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. That night, while that man, having completely forgotten hisaffront to me, was spending the evening peacefully with his two smallchildren in his arms, next to his wife, who was embroidering the dec-orations on the wardrobe for a third soon to be born, I led theMazorca to his house.And, while he was still in the arms of his wifeand children, I plunged my dagger a thousand times into his chest,splashing blood everywhere, even on the diapers of the baby who hadnot yet seen the light of day. Clemencia! Clemencia! What is wrong with you? The murderer reached out to hold up his daughter, who was shak-ing and swaying unsteadily, trying to keep him away from her with anexpression of horror, which she could barely disguise, on her face. For some time, he continued, I thought I felt the feeling thatthey call remorse, for I could not erase that memory of blood,screams, and tears from my mind; my imagination kept recalling it tome.But, no! It was not remorse, but rather the joy of satisfiedrevenge.The day that Roque comes to know compassion or remorse, The Mazorquero s Daughter | 95the blade of this weapon will dull.And look at how brightly it stillshines today, the bandit said, brandishing his wide dagger in front ofhis daughter s eyes.Then, quickly sliding it back into the folds of his chiripá,4 he wentoff, doubtlessly to return to his horrendous labors.Clemencia felt completely crushed under the weight of theappalling words she had just heard.Weak, disheartened, faint, shewent and collapsed at the feet of her divine protectress, raising herhands toward her, beseeching her in anguished supplication.As she prayed, hope and faith slowly returned to her heart.Whenshe stood up again, her countenance once again glowed with theserenity of resignation. It is never late for your infinite mercy, God she said, turning hereyes toward heaven. The time of repenting has not yet arrived; butit shall come, it shall come. Immediately she went to the chest that she kept for the unfortu-nate victims.She took a basket of goods and a small bag of gold withher, and with the aid of the shadows of the night, she headed off tolook for the house that her father had just spoken about.She recognized the house by the marks made by the bandit s axesin breaking down the postern, leaving it wide open.Clemencia wasabout to cross the threshold into an empty and miserable room whenshe heard a voice inside and stopped to take in the sight that pre-sented itself to her.In one corner of the room, on a simple bed with few coverings, awoman was lying; she was young, but pale and thin, and held a new-born in her arms.Further on, a six-year-old boy, and another of fouryears of age, were sitting under the covers of a small bed suspendedlike a cradle by four ropes tied around a crossbeam in the ceiling.The dim light from a candle burning on the floor lent the dwellinga gloomy appearance.This, plus the thought of the dreadful scenethat had recently taken place there, broke Clemencia s heart.4The chiripá are the pants worn by gauchos, made of an embroidered worsted shawl witha corner drawn between the legs over lace pantaloons. Trans. 96 | Dreams and Realities Mother, the youngest of the two boys said in a sad voice. Whatdid you do with the bread we ate yesterday? The mother sighed deeply, a mournful exhalation, while the otherboy answered in a serious, resigned tone: We ate it, Enrique, we ate it and Mother does not have anymoney to buy another one because she is sick and cannot work.Donot torment her; let us just go to sleep, like the poor little angel thatheaven sent us yesterday. Oh! He has my mom s breast and I m hungry.I m hungry! Enrique said, crying. My God! the mother exclaimed between sobs. If in the wisdomof your designs you deigned that the murderous ax should cut downthe strongest tree, I welcome your will and resign myself to it.Buthave mercy on these tender flowers that are just now starting to openthemselves to the rays of your sun.Dear Lord! You who feed thebirds of the air and the worms of the earth, and who hears my chil-dren crying, hungry, can you not send one of the thousands of angelswho live in heaven down to help them.? Ah! There it is, she murmured, as she saw Clemencia kneelingdown in front of the children s bed, handing them the goods she hadbrought.The mother put her hands together and stared with religious fas-cination at the beautiful young woman, whose white veil, folded backlike a halo around her face, seemed to illuminate the darkness thatsurrounded her, and who, bending over the children like a mercifulspirit, looked at them with eyes full of affection and pain.The poorwoman thought Clemencia was an angel who had come down inresponse to her prayers; she sat motionless, afraid that just one move,one gust of wind, would make the divine vision vanish and bringthem back to their dreadful reality.When Clemencia approached herbed, the simple woman stretched her hand out anxiously to touchClemencia s to convince herself that she was indeed not a supernatu-ral apparition. Oh! You, who have come to deliver comfort in this home full of The Mazorquero s Daughter | 97suffering, she exclaimed, putting her arms around Clemencia sknees, who are you, you angelic creature? I am a miserable being, just like you, and I have come looking forfellow suffering companions.I have come to say to you: Christianmother, trust in he who wipes away all tears and silences all cries.Hewatches over all of us from the heights of heaven and can turn theweakest of creatures into an instrument of his mercy.You have beenleft alone and without protection? I will be near you and you will bemy dear sister.Your children are in need of a protector? I will be onefor them.You are in need of just about everything? I have broughtgold so that you may buy it. Ah! You are a saint! the widow said, bowing down devotedly, bless my child and give him a name, for he has not yet been bap-tized. And she placed the newborn in Clemencia s arms. Call him Manuel, she said in a low voice.As she uttered thename, the virgin s pale face blushed over and her eyes shone with astrange brilliance. Manuel, she went on, kissing the baby shyly, I shall be yoursolicitous and loving godmother.But your own mother will not bejealous of me, for all your caresses will be for her.All I will need to behappy is the joy of being able to say every day, Manuel, I love you! Oh, my! the poor mother exclaimed, grabbing Clemencia s hand,covering her own eyes with it, and crying deeply. You will be every-thing to him soon enough.My husband calls to me from heaven.Themurderer s dagger was unable to break the bond that joined our souls;although I do not wish it, and I cry bitterly for these other souls whowill stay behind, suffering on earth, my soul will soon be leaving thisworld to join my husband again, the poor woman said, pointing toher children in a desperate gesture.Clemencia listened to her, terrified.The murderer s daughter wasthinking, trembling, horrified, about her father s crimes, the image ofwhich had never presented itself as frighteningly and clearly as this [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]
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. That night, while that man, having completely forgotten hisaffront to me, was spending the evening peacefully with his two smallchildren in his arms, next to his wife, who was embroidering the dec-orations on the wardrobe for a third soon to be born, I led theMazorca to his house.And, while he was still in the arms of his wifeand children, I plunged my dagger a thousand times into his chest,splashing blood everywhere, even on the diapers of the baby who hadnot yet seen the light of day. Clemencia! Clemencia! What is wrong with you? The murderer reached out to hold up his daughter, who was shak-ing and swaying unsteadily, trying to keep him away from her with anexpression of horror, which she could barely disguise, on her face. For some time, he continued, I thought I felt the feeling thatthey call remorse, for I could not erase that memory of blood,screams, and tears from my mind; my imagination kept recalling it tome.But, no! It was not remorse, but rather the joy of satisfiedrevenge.The day that Roque comes to know compassion or remorse, The Mazorquero s Daughter | 95the blade of this weapon will dull.And look at how brightly it stillshines today, the bandit said, brandishing his wide dagger in front ofhis daughter s eyes.Then, quickly sliding it back into the folds of his chiripá,4 he wentoff, doubtlessly to return to his horrendous labors.Clemencia felt completely crushed under the weight of theappalling words she had just heard.Weak, disheartened, faint, shewent and collapsed at the feet of her divine protectress, raising herhands toward her, beseeching her in anguished supplication.As she prayed, hope and faith slowly returned to her heart.Whenshe stood up again, her countenance once again glowed with theserenity of resignation. It is never late for your infinite mercy, God she said, turning hereyes toward heaven. The time of repenting has not yet arrived; butit shall come, it shall come. Immediately she went to the chest that she kept for the unfortu-nate victims.She took a basket of goods and a small bag of gold withher, and with the aid of the shadows of the night, she headed off tolook for the house that her father had just spoken about.She recognized the house by the marks made by the bandit s axesin breaking down the postern, leaving it wide open.Clemencia wasabout to cross the threshold into an empty and miserable room whenshe heard a voice inside and stopped to take in the sight that pre-sented itself to her.In one corner of the room, on a simple bed with few coverings, awoman was lying; she was young, but pale and thin, and held a new-born in her arms.Further on, a six-year-old boy, and another of fouryears of age, were sitting under the covers of a small bed suspendedlike a cradle by four ropes tied around a crossbeam in the ceiling.The dim light from a candle burning on the floor lent the dwellinga gloomy appearance.This, plus the thought of the dreadful scenethat had recently taken place there, broke Clemencia s heart.4The chiripá are the pants worn by gauchos, made of an embroidered worsted shawl witha corner drawn between the legs over lace pantaloons. Trans. 96 | Dreams and Realities Mother, the youngest of the two boys said in a sad voice. Whatdid you do with the bread we ate yesterday? The mother sighed deeply, a mournful exhalation, while the otherboy answered in a serious, resigned tone: We ate it, Enrique, we ate it and Mother does not have anymoney to buy another one because she is sick and cannot work.Donot torment her; let us just go to sleep, like the poor little angel thatheaven sent us yesterday. Oh! He has my mom s breast and I m hungry.I m hungry! Enrique said, crying. My God! the mother exclaimed between sobs. If in the wisdomof your designs you deigned that the murderous ax should cut downthe strongest tree, I welcome your will and resign myself to it.Buthave mercy on these tender flowers that are just now starting to openthemselves to the rays of your sun.Dear Lord! You who feed thebirds of the air and the worms of the earth, and who hears my chil-dren crying, hungry, can you not send one of the thousands of angelswho live in heaven down to help them.? Ah! There it is, she murmured, as she saw Clemencia kneelingdown in front of the children s bed, handing them the goods she hadbrought.The mother put her hands together and stared with religious fas-cination at the beautiful young woman, whose white veil, folded backlike a halo around her face, seemed to illuminate the darkness thatsurrounded her, and who, bending over the children like a mercifulspirit, looked at them with eyes full of affection and pain.The poorwoman thought Clemencia was an angel who had come down inresponse to her prayers; she sat motionless, afraid that just one move,one gust of wind, would make the divine vision vanish and bringthem back to their dreadful reality.When Clemencia approached herbed, the simple woman stretched her hand out anxiously to touchClemencia s to convince herself that she was indeed not a supernatu-ral apparition. Oh! You, who have come to deliver comfort in this home full of The Mazorquero s Daughter | 97suffering, she exclaimed, putting her arms around Clemencia sknees, who are you, you angelic creature? I am a miserable being, just like you, and I have come looking forfellow suffering companions.I have come to say to you: Christianmother, trust in he who wipes away all tears and silences all cries.Hewatches over all of us from the heights of heaven and can turn theweakest of creatures into an instrument of his mercy.You have beenleft alone and without protection? I will be near you and you will bemy dear sister.Your children are in need of a protector? I will be onefor them.You are in need of just about everything? I have broughtgold so that you may buy it. Ah! You are a saint! the widow said, bowing down devotedly, bless my child and give him a name, for he has not yet been bap-tized. And she placed the newborn in Clemencia s arms. Call him Manuel, she said in a low voice.As she uttered thename, the virgin s pale face blushed over and her eyes shone with astrange brilliance. Manuel, she went on, kissing the baby shyly, I shall be yoursolicitous and loving godmother.But your own mother will not bejealous of me, for all your caresses will be for her.All I will need to behappy is the joy of being able to say every day, Manuel, I love you! Oh, my! the poor mother exclaimed, grabbing Clemencia s hand,covering her own eyes with it, and crying deeply. You will be every-thing to him soon enough.My husband calls to me from heaven.Themurderer s dagger was unable to break the bond that joined our souls;although I do not wish it, and I cry bitterly for these other souls whowill stay behind, suffering on earth, my soul will soon be leaving thisworld to join my husband again, the poor woman said, pointing toher children in a desperate gesture.Clemencia listened to her, terrified.The murderer s daughter wasthinking, trembling, horrified, about her father s crimes, the image ofwhich had never presented itself as frighteningly and clearly as this [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]