The Wages of Virtue Part 29

"And you would do this--_you_, Carmelita; for that filthy blackguard?"

"I would do anything for my Luigi. Sell me his life and I will pay you now, the highest price a woman can. Kiss me on the lips, dear Monsieur Jean, and I will trust you to keep your part of the bargain--never to fight nor attack my Luigi with a weapon in your hand. Kiss me! Kiss me!"

The Englishman drew the pleading girl to him and kissed her on the forehead. She flung her arms around his neck in a transport of joy and relief.

"You will sell me my Luigi's life?" she cried. "Oh praise and thanks to the Mother of G.o.d. You _will_?"

"I will _give_ you your Luigi's life," said Sir Montague Merline, and went out.

CHAPTER IX

THE CAFe AND THE CANTEEN

As the door closed behind the departing John Bull, the heavy _purdah_ between the sitting-room and the tiny side-chamber or alcove in which was Carmelita's bed, was pushed aside, and Olga Kyrilovitch, barefooted and dressed in night attire belonging to Carmelita, entered the room.

On the sofa lay Carmelita sobbing, her hands pressed over her eyes.

Looking more boy-like than ever, with her short hair, the Russian girl advanced noiselessly and shook Carmelita sharply by the shoulder.

"You fool," she hissed between clenched teeth. "You stupid fool. You blind, stubborn, hopeless _fool_!" Carmelita sat up. This was language she could understand, and a situation with which she could deal.

"Yes?" she replied without resentment, "and why?"

"Those two men.... Compare them... I heard every word--I could not help it. I could not come out--I should not have been safe, even with you here, with that vile, filthy Italian in the room, nor could I come, for shame, like this, while the Englishman was here.... _Why did you let him say he does not love me?_" and the girl burst into tears.

Carmelita stared.

"Oho! you love him, do you?" quoth she.... "Then if you know what love is, why do you abuse the man _I_ love?"

The girl raised her impa.s.sioned tear-stained face to Carmelita's.

"Will nothing persuade you, little fool?" she cried, "that that Italian beast no more loves you than--than Jean Boule loves me--that he is playing with you, that he is battening on you, and that, the moment the fat Canteen woman accepts him, he will marry her and you will see him no more? Why should Jean Boule lie to you? Why should the American? Why should I?--Ask any Legionary in Sidi."

Carmelita clenched her little fist and appeared to be about to strike the Russian girl.

"Stop!" continued Olga, and pointed to the uniform which lay folded on the chair. "See! Prove your courage and prove us all liars if you can.

Put on that uniform, disguise yourself, and go to the Canteen any night in the week. If your Rivoli is not there behind the bar, hand-in-glove with Madame, turn me into the street--or leave me at the mercy of your Rivoli. There now...."

"_I will_," said Carmelita, and then screamed and laughed, laughed and screamed, as her overwrought nerves and brain gave way in a fit of hysterics.

When she recovered, Olga Kyrilovitch discovered that the seed which she had sown had taken root, and that it was Carmelita's unalterable intention to pay a visit to the Canteen on the very next evening.

"For my Luigi's own sake I will spy upon him," she said, "and to prove all his vile accusers wrong. When I have done it I will confess to him with tears and throw myself at his feet. He shall do as he likes with me.... But he will understand that it was only to disprove these lies that I did it, and not because I for one moment doubted him."

But doubt him Carmelita did. As soon as her decision was taken and announced, she allowed Olga to talk on as she pleased, and insensibly came to realise that at the bottom of her heart she knew John Bull to be incapable of deceiving her. Why should he? Why should all the Legionaries, except Rivoli's own hirelings, take up the same att.i.tude towards him? Why should there be no man to speak well of him save such men as Borges, Hirsch, Bauer, Malvin, and the others, all of whom carried their vileness in their faces? As her doubts and fears increased, so did her wrath and excitement, until she strode up and down the little room like a caged pantheress, and Olga feared for her sanity and her own safety. And then again, Love would triumph, and she would beat her breast and wildly reproach herself for her lack of faith, and overwhelm Olga with a deluge of vituperation and accusation.

At length came the relief of quiet weeping, and, having whispered to Olga her Great Secret, or rather her hopes of having one to tell, she sobbed herself to sleep on the girl's shoulder, to dream of the most wonderful of _bambinos_.

Meanwhile, John Bull spent one of the wretchedest evenings of a wretched life. Returning to his _chambree_ to find himself hailed and acclaimed "hero," he commenced at once, with his usual uncompromising directness and simplicity, to inform all and sundry, who mentioned the subject, that there would be no duel. It hurt him most of all to see the face of his friend Rupert fall and harden, as he informed him that he could not fight Rivoli after all. On his explaining the position to him, Reginald Rupert, decidedly shocked, remarked--

"_Your_ business, of course," and privately wondered whether _les beaux yeux_ of Carmelita, or of Olga, had shed the light in which his friend had come to see things so differently. Surely, Carmelita's best friend would be the person who saved her from Rivoli; and, if it were really Olga whom Bull were considering, there were more ways of killing a cat than choking it with melted b.u.t.ter. Anyhow, he didn't envy John Bull, nor yet the weaker vessels of the Seventh Company. What would John Bull do, if, on hearing of his change of mind, Rivoli simply took him and put him across his knee? Would his promise to Carmelita sustain him through that or similar indignities? After all, a challenge is a challenge; and some people would consider that the prior engagement to Rivoli could not in honour be cancelled afterwards by an engagement with Carmelita or anybody else.

No. To the young mind of Rupert this was not "the clean potato," and he was disappointed in his friend. As they undressed, in silence, an idea struck him, and he turned to that gentleman.

"I say, look here, Bull, old chap," quoth he. "You'll of course do as you think best in the matter, and so shall I. I'm going to challenge Rivoli myself. I shall follow your admirable example and challenge him publicly, and I shall add point to it by wasting a litre of wine on his face, which I shall also smack with what violence I may. I am not Company Marksman like you, but, as Rivoli knows, I am a First Cla.s.s shot. I shall say I have been brooding over his breaking my back, and now want to fight him on even terms."

A look of pain crossed the face of the old soldier.

"Rupert," he said, rising and laying his hand on his friend's shoulder, "you'll do nothing of the kind.... Not, that is, if you value my friendship in the least, or have the slightest regard for me. Do you not understand that I have given Carmelita my word that I will neither fight Rivoli with a weapon in my hand, nor attack him with one? Would she not instantly and naturally suppose that I had got you to do it _for_ me? ... Would anything persuade her to the contrary?"

"Is he to go unpunished then? Is he to ride roughshod over us all?

He'll be ten times worse than before. You know he'll ascribe your withdrawal to cowardice--and so will everybody else," was the reply.

"They will," agreed John Bull.

"What's to be done then?"

"I don't know, but I'll tell you what is not to be done. No friend of mine is to challenge Rivoli to a duel."

The Bucking Bronco entered.

"Say, John," he drawled, "I jest bin and beat up Mister Mounseer Malvin, I hev'. 'Yure flappin' yure mouth tew much,' I ses. '_Vous frappez votre bouche trop_,' I ses. 'Yew come off it, me lad,' I ses. 'Yew jes' wipe off yure chin some. _Effacez votre menton_,' I ses. Then I slugs him a little one."

"What was it all about, Buck?" enquired Rupert.

"Do yew know what the little greasy tin-horn of a hobo was waggin' his chin about? Sed as haow yew was _a-climbin' down and a-takin' back the challenge to our Loojey_! I told him ef he didn't wipe off his chin and put some putty on his gas-escape I'd do five-spot in Biribi fer him.

'Yes, Mounseer Malvin,' I ses when I'd slugged him, 'I'll git the _as de pique_[#] on my collar for yew!' ... '_It's true_,' he snivelled. '_It's true_,' and lays on the groun' so as I shan't slug him agin. So I comes away--not seein' why I should do the two-step on nuthin' at the end of a rope for a dod-gasted little bed-bug like Mounseer Malvin."

[#] Mark of the Zephyrs.

"It _is_ true, Buck," replied John Bull.

"Well then, I wisht I'd stayed and plugged him some more," was the remarkable reply.

"Rivoli told Carmelita about the duel, and I've promised her I'd let him go," continued John Bull.

"Then yure a gosh-dinged fool, John," said the Bucking Bronco. "Yew ain't to be trusted where wimmin's about. It would hev' bin the best day's work yew ever done fer Carmelita ef you'd let daylight through thet plug-ugly old bluff. He'll lie ter her from Revelley to Taps[#]

until old Mother Canteen takes him into her shebang fer good--and then as like as not, he'll put Carmelita up at auction.... There'll be no holding our Loojey now, John. I should smile. Anybody as thinks our Loojey'll make it easy fer yew has got another think comin'. It's a cinch. He'll give yew a dandy time, John. What's a-bitin' yew anyway?"

[#] Last Post. So called (in the American Army) because it is the signal to leave the Canteen and turn off the beer-taps.

"Carmelita," was the reply.