“He kissed me on both cheeks; then nothing would do but I must go with him; a cruise de luxe would set me on my feet, clinch the nail of my convalescence. He began to plan a touching reconciliation, the little dinner which would attend this fête d’amour, the wines, the touching speech which he would make, all of which so overcame him that he wept upon my shoulder.
“Of course, I promised to go with him; one could scarcely do otherwise; and, indeed, Doctor, I had a real esteem for the poor fellow, who in many ways had the heart of a child. But the excitement of the whole affair proved too much for his organically diseased heart, and that night he nearly died.
“His steward came in to tell me that he feared his master was moribund, so I got a Spanish surgeon and we worked over him throughout the night. It was several days before he was out of immediate danger, and then there came a typhoon, and his captain wished to put to sea to ride it out. The yacht took the gale like a gull, but altogether it was two weeks before the Count was fit to proceed on the quest of his errant wife.
“We left Jolo early in the morning, and when I awoke the next day we were lying off Port Isabella. I took the gig and went ashore, leaving the Count taking digitalis and almost in a syncope. I was firm in refusing to allow him to land, and, to tell the truth, I did not much expect to find the couple. Having found the local padre, a Mestizo, I asked after the fugitives.
“‘Yes,’ he said, ‘they were here, but they have gone, blessed be the name of the Virgin! A pair of devils—with apologies to the Señor if he should be so unfortunate as to be a friend. Myself, I believe them to be quite mad. First they would quarrel, then they would kiss—then they would quarrel again. Never have I seen so many quarrels—nor so much kissing,’ he added, thoughtfully.
“‘When did they leave?’ I asked.
“‘But three days ago; St. Christopher grant that they do not return! He was a devil—a white devil, this man—they were both devils.’ He shuddered. ‘The kissings were growing less and the quarrels more. The night before they left she came flying to the convent and begged for an asylum. I was tempted, Señor, for she was very beautiful, like the women of Paris, where I was educated, and a poor priest grows weary of nothing but native women—but I thought of this purple-eyed devil and refused her sanctuary. It was fortunate, for as we were discussing it he came up and ordered her to return to the house which they were occupying. I do not know by what powers she cursed him, but it must have been very terrible, for he seized her by the shoulder and thrashed her with a bamboo until she howled like a beaten bitch.
“‘I have no doubt it did her a world of good,’ I answered. In fact, Doctor, this was the most cheering intelligence which I had received. I began to believe that the Providence which had ordered these things was not unwise.
“‘The Señor is correct,’ replied the priest, gravely, ‘for when I passed the house on the way to mass they were on the verandah, and she was crouching at his feet, with her head upon his knee. There is nothing like a bamboo shoot for a bad-tempered woman, no matter how beautiful,’ he added, thoughtfully.
“I returned to the schooner and told the Count I thought that we would find them in Zamboanga; I told him also of the discipline which his wife was under. He looked pensive.