The Ne'er-Do-Well Part 44
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Meanwhile they gave a ceremonious little dinner, the one and only guest being Andres Garavel, the banker.
Of all the charming peoples of Central America there are, perhaps, none more polished and well-bred than the upper-cla.s.s Panamanians.
Of this agreeable type, Senor Garavel was an admirable example, having sprung from the finest Castilian stock, as a name running back through the pages of history to the earliest conquests attested. Other Garavels had played important parts in the troubled affairs of Guatemala, and it was the banker's proud boast that one of his ancestors had a.s.sisted Alvarado to christen the first capital of that country--the city of St. James the Gentleman--in 1524. The name had later figured prominently in Antigua, that Athens of the New World where the flower of Spanish America gathered. A later forebear had fled southward at the time of the disturbances incidental to the revolt of the colonies, but in his departure there had been no disgrace, and since that time the Garavels had worthily maintained the family traditions of dignity and honor.
The present bearer of the name was of distinguished appearance. He was swarthy of skin, his hair was snow-white, and he had stern, black eyes of great intelligence. In size he was not above the medium, but his manner fully made up for any deficiency of stature. He was courtly and deliberate, evincing a pride that sprang not only from good blood but from good deeds. His poise was that of a man with heavy responsibilities, for Andres Garavel was a careful banker and a rich one. He was widely travelled, well- informed, an agreeable talker, and the conversation at Mrs.
Cortlandt's table did not lag.
"I am so disappointed that your daughter could not come," Edith told him for the second time. "I'm afraid she objects to our American informality."
"No, no, my dear lady," said their guest. "She admires American customs, as I do. We are progressive--we have travelled. In my home, in my private life, perhaps, I am Panamanian, but in my business and in my contact with other peoples I am as they are. It is the same with my daughter."
"When you Latins really become cosmopolitan you are more so than we Americans," Cortlandt acknowledged. "We a.s.sume foreign airs and customs that please us and forget to retain our own, while you-- well, with Germans you are German, with Englishmen you are English, and yet you never forget to be Spaniards."
The banker smiled. "My daughter has had a wide education for a child. She has travelled, she speaks five languages--and yet, underneath it all she is a Garavel and hence a Panamanian. She is all I have, and my life is hers."
"When we are settled in our new house we hope to see something of you both."
"You have effected a lease of the Martinez home, I believe?"
"Yes. Do you know it?"
"As my own. You are indeed fortunate to secure so fine a place. I wish that in some way I might be of service to you."
"The wish is mutual," Cortlandt answered, meaningly, but Senor Garavel concealed any recognition of the tone by a formal bow, and the meal progressed with only the customary small talk to enliven it.
As soon as the three had adjourned to the Cortlandt's suite the host of the evening proceeded to approach the subject in his mind as directly as the circ.u.mstances permitted. Through a series of natural transitions the conversation was brought around to politics, and Garavel was adroitly sounded. But he displayed little interest, maintaining a reserve that baffled them. It was impossible to betray him into an expression of feeling favorable to their views. When at last he consented to show his awareness of the suggestion so constantly held out, he spoke with deliberate intention.
"General Alfarez is my respected friend," he said, with a quietness that intensified his meaning, "and I rejoice that he will be the next President of Panama."
"You, of course, know that there is opposition to him?"
"All Panama knows that."
"General Alfarez does not seem to be a friend of the United States."
"There are few who hold the views I do. He is a man of strong character, he has no commercial interests to influence him as I have, and so we differ. Yet I respect him--"
"It is precisely because of those views of yours that I wish to consult you," said Cortlandt, slowly. "In all the Republic there is no one so progressive as you. May I speak frankly?"
Garavel inclined his white head without removing his intense, dark eyes from the speaker.
"Don Anibal Alfarez can never be President of Panama!"
The banker made no visible movement, yet the effect of this positive declaration was almost like that of a blow. After a pause he said:
"May I tell him you said so?"
"If you wish, but I do not think you will."
The hearer let his eyes flit questioningly to Mrs. Cortlandt's face to find her smiling at him.
"Believe me, dear lady," he said, "I suspected that there were grave reasons for this interview, but as yet I am at sea. I am not a politician, you know. I shall have no voice in our political affairs."
"Of course we know that, Senor Garavel, and of course there are grave reasons why we wished to talk with you. As Stephen has said, General Alfarez cannot be President--"
"Madame," he said, coldly, "Panama is a republic. The voice of the people is supreme."
"Down in your heart do you really think so?" She was still smiling at him. "No! The United States is supreme."
"Ah! That day will come, perhaps--I have said so; I look forward to it as the best solution, but--"
"The day has come."
"Even so, Alfarez is an honorable man, a strong man, and the wealthiest man in our country. He is a politician--"
"But he is not a friend of our country."
"I am not so sure." Garavel frowned at his cigar for a moment, while the room became silent. "What has this to do with me, madame?" he asked, at last.
"Can't you guess?" The intensity of her look caused him to rise hurriedly and cast a quick glance from one to the other.
"You are also a rich man, a man of ability," said Cortlandt, quick to seize the momentary advantage. "Your name is second to none in all Central America. The next President must possess intelligence, honor, ability; he must be a friend of our people. There is no one better--"
"Impossible!" exclaimed the banker, in a strange voice. "_I_? No, no!"
"And why not? Have you never had political aspirations?"
"Of course. All men have dreams. I was Secretary of Finance under Amador, but the Garavels have never really been public men.
Politics have been a curse to our house. My grandfather--"
"I know," broke in Mrs. Cortlandt. "But times have changed. Panama has seen her last revolution, and she needs a business man at her head. Presidents are not made now by rifle and sword, and the man with the machete must give way to the man with a capacity for handling big affairs. There will be no more swineherd Presidents like your Guatemalan countryman Corera, nor tyrants like Zelaya.
Panama is a healthy country, with no national debt; she is growing, developing. She holds the gateway to the Western World, and her finances must be administered wisely. You, Mr. Garavel, are one of the few who are clear-headed enough to see that her destiny is linked with ours, and there is no one who can direct her so well as you."
"It is impossible!" repeated Garavel, his agitation growing more p.r.o.nounced. "General Alfarez is my friend. His son will be my son."
"Ramon! Is Ramon engaged to your daughter?"
"Yes," exclaimed the banker, shortly. He began to pace the room.
"What difference would that make, if the young people love each other?"
"Certainly," Cortlandt agreed. "They are not children."
"As for love, Ramon loves, and--my daughter will love also, once she is married, for she is a Garavel."
"If Ramon isn't satisfactory to her, ought you to force her inclination?" Mrs. Cortlandt offered, eagerly. But the banker flung his arms aloft in a gesture of half-humorous despair.
"Oh-h! These young ladies!" he cried. "They do not know what they want. What pleases to-day, displeases to-morrow. It is 'Yes' and 'No,' 'Yes' and 'No,' until one must decide for them. That, after all, is best." He paused abruptly. "This comes upon me like a flood, my friends. I am swept away, and yet I--I will need to think seriously."
The Ne'er-Do-Well Part 44
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The Ne'er-Do-Well Part 44 summary
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