CHAPTER XIII
That evening by the fire old Nuflo, lately so miserable, now happy inhis delusions, was more than usually gay and loquacious. He was likea child who by timely submission has escaped a threatened severepunishment. But his lightness of heart was exceeded by mine; and, withthe exception of one other yet to come, that evening now shines inmemory as the happiest my life has known. For Rima's sweet secret wasknown to me; and her very ignorance of the meaning of the feeling sheexperienced, which caused her to fly from me as from an enemy, onlyserved to make the thought of it more purely delightful.
On this occasion she did not steal away like a timid mouse to her ownapartment, as her custom was, but remained to give that one eveninga special grace, seated well away from the fire in that same shadowycorner where I had first seen her indoors, when I had marvelled at heraltered appearance. From that corner she could see my face, with thefirelight full upon it, she herself in shadow, her eyes veiled by theirdrooping lashes. Sitting there, the vivid consciousness of my happinesswas like draughts of strong, delicious wine, and its effect was likewine, imparting such freedom to fancy, such fluency, that again andagain old Nuflo applauded, crying out that I was a poet, and beggingme to put it all into rhyme. I could not do that to please him, neverhaving acquired the art of improvisation--that idle trick of makingwords jingle which men of Nuflo's class in my country so greatly admire;yet it seemed to me on that evening that my feelings could be adequatelyexpressed only in that sublimated language used by the finest minds intheir inspired moments; and, accordingly, I fell to reciting. But notfrom any modern, nor from the poets of the last century, nor even fromthe greater seventeenth century. I kept to the more ancient romancesand ballads, the sweet old verse that, whether glad or sorrowful, seemsalways natural and spontaneous as the song of a bird, and so simple thateven a child can understand it.
It was late that night before all the romances I remembered or caredto recite were exhausted, and not until then did Rima come out of hershaded corner and steal silently away to her sleeping-place.
Although I had resolved to go with them, and had set Nuflo's mind atrest on the point, I was bent on getting the request from Rima's ownlips; and the next morning the opportunity of seeing her alone presenteditself, after old Nuflo had sneaked off with his dogs. From the momentof his departure I kept a close watch on the house, as one watches abush in which a bird one wishes to see has concealed itself, and out ofwhich it may dart at any moment and escape unseen.
At length she came forth, and seeing me in the way, would have slippedback into hiding; for, in spite of her boldness on the previous day, shenow seemed shyer than ever when I spoke to her.
"Rima," I said, "do you remember where we first talked together under atree one morning, when you spoke of your mother, telling me that she wasdead?"
"Yes."
"I am going now to that spot to wait for you. I must speak to you againin that place about this journey to Riolama." As she kept silent, Iadded: "Will you promise to come to me there?"
She shook her head, turning half away.
"Have you forgotten our compact, Rima?"
"No," she returned; and then, suddenly coming near, spoke in a low tone:"I will go there to please you, and you must also do as I tell you."
"What do you wish, Rima?"
She came nearer still. "Listen! You must not look into my eyes, you mustnot touch me with your hands."
"Sweet Rima, I must hold your hand when I speak with you."
"No, no, no," she murmured, shrinking from me; and finding that it mustbe as she wished, I reluctantly agreed.
Before I had waited long, she appeared at the trysting-place, and stoodbefore me, as on a former occasion, on that same spot of clean yellowsand, clasping and unclasping her fingers, troubled in mind even then.Only now her trouble was different and greater, making her shyer andmore reticent.
"Rima, your grandfather is going to take you to Riolama. Do you wish meto go with you?"
"Oh, do you not know that?" she returned, with a swift glance at myface.
"How should I know?"
Her eyes wandered away restlessly. "On Ytaioa you told me a hundredthings which I did not know," she replied in a vague way, wishing,perhaps, to imply that with so great a knowledge of geography it wasstrange I did not know everything, even her most secret thoughts.
"Tell me, why must you go to Riolama?"
"You have heard. To speak to my people."
"What will you say to them? Tell me."
"What you do not understand. How tell you?"
"I understand you when you speak in Spanish."
"Oh, that is not speaking."
"Last night you spoke to your mother in Spanish. Did you not tell hereverything?"
"Oh no--not then. When I tell her everything I speak in another way, ina low voice--not on my knees and praying. At night, and in the woods,and when I am alone I tell her. But perhaps she does not hear me; she isnot here, but up there--so far! She never answers, but when I speak tomy people they will answer me."
Then she turned away as if there was nothing more to be said.
"Is this all I am to hear from you, Rima--these few words?" I exclaimed."So much did you say to your grandfather, so much to your dead mother,but to me you say so little!"
She turned again, and with eyes cast down replied:
"He deceived me--I had to tell him that, and then to pray to mother.But to you that do not understand, what can I say? Only that you are notlike him and all those that I knew at Voa. It is so different--and thesame. You are you, and I am I; why is it--do you know?"
"No; yes--I know, but cannot tell you. And if you find your people, whatwill you do--leave me to go to them? Must I go all the way to Riolamaonly to lose you?"
"Where I am, there you must be."
"Why?"
"Do I not see it there?" she returned, with a quick gesture to indicatethat it appeared in my face.
"Your sight is keen, Rima--keen as a bird's. Mine is not so keen. Let melook once more into those beautiful wild eyes, then perhaps I shall seein them as much as you see in mine."
"Oh no, no, not that!" she murmured in distress, drawing away from me;then with a sudden flash of brilliant colour cried:
"Have you forgotten the compact--the promise you made me?"
Her words made me ashamed, and I could not reply. But the shame wasas nothing in strength compared to the impulse I felt to clasp herbeautiful body in my arms and cover her face with kisses. Sick withdesire, I turned away and, sitting on a root of the tree, covered myface with my hands.
She came nearer: I could see her shadow through my fingers; then herface and wistful, compassionate eyes.
"Forgive me, dear Rima," I said, dropping my hands again. "I have triedso hard to please you in everything! Touch my face with your hand--onlythat, and I will go to Riolama with you, and obey you in all things."
For a while she hesitated, then stepped quickly aside so that I couldnot see her; but I knew that she had not left me, that she was standingjust behind me. And after waiting a moment longer I felt her fingerstouching my skin, softly, trembling over my cheek as if a soft-wingedmoth had fluttered against it; then the slight aerial touch was gone,and she, too, moth-like, had vanished from my side.
Left alone in the wood, I was not happy. That fluttering, flatteringtouch of her finger-tips had been to me like spoken language, and moreeloquent than language, yet the sweet assurance it conveyed had notgiven perfect satisfaction and when I asked myself why the gladness ofthe previous evening had forsaken me--why I was infected with thisnew sadness when everything promised well for me, I found that it wasbecause my passion had greatly increased during the last few hours; evenduring sleep it had been growing, and could no longer be fed by merelydwelling in thought on the charms, moral and physical, of its object,and by dreams of future fruition.
I concluded that it would be best for Rima's sake as well as my own tospend a few of the days before setting out on our journey with
my Indianfriends, who would be troubled at my long absence; and, accordingly,next morning I bade good-bye to the old man, promising to return inthree or four days, and then started without seeing Rima, who hadquitted the house before her usual time. After getting free of thewoods, on casting back my eyes I caught sight of the girl standing underan isolated tree watching me with that vague, misty, greenish appearanceshe so frequently had when seen in the light shade at a short distance.
"Rima!" I cried, hurrying back to speak to her, but when I reached thespot she had vanished; and after waiting some time, seeing and hearingnothing to indicate that she was near me, I resumed my walk, halfthinking that my imagination had deceived me.
I found my Indian friends home again, and was not surprised to observe adistinct change in their manner towards me. I had expected as much;and considering that they must have known very well where and in whosecompany I had been spending my time, it was not strange. Coming acrossthe savannah that morning I had first begun to think seriously of therisk I was running. But this thought only served to prepare me for a newcondition of things; for now to go back and appear before Rima, and thusprove myself to be a person not only capable of forgetting a promiseoccasionally, but also of a weak, vacillating mind, was not to bethought of for a moment.
I was received--not welcomed--quietly enough; not a question, nota word, concerning my long absence fell from anyone; it was as if astranger had appeared among them, one about whom they knew nothingand consequently regarded with suspicion, if not actual hostility. Iaffected not to notice the change, and dipped my hand uninvited in thepot to satisfy my hunger, and smoked and dozed away the sultry hours inmy hammock. Then I got my guitar and spent the rest of the day over it,tuning it, touching the strings so softly with my finger-tips that to aperson four yards off the sound must have seemed like the murmur orbuzz of an insect's wings; and to this scarcely audible accompaniment Imurmured in an equally low tone a new song.
In the evening, when all were gathered under the roof and I had eatenagain, I took up the instrument once more, furtively watched by allthose half-closed animal eyes, and swept the strings loudly, and sangaloud. I sang an old simple Spanish melody, to which I had put wordsin their own language--a language with no words not in everyday use,in which it is so difficult to express feelings out of and above thecommon. What I had been constructing and practicing all the afternoonsotto voce was a kind of ballad, an extremely simple tale of a poorIndian living alone with his young family in a season of dearth; howday after day he ranged the voiceless woods, to return each evening withnothing but a few withered sour berries in his hand, to find his lean,large-eyed wife still nursing the fire that cooked nothing, and hischildren crying for food, showing their bones more plainly throughtheir skins every day; and how, without anything miraculous, anythingwonderful, happening, that barrenness passed from earth, and the gardenonce more yielded them pumpkin and maize, and manioc, the wild fruitsripened, and the birds returned, filling the forest with their cries;and so their long hunger was satisfied, and the children grew sleek,and played and laughed in the sunshine; and the wife, no longer broodingover the empty pot, wove a hammock of silk grass, decorated withblue-and-scarlet feathers of the macaw; and in that new hammock theIndian rested long from his labours, smoking endless cigars.
When I at last concluded with a loud note of joy, a long, involuntarysuspiration in the darkening room told me that I had been listened towith profound interest; and, although no word was spoken, though I wasstill a stranger and under a cloud, it was plain that the experiment hadsucceeded, and that for the present the danger was averted.
I went to my hammock and slept, but without undressing. Next morningI missed my revolver and found that the holster containing it had beendetached from the belt. My knife had not been taken, possibly because itwas under me in the hammock while I slept. In answer to my inquiries Iwas informed that Runi had BORROWED my weapon to take it with him to theforest, where he had gone to hunt, and that he would return it to mein the evening. I affected to take it in good part, although feelingsecretly ill at ease. Later in the day I came to the conclusion thatRuni had had it in his mind to murder me, that I had softened him bysinging that Indian story, and that by taking possession of the revolverhe showed that he now only meant to keep me a prisoner. Subsequentevents confirmed me in this suspicion. On his return he explained thathe had gone out to seek for game in the woods; and, going withouta companion, he had taken my revolver to preserve him fromdangers--meaning those of a supernatural kind; and that he had had themisfortune to drop it among the bushes while in pursuit of some animal.I answered hotly that he had not treated me like a friend; that if hehad asked me for the weapon it would have been lent to him; that ashe had taken it without permission he must pay me for it. After somepondering he said that when he took it I was sleeping soundly; also,that it would not be lost; he would take me to the place where he haddropped it, when we could search together for it.
He was in appearance more friendly towards me now, even asking me torepeat my last evening's song, and so we had that performance all overagain to everybody's satisfaction. But when morning came he was notinclined to go to the woods: there was food enough in the house, and thepistol would not be hurt by lying where it had fallen a day longer. Nextday the same excuse; still I disguised my impatience and suspicion ofhim and waited, singing the ballad for the third time that evening. ThenI was conducted to a wood about a league and a half away and we huntedfor the lost pistol among the bushes, I with little hope of finding it,while he attended to the bird voices and frequently asked me to stand orlie still when a chance of something offered.
The result of that wasted day was a determination on my part to escapefrom Runi as soon as possible, although at the risk of making a deadlyenemy of him and of being compelled to go on that long journey toRiolama with no better weapon than a hunting-knife. I had noticed, whileappearing not to do so, that outside of the house I was followed orwatched by one or other of the Indians, so that great circumspectionwas needed. On the following day I attacked my host once more about therevolver, telling him with well-acted indignation that if not foundit must be paid for. I went so far as to give a list of the articles Ishould require, including a bow and arrows, zabatana, two spears, andother things which I need not specify, to set me up for life as a wildman in the woods of Guayana. I was going to add a wife, but as I hadalready been offered one it did not appear to be necessary. He seemed alittle taken aback at the value I set upon my weapon, and promised to goand look for it again. Then I begged that Kua-ko, in whose sharpness ofsight I had great faith, might accompany us. He consented, and namedthe next day but one for the expedition. Very well, thought I, tomorrowtheir suspicion will be less, and my opportunity will come; then takingup my rude instrument, I gave them an old Spanish song:
Desde aquel doloroso momento;
but this kind of music had lost its charm for them, and I was asked togive them the ballad they understood so well, in which their interestseemed to increase with every repetition. In spite of anxiety it amusedme to see old Cla-cla regarding me fixedly with owlish eyes and lipsmoving. My tale had no wonderful things in it, like hers of the oldentime, which she told only to send her hearers to sleep. Perhaps she haddiscovered by now that it was the strange honey of melody which made thecoarse, common cassava bread of everyday life in my story so pleasant tothe palate. I was quite prepared to receive a proposal to give her musicand singing lessons, and to bequeath a guitar to her in my last will andtestament. For, in spite of her hoary hair and million wrinkles, she,more than any other savage I had met with, seemed to have taken adraught from Ponce de Leon's undiscovered fountain of eternal youth.Poor old witch!
The following day was the sixth of my absence from Rima, and one ofintense anxiety to me, a feeling which I endeavoured to hide by playingwith the children, fighting our old comic stick fights, and by strummingnoisily on the guitar. In the afternoon, when it was hottest, and allthe men who happened to be indoors were lying in
their hammocks, I askedKua-ko to go with me to the stream to bathe. He refused--I had countedon that--and earnestly advised me not to bathe in the pool I wasaccustomed to, as some little caribe fishes had made their appearancethere and would be sure to attack me. I laughed at his idle tale and,taking up my cloak, swung out of the door, whistling a lively air.He knew that I always threw my cloak over my head and shoulders as aprotection from the sun and stinging flies when coming out of the water,and so his suspicion was not aroused, and I was not followed. Thepool was about ten minutes' walk from the house; I arrived at it withpalpitating heart, and going round to its end, where the stream wasshallow, sat down to rest for a few moments and take a few sips of coolwater dipped up in my palm. Presently I rose, crossed the stream, andbegan running, keeping among the low trees near the bank until adry gully, which extended for some distance across the savannah, wasreached. By following its course the distance to be covered would beconsiderably increased, but the shorter way would have exposed me tosight and made it more dangerous. I had put forth too much speed atfirst, and in a short time my exertions, and the hot sun, together withmy intense excitement, overcame me. I dared not hope that my flighthad not been observed; I imagined that the Indians, unencumbered by anyheavy weight, were already close behind me, and ready to launchtheir deadly spears at my back. With a sob of rage and despair I fellprostrate on my face in the dry bed of the stream, and for two or threeminutes remained thus exhausted and unmanned, my heart throbbing soviolently that my whole frame was shaken. If my enemies had come on methen disposed to kill me, I could not have lifted a hand in defence ofmy life. But minutes passed and they came not. I rose and went on, at afast walk now, and when the sheltering streamed ended, I stooped amongthe sere dwarfed shrubs scattered about here and there on its southernside; and now creeping and now running, with an occasional pause torest and look back, I at last reached the dividing ridge at its southernextremity. The rest of the way was over comparatively easy ground,inclining downwards; and with that glad green forest now full in sight,and hope growing stronger every minute in my breast, my knees ceased totremble, and I ran on again, scarcely pausing until I had touched andlost myself in the welcome shadows.