CHAPTER VIII

FAVORED OF THE GODS

It seemed as if my heart must choke me at sound of those steady footsteps approaching down the passageway.  I heard the sharp click of a gun-barrel in the sentry’s hand as he presented arms, then the noise of the uplifting latch, yet remained so paralyzed by the suddenness of it as to be fairly helpless, unable to move from my position.  De Noyan merely smiled lazily, as though this new act formed part of the play, beginning calmly to roll another cigarette.

“The devil came likewise,” he murmured lightly, sinking back upon his stool.  “Begin your paternosters, friend Benteen, or he will fly away with both of us.”

Fortunately these mocking words brought me to my senses quickly enough to permit dropping upon my knees with back to the door before it swung wide open.  Nor did I trust myself to do aught save mumble inarticulate and mongrel Latin, until it had been safely closed again.  Had I sought to exercise my wits on this occasion, my companion permitted small opportunity for words.

“Ah! so it is you, you black-faced Arab?” he exclaimed sneeringly, as the Commandant of the guard peered curiously in.  “Not content to wait the striking of the ship’s bell, you must even interrupt my prayers.  Nice treatment of a gentleman his last night on earth, to push yourself in between him and the consolations of the holy father. Sacre! had I only a small sword at my side I would write a message across your black Spanish heart which would teach your master how to guard a French cavalier safely, and still be decent about it.”

It is doubtful whether the officer comprehended this tirade.  It was voiced in French, yet tone and manner must have conveyed much of its import, for I distinguished a muttered word or so regarding the unpleasant duty of a soldier, and the length of time the priest had retained the key, ere the intruder finally backed out closing the door behind him.  I clung to my knees, however, until his retreating footsteps had died entirely away in the distance; even until De Noyan addressed me again in his exasperating drawl.

“So, Father, you must now realize, if never before, how highly I value your ministrations.  Faith! never until this hour have I truly enjoyed the prayers of any padre; I knew not what I missed.  Still there is limit even to such pleasure, and it is time now to conclude; I have heard better Latin in my day, while your provincial accent rasps painfully upon the ears.”

“You made your play quite well, Monsieur,” I said shortly, somewhat mortified he should thus take the leadership out of my hands at the first symptom of danger.  “But there must be something besides play-acting for us to-night if we get free of this ship.  So come now; do you get into the box?”

He looked down at it doubtfully, with a shrug of the shoulders.