CHAPTER II.
I arrive at Manantial.—Superstitions of the Jarochos.
The unfortunate occurrence recorded in the preceding chapter caused me to change my route. It was impossible for me to reach Vera Cruz that day, mounted as I was; so I resolved to pass the night at Manantial, a little village which I supposed to be not more than a mile off. I had thus some time before me, and I thought it could not be better employed than in taking a siesta under the shade of the trees, amid the green solitude in which I found myself. It was a spot in one of the most picturesque forests which cover almost the entire country between Puente Nacional and Vergara. Amid these matted thickets, narrow paths, cut by the hatchet, run in different directions, overshadowed by the almost impenetrable foliage of the trees, while a wall of luxuriant vegetation on each side bars every where the entrance of man, and almost that of the fallow deer. The long, pendent branches twist and interlace their tendrils with the boughs of the neighboring trees. The cocoa-nut-tree covers, with its large leaves, its necklace of green fruit; and the Bourbon palms stretch their branches, covered with shining foliage to the ground; the silk-cotton-tree shows its white flakes of cotton just bursting from the dark green pod. In the deep shade of these in habitants of the forest the friar's cowl abounds with its polished chalice; and at the bottom, as well as the top of this green vault, the gobeas hang their little bell-flowers of variegated colors. Such is the aspect of these woods—an appearance, however, which assumes a different phase according to the hour of the day. At midday the rank vegetation droops under the scorching rays of the sun, from the palm, with its towering crest, to the lowly moss which covers the ground. A hot breeze at that time rushes through the thickets, and appears to arrest every where the progress of vegetation; wild beasts, birds, insects, and plants—all animated nature, in fact, seems to languish under this stifling heat; but when the sun's rays no longer gild the tree-tops, and the vapors rise slowly from the ground, to fall back again in dew, these forests and their denizens, once so silent, start again into life.
Overcome by the powerful influence of the sun, I fell fast asleep without any thought about my horse. The pettiest thief, indeed, would have been ashamed of such booty; and I was, besides, in a district where no stain of dishonesty rested on the character of the inhabitants. The sun was yet high in the horizon when I awoke, but a refreshing breeze was beginning to temper the sultry heat. High up amid the branches of the trees which sheltered me, the paroquets had begun their discordant noises, and their infernal melody was of such a kind as to annoy even the strongest nerves. I got impatient; and, hastily bestriding the wretched animal which supplied the place of my excellent Storm, set out on the beaten path that led to Manantial.
After riding slowly and painfully along for about half an hour, the shrill croaking of the paroquets always paining my ears, I perceived a horseman a little way in advance. This cavalier, attired exactly like one of those who had interrupted Cecilio and me at our game, seemed, like myself, to be quite out of humor. He rode, as all the Jarochos do, with his body inclined more to one side of the saddle than the other. His horse shuffled slowly along, and every now and then he held up his fist to the skies in all the fury of passion. Delighted that chance had sent me a companion in misfortune, I wished to offer him my hearty condolence, and succeeded in that design beyond my expectation. Scarcely had I managed, by dint of hard spurring, to make up to him, than a loud ringing laugh replaced the mental irritation in which I thought he had been indulging a minute before.
"May I ask if you are laughing at me?" I said, abruptly; for, in the bad humor I was in, this hilarity seemed quite out of place.
"At you? No, Señor Cavalier," answered the Jarocho. "But you will excuse me if, at sight of your horse, I bid adieu for a time to all customary politeness."
"My horse is in no worse condition than the andante[1] you are on," I replied, almost choking.
"You may think so; but that hack of yours is a mere bag of bones, and it is no small satisfaction to me to find one worse mounted than myself."
The horseman then began to laugh in such a merry, unconstrained fashion, that, tickled with the very absurdity of the thing, I could not help joining him, and we had a good hearty laugh together. The squabbling of the paroquets, struck with the unusual noise, ceased all of a sudden. They recommenced their ear splitting cries, till at last I discharged a pistol at random among the foliage. To my great surprise, a bird fell at my feet."Did you take aim at it?" asked the astonished Jarocho.
"Of course," I replied, sharply; "and this will serve to show you that it is not altogether safe to jest with people you don't know."
At these words the Jarocho stopped his horse, and, straightening himself in his saddle, placed one hand upon his haunch, and pulled his straw hat over his eyes with the other. He then cried out, "Oigajte, ñor deconocio.[2] I am of a caste and of a country where words are few, and whose actions are prompt. I did not mean to offend you; "but if you seek a quarrel, I shall not flinch. In spite of the disparity of our weapons, I am not afraid to try which of us is the better man."
He hummed a tune, drew his sharp sword from the leathern belt which encircled his waist, and flourished it in the air. I likewise drew my sabre.
The idea of crossing swords, mounted as we were on such sorry jades, was so absurd, that we at last burst into a mutual roar of laughter, which ended the matter. I then hastened to explain to the Jarocho that I had no inimical feeling toward him. He held out his hand.
"I am glad you are satisfied," he replied, "for I should have been very sorry to have an enemy in one so brave as you appear to be, as at present I have a more serious quarrel on my hands."
We then rode along together quite amicably. To turn the conversation, recalling, besides, to my recollection the parting words of the two horsemen at the cross-road, I said, in a careless kind of a tone, "Isn't there to be a fandango at Manantial to-morrow?" "There is, confound it! I promised ña[3] Sacramenta a bow of red ribbons for the occasion, and there is not a bit to be had in all the neighborhood. At the very moment you joined me I was cursing my unlucky star. Probably you are yourself going to the fandango?"
"Well, I am; but chance alone brought me to think of it, for I had reckoned on sleeping to-night at Vera Cruz, had not an unfortunate occurrence come in the way."
"You will have no cause to regret it, I hope, for the crowd will be as thick as smoke. But where will you put up at Manantial? There is no inn in the place."
"With you, perhaps, since you appear to be so desirous to have me at the fête."
The Jarocho bowed in token of assent, and then began to give me an account of the numerous pleasures that awaited me on the morrow. Conversing thus, we reached Manantial. Night had come. A few scattered lights gleaming from among the green foliage announced our approach to the village. We soon reached a little clearing in the wood, dotted with cabins formed of wattled bamboo. This was Manantial. Some men and women, clad in the national costume, were dancing to the monotonous sound of a mandolin, while the mothers were rocking their infants to sleep in ham mocks formed of strips of aloe bark. I soon learned the name of my new host.
"Ah! its Calros,"[4] cried they, in a tone as if his arrival had long been looked for. He paid no attention to the greeting of his friends, who advanced to welcome him, but his eye roved about till it rested on the slender and graceful form of a young girl, whose pretty little feet were twinkling merrily in the dance. Her hair, black as ebony, was ornamented with a wreath[5] of suchil flowers, interspersed with fire-flies, whose pale bluish light encircled her forehead with a mysterious and fantastic halo. Draped in a white robe, whose waving folds were every moment blanched by the pale rays of the moon, Sacramenta, with her bare shoulders and variegated hair, looked like a fairy dancing by night in a glade of the forest, when all around is at rest.
The almost disdainful glance which she threw at him showed me at once the true state of affairs. The Jarocho waited till the dance was finished, and then advanced toward the girl. By the entreating tone of his voice, it was clear that he was excusing himself about the red ribbons he had promised her. I was too far off to hear his words, but the light which streamed from a neighboring cottage showed me the full expression of her features. It was evident that all Calros's rhetoric had been useless, and he remounted, but with a saddened, irritated air. Sacramenta, in shaking her head to a remark of his, allowed one of the suchil flowers to fall from her chaplet. The Jarocho regarded it for some time with an undecided air; and she, marking his hesitation, and while pressing the wreath on her forehead, in a fit of coquetry, raised the flower on the tip of her tiny foot, and presented it to him. The cloudy countenance of the Jarocho was now lit up with joy; he seized the flower eagerly, spurred his horse, and was soon lost in the darkness.It was quite clear that he had completely forgotten me, but it was as clear that I had no intention of taking up my quarters for the night in the forest.
"Halloo! Señor Don Calros," I shouted after him, "you have left me behind."
"Pardon me, Señor Cavalier," cried he, pulling up; "but there are times when I am hardly master of myself."
"I am convinced of that," I said; "and it is certainly no indiscretion in you to forget a stranger whom you met by the merest chance."
"In my country the stranger is at home every where; but you shall not have my hospitality for nothing, for you must pay me either by doing me a particular piece of service, or assisting me with your advice."
"With pleasure," I answered, "if it is in my power."
The dwelling of the Jarocho, called a jacal, was situated at the other end of the village. A small inclosure, in which a few goats were penned, was attached to it. The cabin was divided into three apartments by reed partitions. In one of these, the mother of the Jarocho was preparing the evening meal over a fire whose reddish glow lighted up the whole jacal. The repast consisted of rice boiled in milk, fried bananas, and red haricots from the Tierra Caliente, which enjoy a proverbial celebrity in Mexico. When supper was ended the old woman left the room, wishing me a pleasant sleep.
The distant thrumming of guitars apprised us that the company we had left were still keeping up their merriment. The voice of the Jarocho awoke me from the reverie in which I had been indulging."Do you see," said he to me, as we were lying at the door of the cabin, "that fleecy mist which dulls the light of the stars? These are the vapors which, at the end of every hot day, arise from the lakes, brooks, and waterfalls. Do you think it possible that, at the command of a mortal like ourselves, this shadowy impalpable fog should assume the form of a friend who has been lost, or an enemy that has been murdered?"
"I doubt that much," I replied, astonished at this preamble; "I fancied that these superstitious notions were peculiar only to northern climes."
"Here," said Calros, in a solemn tone, "ghosts haunt not the abodes of the living; they love to flit about in the woods, and to frisk among the leaves and flowers. But you smile. Let us talk of something else. Did you see ña Sacramenta this evening?"
"The pretty girl with the wreath of cucuyos and the suchil chaplet?"
"The same. She is very beautiful, is she not? Six months ago, at a fandango in the neighborhood, a quarrel arose on her account, which was followed by the death of a man. The victim was a relation of mine; and, according to universal custom, it became my duty to avenge his death. I had, besides, an additional inducement in seeking the murderer; he adored Sacramenta, and every one who loves her is my sworn enemy. Twenty times have I persuaded myself into a belief that Sacramenta loved me, and twenty times have I been forced to confess to myself that I was deceived. I feel that I love Sacramenta more than my life—than my honor, perhaps—else I should have been on the murderer's traces long ago; and yet this evening I have even ventured to hope.""Yes, a mere suchil flower may sometimes work miracles," said I, interrupting him.
"What!" cried Jarocho, "have you the gift of seeing what no one else has seen?"
"I only observed what every body else might have seen, had they chose; but when a man receives a flower from the hand of a girl he loves, he needn't, I think, despair."
"Thank Heaven!" cried the Jarocho, cheerfully. "Yet," he added, with a sigh, "this is not the first token I have had from her; to-morrow the illusions of this night may be dispelled. Ever since ña Sacramenta came to live at Manantial I have suffered the utmost tortures of anxiety, and yet vengeance has not been done on my cousin's murderer. I have tried to forget that duty; unluckily, there are others who do not. The dead man's mother reminds me every day of the charge which has devolved upon me. Eight days ago I met the old woman. I wished to avoid her, but it was impossible. She is looked upon as a sort of witch by the people around. On passing me she cried out, 'The dead have better memories than the living.' I asked her what she meant, although I knew full well. 'You will see him to-night,' she replied. In truth, that very evening," Calros continued, in an altered voice, "I was seated at the same place where we now are, Señor Cavalier; the door was open, and my thoughts were engaged about nothing in particular. I was only listening to the voices in the trees and on the wind; a pale white mist was creeping up to the sky, as it is doing now. All at once a cloud came between my eyes and the stars; it took a human form, and the dead man was before me! I saw him distinctly, right in front of me. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them he was gone. You will now understand why I asked you, Señor, who, as a European, must be a learned man, if mortals like ourselves can raise the dead."
These superstitious notions are not at all prevalent in Mexico, and the Jarochos seem to have a complete monopoly of them. I gently hinted that all this was nothing but the result of a diseased imagination.
"I know well," said he, "that the ghost of my deceased relative has not been raised by any human power, but I believe that God himself has sent it to me. I have taken my resolution. I shall not stay in the village a day after to-morrow, although I leave it with a broken heart."
"But is there no way of reconciling your duty with your love?"
"That can only be done by delegating my powers to a devoted friend. A guest makes a part of the family; and in this quality, Señor, you might take my place and seek the murderer, who would not hesitate to give you satisfaction."
"That would be too glorious a mission for me, and I fear I should not be successful in the search," I said, modestly; "but I have no objections to accompany you, and aid you in your task."
"That is an offer which I will not refuse," Calros answered. "We shall then set out the day after to morrow."
This delicate point settled to our mutual satisfaction, we stretched ourselves under a shed which served as a sort of veranda to the cabin. A gentle breeze was beginning to dissipate the heat of the day. The lizards were silent in the grass; and in the savannas, the wild cattle, by their joyful lowing, testified to the grateful freshness of the night. Lulled by the soft murmur of the twittering leaves, I soon fell asleep.