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So I pay 'im well with your bills, sir, and see Manuela all the time every day."
He took rapid strides across the room--but stopped abruptly and looked at Manvers. There was fire in his eyes. "She lika saint, sir. I catch 'er on 'er knees before our Lady of Atocha. I 'ear 'er words all broken to bits. I see 'er estrike 'er b.r.e.a.s.t.s--Oh, G.o.d, that make me mad! She say, 'Oh, Lady, you with your sorrow and your love--you know me very well. Bad girl, too unfortunate, too miserable--your daughter all the sama, and your lover. Give me a great 'eart, Lady, that I may tell all the truth--all--all--all! If 'e thoughta well of me,' she say, crying like one o'clock, 'let 'im know me better. No good 'e think me fine woman--no good he kissa me'"--the delicacy with which Gil Perez treated this part of the history, which Manvers had never told him, was a beautiful thing--"'I wanta tell 'im all my 'istory. Then he say, Pah, what a beast! and serva me right.' Sir, then she bow righta down to the grounda, she did, and covered 'er 'ead. I say, 'Manuela, I love you with alla my soul--but you do well, my 'eart.' And then she turn on me and tell me to go quick."
"So you are in love with her, Gil?" Manvers asked him. Gil admitted it.
"I love 'er the minute I see 'er at the _corrida_. My 'earta go alla water--but I know 'er. I say to myself, "That is la Manuela of my master Don Osmondo. You be careful, Gil Perez.'"
Manvers said, "Look here, Gil, I'm ashamed of myself. I kissed her, you know."
"Yessir," said Gil, and touched his forehead like a groom.
"If I had known that you--but I had no idea of it until this moment. I can only say----"
"Master," said Gil, "saya nothing at all. I love Manuela lika mad--that quite true; but she thinka me dirt on the pavement."
"Then she's very wrong," Manvers said.
"No, sir," said Gil, "thata true. All beautiful girls lika that. I understanda too much. But look 'ere--if she belong to me, that all the same, because I belong to you. You do what you like with 'er. I say, That all the same to me!"
"Gil Perez," said Manvers, "you're a gentleman, and I'm very much ashamed of myself. But we must do what we can for Manuela. I shall give evidence, of course. I think I can make the judge understand."
Gil was inordinately grateful, but could not conceal his nervousness.
"I think the Juez, 'e too much friend with Don Luis. I think 'e know what to do all the time before. Manuela have too mucha trouble. Alla same she ver' fine girl, most beautiful, most unhappy. That do 'er good if she cry."
"I don't think she'll cry," Manvers said, and Gil Perez snorted.
"She cry! By G.o.d she never! She Espanish girl, too mucha proud, too mucha d.i.c.ksure what she do with Don Bartolome. She know she serve 'im right. Do againa all the time. What do you think 'e do with 'er when 'e 'ave 'er out there in Pobledo an' all those places? Vaya! I tell you, sir. 'E want to live on 'er. 'E wanta make 'er too bad. Then she run lika devil. Sir, I tell you what she say to me other days.
'When I saw 'im come longside Don Osmundo,' she say, 'I look in 'is face an' I see Death. 'E grin at me--then I know why 'e come. 'E talk very nice--soft, lika gentleman--then I know what 'e want. I say, Son of a dog, never!'"
"Poor girl," said Manvers, greatly concerned.
"Thata quite true, sir," Gil Perez agreed. "Very unfortunate fine girl. But you know what we say in Espain. Make yourself 'oney, we say, and the flies willa suck you. Manuela too much 'oney all the time. I know that, because she tell me everything, to tell you."
"Don't tell me," said Manvers.
"Bedam if I do," said Gil Perez.
CHAPTER XIV
TRIAL BY QUESTION
The court was not full when Manvers and his advocate, with Gil Perez in attendance, took their places; but it filled up gradually, and the Judge of First Instance, when he took his seat upon the tribunal, faced a throng not unworthy of a bull-fight. b.e.s.t.i.a.l, leering, inflamed faces, peering eyes agog for mischief, all the nervous expectation of the sudden, the b.l.o.o.d.y or terrible were there.
There was the same dead hush when Manuela was brought in as when they throw open the doors of the _toril_, and the throng holds its breath.
Gil Perez drew his with a long whistling sound, and Manvers, who could dare to look at her, thought he had never seen maidenly dignity more beautifully shown. She moved to her place with a gentle consciousness of what was due to herself very touching to see.
The crowded court thrilled and murmured, but she did not raise her eyes; once only did she show her feeling, and that was when she pa.s.sed near the barrier where the spectators could have touched her by leaning over. More than one stretched his hand out, one at least his walking cane. Then she took hold of her skirt and held it back, just as a girl does when she pa.s.ses wet paint. This little touch, which made the young men jeer and whisper obscenity, brought the water to Manvers'
eyes. He heard Gil Perez draw again his whistling breath, and felt him tremble. Directly Manuela was in her place, standing, facing the a.s.size, Gil Perez looked at her, and never took his eyes from her again. She was dressed in black, and her hair was smooth over her ears, knotted neatly on the nape of her neck.
The Judge, a fatigued, monumental person with a long face, pointed whiskers, and the eyes of a dead fish, told her to stand up. As she was already standing, she looked at him with patient inquiry; but he took no notice of that. Her self-possession was indeed remarkable.
She gave her answers quietly, without hesitation, and when anything was asked her which offended her, either ignored it or told the questioner what she thought of it. From the outset Manvers could see that the Judge's business was to incriminate her beyond repair. Her plea of guilty was not to help her. She was to be shown infamous.
The examination ran thus:--
_Judge_: "You are Manuela, daughter of Incarnacion Presa of Valencia, and have never known your father?" (_Manuela bows her head_.) "Answer the Court."
_Manuela_: "It is true."
_Judge_: "It is said that your father was the _gitano_ Sagruel?"
_Manuela_: "I don't know."
_Judge_: "You may well say that. Remember that you are condemning your mother by such answers. Your mother sold you at twelve years old to an unfrocked priest named Tormes?"
_Manuela_: "Yes. For three _pesos_."
_Judge_: "Disgraceful transaction! This wretch taught you dancing, posturing, and all manner of wickedness?"
_Manuela_: "He taught me to dance."
_Judge_: "How long were you in his company?"
_Manuela_: "For three years."
_Judge_: "He took you from fair to fair. You were a public dancer?"
_Manuela_: "That is true."
_Judge_: "I can imagine--the court can imagine--your course of life during this time. This master of yours, this Tormes, how did he treat you?"
_Manuela_: "Very ill."
_Judge_: "Be more explicit, Manuela. In what way?"
_Manuela_: "He beat me. He hurt me."
_Judge_: "Why so?"
_Manuela_: "I cannot tell you any more about him."
_Judge_: "You refuse?"
_Manuela_: "Yes."
Judge: "The court places its interpretation upon your silence." (He looked painfully round as if he regretted the absence of the proper means of extracting answers. Manvers heard Gil Perez curse him under his breath.)