Arnedo kept her locked up in first one house and then another,
and Nacha's hatred of him grew until the intensity of her feeling
frightened her. Such hate as this threatened to swallow up all other
feelings, to absorb her utterly in itself, poisoning and destroying
her. If she had been attracted to him before he carried her off, it was
because she believed that he desired her. When she discovered, however,
that his abduction of her was not for love, but for vengeance, to get
even with Monsalvat; when she saw that he was actuated by something
evil in him, which he could not have changed even though he had wanted
to, she began to think of him as something monstrous and diabolical. He
was the savage with no rôle to play in civilization, powerless--save
for evil!
In the first prison he put her in she saw him only once, on the
occasion when, pointing a revolver at her, he forced her to write the
letter which was to be a final blow at Monsalvat. The effect of this
incident on Nacha had been to rouse in her profound pity for the man
she was so wounding. Again she was causing him suffering! She imagined
him searching for her through all the dreary reaches of the city; and
her constant thinking of him always brought her to one conclusion; for
her, happiness could consist only in offering up her whole being in
sacrifice for this man!
The owners of both houses had presented her to their best patrons.
Nacha, frantic with rage, had driven them out of her presence. She was
determined to escape and threatened to get the police. But so close was
the watch kept over her that she could not even get a letter into the
mail-box. In the second house she was sent to she made friends with one
of the girls, the unfortunate daughter of an English drunkard whose
stepmother had driven her away from home. Nacha, through Laura's help,
succeeded in having her case brought to the attention of two men who
frequented the house on Laura's account. One of them, an influential
lawyer, informed the police of the situation and Nacha was given her
freedom. Pampa would have gone to prison if Nacha had not refused to
admit that she knew who was responsible for her abduction.
Nacha was taken from this house to the police station, to state her
case. The lawyer talked to her awhile; and, when he understood her
situation, offered her money, and asked her what she was going to do.
"What can I do, sir? Follow my destiny...."
"Your destiny? That word doesn't mean anything. Every one makes his own
destiny. You ought to go back to your mother's."
"They won't take me back!"
"Very well then. I'll go see them and settle the matter."
Nacha meanwhile lived in the house where Julieta was lodged. Together
the two girls went to the tenement where Nacha had been living, to get
her furniture and clothes. Although the room had been rented to someone
else the caretaker very humbly and sanctimoniously collected half a
month's rent from them, saying that Nacha would have to pay storage on
her things before she could have them. She inquired for Monsalvat and
learned that he had gone away. A few days later the lawyer told Nacha
that she could return to her home. Her mother had died, and her sister,
Catalina, was running the house.
Her sister received her with the indifference she might have shown
to a stranger. When she found herself in her childhood home, Nacha
could have wept, so many were the scenes that passed again through
her memory. She thought of her absent mother, and of her meeting in
that very house with Riga! But her sister's abrupt manner, assumed to
conceal her feelings, Nacha believed--restrained her.
"When did--it happen?" asked Nacha.
"A month ago."
"Did she speak of me? Did she forgive me before she died?"
"Yes. And she asked me to look for you. But I scarcely knew where to
find you."
This implied an effort which Catalina, as a matter of fact, had never
made; nor had she any intention of looking for her sister. Her hope
was that Nacha would never turn up, that she would thus be left in
undisturbed possession of her mother's house. Soon after Nacha's
disappearance, Cata had married a fellow quite inferior to her own
station. Her mother had been much offended at the match and refused to
see Cata, choosing to consider her as completely lost as Nacha. But
when the husband died, her mother consented to have her return to live
with her. The property left the two daughters consisted of a small
house in Liniers and the furnishings of the _pensión_--some thirty
thousand _pesos_ all told.
Nacha found her sister much changed. Ten years earlier Cata had been a
lively and not unattractive young person. Now she was slow in movement
and heavy, and as she was very short, there was nothing graceful about
her figure. In the old days, although they squabbled a great deal, the
sisters had managed to get along together. But Cata's disposition had
soured, though her ill-temper could not have been guessed from her
fair-skinned and pretty face. Nacha noticed this change with alarm. How
could she have become so bitter, and sharp-tongued, when she had once
been so cheerful? What made her sister so envious and jealous, and full
of petty meanness?
Nacha settled down in the house. She rarely went out, because she
did not want to arouse suspicions in her sister. She helped with the
multitudinous tasks of the household, and little by little took on
all the work, as Cata skillfully disengaged herself from it. With the
students and other men boarders Nacha's dealings were of the briefest.
She barely spoke to them, so fearful was she of having Cata doubt her
intentions of being an honest woman.
But it was written that Nacha must suffer in every relationship. Cata
was constantly spying upon her. If Nacha stopped a moment in the
_patio_ to exchange a few words with a boarder, her sister would eye
her suspiciously and take up a position somewhere near at hand, so as
to observe her. Nacha could not discuss the most trifling matter with
her sister without hearing allusions to her past life. If they happened
to be commenting on some one of the boarders, such as, for instance,
the desirability of giving the preference to one student instead of
another, in the question of terms, Cata would grow impatient.
"Of course, you must be right. You have known so many men...."
Nacha might have borne such jibes in private. But her sister often got
them off at table in front of everyone. Some of the boarders would
laugh. Others felt secretly sorry for Nacha. Once, when Nacha did not
eat what was on the plate before her, Cata asked:
"Doesn't this fare suit you? I suppose at the famous houses that you
are used to living in, they had better cooks."
She was no more successful in finding happiness in other quarters.
At first she had searched persistently for Monsalvat but had not
obtained the slightest news of him. Torres or Ruiz de Castro could,
she believed, have told her where he was, but she did not care to see
either of these men. She remembered how Torres had lied to her, telling
her that Monsalvat was in love with another woman. She had no reason
to believe that he would not lie to her again. In Torres' opinion,
as doubtless in Ruiz de Castro's, she was to blame for Monsalvat's
situation; she was an enemy, to be kept at a distance! Nevertheless, as
the months went by and her anxiety concerning him increased, she went
one day to Torres' office, and with tears in her eyes asked for news
of her friend. Torres told her the truth. Monsalvat had been very ill,
had fled from the sanatorium, and no one had the slightest idea where
he was. Nacha, however, believed that Torres was trying to put her off,
and left after reproaching him for his past cruelty towards her.
One morning there arrived at the _pensión_ a boarder who seemed
startlingly out of place in that student boarding house. He was
a corpulent fellow, heavy-shouldered, slow-moving, with enormous
hands, and short fat fingers. His face was not altogether ugly: the
features were large and firmly cut, and as immobile as though carved
in oakwood. On the day of his arrival he wore riding breeches and
boots. He spoke rarely, as though he feared his voice might sound too
loud; but he burst into great shouts of laughter at the nonsensical
stories with which the students regaled the dinner-table. Cata found
out all there was to learn about his life. He was rich--owned a ranch
in Pergamino--and had come to the _pensión_ because it had been
recommended to him by one of the students who worked as one of his
hands during the holidays. Little did he suspect that the young man
in question had congratulated himself on thus providing his fellow
students with excellent first-hand material for their amusement! Cata,
however, would not allow the slightest disrespect to this "native" of
whom she made a protégé. By good-natured jokes at the beginning of
their acquaintance, followed by maternal advice, Cata succeeded in
bringing about certain changes in his attire, and modifying some of his
rustic habits. The fellow was a good sort at bottom, and lent himself
willingly to Cata's polishing, much to the amazement both of Nacha and
the students who wondered what all this might portend.
One fine day Nacha discovered the explanation of her sister's conduct.
The rancher began making love to her, and Nacha sensed that he did
so at Cata's skillfully disguised instigation. Still Nacha could not
understand Cata's sudden affection for her since the new boarder's
arrival. Then she perceived that Cata was planning to get rid of her
and was counting on the rancher's pliability in her determined hands,
and also on Nacha's attractions.
His gallantries were far from being agreeable to Nacha, who did not
find them improved by the fact that he was well provided with money.
She was quite determined to refuse him when he finally declared his
intentions. She had not foreseen that Cata would speak for him.
"You have no reason to refuse. Why should you be so hard to suit?"
Nacha lowered her head and remained silent a long time.
"Your presence here is compromising to me. Everyone knows about you,
even though you appear to be respectable now. But some day you are sure
to go back to your old ways. I'm still young enough to marry again--in
fact I'm thinking quite seriously of it. Your being here is really
inconvenient. It may interfere with my plans. Don't be angry! I'm only
telling you the truth!"
Cata went on at some length advising her sister to make this sacrifice
in atonement for her past sins--though really there was no great
sacrifice in becoming a married woman at last and in going to live on
a fine ranch with a man who was so good and so much in love! When Cata
stopped talking Nacha raised her tear-filled eyes and said simply:
"Very well. I accept him."
Her suitor then discussed the matter with her. Nacha thought it only
honest to tell him all about herself.
"So they told me!" the rancher replied with a coarse laugh.
Nacha was blank with amazement. Never had she believed her sister's
perfidy could go so far!
"But look here, girlie, I rounded you up with the idea of getting
married. It's fierce for a man to live alone all his life; and I
thought it would be fine to have some one like you around!"
And he licked his lips at the prospect of the life awaiting him with
Nacha as a companion.
Then she learned another detail concerning her sister's manoeuvres.
A doctor in one of the distant provinces was paying court to Cata.
Although he was poor, her scheming young sister had resolved not to let
him escape. That had been her reason for speeding Nacha's departure.
The rancher had said something about marriage to Nacha; but Cata,
fearing that such formalities might involve too great delay, told him
her sister's story and insinuated that he might take her away with him
as his mistress.
"There are plenty of cow-punchers who carry off a girl and put her in
the ranch house with no question of marriage! It's better for them not
to marry, of course. I don't say I approve of that sort of thing; but
I can see that it's more convenient, and practical--and it's cheaper!
Then, after a while, if they still like the girl, they can marry. If
she doesn't suit, or they find another one they like better, they can
let the first one go.... They all do that, all of them!"
Then, as if to put the finishing touch on her speech of persuasion, she
added:
"That's what you men are like. You know how to live!"
At first her protégé listened to these words with stupefaction; then
he assumed a greedy smile. Just to think that he might have been fool
enough to get married! Country folk had reason to distrust these city
people!
But Nacha resigned herself to the conditions devised, unknown to her,
by her sister. She would suffer and serve; and after a few years of
fidelity and submission on her part, the man might marry her. So the
honest woman she was going to be would atone for the ten misspent years
of her life. It was a tragic solution of her problem, for it took her
away from Monsalvat forever--for all the rest of the time she might
live on earth....
Since resigning herself to this sacrifice she viewed the rancher with
changed eyes. She discovered now that he had a few really admirable
qualities. He was loyal, sincere, manageable and plucky, like the
good son of the pampas that he was; and he showed no small amount of
genuine feeling. Nacha began to think that a woman of intelligence and
skill might civilize this rough fellow without encountering very much
discouragement. On the morning when she met Monsalvat, the rancher,
really in love with her, and delighted with Nacha's sweetness of
disposition, had promised to marry her there in Buenos Aires, before
going to the ranch, sparing her the humiliation of the trying-out
process to which he had intended to subject her.
Nacha went occasionally with him to the shops, to buy furnishings for
the ranch house. It was on one of these shopping tours that she met
Monsalvat.
Monsalvat was reading in bed next morning when there came a knock at
the door. "Come in!" he called.
In the opening doorway Nacha appeared. She was dressed in black as
on the preceding afternoon, and this sombre mourning emphasized
the fairness of her skin, enhancing its charm. She seemed happy,
light-hearted, as though her problem in life had been well disposed of.
Monsalvat lay back among his pillows at her request. His sight had
grown very poor and persistent efforts to read had done him a great
deal of harm. That morning his eyes were paining him severely. All
the objects he looked at had the vague uncertain outline one sees in
certain impressionist paintings. Without saying a word, Nacha noticed
all the details of the room. Then she took off her hat, and, looking
attentively at her friend, said, simply:
"I have come to stay."
"I knew you would come!" he replied, holding out a hand to her. "But I
never dared hope that you would stay--"
"Always!" she said, taking his hand, and sitting down on the edge of
the bed.
"Always?" he wondered. "How is that possible? Aren't you going to get
married?"
"No--You need someone to take care of you. I can't marry now!"
"Why, Nacha?"
"Because such a marriage would be a lie...."
Was he dreaming? There was no happiness such as this in the waking
world! Nacha went on to say that she did not love the man she had
intended marrying, nor could she ever love him. Why should she
sacrifice herself?"
"You are right," Monsalvat exclaimed. "A sacrifice without a purpose,
of no real utility, is absurd--more than that, is immoral! We ought
only to sacrifice ourselves when we love our sacrifice. I believe,
Nacha, that sacrifice ought to give us our highest spiritual enjoyment!"
Nacha was silent; but she was thinking that the sacrifice she was then
entering upon was of such a kind. Had she married her rancher she would
have had among other advantages, that security in life which only a
vagabond or a woman such as she had once been, could appreciate fully.
Money, a home, comforts, all these would have come to her with this
marriage. And then if this man, fifteen years older than she, should
die before she did, she would be free, and in possession of a fortune.
On the other hand, with Monsalvat, nothing but anxiety and trouble
awaited her. Instead of a ranch, she would have a room in a tenement
house; instead of a home, a poor friend in need of her care; instead of
comfort, poverty; and instead of the day of liberation and inherited
riches, long years of suffering at the bedside of a sick man. Two ways
of sacrifice lay before her. But she did not hesitate now. Her lot was
with Monsalvat. What though it should prove unhappy? In it she could
find in the midst of suffering and pain, love and joy, without which,
now that she had glimpsed them once again in Monsalvat's face, she
could not live....