The Purple Land

by W. H. Hudson

  CHAPTER XVI

  When Alday had left us, the charming senorita, in whose care I waswell pleased to find myself, led me into a cool, spacious room, dimlylighted, scantily furnished, and with a floor of red tiles. It was agreat relief to drop into a sofa there, for I now felt fatigued andsuffered great pain from my arm. In a few moments I had the senorita,her mother, Dona Mercedes, and an old serving-woman all round me.Gently drawing off my coat, they subjected my wounded arm to a minuteexamination; their compassionate finger-tips--those of the lovelyDolores especially--feeling like a soft, cooling rain on the swollen,inflamed part, which had become quite purple.

  "Ah, how barbarous of them to hurt you like that! a friend, too, of ourGeneral!" exclaimed my beautiful nurse; which made me think that I hadinvoluntarily become associated with the right political party in theState.

  They rubbed the arm with sweet oil; while the old servant brought in abundle of rue from the garden, which, being bruised in a mortar, filledthe room with a fresh, aromatic smell. With this fragrant herb she madea cooling cataplasm. Having dressed my arm, they placed it in a sling,then in place of my coat a light Indian _poncho_ was brought for me towear.

  "I think you are feverish," said Dona Mercedes, feeling my pulse. "Wemust send for the doctor--we have a doctor in our little town, a veryskilful man."

  "I have little faith in doctors, senora," I said, "but great faithin women and grapes. If you will give me a cluster from your vine torefresh my blood I promise to be well very soon."

  Dolores laughed lightly and left the room, only to return in a fewminutes with a dish full of ripe, purple clusters. They were delicious,and did seem to allay the fever I felt, which had probably been causedas much by angry passions as by the blow I had received.

  While I reclined luxuriously, sucking my grapes, the two ladies saton each side of me, ostensibly fanning themselves, but only, I think,trying to make the air cooler for me. Very cool and pleasant they madeit, certainly, but the gentle attentions of Dolores were at the sametime such as might well create a subtler kind of fever in a man'sveins--a malady not to be cured by fruit, fans, or phlebotomy.

  "Who would not suffer blows for such compensation as this!" I said.

  "Do not say such a thing!" exclaimed the senorita, with wonderfulanimation. "Have you not rendered a great service to our dearGeneral--to our beloved country! If we had it in our power to give youeverything your heart might desire it would be nothing, nothing. We mustbe your debtors for ever."

  I smiled at her extravagant words, but they were very sweet to hear,none the less.

  "Your ardent love of your country is a beautiful sentiment," I remarkedsomewhat indiscreetly, "but is General Santa Coloma so necessary to itswelfare?"

  She looked offended and did not reply. "You are a stranger in ourcountry, senor, and do not quite understand these things," said themother gently. "Dolores must not forget that. You know nothing of thecruel wars we have seen and how our enemies have conquered only bybringing in the foreigner to their aid. Ah, senor, the bloodshed, theproscriptions, the infamies which they have brought on this land! Butthere is one man they have never yet succeeded in crushing: always fromboyhood he has been foremost in the fight, defying their bullets, andnot to be corrupted by their Brazilian gold. Is it strange that he isso much to us, who have lost all our relations, and have suffered manypersecutions, being deprived almost of the means of subsistence thathirelings and traitors might be enriched with our property? To us inthis house he is even more than to others. He was my husband's friendand companion in arms. He has done us a thousand favours, and if he eversucceeds in overthrowing this infamous government he will restore to usall the property we have lost. But _ai de mi_, I cannot see deliveranceyet."

  "_Mamita,_ do not say such a thing!" exclaimed her daughter. "Do youbegin to despair now when there is most reason to hope?"

  "Child, what can he do with this handful of ill-armed men?" returned themother sadly. "He has bravely raised the standard, but the people do notflock to it. Ah, when this revolt is crushed, like so many others, wepoor women will only have to lament for more friends slain and freshpersecutions." And here she covered her eyes with her handkerchief.

  Dolores tossed her head back and made a sudden gesture of impatience.

  "Do you, then, expect to see a great army formed before the ink is dryon the General's proclamation? When Santa Coloma was a fugitive withouta follower you hoped; now when he is with us, and actually preparingfor a march on the capital, you begin to lose heart--I cannot understandit!"

  Dona Mercedes rose without replying, and left the room. The lovelyenthusiast dropped her head on her hand, and remained silent, taking nonotice of me, a cloud of sorrow on her countenance.

  "Senorita," I said, "it is not necessary for you to remain longer here.Only tell me before going that you forgive me, for it makes me veryunhappy to think that I have offended you."

  She turned to me with a very bright smile and gave me her hand.

  "Ah, it is for you to forgive me for hastily taking offence at a lightword," she said. "I must not allow anything you say in future to spoilmy gratitude. Do you know I think you are one of those who like to laughat most things, senor--no, let me call you Richard, and you shall callme Dolores, for we must remain friends always. Let us make a compact,then it will be impossible for us to quarrel. You shall be free todoubt, question, laugh at everything, except one thing only--my faith inSanta Coloma."

  "Yes, I will gladly make that agreement," I replied. "It will be a newkind of paradise, and of the fruit of every tree I may eat except ofthis tree only."

  She laughed gaily.

  "I will now leave you," she said. "You are suffering pain, and are verytired. Perhaps you will be able to sleep." While speaking she brought asecond cushion for my head, then left me, and before long I fell into arefreshing doze.

  I spent three days of enforced idleness at the Casa Blanca, as the housewas called, before Santa Coloma returned, and after the rough experienceI had undergone, during which I had subsisted on a flesh diet untemperedby bread or vegetables, they were indeed like days spent in paradise tome. Then the General came back. I was sitting alone in the garden whenhe arrived, and, coming out to me, he greeted me warmly.

  "I greatly feared from my previous experience of your impatience underrestraint that you might have left us," he said kindly.

  "I could not do that very well yet, without a horse to ride on," Ireturned.

  "Well, I came here just now to say I wish to present you with a horseand saddle. The horse is standing at the gate now, I believe; but, ifyou are only waiting for a horse to leave us I shall have to regretmaking you this present. Do not be in a hurry; you have yet many yearsto live in which to accomplish all you wish to do, and let us havethe pleasure of your company a few days longer. Dona Mercedes and herdaughter desire nothing better than to keep you with them."

  I promised him not to run away immediately, a promise which was not hardto make; then we went to inspect my horse, which proved to be a veryfine bay, saddled with a dashing native _recado_.

  "Come with me and try him," he said. "I am going to ride out to theCerro Solo."

  The ride proved an extremely pleasant one, as I had not mounted a horsefor some days, and had been longing to spice my idle hours with a littleexhilarating motion. We went at a swinging gallop over the grassy plain,the General all the time discoursing freely of his plans and of thebrilliant prospects awaiting all those timely-wise individuals whoshould elect to link their fortunes with his at this early stage of thecampaign.

  The Cerro, three leagues distant from the village of El Molino, was ahigh, conical hill standing quite alone and overlooking the country fora vast distance around. A few well-mounted men were stationed on thesummit, keeping watch; and, after talking with them for a while, theGeneral led me to a spot a hundred yards away, where there was a largemound of sand and stone, up which we made our horses climb with somedifficulty. While we stood here he pointed out the conspicuous objects
on the surface of the surrounding country, telling me the names of the_estancias_, rivers, distant hills, and other things. The whole countryabout us seemed very familiar to him. He ceased speaking at length, butcontinued gazing over the wide, sunlit prospect with a strange, far-offlook on his face. Suddenly dropping the reins on the neck of his horse,he stretched out his arms towards the south and began to murmur wordswhich I could not catch, while an expression of mingled fury andexultation transformed his face. It passed away as suddenly as it came.Then he dismounted, and, stooping till his knee touched the ground, hekissed the rock before him, after which he sat down and quietly invitedme to do the same. Returning to the subject he had talked about duringour ride, he began openly pressing me to join him in his march toMontevideo, which, he said, would begin almost immediately, and wouldinfallibly result in a victory, after which he would reward me for theincalculable service I had rendered him in assisting him to escape fromthe Juez of Las Cuevas. These tempting offers, which would have fired mybrain in other circumstances--the single state, I mean--I felt compelledto decline, though I did not state my real reasons for doing so. Heshrugged his shoulders in the eloquent Oriental fashion, remarking thatit would not surprise him if I altered my resolution in a few days.

  "Never!" I mentally ejaculated.

  Then he recalled our first meeting again, spoke of Margarita, thatmarvellously beautiful child, asking if I had not thought it strangeso fair a flower as that should have sprung from the homely stalk ofa sweet potato? I answered that I had been surprised at first, but hadceased to believe that she was a child of Batata's, or of any of hiskin. He then offered to tell me Margarita's history; and I was notsurprised to hear that he knew it.

  "I owe you this," he said, "in expiation of the somewhat offensiveremarks I addressed to you that day in reference to the girl. But youmust remember that I was then only Marcos Marco, a peasant, and, havingsome slight knowledge of acting, it was only natural that my speechshould be, as you find it in our common people, somewhat dry andironical.

  "Many years ago there lived in this country one Basilio de la Barca, aperson of so noble a figure and countenance that to all those who beheldhim he became the type of perfect beauty, so that a 'Basilio de laBarca' came to be a proverbial expression in Montevidean societywhen anyone surpassingly handsome was spoken of. Though he had a gay,light-hearted disposition and loved social pleasures, he was not spoiltby the admiration his beauty excited. Simple-minded and modest heremained always; though perhaps not capable of any very strong passion,for though he won, without seeking it, the hearts of many fair women,he did not marry. He might have married some rich woman to improve hisposition had he been so minded, but in this, as in everything else inhis life, Basilio appeared to be incapable of doing anything to advancehis own fortunes. The de la Barcas had once possessed great wealth inland in the country, and, I have heard, descended from an ancient noblefamily of Spain. During the long, disastrous wars this country hassuffered, when it was conquered in turn by England, Portugal, Spain,Brazil, and the Argentines, the family became impoverished, and at lastappeared to be dying out. The last of the de la Barcas was Basilio,and the evil destiny which had pursued all of that name for somany generations did not spare him. His whole life was a series ofcalamities. When young he entered the army, but in his first engagementhe received a terrible wound which disabled him for life and compelledhim to abandon the military career. After that he embarked all hislittle fortune in commerce, and was ruined by a dishonest partner. Atlength when he had been reduced to great poverty, being then about fortyyears old, he married an old woman out of gratitude for the kindness shehad shown to him; and with her he went to live on the sea-coast, severalleagues east of Cabo Santa Maria. Here in a small _rancho_ in a lonelyspot called Barranca del Peregrine, and with only a few sheep and cowsto subsist on, he spent the remainder of his life. His wife, though old,bore him one child, a daughter, named Transita. They taught her nothing;for in all respects they lived like peasants and had forgotten the useof books. The situation was also wild and solitary, and they very seldomsaw a strange face. Transita spent her childhood in rambling over thedunes on that lonely coast, with only wild flowers, birds, and the oceanwaves for playmates. One day, her age being then about eleven, she wasat her usual pastimes, her golden hair blowing in the wind, her shortdress and bare legs wet with the spray, chasing the waves as theyretired, or flying with merry shouts from them as they hurried backtowards the shore, flinging a cloud of foam over her retreating form,when a youth, a boy of fifteen, rode up and saw her there. He washunting ostriches, when, losing sight of his companions, and findinghimself near the ocean, he rode down to the shore to watch the tidecoming in.

  "Yes, I was that boy, Richard--you are quick in making conclusions."This he said not in reply to any remark I had made, but to my thoughts,which he frequently guessed very aptly.

  "The impression this exquisite child made on me it would be impossibleto convey in words. I had lived much in the capital, had been educatedin our best college, and was accustomed to associate with pretty women.I had also crossed the water and had seen all that was most worthy ofadmiration in the Argentine cities. And remember that with us a youthof fifteen already knows something of life. This child, playing with thewaves, was like nothing I had seen before. I regarded her not as a merehuman creature; she seemed more like some being from I know not whatfar-off celestial region who had strayed to earth, just as a bird ofwhite and azure plumage, and unknown to our woods, sometimes appears,blown hither from a distant tropical country or island, filling thosewho see it with wonder and delight. Imagine, if you can, Margarita withher shining hair loose to the winds, swift and graceful in her motionsas the waves she plays with, her sapphire eyes sparkling like sunlighton the waters, the tender tints of the sea-shell in her ever-changingcountenance, with a laughter that seems to echo the wild melody of thesandpiper's note. Margarita has inherited the form, not the spirit,of the child Transita. She is an exquisite statue endowed with life.Transita, with lines equally graceful and colours just as perfect, hadcaught the spirit of the wind and sunshine and was all freedom, motion,fire--a being half human, half angelic. I saw her only to love her; norwas it a common passion she inspired in me. I worshipped her, and longedto wear her on my bosom; but I shrank then and for a long time afterfrom breathing the hot breath of love on so tender and heavenly ablossom. I went to her parents and opened my heart to them. My familybeing well known to Basilio, I obtained his consent to visit theirlonely _rancho_ whenever I could; and I, on my part, promised not tospeak of love to Transita till her sixteenth year. Three years after Ihad found Transita, I was ordered to a distant part of the country,for I was already in the army then, and, fearing that it would not bepossible for me to visit them for a long time, I persuaded Basilio tolet me speak to his daughter, who was now fourteen. She had by this timegrown extremely fond of me, and she always looked forward with delightto my visits, when we would spend days together rambling along theshore, or seated on some cliff overlooking the sea, talking of thesimple things she knew, and of that wonderful, far-away city life ofwhich she was never tired of hearing. When I opened my heart to her shewas at first frightened at these new strange emotions I spoke of. Soon,however, I was made happy by seeing her fear grow less. In one day sheceased to be a child; the rich blood mantled her cheeks, to leave herthe next moment pale and tremulous; her tender lips were toying with therim of the honeyed cup. Before I left her she had promised me her hand,and at parting even clung to me, with her beautiful eyes wet with tears.

  "Three years passed before I returned to seek her. During that time Isent scores of letters to Basilio, but received no reply. Twice I waswounded in fight, once very seriously. I was also a prisoner for severalmonths. I made my escape at last, and, returning to Montevideo, obtainedleave of absence. Then, with heart afire with sweet anticipations, Isought that lonely sea-coast once more, only to find the weeds growingon the spot where Basilio's _rancho_ had stood. In the neighbourhood Ilearnt that he had die
d two years before, and that after his death thewidow had returned to Montevideo with Transita. After long inquiry inthat city I discovered that she had not long survived her husband, andthat a foreign senora, had taken Transita away, no one knew whither. Herloss cast a great shadow on my life. Poignant grief cannot endure forever, nor for very long; only the memory of grief endures. To thismemory, which cannot fade, it is perhaps due that in one respect atleast I am not like other men. I feel that I am incapable of passionfor any woman. No, not if a new Lucrezia Borgia were to come my way,scattering the fiery seeds of adoration upon all men, could theyblossom to love in this arid heart. Since I lost Transita I have hadone thought, one love, one religion, and it is all told in oneword--_Patria_.

  "Years passed. I was captain in General Oribe's army at the siege of myown city. One day a lad was captured in our lines, and came very nearbeing put to death as a spy. He had come out from Montevideo, and waslooking for me. He had been sent, he said, by Transita de la Barca, whowas lying ill in the town, and desired to speak to me before she died.I asked and obtained permission from our General, who had a strongpersonal friendship for me, to penetrate into the town. This was, ofcourse, dangerous, and more so for me, perhaps, than it would havebeen for many of my brother officers, for I was very well known to thebesieged. I succeeded, however, by persuading the officers of a Frenchsloop of war, stationed in the harbour, to assist me. These foreignersat that time had friendly relations with the officers of both armies,and three of them had at one time visited our General to ask him tolet them hunt ostriches in the interior. He passed them on to me, and,taking them to my own _estancia_, I entertained them and huntedwith them for several days. For this hospitality they had expressedthemselves very grateful, inviting me repeatedly to visit them on board,and also saying that they would gladly do me any personal service in thetown, which they visited constantly. I love not the French, believingthem to be the most vain and egotistical, consequently the leastchivalrous, of mankind; but these officers were in my debt, and Iresolved to ask them to help me. Under cover of night I went on boardtheir ship; I told them my story, and asked them to take me on shorewith them disguised as one of themselves. With some difficulty theyconsented, and I was thus enabled next day to be in Montevideo and withmy long-lost Transita. I found her lying on her bed, emaciated and whiteas death, in the last stage of some fatal pulmonary complaint. On thebed with her was a child between two and three years old, exceedinglybeautiful like her mother, for one glance was sufficient to tell me itwas Transita's child. Overcome with grief at finding her in this pitifulcondition, I could only kneel at her side, pouring out the last tendertears that have fallen from these eyes. We Orientals are not tearlessmen, and I have wept since then, but only with rage and hatred. My lasttears of tenderness were shed over unhappy, dying Transita.

  "Briefly she told me her story. No letter from me had ever reachedBasilio; it was supposed that I had fallen in battle, or that my hearthad changed. When her mother lay dying in Montevideo she was visitedby a wealthy Argentine lady named Romero, who had heard of Transita'ssingular beauty, and wished to see her merely out of curiosity. She wasso charmed with the girl that she offered to take her and bring her upas her own daughter. To this the mother, who was reduced to the greatestpoverty and was dying, consented gladly. Transita was in this way takento Buenos Ayres, where she had masters to instruct her, and lived ingreat splendour. The novelty of this life charmed her for a time; thepleasures of a large city, and the universal admiration her beautyexcited, occupied her mind and made her happy. When she was seventeenthe Senora Romero bestowed her hand on a young man of that city, namedAndrada, a wealthy person. He was a fashionable man, a gambler, anda Sybarite, and, having conceived a violent passion for the girl, hesucceeded in winning over the senora to aid his suit. Before marryinghim Transita told him frankly that she felt incapable of great affectionfor him; he cared nothing for that, he only wished, like the animal hewas, to possess her for her beauty. Shortly after marrying her he tookher to Europe, knowing very well that a man with a full purse, and whosespirit is a compound of swine and goat, finds life pleasanter in Paristhan in the Plata. In Paris Transita lived a gay, but an unhappy life.Her husband's passion for her soon passed away, and was succeededby neglect and insult. After three miserable years he abandoned heraltogether to live with another woman, and then, in broken health, shereturned with her child to her own country. When she had been severalmonths in Montevideo she heard casually that I was still alive and inthe besieging army; and, anxious to impart her last wishes to a friend,had sent for me.

  "Could you, my friend, could any man, divine the nature of that dyingrequest Transita wished to make?

  "Pointing to her child, she said, 'Do you not see that Margaritainherits that fatal gift of beauty which won for me a life of splendour,with extreme bitterness of heart and early death? Soon, before I die,perhaps, there will not be wanting some new senora Romero to take chargeof her, who will at last sell her to some rich, cruel man, as I wassold; for how can her beauty remain long concealed? It was with verydifferent views for her that I secretly left Paris and returned here.During all the miserable years I spent there I thought more and more ofmy childhood on that lonely coast, until, when I fell ill, I resolvedto go back there to spend my last days on that beloved spot where I hadbeen so happy. It was my intention to find some peasant family therewho would be willing to take Margarita and bring her up as a peasant'schild, with no knowledge of her father's position and of the life menlive in towns. The siege and my failing health made it impossible for meto carry out that plan. I must die here, dear friend, and never see thatlonely coast where we have sat together so often watching the waves. ButI think only of poor little Margarita now, who will soon be motherless:will you not help me to save her? Promise me that you will take heraway to some distant place, where she will be brought up as a peasant'schild, and where her father will never find her. If you can promise methis, I will resign her to you now, and face death without even the sadconsolation of seeing her by me to the last.'

  "I promised to carry out her wishes, and also to see the child as oftenas circumstances would allow, and when she grew up to find her a goodhusband. But I would not deprive her of the child then. I told herthat if she died, Margarita would be conveyed to the French ship in theharbour, and afterwards to me, and that I knew where to place her withgood-hearted, simple peasants who loved me, and would obey my wishes inall things.

  "She was satisfied, and I left her to make the necessary arrangementsto carry out my plans. A few weeks later Transita expired, and the childwas brought to me. I then sent her to Batata's house, where, ignorantof the secret of her birth, she has been brought up as her mother wishedher to be. May she never, like the unhappy Transita, fall into the powerof a ravening beast in man's shape."

  "Amen!" I exclaimed. "But surely, if this child will be entitled to afortune some day, it will only be right that she should have it."

  "We do not worship gold in this country," he replied. "With us thepoor are just as happy as the rich, their wants are so few, and easilysatisfied. It would be too much to say that I love the child more than Ilove anyone else; I think only of Transita's wishes; that for me is theonly right in the matter. Had I failed to carry them out to the letter,then I should have suffered a great remorse. Possibly I may encounterAndrada some day, and pass my sword through his body; that would give meno remorse."

  After some moments of silence he looked up and said, "Richard, youadmired and loved that beautiful girl when you first saw her. Listen,if you wish it you shall have her for a wife. She is simple-minded,ignorant of the world, affectionate, and where she is told to love shewill love. Batata's people will obey my wishes in everything."

  I shook my head, smiling somewhat sorrowfully when I thought that theevents of the last few days had already half obliterated Margarita'sfair image from my mind. This unexpected proposition had, moreover,forced on me, with a startling suddenness, the fact that by onceperforming the act of marriage a man
has for ever used up the mostglorious privilege of his sex--of course, I mean in countries where heis only allowed to have one wife. It was no longer in my power to sayto any woman, however charming I might find her, "Be my wife." But I didnot explain all this to the General.

  "Ah, you are thinking of conditions," said he; "there will be none."

  "No, you have guessed wrong--for once," I returned. "The girl is all yousay; I have never seen a being more beautiful, and I have never heard amore romantic story than the one you have just told me about her birth.I can only echo your prayer that she may not suffer as her mother did.In name she is not a de la Barca, and perhaps destiny will spare her onthat account."

  He glanced keenly at me and smiled. "Perhaps you are thinking more ofDolores than of Margarita just now," he said. "Let me warn you of yourdanger there, my young friend. She is already promised to another."

  Absurdly unreasonable as it may seem, I felt a jealous pang at thatinformation; but then, of course, we are _not_ reasonable beings,whatever the philosophers say.

  I laughed, not very gaily, I must confess, and answered that there wasno need to warn me, as Dolores would never be more to me than a verydear friend.

  Even then I did not tell him that I was a married man; for often inthe Banda Oriental I did not quite seem to know how to mix my truthand lies, and so preferred to hold my tongue. In this instance, assubsequent events proved, I held it not wisely but too well. The openman, with no secrets from the world, often enough escapes disasterswhich overtake your very discreet person, who acts on the old adage thatspeech was given to us to conceal our thoughts.