Sarita, the Carlist

by Arthur W. Marchmont

There was a gate at the bottom opening on to a back road, but I knew of a spot at the side where, with the help of a tree, I could easily scale the wall, and deemed it prudent to avoid the gate. I climbed cautiously, and, looking over, saw the way was clear, and jumped down. But a man had been posted to watch close by, and, catching sight of me, he sent up a cry and began to run in my direction. My knowledge of the locality stood me in good stead, however, and, running at top speed, I doubled through one or two back ways and passages, and shook off pursuit sufficiently to be able to walk quietly into one of the crowded main streets, where it would have been hopeless to look for me in the throng.

The excitement in the streets was even greater than before, but now there was a perceptible change of tone. A note of thanksgiving and rejoicing was mingled with the curses and groans and execrations; and I soon gathered that doubts about the young King having been even hurt had begun to spread among the people.

My way took me near the Opera House in the Plaza del Oriente, and then there flashed into my recollection the appointment I had made to see Mercy and Mrs. Curwen in their box. I recalled also the necessity of informing Mercy of the news of poor Lascelles' death. When I should have another chance I could not tell, and thus I resolved to snatch a minute, urgent though my errand was, and go to them in the box.

I pushed my way through the crowd, which was now alternately cheering with deafening enthusiasm, and turning to shout out curses and oaths against the Carlists, and, entering the Opera House, asked for Box 9, the number Mrs. Curwen had given me. They would not let me pass for a moment, however, and I was taking out my card to send to Mrs. Curwen, when the possible danger of having my name known at such a time struck me, and I scribbled, "Lord Glisfoyle," on an envelope which I borrowed at the bureau, and sent an attendant in with that. He returned and asked me to follow him, and I walked through the magnificent corridors, half ashamed of what looked like a grim, unnatural jest at such a moment, and thinking how best to break my bad news to Mercy. Little did I foresee, indeed, what a friend to me that simple precaution would prove; but, then, how few of us can see even an inch beyond the nose-tip!

I had nearly reached the box when a roar like thunder burst out suddenly in the great building, which seemed almost to stagger with the sudden shock and vibration; and, as the attendant opened the box door, the huge volume came rushing out with a deafening crash. A wild passion of excitement, uproar, and tumult possessed the vast audience, making such a scene as I had never witnessed.

Men and women alike were beside themselves in the rush and delirium of positively frantic enthusiasm: standing on the seats, and even rushing over them, leaning on one another, pushing, straining, climbing one on top of another's shoulders to gain a place from which they could catch a sight of one central spot. Even the stage was filled with a heterogeneous crowd of actors and actresses in costume, men and women in evening dress, and scene shifters and employees of all kinds. And the whole congested mass of people were yelling and shouting and cheering as though they would burst their lungs, as they waved anything they could lay hands on—hats, caps, handkerchiefs, shawls, opera cloaks, and on the stage flags, anything and everything that would help them to vent their overwhelming enthusiasm.

The centre of it all was the slight, slim, graceful, figure of the boy King, standing in front of the Royal box, bowing and smiling his acknowledgments; while just behind him, like the guardian angel of his life, was the beautiful Queen Mother, with a light of love, pride, and pleasure on her strong, clever face, as she gazed through eyes bright and shining with rare tears at this marvellous demonstration of a people's thanksgiving for her and their darling's safety.

Minutes passed, and the tumult gave no sign of abatement. If the great hoarse volume of shouting seemed for a second to be dying down, it was quickly noticed, and huge waves of swelling sound arose again, until it appeared as if the very roof would be rent by the strain. Suddenly a voice started the national air, and in a moment the leader of the orchestra seized the occasion, the band took it up, and the whole audience, led by the singers on the stage, sang it with such a chorus as had never before been heard in Madrid.

Then came an unrehearsed and most dramatic scene. There was a movement on the stage as the singing drew to a close, and the Archbishop of Madrid came to the front and stood with uplifted hand for silence.

An intense hush, seeming almost weird after the raging tumult, fell upon the place, and then his powerful voice was heard in half a dozen impressive sentences of thanksgiving for the King's deliverance; and as he finished amid sounds of sobbing from men and women, for all were now so wrought upon that emotion reigned supreme alike over strong men and weak women, a mighty Amen came from every corner of the house, with another moment of weird silence as the great priest stood with bowed head and hand-covered eyes in prayer.