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VI · Conquistador

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  Section seven of Conquistador. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are
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  in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox
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  dot org. Conquistador by Catherine Fullerton Gerald six. Pablo Gutierrez was not an
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  introspective person. Weeks, months of much business, of complicated, though monotonous
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  routine made up his life. He was like a man who looks only at
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  stated intervals into his mirror and marks only then the changes that have come.
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  It was written that he should come to consciousness of himself by way of a
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  succession of dramatic hours. Only with those dramatic hours have we time to deal.
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  And from his gesture in each significant moment we must vine how life had
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  worked on him since the last a fragmentary record. Yet, to Pablo Gutires
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  himself, revelation came only as a series of shocks. He was not one
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  to feel his own pulse or count his own heart beats daily. So our
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  episodic tale is less unfaithful than it might seem. To the young Conquistador.
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  Rivers came with Dounia Flora. Dounia Flora departed after facing orton Cameron, evoked
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  by Pablo like a ghost from the sandy grave of his career. Rivers stayed
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  on, but not for long. He missed Flora was the slave of his
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  light passion. When he spoke whimsically thereof to his friend Don, Pablo's eyes
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  grew darker and less fathomable, and his speech slowed. Rivers could not know
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  that Flora had helped reveal Pablo to himself a worthless little hand holding up a
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  candle to his heart. He could not know, for Pablo might not tell
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  him that her gesture of unsolicited surrender had tipped a balance that hung poised that
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  after that night, Pablo Gutirez found himself setting fidelity high above certain other traditional
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  virtues. Pablo was no fool. He knew that Flora's were like that,
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  but the sheer ugliness of her behavior made him turn his back on her and
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  her kind. For a solution, wife or mistress, he told himself,
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  a woman must be faithful, or one's gorge rises at the spectacle of her.
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  Rivers chattering of his charmer got little response. Did Pablo, then,
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  communing with his classmate, revert wholly to his Cameron heritage by no means Santa
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  Ulalia was far more real to him than dick. Reminiscence even dried up as
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  soon as it gushed forth. Rivers's world held only one thing now for Pablo
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  Wharton Cameron's dream of a wife. Certain words of Dick's had struck deep that
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  earlier night, though Pablo never reverted to their substance or their import. Those
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  latter days of Rivers's visit were wasted for both of them. All that Rivers
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  could do for his friend had been done before Donia Flora left, and it
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  turned out that Pablo could do little for Dick. Only a meaningless affection held
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  them together. Rivers had told his host disturbing thigs of Dory Maine, freshening
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  a vision he had provided Donya Flora to teach Pablo that in the matter of
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  charming him, a late woman had limitations. Those were tremendous facts, though
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  they were scarce due to any conscious benevolence of Dick's. Meanwhile, Dick,
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  as a guest interfered seriously with the conduct of life, and as a companion,
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  his preoccupation with Flora distinctly spoiled him. It must be said too that
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  Pablo's habit of mind and life. Creole and feudal both made him strange to
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  Rivers. They parted with a clinging hand grip, but without regret. Even
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  on the vastest ranch, certain seasons are slacker than others. In those slack
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  seasons, young creole masters disport themselves in Mexico City or go to Europe.
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  Don Pablo Gutierrez did neither, But some two months after Rivers's departure, he
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  prepared for a journey Francisco, trained by Don Fernando, would oversee the hacienda
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  the household Don Miguel morality. If he sweated in secret with apprehension, no
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  one of his great family suspected it. The wallet that he put in his
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  pocket was thicker now. It held legal papers of many sorts, indicted by
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  Don Luis and signed by the two last Utires. On the eve of his
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  departure, he sought out Don Miguel and confessed he would receive communion at dawn.
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  These things were not allowed to trouble Don Pablo. Don Miguel was skillful
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  caballero too. Before mounting to his stone floored chamber for a long sleep,
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  the hassendado called Vicente into his place of business. Where is Manuelita somewhere about
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  the dairy, one supposes, signor find her if you can, and send
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  her here. If she is not found within half an hour, no matter,
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  it is not important. He drummed nervously on the big desk with his
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  fingers until Manuelita came. Shepherded into the official room by Catalina. Pablo had
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  not seen her since the day he had sent her to the Concepcion village as
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  punishment for disobedience. She had, according to orders, kept out of his
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  sight. I am going away for a few weeks. Manulita, yes,
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  Senor. She did not dare lift her eyes to his face, but her
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  very eyelids worked with adoration. A mouse would have known. Don Pablo,
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  for that matter, had known long since half the girls in Hacienda were in
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  love with him. You will see that unless he were in actual monstrosity,
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  this would be so. Vicente tells me that you are especially good at your
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  needle. In my absence, you may come back to Katalina and the linen.
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  Do I go back to the dairy on your return, Don Pablo?
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  Doubtless it is not for me to disobey Don Pablo. But if you would
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  consider that it is kinder then to leave me in the dairy or I am
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  doing well, your excellency might then change your mind. I thought the patio
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  would be gayer for you, and Catalina missus your fingers. I must do
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  as I am bid, she answered, quietly, still with bowed head.
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  But it is not kind. Listen, child, and look at me.
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  She raised her head obediently. For Manuelita, she was very meek, he
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  reflected, but he could not know how much she dreaded his eyes. You
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  are very pretty, he said, calmly, one of the prettiest. There
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  must be plenty of young fellows about to want to marry you. Yes,
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  Senor, why not? Why not? Indeed, I will tell Don Miguel
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  that he is to marry you to any one you choose, even if I
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  am not here, and when I come back, I will see that you
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  have a dowry. No, Senor, you cannot make me marry any one
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  of them. I do not wish to make you marry any one, but
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  I like to see the young girls settled, Manuelita, especially when they are
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  as pretty as you. I don't want any more fights over you. They
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  are a nuisance. Can I help it if fools fight when they are drunk
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  because a flower dropped out of my hair, tell Vicente to keep them away
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  from mescal. She spoke, scornfully, with no hint of servility. Men
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  are men and women are women. Don Pablo shrugged his shoulders and waved his
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  cigarette. Men are pigs. Signor, I have a request to make.
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  She waited, Well, what is it? You must go back to the
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  dairy when I return. I want no impertinent girls about the house. I
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  shall not leave the dairy with your permission, Signor, but I can read
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  and write. What of it? You do not wish to become my secretary?
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  I suppose no, Sennor, but I should be grateful if you would
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  request Don Miguel to give me religious instruction after your return. I should like
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  permission to go to a convent in Chihuahwah. Pablo smiled a little A convent,
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  Manuelita, nonsense, You are too pretty for a convent. It is
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  not the life for a girl like you. You would miss the music and
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  the chatter and the fiestas absurd Doctor Don Miguel, if you choose, but
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  he will laugh at you. He rose try to fall in love with one
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  of the quarrelsome youths before I come back. Manuelita, I regret, Senor
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  I cannot. You are always difficult, Manualita, he sighed involuntarily. As
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  long as you are straying about unmarried, you will be a thorn in my
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  flesh, subversive of order, always attempting to set up your own will,
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  making trouble among the vicaros. It would be much better to send you away,
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  entirely, much better, Don Pablo, but only to the convent.
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  You are silly, Manualita. She angered him unaccountably with her pretense of evocation,
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  A girl like that, with provocation in every flutter of her skirts,
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  and human passion in every sweep of her eyelashes. I refuse no one to
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  God but you. You were meant to be a wife and the mother of
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  many children. Only plenty of babies could tame you, Manuelita, I think,
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  he spoke roughly the stark truth that he felt. She lifted her eyes
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  to him, and their clear import did not soothe his anger. May I
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  remain in the dairy until you return, Don Pablo. Or must I come
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  to Catalina and the linen and return to the dairy, then that you may
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  not be offended by the sight of me, he shrugged his shoulders. You
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  may do as you choose during my absence. If you do not marry,
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  we may perhaps have to send you farther afield. But I will not recommend
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  you to any mother superior as a bride of heaven. The tears overflowed her
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  eyes, enlarging and deepening them uncannily. Then I will walk to Chihuahua and
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  fling myself against the gate. Don Miguel knows that I am a good girl.
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  She stepped suddenly forward and seized his hand, gazing hungrily up into his
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  austere face. But why, don Pablo, she asked passionately. I am
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  your servant, and you are my master. It is not true that I
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  am disobedient, except that once and I have done penance. Why why can
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  I find no favor with you? Though you are a master, You are
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  a man, and I am a woman. Could you not pity me a
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  little? Let me go my way in peace? Why, don Pablo,
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  she reiterated her cry, There is something I do not understand. A Cavallero
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  does not stoop to hady girl like me. Her bitter penance had obliterated all
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  memory of high my hopes, now months old and immemorially dead. The cry
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  of perplexity was from her heart. Don Pablo sighed, she would understand better.
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  Perhaps in a few weeks. He could say nothing more to her now.
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  He laid his hand on her head. I do not hate you,
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  Manuelita. You made me angry once, but that is forgotten. I do
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  not like to have you sad? Why cannot you be like the others?
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  They give me no trouble? What trouble have I given? Signor? Since
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  he stroked her wet cheek lightly, none intentionally, perhaps, but you are
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  too pretty. At any moment there will be knife work. You shall have
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  a handsome dowry, Manuelita, if you will marry Francisco's boy and a good
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  Adobe house, not a jackal. Why not a dowry for the convent,
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  Senor, because I know you would be unhappy, not unhappier than this.
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  She pulled his hand down and kissed it despairingly, then flung it from her
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  and stumbled out of the room without waiting for permission to depart. Parblo looked
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  down at his hand, whereon the kiss it seemed to him still lay intact.
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  He felt as if a dog had licked it and was moved as a
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  man may be. The next day, at sunrise, he started for the
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  north and of Section seven