CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
A CREOLE TOILETTE.
It is customary in Europe to accuse the Creole ladies of tropicalAmerica of the crime of indolence. This custom is common with those whotalk of woman and her political rights, and who believe that woman wascreated to share man's labours instead of soothing them. He, however,who has looked upon these fair Creole women and observed their tranquilrepose of spirit--perhaps a certain sensualism, which only adds to theirbeauty--he, I say, who has seen this, will be disposed to look with amore lenient eye upon their so-called indolence, and will scarce believeit a crime.
The two daughters of Don Mariano de Silva offered at this moment, thoughin degrees somewhat different, examples of this peculiar characteristicof their countrywomen. One of them, with her limbs crossed in theoriental fashion, was seated upon a Chinese mat. Her long black hair,that had been plaited in several tresses, and recently combed out, stillpreserved the wavy outlines of the plaits, as it fell profusely over hershoulders.
Perhaps there are no women in the world who take more pride in theirhair than do the Creoles of Spanish-America. It is never desecrated bythe touch of the scissors; and several hours of every day are bestowedupon the dressing of it. For all this, the young girl in question, asshe sat with her head pensively inclined, seemed to give but littlethought to those luxuriant tresses that, undulating over her whiteshoulders, lay in clusters upon the mat. She appeared rather to deliverthem up mechanically to the hands of her attendant, who was occupied inarranging them.
The face encircled by these exuberant masses of glossy hair, possessedall the characteristics of the finest Creole beauty. Her features, atonce proud and calm, denoted an ardent and enthusiastic spirithabitually hidden under an expression of indolent serenity. Theelegance of the Spanish race was also manifest in her small white hands,and in those little feet possessed by Mexican and South American womenof whatever class. Blue satin slippers covered those of the young girl,otherwise nude: for stockings are not a rigorous necessity of Creolecostume.
The young lady thus described was Dona Gertrudis, the elder of the twodaughters of Don Mariano.
The younger, Marianita, was scarce less beautiful, but her beauty was ofa different style. Quick-witted, and prone to laughter, her sparklingglances formed a contrast to the calm yet brilliant gaze of her sister;while varying expressions passed as rapidly over her countenance as thefleeting shadows of an April sky. With Dona Gertrudis it was altogetherdifferent; she resembled the volcanoes of her country, with theirperpetual fire hidden under a robe of snow.
Neither of the young girls had yet reached the age of womanhood.Gertrudis was only seventeen, while the other was a year and a halfyounger. Both, however, had acquired that full development of femininebeauty which a tropical climate often calls forth at a much earlier age.
While the hair of Gertrudis was being arranged by her waiting woman,Marianita was tying around her ankle the ribbons that were to confinethe tiny slipper upon her pretty little foot.
The grand political events at this time occurring had disturbed thequietude of this family, as well as that of most others. There weresome probabilities, too, of there being a difference of opinion amongits members, for at the moment when our narrative commences, a marriagewas on the _tapis_ between a young Spaniard of the neighbourhood andDona Marianita.
Previous to the Mexican revolution, the most ardent wish of a youngCreole lady was to obtain for a husband some new arrival from the mothercountry--Spain. Gertrudis, nevertheless, had more than once declinedthis honour, which Marianita, as we have seen, had accepted. Why didthe Dona Gertrudis form an exception to the general rule? The sequelwill show.
We have presented these two young girls in the act of making theirtoilet; we may add, that these preparations were in view of the arrivalof two gentlemen who were that evening expected. One was the youngSpaniard, the betrothed lover of Marianita; the other Don RafaelTres-Villas, Captain in the Queen's Dragoons. The former lived withinless than two leagues of the hacienda Las Palmas, and might be expectedat any moment--the other, having two hundred to travel, could scarce belooked for with equal punctuality; for although he had sent positiveword that he would arrive on that evening, it was reasonable to supposethat upon such a long journey some incident might arise to derange hiscalculations. Was this uncertainty the reason why Gertrudis had scarcecommenced making her toilet, while Marianita had finished hers? Was DonRafael the only man in whose eyes Gertrudis cared to appear beautiful?We shall presently know.
One of the daily cares of a young Creole lady is to take down theabundant plaits of her hair, and combing out the separate tresses, leavethem hanging over her shoulders, so that the air may circulate freelyamong them. As soon as the attendant of Gertrudis, charged with thisduty in the present instance, had accomplished her task, she passed outof the chamber, and the two sisters were left alone.
There are certain subjects of conversation which young girls, ofwhatever country, love only to talk of between themselves, and in theirown private apartment.
Scarce had the servant closed the door behind her, than Marianita--whohad just finished placing some pomegranate flowers behind hertortoiseshell comb--glided eagerly towards the window. On reaching itshe stood for some moments with her eyes bent inquiringly on the plain.Gertrudis had changed her oriental posture for a seat upon a leathern_fauteuil_. After casting back, by an indolent movement of her arms,the dark masses of her hair, she delivered herself up to a silentreverie.
"I have examined the plain with all my eyes," said Marianita after awhile spent at the window; "it appears entirely deserted. I cannot seea human creature upon it, much less Don Fernando, or Don Rafael.Santissima! I fear I have had all this trouble for nothing; in half anhour it will be sunset."
"You need not be uneasy. Don Fernando will come," said Gertrudis, in acalm voice.
"Ah!" exclaimed Marianita, "one might tell by the tone in which youspeak that you are not expecting your _novio_ (betrothed), as I am. Myvery impatience makes me despair of seeing him. Ah! Gertrudis, youhave never experienced the emotion of love."
"Were I in your place I should feel more chagrin than impatience."
"Chagrin, oh! no; if Don Fernando don't choose to come this evening, hewill lose the pleasure of seeing me in this beautiful white dress whichhe admires so much, and with these purple pomegranates in my hair, whichI put in just to please him. For my part I prefer the white blossoms ofthe orange; but they say that a woman when married must make somesacrifices, and I may as well accustom myself to them."
In saying these words the young girl snapped her fingers together tillthey cracked like castanets; while her countenance, instead ofexpressing any very painful emotion, exhibited an air of perfectcontentment.
Gertrudis made no answer, except by a sigh, half-suppressed. She satmotionless, with the exception of her foot, which kept balancing upwardand downward the little slipper of blue satin, while the fresh breeze ofthe evening blowing in from the window, caused a gentle tremulousmovement among the tresses of her hair.
"It's very tiresome--this country life," continued Marianita; "it's trueone can pass the day by combing out one's hair, and taking a siesta; butin the evening, to have nothing else to do but walk in the garden andlisten to the sighing breeze, instead of singing and dancing in a_tertulia_! Oh, it is wearisome--very, very wearisome, I declare. Weare here, like the captive princesses in an Eastern romance, which Icommenced reading last year, but which I have not yet finished. SantaVirgen! I see a cloud of dust upon the horizon at last--a horseman!_Que clicha_! (what happiness!)"
"A horseman!--what is the colour of his steed?" inquired Gertrudis,suddenly aroused.
"Ha--ha! As I live his horse is a mule--what a pity it was not someknight-errant! but I have heard that these fine gentry no longer exist."
Gertrudis again sighed.
"Ah! I can distinguish him now," continued Marianita. "It is a priestwho rides the mule. Well, a priest is better tha
n nobody--especially ifhe can play as well on the mandolin as the last one that travelled thisway, and stayed two days with us. He! He is coming on a gallop--that'snot a bad sign. But no! he has a very grave, demure look. Ah! he seesme; he is waving a salute. Well, I must go down and kiss his hand, Isuppose."
Saying these words, the young Creole--whose education taught her that itwas her duty to kiss the hand of every priest who came to the hacienda--pursed up her pretty rose-coloured lips in a saucy mocking fashion.
"Come, Gertrudis!" continued she; "come along with me. He is just bythe entrance gate!"
"Do you see no one upon the plain?" inquired Gertrudis, not appearing totrouble herself about the arrival of the priest. "No other horseman--Don Fernando, for instance?"
"Ah, yes!" answered Marianita, once more looking from the window. "DonFernando transformed into a mule-driver, who is forcing his _recua_ intoa gallop, as if he wished the loaded animals to run a race with oneanother! Why, the muleteer is making for the hacienda, as well as thepriest, and galloping like him, too! What on earth can be the matterwith the people? One would think that they had taken leave of theirsenses!"
The clanging of bolts and creaking hinges announced the opening of thegreat gate; and this, followed by a confused clatter of hoof-strokes,told that the mule-driver with his train of animals was also about toreceive the hospitality of the hacienda. This circumstance, contrary toall usage, somewhat surprised the young girls, who were wondering whythe house was being thus turned into an hostelry. They were furthersurprised at hearing an unusual stir in the courtyard--the servants ofthe establishment talking in a clamorous medley of voices, and footstepsfalling heavily on the pavements and stone stairs leading up to the_azotea_ of the building.
"Jesus!" exclaimed Marianita, making the sign of the cross; "is thehacienda going to be besieged, I wonder? Mercy on us! I hope theinsurgent brigands may not be coming to attack us!"
"Shame, sister!" said Gertrudis, in a tone of calm reproach. "Why doyou call them brigands?--these men who are fighting for their liberties,and who are led by venerable priests?"
"Why do I call them brigands?" brusquely responded Marianita. "Becausethey hate the Spaniards, whose pure blood runs in our veins; andbecause," continued she--the impetuous Creole blood mounting to hercheek--"because _I_ love a Spaniard!"
"Ah!" replied Gertrudis, in the same reproachful tone; "you perhaps onlyfancy you love him? In my opinion, sister, true love presents certainsymptoms which I don't perceive in you."
"And what matters if I do not love him, so long as he loves me? Am Inot soon to belong to him? And why, then, should I think different towhat he does? No, no!" added the young girl, with that air ofpassionate devotion which the women of her country and race lavishwithout limits on those whom they love.
At this moment, the sudden and unexpected strokes of the alarm-bellbreaking upon their ears interrupted the dialogue between the twosisters, putting an end to a conversation which promised to engenderill-feeling between them--just as the same topic had already causeddissension in more than one family circle, breaking the nearest anddearest ties of friendship and kindred.