CHAPTER VIII
So long as I may live I shall never forget the ball at which I was present that night. The scene was gay beyond description. All the Rank and Fashion of La Gloria, and one might almost say of Equinata, were assembled there. When the dancing had been in progress for some time, the President and the Señorita Dolores put in an appearance and were received by the committee to the strains of the National Air. I must confess that Fernandez made a most imposing figure, with his broad ribbon of the Order of La Gloria, and his wealth of foreign decorations. As for his companion, it would be difficult for a mere male mortal to find words in which to describe the picture she presented. As soon as it was permissible I crossed the room to her and humbly asked her for a dance. She was graciously pleased to give me one, and presently we found ourselves circling round the room together to the music of a long swinging waltz, excellently played. Afterwards I escorted her from the ball-room into the balcony. It was a lovely night, and so still, that in the pauses of the music the sound of the waves upon the beach could be distinctly heard, though more than a mile away. I procured my companion's mantilla for her, with which she draped her head and neck, with characteristic grace. Never, I am inclined to believe, had she looked lovelier than she did at that moment, and when she leant upon the balustrading of the balcony, and looked across the city towards the mountains, behind which the moon was rising, I vowed that I had never beheld a fairer picture. Few men could have stood beside her then and not have felt the fascination of her presence.
"Señor Trevelyan," she said meditatively, in a voice that was as low and musical as the deep notes of a guitar, "what a strange thing is life! You and I stand here together now. Out of the infinite you hold my attention for minutes that never can be recalled. Later we shall separate, and then you will go your way, and I shall go mine. In all probability we shall never meet again—yet through Eternity our destinies will be linked, like the strands of a rope, by the remembrance of a few minutes' conversation on a certain moonlight night in Equinata."
I must confess that this sudden seriousness on her part puzzled me considerably. A moment before she had been all gaiety, a few seconds later she was gravity personified. The change was so instantaneous that I found it difficult to follow her.
"I am afraid I must be very obtuse," I stammered, "but I cannot say that I have quite caught your meaning."
"I am not sure that I know it myself," she replied. "The beauty of the night has taken hold of me. The rising of the moon always has a curious effect upon me. I am afraid you will think me very absurd, but people say I have a strange way of looking at things. I was thinking of our life. Consider for a moment how much we are governed by Chance. We meet some one we like, some one whom we believe might prove a good friend if ever occasion should arise. He, or she, crosses our path, tarries perhaps for a moment with us, and then vanishes, never to be seen by us again."
"But we have the consolation of recollection left us," I replied, more impressed than ever by her curious mood. "Every day we put away impressions in memory's store-house—mental photographs, may I call them—which will conjure up the Past for us in fifty years' time if need be. Think of the impression I am receiving at this moment. It will never be effaced. The scent of the orange blossoms, the glorious moonlight, the music of the ball-room yonder, and you leaning upon the balustrading looking down upon the sleeping city. The picture will still be with me even though I have the misfortune to be many thousand miles from La Gloria. In fifty years' time I may be in an English village, in a Chinese seaport, or on the South African Karroo; then the shimmer of the moonlight on a leaf—a chance strain of music—even a piece of black lace, like that of your mantilla—will be sufficient to bring the whole scene before my mind's eye. In a flash I shall be transported to this balcony, and you will be standing beside me once more."
It seemed to me that she gave a little shiver as I said this.
"If your mental photographs are to be so vivid," she continued, "what a sorry figure I shall cut in them, if through all time I continue to talk as I have been doing to-night." Then changing her manner, she went on, "I fear you will soon grow tired of Equinata."