‘You doan’t tell me yet,’ Rosina said again, pouting, after a short pause, ‘what day you gwine to begin your war ob de delibberance.’
Isaac pondered. If he told her the whole truth, she would probably reveal it. On the other hand, if he didn’t mention Wednesday at all, she would probably hear some vague buzzing rumour about some Wednesday unfixed, from the other conspirators. So he temporised and conciliated. ‘Well, Rosie,’ he said in a hesitating voice, ‘if I tell you de trut’, you will not betray me?’—Rosie nodded.—‘Den de great an’ terrible day is comin’ true on Wednesday week, Rosie!’
‘Wednesday week,’ Rosina echoed. ‘Den, on Wednesday week, I gwine to make de missy go across to Mistah Hawtorn’s!’
Isaac smiled. His precautions, then, had clearly not been unneeded. You can’t trust le-ady with high political secrets. He smiled again, and muttered complacently: ‘Quite right, quite right, Rosie.’
‘When can I see you again, me darlin’?’ Rosie inquired anxiously.
Isaac bethought him in haste of a capital scheme for removing Rosina to-morrow evening from the scene of operations. ‘You can get away to-morrow?’ he asked with a cunning leer. ‘About eight o’clock at me house, Rosie?’
Rosie reflected a moment, and then nodded. ‘Aunt Clemmy will do de missy hair,’ she answered slowly. ‘I come down at de time, Isaac.’
Isaac laughed again. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘I doan’t can get away so early, me fren’, from de political meetin’—dar is political meetin’ to-morrow ebenin’ down at Delgado’s; but anyhow, you wait till ten o’clock. Sooner or later, I is sure to come dar.’
Rosina gave him her hand reluctantly, and glided away back to the house in a stealthy fashion. As soon as she was gone, Pourtalès flung his head back in a wild paroxysm of savage laughter. ‘Ho, ho, ho!’ he cried. ‘De missy, de missy! Ha, ha, I get Rosina out ob de road anyhow. Him doan’t gwine to tell nuffin now, an’ him clean off de scent ob de fun altogedder to-morrow ebenin’!’