Green Mansions: A Romance of the Tropical Forest

by W. H. Hudson

  CHAPTER XI

  There was a welcome change in the weather when I rose early nextmorning; the sky was without cloud and had that purity in its colourand look of infinite distance seen only when the atmosphere is free fromvapour. The sun had not yet risen, but old Nuflo was already among theashes, on his hands and knees, blowing the embers he had uncovered to aflame. Then Rima appeared only to pass through the room with quick lighttread to go out of the door without a word or even a glance at my face.The old man, after watching at the door for a few minutes, turnedand began eagerly questioning me about my adventures on the previousevening. In reply I related to him how the girl had found me in theforest lost and unable to extricate myself from the tangled undergrowth.

  He rubbed his hands on his knees and chuckled. "Happy for you, senor,"he said, "that my granddaughter regards you with such friendly eyes,otherwise you might have perished before morning. Once she was at yourside, no light, whether of sun or moon or lantern, was needed, nor thatsmall instrument which is said to guide a man aright in the desert, evenin the darkest night--let him that can believe such a thing!"

  "Yes, happy for me," I returned. "I am filled with remorse that it wasall through my fault that the poor child was exposed to such weather."

  "O senor," he cried airily, "let not that distress you! Rain and windand hot suns, from which we seek shelter, do not harm her. She takes nocold, and no fever, with or without ague."

  After some further conversation I left him to steal away unobserved onhis own account, and set out for a ramble in the hope of encounteringRima and winning her to talk to me.

  My quest did not succeed: not a glimpse of her delicate shadowy form didI catch among the trees; and not one note from her melodious lips cameto gladden me. At noon I returned to the house, where I found foodplaced ready for me, and knew that she had come there during my absenceand had not been forgetful of my wants. "Shall I thank you for this?" Isaid. "I ask you for heavenly nectar for the sustentation of the higherwinged nature in me, and you give me a boiled sweet potato, toastedstrips of sun-dried pumpkins, and a handful of parched maize! Rima!Rima! my woodland fairy, my sweet saviour, why do you yet fear me? Is itthat love struggles in you with repugnance? Can you discern with clearspiritual eyes the grosser elements in me, and hate them; or has somefalse imagination made me appear all dark and evil, but too late foryour peace, after the sweet sickness of love has infected you?"

  But she was not there to answer me, and so after a time I went forthagain and seated myself listlessly on the root of an old tree notfar from the house. I had sat there a full hour when all at once Rimaappeared at my side. Bending forward, she touched my hand, but withoutglancing at my face; "Come with me," she said, and turning, movedswiftly towards the northern extremity of the forest. She seemed totake it for granted that I would follow, never casting a look behind norpausing in her rapid walk; but I was only too glad to obey and, startingup, was quickly after her. She led me by easy ways, familiar to her,with many doublings to escape the undergrowth, never speaking or pausinguntil we came out from the thick forest, and I found myself for thefirst time at the foot of the great hill or mountain Ytaioa. Glancingback for a few moments, she waved a hand towards the summit, and thenat once began the ascent. Here too it seemed all familiar ground to her.From below, the sides had presented an exceedingly rugged appearance--awild confusion of huge jagged rocks, mixed with a tangled vegetationof trees, bushes, and vines; but following her in all her doublings, itbecame easy enough, although it fatigued me greatly owing to our rapidpace. The hill was conical, but I found that it had a flat top--anoblong or pear-shaped area, almost level, of a soft, crumbly sandstone,with a few blocks and boulders of a harder stone scattered about--and novegetation, except the grey mountain lichen and a few sere-looking dwarfshrubs.

  Here Rima, at a distance of a few yards from me, remained standing stillfor some minutes, as if to give me time to recover my breath; and I wasright glad to sit down on a stone to rest. Finally she walked slowlyto the centre of the level area, which was about two acres in extent;rising, I followed her and, climbing on to a huge block of stone, begangazing at the wide prospect spread out before me. The day was windlessand bright, with only a few white clouds floating at a great heightabove and casting travelling shadows over that wild, broken country,where forest, marsh, and savannah were only distinguishable by theirdifferent colours, like the greys and greens and yellows on a map. Ata great distance the circle of the horizon was broken here and there bymountains, but the hills in our neighbourhood were all beneath our feet.

  After gazing all round for some minutes, I jumped down from my standand, leaning against the stone, stood watching the girl, waiting for herto speak. I felt convinced that she had something of the very highestimportance (to herself) to communicate, and that only the pressingneed of a confidant, not Nuflo, had overcome her shyness of me; and Idetermined to let her take her own time to say it in her own way. For awhile she continued silent, her face averted, but her little movementsand the way she clasped and unclasped her fingers showed that she wasanxious and her mind working. Suddenly, half turning to me, she beganspeaking eagerly and rapidly.

  "Do you see," she said, waving her hand to indicate the whole circuit ofearth, "how large it is? Look!" pointing now to mountains in the west."Those are the Vahanas--one, two, three--the highest--I can tell youtheir names--Vahana-Chara, Chumi, Aranoa. Do you see that water? It isa river, called Guaypero. From the hills it comes down, Inaruna is theirname, and you can see them there in the south--far, far." And in thisway she went on pointing out and naming all the mountains and riverswithin sight. Then she suddenly dropped her hands to her sides andcontinued: "That is all. Because we can see no further. But the world islarger than that! Other mountains, other rivers. Have I not told you ofVoa, on the River Voa, where I was born, where mother died, where thepriest taught me, years, years ago? All that you cannot see, it is sofar away--so far."

  I did not laugh at her simplicity, nor did I smile or feel anyinclination to smile. On the contrary, I only experienced a sympathy sokeen that it was like pain while watching her clouded face, so changefulin its expression, yet in all changes so wistful. I could not yet formany idea as to what she wished to communicate or to discover, but seeingthat she paused for a reply, I answered: "The world is so large, Rima,that we can only see a very small portion of it from any one spot. Lookat this," and with a stick I had used to aid me in my ascent I traceda circle six or seven inches in circumference on the soft stone, and inits centre placed a small pebble. "This represents the mountain weare standing on," I continued, touching the pebble; "and thisline encircling it encloses all of the earth we can see from themountain-top. Do you understand?--the line I have traced is the blueline of the horizon beyond which we cannot see. And outside of thislittle circle is all the flat top of Ytaioa representing the world.Consider, then, how small a portion of the world we can see from thisspot!"

  "And do you know it all?" she returned excitedly. "All the world?"waving her hand to indicate the little stone plain. "All the mountains,and rivers, and forests--all the people in the world?"

  "That would be impossible, Rima; consider how large it is."

  "That does not matter. Come, let us go together--we two andgrandfather--and see all the world; all the mountains and forests, andknow all the people."

  "You do not know what you are saying, Rima. You might as well say:'Come, let us go to the sun and find out everything in it.'"

  "It is you who do not know what you are saying," she retorted, withbrightening eyes which for a moment glanced full into mine. "We have nowings like birds to fly to the sun. Am I not able to walk on the earth,and run? Can I not swim? Can I not climb every mountain?"

  "No, you cannot. You imagine that all the earth is like this littleportion you see. But it is not all the same. There are great riverswhich you cannot cross by swimming; mountains you cannot climb; forestsyou cannot penetrate--dark, and inhabited by dangerous beasts, and sovast that all this space you
r eyes look on is a mere speck of earth incomparison."

  She listened excitedly. "Oh, do you know all that?" she cried, with astrangely brightening look; and then half turning from me, she added,with sudden petulance: "Yet only a minute ago you knew nothing of theworld--because it is so large! Is anything to be gained by speaking toone who says such contrary things?"

  I explained that I had not contradicted myself, that she had not rightlyinterpreted my words. I knew, I said, something about the principalfeatures of the different countries of the world, as, for instance, thelargest mountain ranges, and rivers, and the cities. Also something,but very little, about the tribes of savage men. She heard me withimpatience, which made me speak rapidly, in very general terms; and tosimplify the matter I made the world stand for the continent we werein. It seemed idle to go beyond that, and her eagerness would not haveallowed it.

  "Tell me all you know," she said the moment I ceased speaking. "What isthere--and there--and there?" pointing in various directions. "Riversand forests--they are nothing to me. The villages, the tribes, thepeople everywhere; tell me, for I must know it all."

  "It would take long to tell, Rima."

  "Because you are so slow. Look how high the sun is! Speak, speak! Whatis there?" pointing to the north.

  "All that country," I said, waving my hands from east to west, "isGuayana; and so large is it that you could go in this direction, or inthis, travelling for months, without seeing the end of Guayana. Stillit would be Guayana; rivers, rivers, rivers, with forests between,and other forests and rivers beyond. And savage people, nationsand tribes--Guahibo, Aguaricoto, Ayano, Maco, Piaroa, Quiriquiripo,Tuparito--shall I name a hundred more? It would be useless, Rima; theyare all savages, and live widely scattered in the forests, hunting withbow and arrow and the zabatana. Consider, then, how large Guayana is!"

  "Guayana--Guayana! Do I not know all this is Guayana? But beyond, andbeyond, and beyond? Is there no end to Guayana?"

  "Yes; there northwards it ends at the Orinoco, a mighty river, comingfrom mighty mountains, compared with which Ytaioa is like a stone on theground on which we have sat down to rest. You must know that guayana isonly a portion, a half, of our country, Venezuela. Look," I continued,putting my hand round my shoulder to touch the middle of my back, "thereis a groove running down my spine dividing my body into equal parts.Thus does the great Orinoco divide Venezuela, and on one side of it isall Guayana; and on the other side the countries or provinces of Cumana,Maturm, Barcelona, Bolivar, Guarico, Apure, and many others." I thengave a rapid description of the northern half of the country, with itsvast llanos covered with herds in one part, its plantations of coffee,rice, and sugar-cane in another, and its chief towns; last of allCaracas, the gay and opulent little Paris in America.

  This seemed to weary her; but the moment I ceased speaking, and beforeI could well moisten my dry lips, she demanded to know what came afterCaracas--after all Venezuela.

  "The ocean--water, water, water," I replied.

  "There are no people there--in the water; only fishes," she remarked;then suddenly continued: "Why are you silent--is Venezuela, then, allthe world?"

  The task I had set myself to perform seemed only at its commencementyet. Thinking how to proceed with it, my eyes roved over the level areawe were standing on, and it struck me that this little irregular plain,broad at one end and almost pointed at the other, roughly resembled theSouth American continent in its form.

  "Look, Rima," I began, "here we are on this small pebble--Ytaioa; andthis line round it shuts us in--we cannot see beyond. Now let us imaginethat we can see beyond--that we can see the whole flat mountaintop; andthat, you know, is the whole world. Now listen while I tell you of allthe countries, and principal mountains, and rivers, and cities of theworld."

  The plan I had now fixed on involved a great deal of walking about andsome hard work in moving and setting up stones and tracing boundaryand other lines; but it gave me pleasure, for Rima was close by allthe time, following me from place to place, listening to all I said insilence but with keen interest. At the broad end of the level summit Imarked out Venezuela, showing by means of a long line how the Orinocodivided it, and also marking several of the greater streams flowinginto it. I also marked the sites of Caracas and other large townswith stones; and rejoiced that we are not like the Europeans, greatcity-builders, for the stones proved heavy to lift. Then followedColombia and Ecuador on the west; and, successively, Bolivia, Peru,Chile, ending at last in the south with Patagonia, a cold arid land,bleak and desolate. I marked the littoral cities as we progressedon that side, where earth ends and the Pacific Ocean begins, andinfinitude.

  Then, in a sudden burst of inspiration, I described the Cordilleras toher--that world-long, stupendous chain; its sea of Titicaca, and wintry,desolate Paramo, where lie the ruins of Tiahuanaco, older than Thebes.I mentioned its principal cities--those small inflamed or festeringpimples that attract much attention from appearing on such a body.Quito, called--not in irony, but by its own people--the Splendid andthe Magnificent; so high above the earth as to appear but a little wayremoved from heaven--"de Quito al cielo," as the saying is. But of itssublime history, its kings and conquerors, Haymar Capac the Mighty,and Huascar, and Atahualpa the Unhappy, not one word. Many words--howinadequate!--of the summits, white with everlasting snows, aboveit--above this navel of the world, above the earth, the ocean, thedarkening tempest, the condor's flight. Flame-breathing Cotopaxi,whose wrathful mutterings are audible two hundred leagues away, andChimborazo, Antisana, Sarata, Illimani, Aconcagua--names of mountainsthat affect us like the names of gods, implacable Pachacamac andViracocha, whose everlasting granite thrones they are. At the last Ishowed her Cuzco, the city of the sun, and the highest dwelling-place ofmen on earth.

  I was carried away by so sublime a theme; and remembering that I had nocritical hearer, I gave free reins to fancy, forgetting for the momentthat some undiscovered thought or feeling had prompted her questions.And while I spoke of the mountains, she hung on my words, following meclosely in my walk, her countenance brilliant, her frame quivering withexcitement.

  There yet remained to be described all that unimaginable space east ofthe Andes; the rivers--what rivers!--the green plains that are likethe sea--the illimitable waste of water where there is no land--and theforest region. The very thought of the Amazonian forest made my spiritdroop. If I could have snatched her up and placed her on the dome ofChimborazo she would have looked on an area of ten thousand square milesof earth, so vast is the horizon at that elevation. And possibly herimagination would have been able to clothe it all with an unbrokenforest. Yet how small a portion this would be of the stupendouswhole--of a forest region equal in extent to the whole of Europe! Allloveliness, all grace, all majesty are there; but we cannot see, cannotconceive--come away! From this vast stage, to be occupied in the distantfuture by millions and myriads of beings, like us of upright form, thenations that will be born when all the existing dominant races on theglobe and the civilizations they represent have perished as utterly asthose who sculptured the stones of old Tiahuanaco--from this theatreof palms prepared for a drama unlike any which the Immortals have yetwitnessed--I hurried away; and then slowly conducted her along theAtlantic coast, listening to the thunder of its great waves, and pausingat intervals to survey some maritime city.

  Never probably since old Father Noah divided the earth among hissons had so grand a geographical discourse been delivered; and havingfinished, I sat down, exhausted with my efforts, and mopped my brow, butglad that my huge task was over, and satisfied that I had convinced herof the futility of her wish to see the world for herself.

  Her excitement had passed away by now. She was standing a little apartfrom me, her eyes cast down and thoughtful. At length she approached meand said, waving her hand all round: "What is beyond the mountains overthere, beyond the cities on that side--beyond the world?"

  "Water, only water. Did I not tell you?" I returned stoutly; for I had,of course, sunk the Isthmus of Panama ben
eath the sea.

  "Water! All round?" she persisted.

  "Yes."

  "Water, and no beyond? Only water--always water?"

  I could no longer adhere to so gross a lie. She was too intelligent, andI loved her too much. Standing up, I pointed to distant mountains andisolated peaks.

  "Look at those peaks," I said. "It is like that with the world--thisworld we are standing on. Beyond that great water that flows all roundthe world, but far away, so far that it would take months in a big boatto reach them, there are islands, some small, others as large as thisworld. But, Rima, they are so far away, so impossible to reach, that itis useless to speak or to think of them. They are to us like the sun andmoon and stars, to which we cannot fly. And now sit down and rest by myside, for you know everything."

  She glanced at me with troubled eyes.

  "Nothing do I know--nothing have you told me. Did I not say thatmountains and rivers and forests are nothing? Tell me about all thepeople in the world. Look! there is Cuzco over there, a city like noother in the world--did you not tell me so? Of the people nothing. Arethey also different from all others in the world?"

  "I will tell you that if you will first answer me one question, Rima."

  She drew a little nearer, curious to hear, but was silent.

  "Promise that you will answer me," I persisted, and as she continuedsilent, I added: "Shall I not ask you, then?"

  "Say," she murmured.

  "Why do you wish to know about the people of Cuzco?"

  She flashed a look at me, then averted her face. For some moments shestood hesitating; then, coming closer, touched me on the shoulder andsaid softly: "Turn away, do not look at me."

  I obeyed, and bending so close that I felt her warm breath on my neck,she whispered: "Are the people in Cuzco like me? Would they understandme--the things you cannot understand? Do you know?"

  Her tremulous voice betrayed her agitation, and her words, I imagined,revealed the motive of her action in bringing me to the summit ofYtaioa, and of her desire to visit and know all the various peoplesinhabiting the world. She had begun to realize, after knowing me, herisolation and unlikeness to others, and at the same time to dream thatall human beings might not be unlike her and unable to understand hermysterious speech and to enter into her thoughts and feelings.

  "I can answer that question, Rima," I said. "Ah, no, poor child, thereare none there like you--not one, not one. Of all there--priests,soldiers, merchants, workmen, white, black, red, and mixed; men andwomen, old and young, rich and poor, ugly and beautiful--not one wouldunderstand the sweet language you speak."

  She said nothing, and glancing round, I discovered that she was walkingaway, her fingers clasped before her, her eyes cast down, and lookingprofoundly dejected. Jumping up, I hurried after her. "Listen!" I said,coming to her side. "Do you know that there are others in the world likeyou who would understand your speech?"

  "Oh, do I not! Yes--mother told me. I was young when you died, but, Omother, why did you not tell me more?"

  "But where?"

  "Oh, do you not think that I would go to them if I knew--that I wouldask?"

  "Does Nuflo know?"

  She shook her head, walking dejectedly along.

  "But have you asked him?" I persisted.

  "Have I not! Not once--not a hundred times."

  Suddenly she paused. "Look," she said, "now we are standing in Guayanaagain. And over there in Brazil, and up there towards the Cordilleras,it is unknown. And there are people there. Come, let us go and seek formy mother's people in that place. With grandfather, but not the dogs;they would frighten the animals and betray us by barking to cruel menwho would slay us with poisoned arrows."

  "O Rima, can you not understand? It is too far. And your grandfather,poor old man, would die of weariness and hunger and old age in somestrange forest."

  "Would he die--old grandfather? Then we could cover him up with palmleaves in the forest and leave him. It would not be grandfather; onlyhis body that must turn to dust. He would be away--away where the starsare. We should not die, but go on, and on, and on."

  To continue the discussion seemed hopeless. I was silent, thinking ofwhat I had heard--that there were others like her somewhere in that vastgreen world, so much of it imperfectly known, so many districts neveryet explored by white men. True, it was strange that no report of such arace had reached the ears of any traveller; yet here was Rima herself atmy side, a living proof that such a race did exist. Nuflo probably knewmore than he would say; I had failed, as we have seen, to win the secretfrom him by fair means, and could not have recourse to foul--the rackand thumbscrew--to wring it from him. To the Indians she was onlyan object of superstitious fear--a daughter of the Didi--and to themnothing of her origin was known. And she, poor girl, had only a vagueremembrance of a few words heard in childhood from her mother, andprobably not rightly understood.

  While these thoughts had been passing through my mind, Rima had beenstanding silent by, waiting, perhaps, for an answer to her last words.Then stooping, she picked up a small pebble and tossed it three or fouryards away.

  "Do you see where it fell?" she cried, turning towards me. "That is onthe border of Guayana--is it not? Let us go there first."

  "Rima, how you distress me! We cannot go there. It is all a savagewilderness, almost unknown to men--a blank on the map--"

  "The map?--speak no word that I do not understand."

  In a very few words I explained my meaning; even fewer would havesufficed, so quick was her apprehension.

  "If it is a blank," she returned quickly, "then you know of nothingto stop us--no river we cannot swim, and no great mountains like thosewhere Quito is."

  "But I happen to know, Rima, for it has been related to me by oldIndians, that of all places that is the most difficult of access. Thereis a river there, and although it is not on the map, it would provemore impassable to us than the mighty Orinoco and Amazon. It has vastmalarious swamps on its borders, overgrown with dense forest, teemingwith savage and venomous animals, so that even the Indians dare notventure near it. And even before the river is reached, there is a rangeof precipitous mountains called by the same name--just there where yourpebble fell--the mountains of Riolama--"

  Hardly had the name fallen from my lips before a change swift aslightning came over her countenance; all doubt, anxiety, petulance,hope, and despondence, and these in ever-varying degrees, chasing eachother like shadows, had vanished, and she was instinct and burning withsome new powerful emotion which had flashed into her soul.

  "Riolama! Riolama!" she repeated so rapidly and in a tone so sharp thatit tingled in the brain. "That is the place I am seeking! There wasmy mother found--there are her people and mine! Therefore was I calledRiolama--that is my name!"

  "Rima!" I returned, astonished at her words.

  "No, no, no--Riolama. When I was a child, and the priest baptized me, henamed me Riolama--the place where my mother was found. But it was longto say, and they called me Rima."

  Suddenly she became still and then cried in a ringing voice:

  "And he knew it all along--that old man--he knew that Riolama wasnear--only there where the pebble fell--that we could go there!"

  While speaking she turned towards her home, pointing with raised hand.Her whole appearance now reminded me of that first meeting with herwhen the serpent bit me; the soft red of her irides shone like fire, herdelicate skin seemed to glow with an intense rose colour, and her frametrembled with her agitation, so that her loose cloud of hair was inmotion as if blown through by the wind.

  "Traitor! Traitor!" she cried, still looking homewards and using quick,passionate gestures. "It was all known to you, and you deceived me allthese years; even to me, Rima, you lied with your lips! Oh, horrible!Was there ever such a scandal known in Guayana? Come, follow me, let usgo at once to Riolama." And without so much as casting a glance behindto see whether I followed or no, she hurried away, and in a couple ofminutes disappeared from sight over the edge of the flat summ
it. "Rima!Rima! Come back and listen to me! Oh, you are mad! Come back! Comeback!"

  But she would not return or pause and listen; and looking after her,I saw her bounding down the rocky slope like some wild, agile creaturepossessed of padded hoofs and an infallible instinct; and before manyminutes she vanished from sight among crabs and trees lower down.

  "Nuflo, old man," said I, looking out towards his lodge, "are there noshooting pains in those old bones of yours to warn you in time of thetempest about to burst on your head?"

  Then I sat down to think.