Mexico -- History -- European intervention, 1861-1867 -- Fiction
Captain Maurel, or Morel, desired to add that there was a trader who
owned an hacienda in the interior, and that this trader was starting for
his plantation the very next morning; all of which was very convenient,
because the trader had extra horses, and he, Captain Morel, had a
certain influence with the trader. The senorita's party could travel
with his friend's caravan as far as the stage.
"Voila!" cried Jacqueline. "It is arranged!"
"Diable, it is not!" Michel was on his feet again.
His wayward charge looked him over reflectively. "Our Mars in his baby
clothes again," said she, as a fond, despairing mother with an
incorrigible child.
The Mexican had shown himself hostile and ready. But seeing Jacqueline's
coolness he melted out of his somewhat theatrical bristling, lest her
sarcasm veer toward himself.
The tempestuous Mars, however, was beyond the range of scorn. He kept
one stubborn purpose before him. "We go back to the ship, or"--he took
breath where he meant to put a handsome oath--"or--it's a fight!"
"There, there," said Jacqueline gently. "Besides, are you not to go with
me just the same?"
Ney turned to the stranger. "I ask you to withdraw, sir, both yourself
and your offers, because you're only meddling here."
The intruder grew rigid straightway. "_I_ am not one to take back
an offer," he stated loftily. His voice was weighted to a heavier
guttural, and in the deep staccatos harshly chopped off, and each
falling with a thud, there was a quality so ominous and deadly that even
Jacqueline had her doubts. But she would not admit them, to herself
least of all. "And I, Monsieur Ney," she said, "have decided to accept,"
though she had not really, until that very moment.
Ney turned to the one sailor with him. "Run like fury!" he whispered.
"Bring the others!"
"Oh, very well," said the Mexican.
As he doubtless intended, Fra Diavolo's words sounded like the low growl
of an awakening lion, and at the same time he brought forth the reed
whistle and put it to his lips. The note that came was faint, like that
of a distant bird in the forest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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