Rainbows End | Page 7

father lurched forward, a frown upon his face. "What is this, my
dears?" he inquired, thickly. "Run back to your beds. This is no place
for you."
"We love Evangelina," piped the twins. "You must not let Don Pablo
have her--if you please."
"Evangelina?"
They nodded. "We love her. ... She plays with us every day. ... We
want her to stay here. ... She belongs to us."
Accustomed as they were to prompt compliance with their demands,
they spoke imperiously; but they had never seen a frown like this upon
their father's face, and at his refusal their voices grew squeaky with
excitement and uncertainty.
"Go to your rooms, my sweethearts," Don Esteban directed, finally.
"We want Evangelina. She belongs to us," they chorused, stubbornly.
Don Pablo shook with laughter. "So! She belongs to you, eh? And I'm
to be robbed of my winnings. Very well, then, come and give me a kiss,
both of you, and I'll see what can be done."

But the children saw that Don Pablo's face was strangely flushed, that
his eyes were wild and his magnificent beard was wet with wine;
therefore they hung back.
"You won your bet fairly," Esteban growled at him. "Pay no heed to
these babies."
"Evangelina is ours," the little ones bravely repeated.
Then their father exploded: "The devil! Am I dreaming? Where have
you learned to oppose me? Back to your beds, both of you." Seeing
them hesitate, he shouted for his wife. "Ho, there! Isabel, my love!
Come put these imps to rest. Or must I teach them manners with my
palm? A fine thing, truly! Are they to be allowed to roam the house at
will and get a fever?"
Mere mention of their stepmother's name was enough for Rosa and
Esteban; they scuttled away as fast as they could go, and when Dona
Isabel came to their rooms, a few moments later, she found them in
their beds, with their eyes deceitfully squeezed shut. Evangelina was
cowering in a corner. Isabel had overheard the wager, and her soul was
evilly alight; she jerked the slave girl to her feet and with a blow of her
palm sent her to her quarters. Then she turned her attention to the twins.
When she left them they were weeping silently, both for themselves
and for Evangelina, whom they dearly loved.
Meanwhile Don Mario had resumed his singing.
Day was breaking when Esteban Varona bade his guests good-by at the
door of his house. As he stood there Sebastian came to him out of the
mists of the dawn. The old man had been waiting for hours. He was
half crazed from apprehension, and now cast himself prone before his
master, begging for Evangelina.
Don Pablo, in whom the liquor was dying, cursed impatiently:
"Caramba! Have I won the treasure of your whole establishment?" he
inquired. "Perhaps you value this wench at more than a thousand pesos;
if so, you will say that I cheated you."

"No! She's only an ordinary girl. My wife doesn't like her, and so I
determined to get rid of her. She is yours, fairly enough," Varona told
him.
"Then send her to my house. I'll breed her to Salvador, my cochero.
He's the strongest man I have."
Sebastian uttered a strangled cry and rose to his feet. "Master! You
must not--"
"Silence!" ordered Esteban. Wine never agreed with him, and this
morning its effects, combined with his losses at gambling, had put him
in a nasty temper. "Go about your business. What do you mean by this,
anyhow?" he shouted.
But Sebastian, dazed of mind and sick of soul, went on, unheeding.
"She is my girl. You promised me her freedom. I warn you--"
"Eh?" The planter swayed forward and with blazing eyes surveyed his
slave. Esteban knew that he had done a foul thing in risking the girl
upon the turn of a card, and an inner voice warned him that he would
repent his action when he became sober, but in his present mood this
very knowledge enraged him the more. "You warn me? Of what?" he
growled.
At this moment neither master nor man knew exactly what he said or
did. Sebastian raised his hand on high. In reality the gesture was meant
to call Heaven as a witness to his years of faithful service, but,
misconstruing his intent, Pablo Peza brought his riding-whip down
across the old man's back, crying:
"Ho! None of that."
A shudder ran through Sebastian's frame. Whirling, he seized Don
Pablo's wrist and tore the whip from his fingers. Although the Spaniard
was a strong man, he uttered a cry of pain.
At this indignity to a guest Esteban flew into a fury. "Pancho!" he cried.

"Ho! Pancho!" When the manager came running, Esteban explained:
"This fool