Martin Conisby

"Then do you live to a vain end, young sir! For vengeance is an emptiness and he that seeketh it wasteth himself."

"Now tell me, Don Federigo," I questioned, "seek you not the life of this Belvedere that slew your son?"

"'Tis my prayer to see him die, Señor, yet do I live to other, and I pray to nobler purpose--"

"Why, then," quoth I fiercely, "so is it my prayer to watch my enemy die and I do live to none other purpose--"

"Spoke like true, bully lad, Martino!" cried a voice, and glancing about, I espied Joanna leaning in the opening to the cave. She was clad in her male attire as I had seen her first, save that by her side she bore the bejewelled Spanish rapier. Thus lolled she, smiling on me half-contemptuous, hand poised lightly on the hilt of her sword, all graceful insolence.

"Eye for eye, Martino," said she, nodding. "Tooth for tooth, blood for blood: 'tis a good law and just, yes! How say you, Señor Don Federigo; you agree--no?"

With an effort Don Federigo got to his feet and, folding his cloak about his spare form, made her a prodigious deep obeisance.

"'Tis a law ancient of days, Señorita," said he.

"And your health improves, Señor, I hope--yes?"

"The Señorita is vastly gracious! Thanks to Don Martino I mend apace. Oh, yes, and shall soon be strong enough to die decorously, I trust, and in such fashion as the Señorita shall choose."

"Aha, Señor," said she, with flash of white teeth, "'tis an everlasting joy to me that I also am of noble Spanish blood. Some day when justice hath been done, and you are no more, I will have a stone raised up to mark where lie the bones of a great Spanish gentleman. As for thee, my poor Martino, that babblest o' vengeance, 'tis not for thee nor ever can be--thou that art only English, cold--cold--a very clod! Oh, verily there is more life, more fire and passion in a small, dead fish than in all thy great, slow body! And now, pray charge me my pistols; you have all the powder here." I shook my head. "Fool," said she, "I mean not to shoot you, and as for Don Federigo, since death is but his due, a bullet were kinder--so charge now these my pistols."

"I have no powder," said I.

"Liar!"

"I cast it into the sea lest I be tempted to shoot you."

Now at this she must needs burst out a-laughing.

"Oh, Englishman!" cried she. "Oh, sluggard soul--how like, how very like thee, Martino!" Then, laughing yet, she turned and left me to stare after her in frowning wonderment.