MARUJA
by
BRET HARTE
MARUJA
CHAPTER I
Morning was breaking on the high road to San Jose. The long lines ofdusty, level track were beginning to extend their vanishing point inthe growing light; on either side the awakening fields of wheat andoats were stretching out and broadening to the sky. In the east andsouth the stars were receding before the coming day; in the west a fewstill glimmered, caught among the bosky hills of the canada delRaimundo, where night seemed to linger. Thither some obscure,low-flying birds were slowly winging; thither a gray coyote, overtakenby the morning, was awkwardly limping. And thither a tramping wayfarerturned, plowing through the dust of the highway still unslaked by thedewless night, to climb the fence and likewise seek the distant cover.
For some moments man and beast kept an equal pace and gait with astrange similarity of appearance and expression; the coyote bearingthat resemblance to his more civilized and harmless congener, the dog,which the tramp bore to the ordinary pedestrians, but both exhibitingthe same characteristics of lazy vagabondage and semi-lawlessness; thecoyote's slouching amble and uneasy stealthiness being repeated in thetramp's shuffling step and sidelong glances. Both were young, andphysically vigorous, but both displayed the same vacillating andawkward disinclination to direct effort. They continued thus half amile apart unconscious of each other, until the superior faculties ofthe brute warned him of the contiguity of aggressive civilization, andhe cantered off suddenly to the right, fully five minutes before thebarking of dogs caused the man to make a detour to the left to avoidentrance upon a cultivated domain that lay before him.
The trail he took led to one of the scant water-courses that issued,half spent, from the canada, to fade out utterly on the hot June plain.It was thickly bordered with willows and alders, that made an arboredand feasible path through the dense woods and undergrowth. Hecontinued along it as if aimlessly; stopping from time to time to lookat different objects in a dull mechanical fashion, as if rather toprolong his useless hours, than from any curious instinct, and tooccasionally dip in the unfrequent pools of water the few crusts ofbread he had taken from his pocket. Even this appeared to be suggestedmore by coincidence of material in the bread and water, than from thepromptings of hunger. At last he reached a cup-like hollow in thehills lined with wild clover and thick with resinous odors. Here hecrept under a manzanita-bush and disposed himself to sleep. The actshowed he was already familiar with the local habits of his class, whoused the unfailing dry starlit nights for their wanderings, and spentthe hours of glaring sunshine asleep or resting in some wayside shadow.
Meanwhile the light quickened, and gradually disclosed the form andoutline of the adjacent domain. An avenue cut through a park-likewood, carefully cleared of the undergrowth of gigantic ferns peculiarto the locality, led to the entrance of the canada. Here began a vastterrace of lawn, broken up by enormous bouquets of flower-bedsbewildering in color and profusion, from which again rose the floweringvines and trailing shrubs that hid pillars, veranda, and even the longfacade of a great and dominant mansion. But the delicacy of floraloutlines running to the capitals of columns and at times mounting tothe pediment of the roof, the opulence of flashing color or the massingof tropical foliage, could not deprive it of the imperious dignity ofsize and space. Much of this was due to the fact that the originalcasa--an adobe house of no mean pretensions, dating back to the earlySpanish occupation--had been kept intact, sheathed in a shell ofdark-red wood, and still retaining its patio; or inner court-yard,surrounded by low galleries, while additions, greater in extent thanthe main building, had been erected--not as wings and projections, butmassed upon it on either side, changing its rigid square outlines to avague parallelogram. While the patio retained the Spanish conceptionof al fresco seclusion, a vast colonnade of veranda on the southernside was a concession to American taste, and its breadth gave thatdepth of shadow to the inner rooms which had been lost in the thinnershell of the new erection. Its cloistered gloom was lightened by thered fires of cardinal flowers dropping from the roof, by the yellowsunshine of the jessamine creeping up the columns, by billows ofheliotropes breaking over its base as a purple sea. Nowhere else didthe opulence of this climate of blossoms show itself as vividly. Eventhe Castilian roses, that grew as vines along the east front, thefuchsias, that attained the dignity of trees, in the patio, or the fouror five monster passion-vines that bestarred the low western wall, andtold over and over again their mystic story--paled before the sensuousglory of the south veranda.
As the sun arose, that part of the quiet house first touched by itslight seemed to waken. A few lounging peons and servants made theirappearance at the entrance of the patio, occasionally reinforced by anearlier life from the gardens and stables. But the south facade of thebuilding had not apparently gone to bed at all: lights were stillburning dimly in the large ball-room; a tray with glasses stood uponthe veranda near one of the open French windows, and further on, ahalf-shut yellow fan lay like a fallen leaf. The sound ofcarriage-wheels on the gravel terrace brought with it voices andlaughter and the swiftly passing vision of a char-a-bancs filled withmuffled figures bending low to avoid the direct advances of the sun.
As the carriage rolled away, four men lounged out of a window on theveranda, shading their eyes against the level beams. One was still inevening dress, and one in the uniform of a captain of artillery; theothers had already changed their gala attire, the elder of the partyhaving assumed those extravagant tweeds which the tourist from GreatBritain usually offers as a gentle concession to inferior yet moreflorid civilization. Nevertheless, he beamed back heartily on the sun,and remarked, in a pleasant Scotch accent, that: Did they know it wasvery extraordinary how clear the morning was, so free from clouds andmist and fog? The young man in evening dress fluently agreed to thefacts, and suggested, in idiomatic French-English, that onecomprehended that the bed was an insult to one's higher nature and aningratitude to their gracious hostess, who had spread out this lovelygarden and walks for their pleasure; that nothing was more beautifulthan the dew sparkling on the rose, or the matin song of the littlebirds.
The other young man here felt called upon to point out the fact thatthere was no dew in California, and that the birds did not sing in thatpart of the country. The foreign young gentleman received thisstatement with pain and astonishment as to the fact, with passionateremorse as to his own ignorance. But still, as it was a charming day,would not his gallant friend, the Captain here, accept the challenge ofthe brave Englishman, and "walk him" for the glory of his flag and athousand pounds?
The gallant Captain, unfortunately, believed that if he walked out inhis uniform he would suffer some delay from being interrogated bywayfarers as to the locality of the circus he would be pleasantlysupposed to represent, even if he escaped being shot as a rareCalifornia bird by the foreign sporting contingent. In thesecircumstances, he would simply lounge around the house until hiscarriage was ready.
Much as it pained him to withdraw from such amusing companions, theforeign young gentleman here felt that he, too, would retire for thepresent to change his garments, and glided back through the window atthe same moment that the young officer carelessly stepped from theveranda and lounged towards the shrubbery.
"They've been watching each other for the last hour. I wonder what'sup?" said the young man who remained.
The remark, without being confidential, was so clearly the firstsentence of natural conversation that the Scotchman, although relieved,said, "Eh, man?" a little cautiously.
"It's as clear as this sunshine that Captain Carroll and Garnier areeach particularly anxious to know what the other is doing or intends todo this morning."
"Why did they separate, then?" asked the other.
"That'
s a mere blind. Garnier's looking through his window now atCarroll, and Carroll is aware of it."
"Eh!" said the Scotchman, with good-humored curiosity. "Is it aquarrel? Nothing serious, I hope. No revolvers and bowie-knives, man,before breakfast, eh?"
"No," laughed the younger man. "No! To do Maruja justice, shegenerally makes a fellow too preposterous to fight. I see you don'tunderstand. You're a stranger; I'm an old habitue of the house--let meexplain. Both of these men are in love with Maruja; or, worse thanthat, they firmly believe her to be in love with THEM."
"But Miss Maruja is the eldest daughter of our hostess, is she not?"said the Scotchman; "and I understood from one of the young ladies thatthe Captain had come down from the Fort particularly to pay court toMiss Amita, the beauty."
"Possibly. But that wouldn't prevent Maruja from flirting with him."
"Eh! but are you not mistaken, Mr. Raymond? Certainly a more quiet,modest, and demure young lassie I never met."
"That's because she sat out two waltzes with you, and let you do thetalking, while she simply listened."
The elder man's fresh color for an instant heightened, but he recoveredhimself with a good-humored laugh. "Likely--likely. She's a capitalgood listener."
"You're not the first man that found her eloquent. Stanton, yourbanking friend, who never talks of anything but mines and stocks, saysshe's the only woman who has any conversation; and we can all swearthat she never said two words to him the whole time she sat next to himat dinner. But she looked at him as if she had. Why, man, woman, andchild all give her credit for any grace that pleases themselves. Andwhy? Because she's clever enough not to practice any one of them--asgraces. I don't know the girl that claims less and gets more. Forinstance, you don't call her pretty?" ...
"Wait a bit. Ye'll not get on so fast, my young friend; I'm notprepared to say that she's not," returned the Scotchman, withgood-humored yet serious caution.
"But you would have been prepared yesterday, and have said it. She canproduce the effect of the prettiest girl here, and without challengingcomparison. Nobody thinks of her--everybody experiences her."
"You're an enthusiast, Mr. Raymond. As an habitue of the house, ofcourse, you--"
"Oh, my time came with the rest," laughed the young man, withunaffected frankness. "It's about two years ago now."
"I see--you were not a marrying man."
"Pardon me--it was because I was."
The Scotchman looked at him curiously.
"Maruja is an heiress. I am a mining engineer."
"But, my dear fellow, I thought that in your country--"
"In MY country, yes. But we are standing on a bit of old Spain. Thisland was given to Dona Maria Saltonstall's ancestors by Charles V.Look around you. This veranda, this larger shell of the ancient casa,is the work of the old Salem whaling captain that she married, and isall that is American here. But the heart of the house, as well as thelife that circles around the old patio, is Spanish. The Dona's family,the Estudillos and Guitierrez, always looked down upon this alliancewith the Yankee captain, though it brought improvement to the land, andincreased its value forty-fold, and since his death ever opposed anyfurther foreign intervention. Not that that would weigh much withMaruja if she took a fancy to any one; Spanish as she is throughout, inthought and grace and feature, there is enough of the old Salemwitches' blood in her to defy law and authority in following anunhallowed worship. There are no sons; she is the sole heiress of thehouse and estate--though, according to the native custom, her sisterswill be separately portioned from the other property, which is verylarge."
"Then the Captain might still make a pretty penny on Amita," said theScotchman.
"If he did not risk and lose it all on Maruja. There is enough of theold Spanish jealousy in the blood to make even the gentle Amita neverforgive his momentary defection."
Something in his manner made the Scotchman think that Raymond spokefrom baleful experience. How else could this attractive young fellow,educated abroad and a rising man in his profession, have failed toprofit by his contiguity to such advantages, and the fact of his beingan evident favorite?
"But with this opposition on the part of the relatives to any furtheralliances with your countrymen, why does our hostess expose herdaughters to their fascinating influence?" said the elder man, glancingat his companion. "The girls seem to have the usual American freedom."
"Perhaps they are therefore the less likely to give it up to the firstman who asks them. But the Spanish duenna still survives in thefamily--the more awful because invisible. It's a mysterious fact thatas soon as a fellow becomes particularly attached to any one--exceptMaruja--he receives some intimation from Pereo."
"What! the butler? That Indian-looking fellow? A servant?"
"Pardon me--the mayordomo. The old confidential servitor who stands inloco parentis. No one knows what he says. If the victim appeals tothe mistress, she is indisposed; you know she has such bad health. Ifin his madness he makes a confidante of Maruja, that finishes him."
"How?"
"Why, he ends by transferring his young affections to her--with theusual result."
"Then you don't think our friend the Captain has had this confidentialbutler ask his intentions yet?"
"I don't think it will be necessary," said the other, dryly.
"Umph! Meantime, the Captain has just vanished through yon shrubbery.I suppose that's the end of the mysterious espionage you havediscovered. No! De'il take it! but there's that Frenchman popping outof the myrtlebush. How did the fellow get there? And, bless me!here's our lassie, too!"
"Yes!" said Raymond, in a changed voice, "It's Maruja!"
She had approached so noiselessly along the bank that bordered theveranda, gliding from pillar to pillar as she paused before each tosearch for some particular flower, that both men felt an uneasyconsciousness. But she betrayed no indication of their presence bylook or gesture. So absorbed and abstracted she seemed that, by acommon instinct, they both drew nearer the window, and silently waitedfor her to pass or recognize them.
She halted a few paces off to fasten a flower in her girdle. A smallyouthful figure, in a pale yellow dress, lacking even the maturity ofwomanly outline. The full oval of her face, the straight line of herback, a slight boyishness in the contour of her hips, the infantinesmallness of her sandaled feet and narrow hands, were all suggestive offresh, innocent, amiable youth--and nothing more.
Forgetting himself, the elder man mischievously crushed his companionagainst the wall in mock virtuous indignation. "Eh, sir," hewhispered, with an accent that broadened with his feelings. "Eh, butlook at the puir wee lassie! Will ye no be ashamed o' yerself forputting the tricks of a Circe on sic a honest gentle bairn? Why, man,you'll be seein' the sign of a limb of Satan in a bit thing with themother's milk not yet out of her! She a flirt, speerin' at men, withthat modest downcast air? I'm ashamed of ye, Mister Raymond. She'sonly thinking of her breakfast, puir thing, and not of yon callant.Another sacrilegious word and I'll expose you to her. Have ye no pityon youth and innocence?"
"Let me up," groaned Raymond, feebly, "and I'll tell you how old sheis. Hush--she's looking."
The two men straightened themselves. She had, indeed, lifted her eyestowards the window. They were beautiful eyes, and charged withsomething more than their own beauty. With a deep brunette settingeven to the darkened cornea, the pupils were blue as the sky abovethem. But they were lit with another intelligence. The soul of theSalem whaler looked out of the passion-darkened orbits of the mother,and was resistless.
She smiled recognition of the two men with sedate girlishness and aforeign inclination of the head over the flowers she was holding. Herstraight, curveless mouth became suddenly charming with the parting ofher lips over her white teeth, and left the impress of the smile in alighting of the whole face even after it had passed. Then she movedaway. At the same moment Garnier approached her.
"Come away, man, and have our wal
k," said the Scotchman, seizingRaymond's arm. "We'll not spoil that fellow's sport."
"No; but she will, I fear. Look, Mr. Buchanan, if she hasn't given himher flowers to carry to the house while she waits here for the Captain!"
"Come away, scoffer!" said Buchanan, good-humoredly, locking his arm inthe young man's and dragging him from the veranda towards the avenue,"and keep your observations for breakfast."