CHAPTER XVII
With a horse to travel on, and my arm so much better that the slingsupporting it was worn rather for ornament than use, there was nothingexcept that promise not to run away immediately to detain me longer inthe pleasant retreat of the Casa Blanca; nothing, that is, had I beena man of gutta-percha or cast-iron; being only a creature of clay--veryimpressionable clay as it happened--I could not persuade myself thatI was quite well enough to start on that long ride over a disturbedcountry. Besides, my absence from Montevideo had already lasted solong that a few days more could not make much difference one way or theother; thus it came to pass that I still stayed on, enjoying the societyof my new friends, while every day, every hour in fact, I felt less ableto endure the thought of tearing myself away from Dolores.
Much of my time was spent in the pleasant orchard adjoining the house.Here, growing in picturesque irregularity, were fifty or sixty oldpeach, nectarine, apricot, plum, and cherry trees, their boles doublethe thickness of a man's thigh; they had never been disfigured by thepruner's knife or saw, and their enormous size and rough bark, overgrownwith grey lichen, gave them an appearance of great antiquity. All aboutthe ground, tangled together in a pretty confusion, flourished many ofthose dear familiar Old World garden flowers that spring up round thewhite man's dwelling in all temperate regions of the earth. Here wereimmemorial wallflowers, stocks and marigolds, tall hollyhock, gay poppy,brilliant bachelor's button; also, half hid amongst the grass, pansy andforget-me-not. The larkspur, red, white, and blue, flaunted everywhere;and here, too, was the unforgotten sweet-william, looking bright andvelvety as of yore, yet, in spite of its brightness and stiff, greencollar, still wearing the old shame-faced expression, as if it felta little ashamed of its own pretty name. These flowers were notcultivated, but grew spontaneously from the seed they shed year by yearon the ground, the gardener doing nothing for them beyond keeping theweeds down and bestowing a little water in hot weather. The solstitialheats being now over, during which European garden flowers cease tobloom for a season, they were again in gayest livery to welcome the longsecond spring of autumn, lasting from February to May. At the fartherend of this wilderness of flowers and fruit trees was an aloehedge, covering a width of twenty to thirty yards with its enormous,disorderly, stave-like leaves. This hedge was like a strip of wildnature placed alongside of a plot of man's improved nature; and here,like snakes hunted from the open, the weeds and wildings which were notpermitted to mix with the flowers had taken refuge. Protected by thatrude bastion of spikes, the hemlock opened feathery clusters of darkleaves and whitish umbels wherever it could reach up to the sunshine.There also grew the nightshade, with other solanaceous weeds, bearinglittle clusters of green and purple berries, wild oats, fox-tail grass,and nettles. The hedge gave them shelter, but no moisture, so that allthese weeds and grasses had a somewhat forlorn and starved appearance,climbing up with long stringy stems among the powerful aloes. The hedgewas also rich in animal life. There dwelt mice, cavies, and elusivelittle lizards; crickets sang all day long under it, while in every openspace the green _epeiras_ spread their geometric webs. Being rich inspiders, it was a favourite hunting-ground of those insect desperadoes,the mason-wasps, that flew about loudly buzzing in their splendid goldand scarlet uniform. There were also many little shy birds here, and myfavourite was the wren, for in its appearance and its scolding, jerky,gesticulating ways it is precisely like our house-wren, though it has aricher and more powerful song than the English bird. On the other sideof the hedge was the _potrero_, or paddock, where a milch-cow with twoor three horses were kept. The manservant, whose name was Nepomucino,presided over orchard and paddock, also to some extent over the entireestablishment. Nepomucino was a pure negro, a little old round-headed,blear-eyed man, about five feet four in height, the short lumpy woolon his head quite grey; slow in speech and movements, his old blackor chocolate-coloured fingers all crooked, stiff-jointed, and pointingspontaneously in different directions. I have never seen anything in thehuman subject to equal the dignity of Nepomucino, the profound gravityof his bearing and expression forcibly reminding one of an owl.Apparently he had come to look upon himself as the sole head and masterof the establishment, and the sense of responsibility had morethan steadied him. The negrine propensity to frequent explosions ofinconsequent laughter was not, of course, to be expected in such asober-minded person; but he was, I think, a little too sedate for ablack, for, although his face would shine on warm days like polishedebony, it did not smile. Everyone in the house conspired to keep up thefiction of Nepomucino's importance; they had, in fact, conspired so longand so well, that it had very nearly ceased to be a fiction. Everybodyaddressed him with grave respect. Not a syllable of his long name wasever omitted--what the consequences of calling him Nepo, or Cino, orCinito, the affectionate diminutive, would have been I am unable to say,since I never had the courage to try the experiment. It often amused meto hear Dona Mercedes calling to him from the house, and throwing thewhole emphasis on the last syllable in a long, piercing crescendo:"Ne--po--mu--ci--no--o." Sometimes, when I sat in the orchard, he wouldcome, and, placing himself before me, discourse gravely about thingsin general, clipping his words and substituting r for l in the negrofashion, which made it hard for me to repress a smile. After windingup with a few appropriate moral reflections he would finish with theremark: "For though I am black on the surface, senor, my heart iswhite"; and then he would impressively lay one of his old crookedfingers on the part where the physiological curiosity was supposed tobe. He did not like being told to perform menial offices, preferring toanticipate all requests of that kind and do whatever was necessary bystealth. Sometimes I would forget this peculiarity of the old black,and tell him that I wanted him to polish my boots. He would ignore therequest altogether, and talk for a few minutes of political matters, oron the uncertainty of all things mundane, and by and by, glancing at myboots, would remark incidentally that they required polishing, offeringsomewhat ostentatiously to have them done for me. Nothing would make himadmit that he did these things himself. Once I tried to amuse Doloresby mimicking his speech to her, but quickly she silenced me, saying thatshe loved Nepomucino too well to allow even her best friend to laughat him. He had been born when blacks were slaves in the service of herfamily, had carried her in his arms when she was an infant, and had seenall the male members of the house of Zelaya swept away in the warsof Reds and Whites; but in the days of their adversity his faithful,dog-like affection had never failed them. It was beautiful to see hermanner towards him. If she wanted a rose for her hair or dress she wouldnot pluck it herself or allow me to get it for her, but Nepomucino mustbe asked to get it. Then every day she would find time to sit down inthe garden by his side to tell him all the news of the village and ofthe country at large, discuss the position of affairs with him, and askhis advice about everything in the house.
Indoors or out I generally had Dolores for a companion, and I couldcertainly not have had a more charming one. The civil war--though thelittle splutter on the Yi scarcely deserved that name yet--was herunfailing theme. She was never weary of singing her hero Santa Coloma'spraises--his dauntless courage and patience in defeat; his strangeromantic adventures; the innumerable disguises and stratagems he hadresorted to when going about in his own country, where a price was seton his head; ever labouring to infuse fresh valour into his beaten,disheartened followers. That the governing party had any right to be inpower, or possessed any virtue of any kind, or were, in fact, anythingbut an incubus and a curse to the Banda Oriental, she would not for onemoment admit. To her mind her country always appeared like Andromedabound on her rock and left weeping and desolate to be a prey to theabhorred Colorado monster; while ever to the deliverance of this lovelybeing came her glorious Perseus, swift as the winds of heaven, thelightnings of terrible vengeance flashing from his eyes, the might ofthe immortals in his strong right arm. Often she tried to persuade me tojoin this romantic adventurer, and it was hard, very hard, to resist hereloquent appeals, and perhaps
it grew harder every day as the influenceof her passionate beauty strengthened itself upon my heart. InvariablyI took refuge in the argument that I was a foreigner, that I loved mycountry with an ardour equal to hers, and that by taking arms in theBanda Oriental I should at once divest myself of all an Englishman'srights and privileges. She scarcely had patience to listen to thisargument, it seemed so trivial to her, and when she demanded otherbetter reasons I had none to offer. I dare not quote to her the words ofsulky Achilles:
The distant Trojans never injured me, for that argument would havesounded even weaker to her than the former one. She had never read Homerin any language, of course, but she wouldhave quickly made me tell herabout Achilles, and when the end came, with miserable Hector draggedthrice round the walls of besieged Troy--Montevideo was called ModernTroy, she knew--then she would have turned my argument against meand bidden me go and serve the Uruguayan President as Achilles servedHector. Seeing me silent, she would turn indignantly away only for amoment, however; the bright smile would quickly return, and she wouldexclaim, "No, no, Richard, I shall not forget my promise, though Isometimes think you try to make me do so."
It was noon: the house was quiet, for Dona Mercedes had retired afterbreakfast to take her unfailing siesta, leaving us to our conversation.In that spacious, cool room where I had first reposed in the house, Iwas lying on the sofa smoking a cigarette. Dolores, seating herself nearme with her guitar, said, "Now let me play and sing you to sleep withsomething very soft." But the more she played and sang the further was Ifrom un-needed slumber.
"What, not sleeping yet, Richard!" she would say, with a little laughafter each song.
"Not yet, Dolores," I would reply, pretending to get drowsy. "But myeyes are getting heavy now. One more song will send me to the region ofdreams. Sing me that sweet favourite---
_Desde aquel doloroso momento_."
At length, finding that my sleepiness was all pretence, she refused tosing any more, and presently we drifted once more into the old subject.
"Ah, yes," she replied to that argument about my nationality, which wasmy only shield, "I have always been taught to believe foreigners a cold,practical, calculating kind of people--so different from us. Younever seemed to me like a foreigner; ah, Richard, why will you makeme remember that you are not one of us! Tell me, dear friend, ifa beautiful woman cried out to you to deliver her from some greatmisfortune or danger, would you stop to ask her nationality before goingto her rescue?"
"No, Dolores; you know that if you, for instance, were in distress ordanger I would fly to your side and risk my life to save you."
"I believe you, Richard. But tell me, is it less noble to help asuffering people cruelly oppressed by wicked men who have succeeded bycrimes and treachery and foreign aid in climbing into power? Will youtell me that no Englishman has drawn a sword in a cause like that? Oh,friend, is not my mother-country more beautiful and worthy to be helpedthan any woman? Has not God given her spiritual eyes that shed tears andlook for comfort; lips sweeter than any woman's lips, that cry bitterlyevery day for deliverance? Can you look on the blue skies above you andwalk on the green grass where the white and purple flowers smile up atyou and be deaf and blind to her beauty and to her great need? Oh, no,no, it is impossible!"
"Ah, if you were a man, Dolores, what a flame you would kindle in thehearts of your countrymen!"
"Yes, if I were a man!" she exclaimed, starting to her feet; "then Ishould serve my country not with words only; then I would strike andbleed for her--how willingly! Being only a weak woman, I would give myheart's blood to win one arm to aid in the sacred cause."
She stood before me with flashing eyes, her face glowing withenthusiasm; then I also rose to my feet and took her hands in mine,for I was intoxicated with her loveliness and almost ready to throw allrestraints to the winds.
"Dolores," I said, "are not your words extravagant? Shall I test theirsincerity? Tell me, would you give even as much as one kiss with yoursweet lips to win a strong arm for your country?"
She turned crimson and cast her eyes down; then, quickly recoveringherself, answered:
"What do your words mean? Speak plainly, Richard."
"I cannot speak plainer, Dolores. Forgive me if I have offended oncemore. Your beauty and grace and eloquence have made me forget myself."
Her hands were moist and trembling in mine, still she did not withdrawthem. "No, I am not offended," she returned in a strangely low tone."Put me to the test, Richard. Do you wish me to understand clearly thatfor such a favour as that you would join us?"
"I cannot say," I replied, still endeavouring to be prudent, though myheart was on fire and my words when I spoke seemed to choke me. "But,Dolores, if you would shed your blood to win one strong arm, will youthink it too much to bestow the favour I spoke of in the hope of winningan arm?"
She was silent. Then, drawing her closer, I touched her lips with mine.But who was ever satisfied with that one touch on the lips for whichthe heart has craved? It was like contact with a strange, celestial firethat instantly kindled my love to madness. Again and yet again I kissedher; I pressed her lips till they were dry and burned like fire, thenkissed cheek, forehead, hair, and, casting my arms about her strainedher to my breast in a long, passionate embrace; then the violence ofthe paroxysm was over, and with a pang I released her. She trembled:her face was whiter than alabaster, and, covering it with her hands, shesank down on the sofa. I sat down beside her and drew her head down onmy breast, but we remained silent, only our hearts were beating veryfast. Presently she disengaged herself, and, without bestowing oneglance on me, rose and left the room.
Before long I began to blame myself bitterly for this imprudentoutburst. I dared not hope to continue longer on the old familiarfooting. So high-spirited and sensitive a woman as Dolores would noteasily be brought to forget or forgive my conduct. She had not repelledme, she had even tacitly consented to that one first kiss, and wastherefore partly to blame herself; but her extreme pallor, her silence,and cold manner had plainly shown me that I had wounded her. My passionhad overcome me, and I felt that I had compromised myself. For that onefirst kiss I had all but promised to do a certain thing, and not todo it now seemed very dishonourable, much as I shrank from joiningthe Blanco rebels. I had proposed the thing myself; she had silentlyconsented to the stipulation. I had taken my kiss and much more, and,having now had my delirious, evanescent joy, I could not endure thethought of meanly skulking off without paying the price.
I went out full of trouble and paced up and down in the orchard for twoor three hours, hoping that Dolores might come to me there, but I saw nomore of her that day. At dinner Dona Mercedes was excessively affable,showing clearly that she was not in her daughter's confidence. Sheinformed me, simple soul! that Dolores was suffering from a grievousheadache caused by taking a glass of claret at breakfast after eatinga slice of water-melon, an imprudence against which she did not omit tocaution me.
Lying awake that night--for the thought that I had pained and offendedDolores made it impossible for me to sleep--I resolved to join SantaColoma immediately. That act alone would salve my conscience, and I onlyhoped that it would serve to win back the friendship and esteem ofthe woman I had learned to love so well. I had no sooner determined ontaking this step than I began to see so many advantages in it thatit seemed strange I had not taken it before; but we lose half ouropportunities in life through too much caution. A few more days ofadventure, all the pleasanter for being spiced with danger, and I wouldbe once more in Montevideo with a host of great and grateful friends tostart me in some career in the country. Yes, I said to myself, becomingenthusiastic, once this oppressive, scandalous, and besotted Coloradoparty is swept with bullet and steel out of the country, as of courseit will be, I shall go to Santa Coloma to lay down my sword, resuming bythat act my own nationality, and as sole reward of my chivalrous conductin aiding the rebellion, ask for his interest in getting me placed say,at the head of some large _estancia_ in the interior. There, possiblyon one o
f his own establishments, I shall be in my element and happy,hunting ostriches, eating _carne con cuero_, possessing a _tropilla_of twenty cream-coloured horses for my private use, and building up amodest fortune out of hides, horns, tallow, and other native products.At break of day I rose and saddled my horse; then, finding the dignifiedNepomucino, who was the early bird (blackbird) of the establishment,told him to inform his mistress that I was going to spend the day withGeneral Santa Coloma. After taking a _mate_ from the old fellow, Imounted and galloped out of the village of Molino.
Arrived at the camp, which had been moved to a distance of four or fivemiles from El Molino, I found Santa Coloma just ready to mount his horseto start on an expedition to a small town eight or nine leagues distant.He at once asked me to go with him, and remarked that he was verymuch pleased, though not surprised, at my having changed my mind aboutjoining him. We did not return till late in the evening, and the wholeof the following day was spent in monotonous cavalry exercises. I thenwent to the General and requested permission to visit the Casa Blanca tobid adieu to my friends there. He informed me that he intended going toEl Molino the next morning himself and would take me with him. Thefirst thing he did on our arrival at the village was to send me to theprincipal storekeeper in the place, a man who had faith in the Blancoleader, and was rapidly disposing of a large stock of goods at asplendid profit, receiving in payment sundry slips of paper signedby Santa Coloma. This good fellow, who mixed politics with business,provided me with a complete and much-needed outfit, which included abroadcloth suit of clothes, soft brown hat rather broad in the brim,long riding-boots, and _poncho_. Going back to the official building orheadquarters in the plaza, I received my sword, which did not harmonisevery well with the civilian costume I wore; but I was no worse off inthis respect than forty-nine out of every fifty men in our little army.
In the afternoon we went together to see the ladies, and the Generalhad a very hearty welcome from both of them, as I also had from DonaMercedes, while Dolores received me with the utmost indifference,expressing no pleasure or surprise at seeing me wearing a sword in thecause which she had professed to have so much at heart. This was a soredisappointment, and I was also nettled at her treatment of me. Afterdinner, over which we sat talking some time, the General left us,telling me before doing so to join him in the plaza at five o'clocknext morning. I then tried to get an opportunity of speaking to Doloresalone, but she studiously avoided me, and in the evening there wereseveral visitors, ladies from the town with three or four officers fromthe camp, and dancing and singing were kept up till towards midnight.Finding that I could not speak to her, and anxious about my appointmentat five in the morning, I at length retired sorrowful and baffled to myapartment. Without undressing I threw myself on my bed, and, being verymuch fatigued with so much riding about, I soon fell asleep. When Iwoke, the brilliant light of the moon, shining in at open window anddoor, made me fancy it was already daylight, and I quickly sprang up.I had no means of telling the time, except by going into the largeliving-room, where there was an old eight-day clock. Making my waythither, I was amazed to see, on entering it, Dolores in her white dresssitting beside the open window in a dejected attitude. She started androse up when I entered, the extreme pallor of her face heightenedby contrast with her long, raven-black hair hanging unbound on hershoulders.
"Dolores, do I find you here at this hour?" I exclaimed.
"Yes," she returned coldly, sitting down again. "Do you think it verystrange, Richard?"
"Pardon me for disturbing you," I said; "I came here to find out thetime from your clock."
"It is two o'clock. Is that all you came for? Did you imagine I couldretire to sleep without first knowing what your motive was in returningto this house? Have you then forgotten everything?"
I came to her and sat down by the window before speaking. "No, Dolores,"I said; "had I forgotten, you would not have seen me here enlisted in acause which I looked on only as your cause."
"Ah, then you have honoured the Casa Blanca with this visit not to speakto me--that you considered unnecessary--but merely to exhibit yourselfwearing a sword!"
I was stung by the extreme bitterness of her tone. "You are unjust tome," I said. "Since that fatal moment when my passion overcame me I havenot ceased thinking of you, grieving that I had offended you. No, I didnot come to exhibit my sword, which is not worn for ornament; I cameonly to speak to you, Dolores, and you purposely avoided me."
"Not without reason," she retorted quickly. "Did I not sit quietlyby you after you had acted in that way towards me, waiting for you tospeak--to explain, and you were silent? Well, senor, I am here now,waiting again."
"This, then, is what I have to say," I replied. "After what passed Iconsidered myself bound in honour to join your cause, Dolores. What morecan I say except to implore your forgiveness? Believe me, dear friend,in that moment of passion I forgot everything--forgot that I--forgotthat your hand was already given to another."
"Given to another? What do you mean, Richard? Who told you that?"
"General Santa Coloma."
"The General? What right has he to occupy himself with my affairs? Thisis a matter that concerns myself only, and it is presumption on his partto interfere in it."
"Do you speak in that tone of your hero, Dolores? Remember that heonly warned me of my danger out of pure friendship. But his warning wasthrown away; my unhappy passion, the sight of your loveliness, your ownincautious words, were too much for my heart."
She dropped her face on her hands and remained silent.
"I have suffered for my fault, and must suffer more. Will you not sayyou forgive me, Dolores?" I said, offering my hand.
She took it, but continued silent.
"Say, dearest friend, that you forgive me, that we part friends."
"Oh, Richard, must we part then?" she murmured.
"Yes--now, Dolores; for, before you are up, I must be on horseback andon my way to join the troops. The march to Montevideo will probablycommence almost immediately."
"Oh, I cannot bear it!" she suddenly exclaimed, taking my hands in bothhers. "Let me open my heart to you now. Forgive me, Richard, for beingso angry with you, but I did not know the General had said such a thing.Believe me, he imagines more than he knows. When you took me in yourarms and held me against your breast it was a revelation to me. I cannotlove or give my hand to any other man. You are everything in the worldto me now, Richard; must you leave me to mingle in this cruel civilstrife in which all my dearest friends and relations have perished."
She had had her revelation; I now had mine, and it was an exceedinglybitter one. I trembled at the thought of confessing my secret to her,now when she had so unmistakably responded to the passion I had insanelyrevealed.
Suddenly she raised her dark, luminous eyes to mine, anger and shamestruggling for mastery on her pale face.
"Speak, Richard!" she exclaimed. "Your silence at this moment is aninsult to me."
"For God's sake, have mercy on me, Dolores," I said. "I am not free--Ihave a wife."
For some moments she sat staring fixedly at me, then, flinging my handfrom her, covered her face. Presently she uncovered it again, for shamewas overcome and cast out by anger. She rose and stood up before me, herface very white.
"You have a wife--a wife whose existence you concealed from me tillthis moment!" she said. "Now you ask for mercy when your secret has beenwrung from you! Married, and you have dared to take me in your arms,to excuse yourself afterwards with the plea of passion! Passion--do youknow what it means, traitor? Ah, no; a breast like yours cannot knowany great or generous emotion. Would you have dared show your face tome again had you been capable of shame even? And you judged my heart asshallow as your own, and, after treating me in that way, thought to winmy forgiveness, and admiration even, by parading before me with asword! Leave me, I can feel nothing but contempt for you. Go; you are adisgrace to the cause you have espoused!"
I had sat utterly crushed and humiliated, not daring even to raise
mysight to her face, for I felt that my own unspeakable weakness and follyhad brought this tempest upon me! But there is a limit to patience, evenin the most submissive mood; and when that was overpassed, then myanger blazed out all the more hotly for the penitential meekness Ihad preserved during the whole interview. Her words from the first hadfallen like whip-cuts, making me writhe with the pain they inflicted;but that last taunt stung me beyond endurance. I, an Englishman, to betold that I was a disgrace to the Blanco cause, which I had joined, inspite of my better judgment, purely out of my romantic devotion to thisvery woman! I too was now upon my feet, and there face to face we stoodfor some moments, silent and trembling. At length I found my speech.
"This," I cried, "from the woman who was ready yesterday to shed herheart's blood to win one strong arm for her country? I have renouncedeverything, allied myself with abhorred robbers and cut-throats, onlyto learn that her one desire is everything to her, her divine, beautifulcountry nothing. I wish that a man had spoken those words to me,Dolores, so that I might have put this sword you speak of to one gooduse before breaking it and flinging it from me like the vile thing itis! Would to God the earth would open and swallow up this land for ever,though I sank down into hell with it for the detestable crime of takingpart in its pirate wars!"
She stood perfectly still, gazing at me with widely dilated eyes, a newexpression coming into her face; then when I paused for her to speak,expecting only a fresh outburst of scorn and bitterness, a strange,sorrowful smile flitted over her lips, and, coming close to me, sheplaced her hand on my shoulder.
"Oh," she said, "what a strength of passion you are capable of! Forgiveme, Richard, for I have forgiven you. Ah, we were made for each other,and it can never, never be."
She dropped her head dejectedly on my shoulder. My anger vanishedatthose sad words; love only remained--love mingled with profoundestcompassion and remorse for the pain I had inflicted. Supporting her withmy arm, I tenderly stroked her dark hair, and, stooping, pressed my lipsagainst it.
"Do you love me so much, Dolores," I said, "enough even to forgive thecruel, bitter words I have just spoken? Oh, I was mad--mad to say suchthings to you, and shall repent it all my life long! How cruelly have Iwounded you with my love and my anger! Tell me, dearest Dolores, can youforgive me?"
"Yes, Richard; everything. Is there any word you can speak, any deed youcan do, and I not forgive it? Does your wife love you like that--canyou love her as you love me? How cruel destiny is to us! Ah, my belovedcountry, I was ready to shed my blood for you--just to win one strongarm to fight for you, but I did not dream that this would be thesacrifice required of me. Look, it will soon be time for you to go--wecannot sleep now, Richard. Sit down here with me, and let us spend thislast hour together with my hand in yours, for we shall never, never,never meet again."
And so, sitting there hand in hand, we waited for the dawn, speakingmany sad and tender words to one another; and at last, when we parted, Iheld her once more unresisting to my breast, thinking, as she did, thatour separation would be an eternal one.