CHAPTER I
FRANCISCO'S HOME
FRANCISCO sat crosslegged in one corner of the _patio_ under the shadeof a small pomegranate tree which grew in a tub. He had moved halfwayaround the _patio_ since morning, trying to keep out of the sun. Justafter _cafe_ he had started out under the shade of the east wall, wherewistaria vines and jasmine grew in a dense mass of purple, yellow andgreen; then he had gone from one tubbed shelter to another as the sunmounted higher, until now only the heavy foliage of the pomegranateoffered protection from the hot rays. All of the long varnished blindsat the doors of the rooms opening upon this central, stone-pavedcourtyard, had long since been closed securely, for it was middleDecember and the house must be sealed early against the noon heat ofmidsummer.
Francisco might have gone inside, where the darkened rooms furnishedsome relief, but he chose to sit crosslegged on the red and whitesquare stones of the _patio_, with his back to the main part of thehouse, so that the mother and sisters could not see what occupied hisbusy hands.
Francisco's father was dead, and he, with his mother, La Senora AnitaMaria Lacevera de Gonzalez, and his two sisters, Elena Maria, who wassix, and Guillerma Maria, who was eighteen and very beautiful, lived inthe Calle[1] Cerrito, in the city of Buenos Aires, Argentine Republic,South America.
Francisco, himself, was nine, and his uncle who was a colonel in thearmy and who supported his widowed sister and her family, expected himto be a soldier also. His great-grandfather had been a general, andbecause of his services during the revolution that had broughtArgentina her liberty nearly one hundred years ago, his family was oneof the most distinguished in the Republic. Francisco's own grandfatherhad given his life for his _patria_ during the ten years' blockade ofBuenos Aires, when the French and English forces combined to overcomeGeneral Rosas, who then commanded the city. His mother and his uncle,the Colonel Juan Carlos Lacevera, were then little children, but theywere fired with a patriotism that comes only to those who have given oftheir own flesh and blood for native land.
"El Coronel Lacevera" was now retired, and with his wife and sixdaughters lived in a spacious, palatial home in the Calle San Martinfacing the beautiful plaza, or park, where the statue of General SanMartin on his rearing charger stands, a constant reminder to thehundreds of little Argentine boys and girls who daily play in thepebbled space around it, of the wonderful man, who, like GeorgeWashington, was first in war, first in peace, and is still first in thehearts of his countrymen.
The monthly allowance bestowed by Colonel Lacevera upon his sister wasenough to keep them in comfort, but not sufficient to allow them to livein luxury, and to-day, because Francisco had not enough money to buy hisChristmas _pesebre_ at the toyshop, he was doing what many little boysof that country do,--he was making his own.
Now, you must know right here, that Christmas in these South Americancountries is not the greatest festival of the entire year, as it is withus; it is simply one of the many that are celebrated at frequentintervals, for Argentina is a land of _fiestas_; there is scarcely amonth that does not allow three or four holidays from school because ofsome _fiesta_, either of church or state. Although they do not celebratethis great holiday as we do with Christmas trees and visits from SantaClaus, they have something in their places, and it is the "Coming ofthe Three Kings." In anticipation of this, all over the Republic,children erect _pesebres_ or mangers.
A _pesebre_ consists of a miniature open shed, or merely a roof of strawor bark, underneath which, in a tiny box, lies a porcelain baby doll torepresent the infant Christ. Bending in adoration at the head of the weebox that holds this image kneels the mother, Mary, and at the foot, withfolded hands, stands Joseph, the father. About them, placed in sand ormoss, that forms the floor of the stable or yard, are figures torepresent the worshipful neighbours, also the farm-yard fowls andanimals; cows and donkeys predominating. They look like Noah's Arkpeople, stiff-legged and prim. Now all of this remains unmoved, a spotof reverent adoration, throughout Christmas week, New Year's day, anduntil "twelfth night," or the fifth of January. It is awaiting the greatevent for which it was erected, the "Coming of the Three Kings."
On that auspicious night, through the same magical means that aid SantaClaus to enter the homes of North American children while their eyes areclosed in sleep, come the three richly decorated and delicately carvedkings on miniature camels with costly trappings and bags of spices ontheir little brown backs.
On the morning of the sixth of January the children awake, all eagernessto see the arrivals of the night. Rushing to the _pesebre_ they find thethree little wooden kings kneeling beside the manger, the faithfulcamels standing in the grass without, and all about on the floor are thewonderful gifts that the kings have brought to their _pesebre_. Indeed,as you can see, it was erected for just this purpose, exactly as the firtree with its glittering ornaments forms the nucleus in other lands forChristmas gifts.
It was these wooden people and animals that Francisco's small fingerswere fashioning. He had cut himself several times, and one finger wasbound up in an old handkerchief, but his enthusiasm was not lessenedbecause of it. He knew exactly how they should be carved, and how manythere should be, for in the toyshop windows there had been sets of themon display for weeks, and Francisco had studied each necessary bitcarefully.
In a box beside him were the finished product of his penknife. Josephand Mary were completed even to the paint; Mary's red and blue gown andJoseph's yellow robe were not quite dry, and the cows were too vividlyred, but that would not matter; Elena was no severe critic, and it wasmainly for her that he was carving them. Elena had been ill and this wasto be her "getting well" gift. The flashing light in her great browneyes when she should see them would be sufficient reward for cut fingersand weary back. Besides, this was the summer vacation and there wasnothing else to do.
In all countries on the other side of the Equator the seasons are thereverse of those on this side. In Argentina the children are havingtheir summer holidays in December, January, and February, when thechildren of the Northern hemisphere are busy in school, or skating andsleighing; and they are having their winter when the Northern childrenare dressed in their thinnest clothing and are going away to theseashore or mountains.
Francisco had just completed a wonderful set of bent pin horns for oneof the red cows when he was called to breakfast, and it was _half-pasteleven_. But you see their meal hours, like their seasons, are differentfrom ours. At eight o'clock he had had his _cafe con leche_, or coffeewith hot milk, and a roll; at half-past eleven he was accustomed tohaving his breakfast; at four he would have _mate_ or tea; and at sevendinner would be served.
Francisco gathered his treasures into the tin box, and hurried to thebath-room to make himself ready for _almuerzo_. When he entered thedining-room his mother and Guillerma, the elder sister, were seated, andthe little Indian serving-maid was arranging a tray to carry to Elena inthe bed-room.
The meal consisted of beef broth and rice, called _caldo_ and the usualbeginning to every hearty meal in that country; then came fried fishwith garlic, followed by a stew of mutton, carrots, cabbage, potatoes,and large pieces of yellow pumpkin, this being the native dish of theArgentines and commonly known as _puchero_. After that came fruit andcoffee.
Guillerma chatted continuously of the wonderful new gowns which she hadseen being packed at the great house in Calle San Martin, where she hadbeen the day before, to bid her aunt and six cousins good-bye, beforetheir departure for Mar-de-la-Plata, the fashionable watering place onthe Atlantic Ocean, a day's ride by rail from Buenos Aires.
Meanwhile, as they sat thus, eating and talking, over in the great houseof the _Coronel_[2] the master sat at his massive library table playingsolitaire. He always ended his meals thus with his after-dinnercoffee-cup beside him. The walls were lined with well-filled bookcases,for the Colonel was a scholar.
Indeed, he cared little for the gay life that ebbed and flowed about himbecause of his high social position, and because of the six comelydaug
hters, ranging from fourteen to twenty-four; the eldest ones of whomwere favourites in exclusive Buenos Aires society. He suffered itbecause of his love for them, but his natural fondness for quiet andstudy led him to think longingly of the large estate in the Province ofSanta Fe, where he could spend the remaining years of his life in thefree open air, enjoying the quiet and solitude he so loved. But thedaughters must be educated and their mother did not like the country, sothe Colonel was forced to live through the winter months in the noiseand roar of the great city; contenting himself with a few months eachsummer at the estate, when he rode at will over the wide prairies on hisswift Argentine horse, or read for hours under the shade of the widespreading _ombu_ trees which surrounded the country house. This_estancia_, as they term a very large farm or ranch, was really hiswife's; in fact, so was the city house, for no retired colonel's pay,nor general's pay, for that matter, could have met the expenses of hislarge family, accustomed to every luxury; indeed, it was just enough tocover his own personal expenses, and provide a living for his widowedsister, who had been left penniless, but dared not earn her own living,since the custom of the country forbids women of class to do work of anykind.
His matronly wife with her six daughters (large families are the ruleamong these Latin Americans) had left the evening before, with severalFrench maids, for Mar-de-la-Plata to spend the entire summer; he wouldbe detained in the city for two weeks, and then--for freedom and thelife he loved.
But he was strangely lonely; the house echoed his and the servants'footfalls with an intensity that made him nervous; the pillaredcorridors rang with no merry girlish laughter, and the luxuriantlyfurnished _patio_ with its marble floors, and softly patteringfountains, seemed to mock him of his loneliness. Always before, he hadleft for the _estancia_ before his family had gone to Europe or theseashore for their summer outing, and he never would have believed thathe--an old soldier--could be so overcome by sentiment.
He was minded to take up his abode for the next two weeks, previous tohis leaving for the country, in his widowed sister's humble home, whenthe splendid thought came to him;--he would bring Francisco, his nephew,there with him to the lonely house.
For some time he had been drawn towards the little fellow, partlybecause his heart was desolate that he had no son of his own, partlybecause the boy was developing so many manly traits, and reminded himfrequently, when he turned his round brown eyes towards him, of his ownlong since fallen soldier father.
He desired to know him better, to get closer to the lad--and now thiswas his opportunity; he would ask Anita to let him have Francisco forthe summer, and the boy would keep the empty house lively for the fewdays until they should both leave for his Tres Arroyas ranch. He clappedhis hands sharply, and a servant appeared.
"Have Enrique bring the motor car at four, when the afternoon iscooler," he ordered, and turned to his bed-room for the _siesta_, orrest, that all tropical and semitropical climates demand of theirresidents.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Street.]
[Footnote 2: Colonel.]