The Girl of the Golden West by Giacomo Puccini, David Belasco Page B

notwithstanding the wear and tear of the road, were
plainly cut on "'Frisco patterns," was precisely the person
calculated to make an impression upon a woman like Nina
Micheltoreña; and, yet, oddly enough, he was the only man in the
room whose attentions seemed distasteful to her. It could not be
accounted for on the ground of his nationality, for she danced
gladly with others of his race. Nor did it look like caprice on her
part. On the contrary, there was an expression on her face that
resembled something like fear when she refused to be cajoled into
dancing with him. At length, finding her adamant, the man left the
room.
    But as time went by and still Ramerrez kept aloof, Nina
Micheltoreña's excitement began to increase immeasureably. To such
a woman the outlaw's neglect could mean but one thing—another
woman. And, finally, unable to control herself any longer, she made
her way to where the woman with whom Ramerrez had been conversing
was standing alone.
    "What has the Señor been saying to you?" she demanded, jealousy
and ungovernable passion blazing forth from her eyes.
    "Nothing of interest to you," replied the other with a shrug of
her shoulders.
    "It's a lie!" burst from Nina's lips. "I heard him making love
to you! I was standing near and heard every tone, every inflection
of his voice! I saw how he looked at you!" And so crazed was she by
jealousy that her face became distorted and almost ugly, if such a
thing were possible, and her great eyes filled with hatred.
    The other woman laughed scornfully.
    "Make your man stay away from me then—if you can," she
retorted.
    At that the infuriated Nina drew a knife and cried:
    "Swear to me that you'll not see him to-night, or—"
    The sentence was never finished. Quick as lightning Ramerrez
stepped in and caught Nina's up-raised arm. For one instant her
eyes flashed fire at him; another, and submissive to his will, she
slipped the knife somewhere in the folds of her dress and the
attention that she had succeeded in attracting was diverted
elsewhere. Those who had rushed up expecting a tragedy returned,
once more, to their dancing.
    "I have been looking for you, Nina," he said, taking her to one
side. "I want to speak with you."
    Nina laughed airily, but only another woman would have been able
to detect the danger lurking in that laugh.
    "Have you just come in?" she inquired casually. "It is generally
not difficult to find me when there is dancing." And then with a
significant smile: "But perhaps there were so many men about me
that I was completely hidden from the view of the Señor."
    Ramerrez bowed politely his belief in the truth of her words;
then he said somewhat seriously:
    "I see a vacant table over in the corner where we can talk
without danger of being overheard. Come!" He led the way, the woman
following him, to a rough table of pine at the farther end of the
room where, immediately, a bottle and two glasses were placed
before them. When they had pledged each other, Ramerrez went on to
say, in a low voice, that he had made the appointment in order to
deliver to her her share for the information that led to his
successful holdup of the stage at a place known as "The Forks," a
few miles back; and taking from his pocket a sack of gold he placed
it on the table before her.
    There was a silence in which Nina made no movement to pick up
the gold; whereupon, Ramerrez repeated a little harshly:
    "Your share."
    Slowly the woman rose, picking up the sack as she did so, and
with a request that he await her, she made her way over to the bar
where she handed it to the Mexican in charge with a few words of
instruction. In another moment she was again seated at the table
with him.
    "Why did you send for me to meet you here?" she now asked. "Why
did you not come to my room—surely you knew that there was danger
here?"
    Carelessly, Ramerrez let his eyes wander about the room; no one
was paying the slightest attention to them and, apparently, there
being nothing to fear, he