For Jacinta

by Harold Bindloss

Austin had sat there often before he went to Africa, listening to the music and watching the spectacle; but neither had any charm for him that night. The laughter sounded hollow, the waltz the band was playing had lost its swing, and the streams of light from the cafés hurt his eyes and irritated him. The deep murmur of the sea alone was faintly soothing, and remembering how often he had thought of that cool plaza, with its lights and music, in the steamy blackness of the swamps, he wondered vaguely what had happened to him. The zest and sparkle seemed to have gone out of life, and he did not attribute it to the fact that the melancholia of the swamp belt was still upon him.

He crossed the plaza, and sitting outside one of the cafés he had frequented, asked for wine. It was brought him, chilled with snow from the great peak's summit, but the greeting of the man who kept the café seemed for once devoid of cordiality, and the wine sour and thin. Still, the Spaniard stood a minute or two by his chair, and, as it happened, Jacinta passed just then with a dark-faced Spanish officer. He wore an exceedingly tight-fitting uniform, but he had a figure that carried it well, and an unmistakable air of distinction. Jacinta was also smiling at him, though she turned, and seemed to indicate somebody in the vicinity with a little gesture. As she did so her eyes rested for a moment upon Austin, who became for the first time unpleasantly conscious of his haggard face and hard, scarred hands. There was, he realised, nothing in the least distinguished about him. Then it was with a faint sense of dismay he saw that Jacinta did not mean to recognise him, for she laughed as she turned to her companion, and he heard the soft rustle of her light draperies as they went on again.

"That is the Colonel Sarramento?" he said, as carelessly as he could, though there was a faint flush in his hollow face.

"It is," said his companion. "Colonel in the military service, though he has held other offices in Cuba. A man of ability, señor, and now it is said that he will marry the English merchant's daughter. Why not? The Señorita Brown is more Spanish than English, and she is certainly rich."

"I don't know of any reason," said Austin listlessly, and the man turned away. He had no wish to waste his time upon an Englishman who apparently did not appreciate his conversation.

Austin sat still a little while, indignation struggling with his languor, for he was almost certain that Jacinta had seen him. He had never flattered himself that she would regard him as anything more than a friend who was occasionally useful, but he thought she might, at least, have expressed her appreciation of his latest efforts, and he was also a trifle puzzled. Jacinta, as a rule, would stop and speak to any of the barefooted peons she was acquainted with, and he had never known her to slight an acquaintance without a reason. It seemed only due to her to make quite sure she had intentionally passed him without recognition.

He rose and strolled round the plaza until he met her again face to face where a stream of garish light fell upon them both. She allowed her eyes to rest upon him steadily, but it was the look she would have bestowed on a stranger, and in another moment she had turned to the officer at her side. Then a bevy of laughing tourists passed between and separated them.

After that Austin strolled round the plaza several times in a far from amiable temper. He was stirred at last, and easy-going as he usually was, there was in him a certain vein of combativeness which had been shaken into activity in Africa. It was, he admitted, certainly Jacinta's privilege to ignore him; but there were occasions on which conventionalities might be disregarded, and he determined that she should, at least, make him acquainted with her purpose in doing so. He did not mean to question it, but to hear it was, he felt, no more than his due.

It was some time before he came upon her again, talking to a Spanish lady, who, seeing him approaching with a suggestion of resolution in his attitude, had sufficient sense to withdraw a pace or two and sign to another companion. Jacinta apparently recognised that he was not to be put off this time, for she indicated the vacant chairs not far away with a little wave of her fan, and when he drew one out for her sat down and looked at him.

"You are persistent," she said. "I am not sure that it was altogether commendable taste."