CHAPTER XXXIII
"THE DAWN OF A SHORT, SWEET LIFE"
The little group of fishing smacks, homely-looking and uncleanly, onclose examination, presented a very different appearance from the deckof the English yacht fast nearing the harbour. Their brown sails hadgleamed purple in the dying sunlight, and their rude outline seemedgraceful and shapely as they rose and fell on the long waves. Paul,who stood on the captain's bridge of his yacht, uttered a little cryof admiration as they sailed out from the shadows of the huge rock,and fell into a rude semicircle across the bay.
"What colouring one sees in these southern waters!" he remarked. "Didyou notice the glinting light on those sails?"
His companion, who was holding firmly the rail by his side, lookedup and smiled. "Yes," she said softly; "it is beautiful! We have seenmore beautiful things on this voyage, I think, than I ever saw beforein my life. I have never been so happy! You are not angry with me nowfor coming, are you?"
He looked down into her wistful, upturned face, and then away to thedistant line where sea and sky met. "No! I am not angry," he saidsoftly.
Adrea was very beautiful. The fresh sea air and the southern sun hadbeen as kind to her as to one of their own daughters. Only a veryfaint, delicate shade of pink had stained her clear, transparent skin,harmonising exquisitely with the slight olive hue of her complexion.The strong breeze had loosened the coils of her dark hair, and it waswaving and flowing in picturesque freedom about her face. There was achange, too, in her appearance, greater than any the wind or suncould effect. Her dark eyes were glowing with a new life, and a soft,wistful joy shone in her face. Those few days had been like heaven forher. She had been alone, for the first time, with the man she loved;sailing upon a sunlit sea hour after hour, with his voice ever in herears, and his tall figure by her side. The sense of his presence wasever upon her, bringing with it a calm, sweet restfulness, a happinessbeyond anything which she had ever imagined.
And it was heaven, too, after hell! Thrust away in a dark corner ofher memory was the recollection of a day and a night full of grim,phantasmal horrors, which were fast becoming little more than a dreamto her. The time was not yet come for remorse. In that deep glow ofpassionate and self-forgetful devotion, quickened now into fullestand sweetest life by his constant proximity, even sin itself, for hissake, seemed justified to her. Everything, too, which lay behind herbrief stay in that bare, wind-swept country was fast assuming a fardistant place in her thoughts. It was such a change from her littlerooms in Grey Street, dainty and home-like though they had been, fromthe brilliantly lit drawing-rooms where she had performed, and thesame wearisome compliments ever in her ears. The bonds of town lifehad always galled her. She was an artist, although she had deniedit. She had become subject to her environment but it had been animprisonment. Nature was her mother, and Nature had claimed her now.She knew it all; she knew that she could never be a dancer again. Shehad stolen out on to the deck each morning in her slippers, and hadseen the dawn break through the clouds and descend upon the quiveringwaters. She had seen the eastern sky streaked with faint butmarvellous colouring, growing deeper and deeper, until the sun's rimhad risen from out of the water. Grey had become mauve, and whiteamber. It was wonderful! And by night she had leaned over the sideof the yacht, and looked up into a sky ablaze with trembling stars,casting their golden reflections down upon the boundless waves whichrose and fell beneath--waves which were sometimes green, and sometimesgolden in the wonderful phosphoric light which touched them with aweird splendour. It was like the opening of a new world to Adrea. Allthat had gone before seemed harsh and artificial! It was the dawn of anew life.
Paul had noticed the change. To him it had appeared chiefly as anincreased womanliness, a gentle softness of speech and mannerism verycharming and attractive. Those few days at sea together had been likea dream to him. He had come on board as nearly broken-hearted as astrong man could be, and fiercely anxious to reach his destination andknow the whole, cruel truth. In a few hours all had been changed. Hissorrows seemed numbed. He was no longer battling alone with his grief.Adrea knew all, and as they sailed southwards together, the senseof the present was strong enough to drive past and future fromhis thoughts. The clouds cleared from his face, and his heart waslightened. It was Adrea who had saved him from despair.
He thought of this as she stood by his side, and he answered herquestion. Before their eyes, Cruta was rising up from the sea. Thegrim castle was there, looking as old as the rocks on which it wasperched, the wide, open harbour, and the little fleet of fishingsmacks. The seabirds circled about their heads; every moment broughtthe rocky little island more distinctly into view. Paul looked downinto Adrea's face gravely.
"It is our destination, Adrea," he said. "You must go now. There willbe a lot of surf crossing the bar, and I shall have enough to doto run her in. Look behind! It is just as well we are going intoharbour!"
He pointed to the fast-gathering clouds coming up from the westward,and she paused with her foot on the ladder. "We leave the storm behindus," she said. "There is fair weather ahead!"
She went down into her cabin, and left Paul upon the bridge, with hiseyes fixed upon the castle. Fair weather ahead! How dared he hopefor it! The sun had finally disappeared now, but some part of theafterglow still lingered in curious contrast to the lurid yellow andblack clouds hurrying on behind him. The old castle was bathed for amoment in a sea of purple light,--every line of it, and the huge rockwhich it crowned, standing out with peculiar vividness against theempty background. But it was a brief glory. Even while Paul wasgazing, the colouring faded away, and it resumed its former aspect.Fair weather ahead! Every moment, as memories of his former visit tothe place thronged in upon him, Paul doubted it the more.
He was close to the entrance of the harbour now, and all his thoughtsand energies were required to pilot his yacht safely. In a few momentsthe brief line was passed, and the islanders waiting about upon thebeach saw the English vessel ride smoothly into harbourage undershadow of the huge castle rock. Presently she dropped an anchor, andswung gracefully round. A boat was lowered, and made for the shore.
There were plenty of hands willing to help pull her in. Paul steppedout on to the beach, and looked around for some one to whom he couldmake himself understood.
They were all islanders of the rudest class; but seeing no one else,Paul lifted his hand to the castle, and asked them the way in Italian.They understood him, and pointed along the beach to a point where arude road curved inland, and reappeared a little higher up in zigzagfashion behind the rocks. But no one offered to go a step with him. Onthe contrary, directly the question had left his lips, they all shrunkaway, whispering and exclaiming amongst themselves.
"It is the son of the Englishman!" cried Antonio. "He is going intothe lion's mouth! Do not let us be seen with him. The Count may bewatching."
"I wonder if he knows his danger?" Guiseppe said thoughtfully. "He isyoung and brave looking. It would be a good action to warn him."
"I would not risk it!" cried Antonio.
"Nor I!" echoed Ferdinand.
"Nor I!" chorused the others.
Guiseppe glanced at them in contempt. Then he stepped forward and laidhis hand upon Paul's shoulder--a strange, picturesque-looking object,in his bright scarlet shirt, and trousers turned up to his knees. Hehad been in Italy once, and he tried to speak the language of thatcountry as well as he could.
"Illustrious Englishman!" he said, "go not to that castle, the home ofthe Count of Cruta. Danger lurks there for you--danger and death. Itis our lord who lives there; we are his vassals, and we are dumb. Buthe is wild and fierce, and your countrymen are like devils to him.Strange things have happened up there. Be wise. Put back your boat,weigh your anchor and sail away. The stormy seas are dangerous, butnot so dangerous as the Castle of Cruta to an Englishman of yourfeatures. Take the word of Guiseppe, and depart!"
Paul shook his head. He understood most of what Guiseppe had said,and he knew that it was kindly meant. "
You are very good," he said."I thank you for your warning; but I have important business with theCount, and I have come from England on purpose to see him. Here, spendthis for me," he added, throwing a handful of silver money amongst thelittle group of men. "Yonder path will take me straight to the castle,I suppose. Good evening."
He strode away along the beach alone. Meanwhile a strange thing washappening. The islanders were all gathered eagerly around the littleshower of money, but not one had offered to touch a piece.
"Holy Mother! there are fifty pieces!" cried Antonio. "If only Iwas sure that the Count would not see me! I would keep holiday for amonth, and start again with a fresh set of fishing nets."
"Touch not the money!" advised Guiseppe, shaking his head. "TheCount's eyes are everywhere!"
"It is very hard!" groaned Ferdinand. "It has been such a bad season,too!"
"I know! I know!" cried Antonio excitedly. "We will go to themonastery, and get Father Bernard to come and bless it. He will claimhalf for the Church, but we can divide the other half, and we shall,each man, have given six pieces in charity. What say you? shall wego?"
"Bravo! Antonio is right! Antonio is a sensible fellow!" they allcried. Then there was the sound of bare feet scampering over the hardsands as they hastened up to the monastery. Guiseppe was left alone.
He waited until they were out of sight. Then he stooped down,and carefully collecting all the coins, placed them in his pouch."Ignorant fools!" he muttered. "The Count can see no further thanother men, and at any rate he will not see these in my pocket."
He stood up, and gazed steadily along the path which Paul had taken."What am I to do now?" he continued. "It is to the Englishman's fatherthat I owe my boat and my little hoard of sayings. He behaved to me asa prince, did Signor de Vaux. Can I see his son hasten yonder to hisdoom without one effort to save him? No. The Count is terrible, but Ineed run no risk. At any rate, I will follow a little way."
He walked swiftly along the beach, and commenced the ascent to thecastle. In a few minutes the little band of fishermen returned,carrying lanterns in their hands, and with a priest walking amongstthem. They reached the spot, and paused, while the priest commencedto mumble a prayer. He was scarcely half-way through when he wasinterrupted.
"The money is gone!" cried Antonio.
"Every piece!" echoed Ferdinand.
There was a moment's blank silence. Then they all crossed themselves."Let us go home," whispered Antonio hoarsely. "The Count knows. He hasbeen here."
The priest turned away disgusted, and the others followed him, talkingwith bated breath amongst themselves. And, in the darkness, no onenoticed Guiseppe's absence.