Garden, atthe top of the hill, paused and turned toward Connor. The gamblerflushed; he was about to step out and hail his host when a secondthought assured him that he could not have been noticed behind thatscreen of shrubbery and trunks; moreover the glance of David Eden passedhigh above him. It might have been the cry of a hawk that made him turnso sharply; but through several minutes he remained without movingeither hand or head, and as though he were waiting. Even in the distanceConnor marked the smile of happy expectation. If it had been anotherplace and another man Connor would have thought it a lover waiting forhis mistress.
But, above all, he was glad of the opportunity to see David and remainunseen. He realized that the evening before it had been difficult tolook directly into David's face. He had carried away little more thanimpressions; of strength, dignity, a surface calm and strong passionsunder it; but now he was able to see the face. It was full ofcontradiction; a profile irregular and deeply cut, but the full face hada touch of nobility that made it almost handsome.
As he watched, Connor thought he detected a growing excitement inDavid--his head was raised, his smile had deepened. Perhaps he came hereto rejoice in his possessions; but a moment later Connor realized thatthis could not be the case, for the gaze of the other must be fixed ashigh as the mountain peaks.
At that instant came the revelation; there was a stiffening of the wholebody of David; his breast filled and he swayed forward and raised almoston tiptoe. Connor, by sympathy, grew tense--and then the miraclehappened. Over the face of David fell a sudden radiance. His hair, dullblack the moment before, now glistened with light, and the swarthy skinbecame a shining bronze; his lips parted as though he drank in strengthand happiness out of that miraculous light.
The hard-headed Connor was staggered. Back on his mind rushed a score ofdetails, the background of this picture. He remembered the almostsuperhuman strength of Joseph; he saw again the old servants witheringwith many years, but still bright-eyed, straight and agile. Perhapsthey, too, knew how to stand here and drink in a mysterious light whichfilled their outworn bodies with youth of the spirit, at least. AndDavid? Was not this the reason that he scorned the world? Here was histreasure past reckoning, this fountain of youth. Here was theexplanation, too, of that intolerable brightness of his eye.
The gambler bowed his head.
When he looked up again his soul had traveled higher and lower in oneinstant than it had ever moved before; he was staring like a child.Above all, he wanted to see the face of David again, to examine thatmysterious change, but the master was already walking down the hill andhad almost reached the circle of the trees on the opposite side of theslope. But now Connor noted a difference everywhere surrounding him. Theair was warmer; the wind seemed to have changed its fiber; and then hesaw that the treetops opposite him were shaking and glistening in aglory of light. Connor went limp and leaned against a tree, laughingweakly, silently.
"Hell," he said at length, recovering himself. "It was only the sunrise!And me--I thought--"
He began to laugh again, aloud, and the sound was caught up by thehillside and thrown back at him in a sharp echo. Connor wentthoughtfully back to the house. In the patio he found the table near thefountain laid with a cloth, the wood scrubbed white, and on it the heavyearthenware. David Eden came in with the calm, the same eye, difficultto meet. Indeed, then and thereafter when he was with David, he foundhimself continually looking away, and resorting to little maneuvers todivert the glance of his host.
"Good morrow," said David.
"I have kept you waiting?" asked Connor.
The master paused to make sure that he had understood the speech, thenreplied:
"If I had been hungry I should have eaten."
There was no rebuff in that quiet statement, but it opened another doorto Connor's understanding.
"Take this chair," said David, moving it from the end of the table tothe side. "Sitting here you can look through the gate of the patio anddown to the lake. It is not pleasant to have four walls about one; butthat is a thing which Isaac cannot understand."
The gambler nodded, and to show that he could be as unceremonious as hishost, sat down without further words. He immediately felt awkward, forDavid remained standing. He broke a morsel from the loaf of bread, whichwas yet the only food on the table, and turned to the East with a solemnface.
"Out of His hands from whom I take this food," said the master--"intoHis hands I give myself."
He sat down in turn, and Isaac came instantly with the breakfast. It wasan astonishing menu to one accustomed to toast and coffee for themorning meal. On a great wooden platter which occupied half the surfaceof the table, Isaac put down two chickens, roasted brown. A horn-handledhunting knife, razor sharp, was the only implement at each place, andfingers must serve as forks. To David that was a small impediment. Underthe deft edge of his knife the breast of one chicken divided rapidly; heate the white slices like bread. Indeed, the example was easy to follow;the mountain air had given him a vigorous appetite, and when Connor nextlooked up it was at the sound of glass tinkling. He saw Isaac holdingtoward the master a bucket of water in which a bottle was immersedalmost to the cork; David tried the temperature of the water with hisfingers with a critical air, and then nodded to Isaac, who instantlydrew the cork. A moment later red wine was trickling into Connor's cup.He viewed it with grateful astonishment, but David, poising his cup,looked across at his guest with a puzzled air.
"In the old days," he said gravely, "when my masters drank they spoke t
oone another in a kindly fashion. It is now five years since a man hassat at my table, and I am moved to say this to you, Benjamin: it ispleasant to speak to another not as a master who must be obeyed, but asan equal who may be answered, and this is my wish, that if I have doubtsof Benjamin, and unfriendly thoughts, they may disappear with the winewe drink."
"Thank you," said Connor, and a thrill went through him as he met theeye of David. "That wish is my wish also--and long life to you, David."
There was a glint of pleasure in the face of David, and they dranktogether.
"By Heaven," cried Connor, putting down the cup, "it is Medoc! It isChateau Lafite, upon my life!"
He tasted it again.
"And the vintage of '96! Is that true?"
David shook his head.
"I have never heard of Medoc or Chateau Lafite."
"At least," said Connor, raising his cup and breathing the delicatebouquet, "this wine is Bordeaux you imported from France? The grapeswhich made this never grew outside of the Gironde!"
But David smiled.
"In the north of the Garden," he said, "there are some low rollinghills, Benjamin; and there the grapes grow from which we make thiswine."
Connor tasted the claret again. His respect for David had suddenlymounted; the hermit seemed nearer to him.
"You grew these grapes in your valley?" he repeated softly.
"This very bottle we are drinking," said David, warming to the talk. "Iremember when the grapes of this vintage were picked; I was a boy,then."
"I believe it," answered Connor solemnly, and he raised the cup with areverent hand, so that the sun filtered into the red and filled theliquid with dancing points of light.
"It is a full twenty years old."
"It is twenty-five years old," said David calmly, "and this is the bestvintage in ten years." He sighed. "It is now in its perfect prime andnext year it will not be the same. You shall help me finish the stock,Benjamin."
"You need not urge me," smiled Connor.
He shook his head again.
"But that is one wine I could have vowed I knew--Medoc. At least, I cantell you the soil it grows in."
The brows of the host raised; he began to listen intently.
"It is a mixture of gravel, quartz and sand," continued Connor.
"True!" exclaimed David, and looked at his guest with new eyes.
"And two feet underneath there is a stone for subsoil which is a sort ofsand or fine gravel cemented together."
David struck his hands together, frankly delighted.
"This is marvelous," he said, "I would say you have seen the hills."
"I paid a price for what I know," said Connor rather gloomily. "Butnorth of Bordeaux in France there is a strip of land called theMedoc--the finest wine soil in the world, and there I learned whatclaret may be--there I tasted Chateau Lafite and Chateau Datour. Theyare both grown in the commune of Pauillac."
"France?" echoed David, with the misty eyes of one who speaks of a lostworld. "Ah, you have traveled?"
"Wherever fine horses race," said Connor, and turned back to thechicken.
"Think," said David suddenly, "for five years I have lived in silence.There have been voices about me, but never mind; and now you here, andalready you have taken me at a step halfway around the world.
"Ah, Benjamin, it is possible for an emptiness to be in a manlikehunger, you understand, and yet different--and nothing but a human voicecan fill the space."
"Have you no wish to leave your valley for a little while and see theworld?" said Connor, carelessly.
He watched gloomily, while an expression of strong distaste grew on theface of David. He was still frowning when he answered:
"We will not speak of it again."
He jerked his head up and cleared away his frown with an effort.
"To speak with one man in the Garden--that is one thing," hewent on, "but to hear the voices of two jabbering and gibberingtogether--grinning like mindless creatures--throwing their hands out tohelp their words, as poor Joseph does--bah, it is like drinking newwine; it makes one sick. It made me so five times."
"Five times?" said Connor. "You have traveled a good deal, then?"
"Too much," sighed David. "And each time I returned from Parkin CrossingI have cared less for what lies outside the valley."
"Parkin Crossing?"
"I have been told that there are five hundred people in the city," saidDavid, pronouncing the number slowly. "But when I was there, I was neverable to count more than fifty, I believe."
Connor found it necessary to cough.
"And each time you have left the valley you have gone no farther thanParkin Crossing?" he asked mildly, his spirits rising.
"And is not that far enough?" replied the master, frowning. "It is aride between dawn and dark."
"What is that in miles?"
"A hundred and thirty miles," said David, "or thereabout."
Connor closed his eyes twice and then: "You rode that distance betweendawn and dark?"
"Yes."
"Over these mountains most of the way?" he continued gently.
"About half the distance," answered David.
"And how long"--queried Connor hoarsely--"how long before your horse wasable to make the trip back after you had ridden a hundred and thirtymiles in twelve hours?"
"The next day," said David, "I always return."
"In the same time?"
"In the same time," said David.
To doubt that simple voice was impossible. But Connor knew horses, andhis credence was strained to the breaking point.
"I should like very much," he said, "to see a horse that had covered twohundred and sixty miles within forty-eight hours."
"Thirty-six," corrected David.
Connor swallowed.
"Thirty-six," he murmured faintly.
"I shall send for him," said the master, and struck the little gongwhich stood on one side of the table. Isaac came hurrying with thatlight step which made Connor forget his age.
"Bring Glani," said David.
Isaac hurried across the patio, and David continued talking to hisguest.
"Glani is not friendly; but you can see him from a distance."
"And yet," said Connor, "the other horses in the Garden seem as friendlyas pet dogs. Is Glani naturally vicious?"
"His is of other blood," replied David. "He is the blood of the greatmare Rustir, and all in her line are meant for one man only. He is moreproud than all the rest."
He leaned back in his chair and his face, naturally stern, grew tender.
"Since he was foaled no hand has touched him except mine; no other hasridden him, groomed him, fed him."
"I'll be glad to see him," said Connor quietly. "For I have never yetfound a horse which would not come to my hand."
As he spoke, he looked straight into the eyes of David, with an effort,and at the same time took from the pocket of his coat a little bulbousroot which was always with him. A Viennese who came from a life halfspent in the Orient had given him a small box of those herbs as apriceless present. For the secret was that when the root was rubbed overthe hands it left a faint odor on the skin, like freshly cut apples; andto a horse that perfume was irresistible. They seemed to find in it apicture of sweet clover, blossoming, and clean oats finely headed; yetto the nostrils of a man the scent was barely perceptible. Under coverof the table the gambler rubbed his hands swiftly with the little rootand dropped it back into his pocket. That was the secret of the powerover Abra which had astonished the two old men at the gate. A hundredtimes, in stable and paddock, Connor had gone up to the most intractablerace horses and looked them over at close hand, at his leisure. Themaster seemed in nowise disturbed by the last remark of Connor.
"That is true of old Abraham, also," he said. "There was never a coltfoaled in the valley which Abraham had not been able to call away fromits mother; he can read the souls of them all with a touch of hiswithered hands. Yes, I have seen that twenty times. But with Glan
i it isdifferent. He is as proud as a man; he is fierce as a wolf; and Abrahamhimself cannot touch the neck of my horse. Look!"