The girl paused, as explorers singing it have paused when savages never before seen by white men joined in with barbarian words. But she went on, letting the miracle be as it might.
“‘The news I bear, fair lady––’”
she sang, and nodded at the bandit, to indicate that here was his line,
“‘The news I bear, fair lady, Will cause your eyes to weep.’”
“’––Till daylight doth appear,’” Driscoll finished it with her. Then both looked up like two children, to the awful presence on horseback.
Don Rodrigo was at some pains to recover himself. A helpless girl and one lone trooper were practising a duet under his very frown. Only a glance toward the boulders and cacti reassured him.
86“Well, what next?” Jacqueline demanded sweetly. “Is it to be the–the ‘game’ at last?”
“One word,” said the Mexican solemnly. Straight in his saddle, he fixed them with keen eyes, keen, black eyes under shaggy brows. The syllables fell portentously. His voice deepened as far away thunder. “One word first,” growled the awakening lion. “You know now that I am Don Rodrigo Galán. Yes, I am he, the capitan of guerrillas, the rebel, the brigand, the hunted fugitive. Such names of ignominy a true patriot must bear because he dares to defy his poor country’s oppressors.” Here Fra Diavolo scowled; he was getting into form. “But to His Majesty in our own Mexican capital, to His Glorious Resplendent Most Christian, Most Catholic, priest-ridden, bloodthirsty, foppish, imbecile decree-making fool of a canting majesty–to this Austrian archduke who drove forth the incarnation of popular sovereignty by the brutal hand of the foreign invader–to him I will yet make it known that the love of liberty, that the loyalty to Liberal Reforms, to the Constitution, to Law and Order, to–uh–are not yet dead in these swamps and mountains of our Patria. And he will know it when he–when he hears my demand for your ransom, Señorita Marquesa. He will know it, too, when he learns that Captain Maurel–a Frenchman, señorita, not a Mexican–now lies stark in death in the brush near Tampico, where he came to take and to hang the steadfast patriot, Rodrigo Galán. But his Tender-Hearted Majesty will grieve less for that than for the loss of you, Señorita–Jacqueline. For is it not known that you, the first lady of honor to the Empress, that you are also His Majesty’s––”
“My faith,” said Jacqueline, “he speaks Spanish well!”
Thus she stopped the insult. Also she stopped an unforeseen champion at her side. Driscoll, with pistol half drawn, was willing to be checked. A shot just then, placed as they were, 87would mean a bad ending to the game. That he knew. So he was thankful for Jacqueline’s hand on his wrist.