The Doomswoman: An Historical Romance of Old California Read online

  XXV.

  Casa Grande held three jealous women. The situation had its comicaspect, but was tragic enough to the actors.

  In the evening the lingering guests of the house and the neighborsof the town assembled as usual for the dance. Only Estenega absentedhimself. Valencia stood her ground: she would not go while Estenegaremained. Chonita moved proudly among her guests, and never had beenmore gracious. Valencia dared not meet her eyes nor mine, but, seeingthat Prudencia was watching her, avenged her own disquiet by enhancingthat of the bride. Never did she flirt so imperiously with Reinaldoas she did that fateful night; and Reinaldo, who was man's vanitycollected and compounded, devoted himself to the dashing beauty. Hercheeks burned with excitement, her eyes were restless and flashing.

  The music stopped. The women were eating the dulces passed by theIndian servants. The men had not yet gone into the dining-room.Valencia dropped her handkerchief; Reinaldo, stooping to recover it,kissed her hand behind its flimsy shelter.

  Then Prudencia arose. She trailed her long gown down the room betweenthe two rows of people staring at her grim eyes and pressed lips; herlittle head, with its high comb, stiffly erect. She walked straight upto Reinaldo and boxed his ears before the assembled company.

  "Thou wilt flirt no more with other women," she said, in a loud, clearvoice. "Thou art my husband, and thou wilt not forget it again. Comewith me."

  And, amidst the silence of mountain-tops in a snow-storm, he stumbledto his feet and followed her from the room.

  I could not sleep that night. In spite of the amusement I had felt atPrudencia's _coup-d'etat_, I was oppressed by the chill and forebodingwhich seemed to emanate from Chonita and pervade the house. I knewthat terrible calm was like the menacing stillness of the hours beforean earthquake. What would she do in the coming convulsion? I shudderedand tormented myself with many imaginings.

  I became so nervous that I rose and dressed and went out upon thecorridor and walked up and down. It was very late, and the moon wasrisen, but the corners were dark. Figures seemed to start from them,but my nerves were strong; I never had given way to fear.

  My thoughts wandered to Estenega. Who shall judge the complex heartof a man? the deep, intense, lasting devotion he may have for the onewoman he recognizes as his soul's own, and yet the strange waywardwanderings of his fancy,--the nomadic assertion of the animal; thepassionate love he may feel for this woman of all women, yet thereserve in which he always holds her, never knowing her quite as wellas he has known other women; the last test of highest love, passionwithout sensuality? And yet the regret that she does not gratify everyside of his nature, even while he would not have her; regret for theterrible incongruity of human nature, the mingling of the beast andthe divine, which cannot find satisfaction in the same woman; whateverthe fire in her, she cannot gratify the instincts which rage belowpassion in man, without losing the purity of mind which he adores inher. She, too, feels a vague regret that some portion of his natureis a sealed book to her, forever beyond her ken. But her regret isnothing to his: he knows, and she does not.

  My meditations were interrupted suddenly. I heard a door stealthilyopened. I knew before turning that the door was that of Chonita'sroom, the last at the end of the right wing. It opened, and she cameout. It was as if a face alone came out. She was shrouded from head tofoot in black, and her face was as white as the moon. Possessed by anameless but overwhelming fear, I turned the knob of the door nearestme and almost fell into the room. I closed the door behind me, butthere was no key. By the strip of white light which entered throughthe crevice between the half-open shutters I saw that I was in theroom of Valencia Menendez; but she slept soundly and had not heard me.

  I stood still, listening, for many minutes. At first there was nosound; I evidently had startled her, and she was waiting for the houseto be still again. At last I heard some one gliding down the corridor.Then, suddenly, I knew that she was coming to this room, and,possessed by a horrible curiosity and growing terror, I sank on myknees in a corner.

  The door opened noiselessly, and Chonita entered. Again I saw onlyher white face, rigid as death, but the eyes flamed with the terriblepassions that her soul had flung up from its depths at last. Then Isaw another white object,--her hand. But there was no knife in it.Had there been, I think I should have shaken off the spell whichcontrolled me: I never would see murder done. It was the awe of theunknown that paralyzed my muscles. She bent over Valencia, who moveduneasily and cast her arms above her head. I saw her touch her fingerto the sleeping woman's mouth, inserting it between the lips. Then shemoved backward and stood by the head of the bed, facing thewindow. She raised herself to her full height and extended her armshorizontally. The position gave her the form of a cross--a blackcross, topped and pointed with malevolent white; one hand was spreadabove Valencia's face. She was the most awful sight I ever beheld. Sheuttered no sound; she scarcely breathed. Suddenly, with the curve of apanther, her figure glided above the unconscious woman, her open handdescribing a strange motion; then she melted from the room.

  Valencia awoke, shrieking.

  "Some one has cursed me!" she cried. "Mother of God! Some one hascursed me!"

  I fled from the room, to faint upon my own bed.