“But what about my father? Do you think that he really does visit these awful places which you have just described to me?”
“P’raps not; I may be wrongs, madamselle,” said the old negress, who felt upset to think she had told her innocent charge so much about the vaudoux. And though Claircine rambled on, telling Sestrina many things about the cruelty of the fetish worshippers and the attendant superstitions of the bigoted adherents, she adroitly made it appear to Sestrina that she spoke of a far-off time.
“’Tis not like that now. Oh, no! ze officials did shoot mens and womens for drinking ze sacred wines from the Goat without Horns, and so ’tis long past!”
So did Claircine attempt to undo the harm she had done by making Sestrina feel so miserable and ashamed. But though the negress had chatted on till the night grew old, the girl was still full of trouble and fear over her own thoughts.
Bewildered over all she had heard, Sestrina crept back to her chamber to dream of the dark papaloi who chanted somewhere up in the black mountains. For a long time she could not sleep. She thought of the terrible look she had seen in her parent’s eyes, and, wondering what was really the matter with him, forgot all else. For Sestrina, deep down in her heart, had a great love and reverence for her father. “He looks so different, so good and kind when the evil spirit does not possess him,” she thought, as she wiped the tears from her eyes. Then she thought of the young Englishman, of his blue eyes, his manly ways, and wondered what he would have thought had he seen her father that night! Then her reflections ran into a calmer channel, and with the pretty words that Clensy had whispered that night still lingering in her ears, she at last fell asleep.
CHAPTER V
A WEEK after the events of the preceding chapter, Royal Clensy found himself standing by the Erard pianoforte in President Gravelot’s home. Sestrina had suddenly developed a passionate desire to play and sing. And President Gravelot, who was always eager to please the girl when he was in his sane moods, had agreed to hire a teacher. Sestrina’s face had looked very troubled when she had approached her father on the matter, for she did not like the idea of deceiving him. But she easily overcame her delicate scruples, and so, looking her parent straight in the face, she had said, “I much prefer a white man as a teacher; the white men are better educated, more simple and refined in their manners.” And so the great coincidence which usually comes when the opposite sexes seek a chance to meet each other, came about. Clensy, of all men in the world, received a note from President Gravelot in which he was asked if he would accept a position as Sestrina’s teacher for singing and pianoforte playing! The terms offered were good too! When Bartholomew Biglow heard that Clensy was teaching Sestrina to sing and play, he smacked our hero on the back and gazed on him with splendid admiration. “Couldn’t have done it better myself!” he had roared, and that was the greatest compliment the big man could pay anyone. And so, there sat pretty Sestrina, her heart bubbling with delight as her hands ran along the ivory keys, diligently going through the five-finger exercises! She had also arranged that Clensy should teach her to sing from the tonic sol-fa system.
“No, no! like this,” said Clensy, as he forced a serious look into his eyes and struck the pianoforte keys.
“Ah, monsieur, I see!” murmured the beautiful, guileless Sestrina, as Clensy wondered what she would think of the contents of the note which she had slipped into the folds of her pretty blue sarong a second before! They both had to be very careful! Old Gravelot kept walking into the room and went shuffling about as though he was suspicious. His brilliant eyes certainly did stare in a critical manner at the handsome music teacher, as that sanguine worthy leaned over his daughter and guided her fingers along the keyboard, rippling out the scales! Clensy knew that the president was all-powerful in Hayti, and that, were his suspicions aroused, he would be shot. True enough, the worst construction possible would be put on Clensy’s reason for seeking Sestrina’s society. Sestrina trembled inwardly, but, like most women, she was a born actress—she struck the pianoforte keys, just so! and looked as solemn as a nun. Then her father walked out of the room. Oh, the change in Sestrina’s face and manner when the heavily-draped curtains divided, and the president disappeared, leaving them alone again. It was magnificent! The discordant strumming of the scales resolved into the perfect harmony of living music that shone from Sestrina’s eyes and thrilled Clensy’s soul with unbounded happiness. Then our hero took an unwarrantable liberty; he leaned forward, struck a delicious chord on the piano, and kissed Sestrina’s pretty ear! Ah, parents of all countries, beware of music teachers! Yes, Royal Clensy was making good headway. He knew that there was much wisdom in the old saying, “Faint heart never won fair lady.” It was a pretty picture as he stood there by the side of the seated Sestrina; her hands still rested on the keys as she looked up into his face. Her beauty was the beauty of the tropic starry night, and Clensy was as fair as sunrise on the morning mountains. His fine blue eyes charmed Sestrina the same as he was charmed by the starry darkness of her own.
“I dreamed of you last night, sweet Sestrina.” Saying this, Clensy rippled out a tender cadenza.