Transcript

VII Part 2 · Conquistador

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Section nine 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 Fulton Gerald seven, Part two. Dorimain saw
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for an instant the very face that Manuelita had seen in the hour of her
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revolt. I am, answered, he said sternly, and turned away.
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He drew a cigarette from his case and lighted it slowly. I ask your
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pardon, he continued, staring at the bright tip of the cigarette. I
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thought that perhaps you realized that you could be Pablo Gutierrez's wife without outrage to
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your sonses. I was criminally stupid. The flush was fading slowly from his
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face, leaving it dark and inexpressive. Don Miguel, seeing him thus,
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would have laid a hand on the Hassandata's arm and drawn him away from the
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patio for quiet consultation. Unluckily, there was no hovering angel in this northern
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garden. Dorry had recovered herself wholly. You cannot take me by storm.
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Pablo. He started it the name, but said nothing, and she went
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on. Let us be very frank frank, as we couldn't have been when
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we knew each other before. I could have told you four years ago that
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I should not mind your kisses in the way in which you mean. I
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I suppose that is one reason why I never married anybody else. I am
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being very frank. You see, we are not children now. I am
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just older and wiser, nothing more. But you have inherited a vast estate,
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land and cattle and slaves. They are slaves. I believe Dick Rivers
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was right. You are thinking of me in the wrong terms. I fancy
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dorry, he threw in numerously. Perhaps I shouldn't have quoted Dick's little joke.
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It is my business to keep my Indians good and to keep them happy.
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It's a man's job, as I told you. But if you think
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of me as a slave driver, you know Pablo Gutyra is as little as
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you ever knew. Wharton Cameron. I don't doubt you are a good master.
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I don't doubt you make them happy. But I am not sure that
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Dick Rivers wasn't right. I am not sure that at Santa Huleelia, I
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shouldn't be afraid of you. He laughed outright throwing his dark head back,
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though his brows above his eyes were still knit with pain. Oh, come,
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Dorry, Can a woman be afraid of a man who loves her as
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I love you? Be perfectly honest? Look at me? Can she?
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What in God's name is there to be afraid of? Is there anything at
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all? Look at me? He bade her again. She looked at him
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quietly, then shook her head. Looking doesn't help. I know you and
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I don't know you. She dropped again to her garden bench, and he
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moved to stand in front of her. There is only one way, he
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spoke, hesitatingly, in which a girl can be afraid of a decent man.
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I dislike to express things as you do not wish them expressed, but
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the facts are there. If you loathed having my arms about you, you
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would have a right to be afraid of me as a husband. But you
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have admitted that you don't. I give you my word of honor that there
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is nothing else you need fear. I am unworthy of you, doubtless,
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but I am, he breathed shortly, quickly, Caballero. After all,
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I bring you love and reverence and everything I have, Dorry, He lifted
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his hands slightly, as if to show that nothing was kept back. Chin
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on hand, She wondered, A little. I want to be honest.
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I must be honest. Probably a woman is always afraid of something. What
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I am afraid of is such a vast thing. It is, Santa Ilelia,
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yours, he countered, promptly, yours to the last adobe hut in
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the last village. A woman cannot be afraid of what is her very own
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to do what she likes with. Just what, she asked, quietly,
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do you mean by its being my own to do what I like with?
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BABLEU looked at her, perplexed, Why what I say? If you said
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a hut should be pulled down, it should be that very day. If
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you said this girl should go here or there, she would be gone like
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a shadow as soon as you had done speaking. For you would love Santa
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Uleelia, and you would want only the good of every soul on the hacienda.
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Of course, I could not let you be unkind or unjust, but
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you are not capable of being either one. They would all adore you,
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They would press about you to serve you. They would be made happy by
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the least little smile. Ah. And if not, if not they should
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go go where, away from Santa Ulelia, to another hacienda or a convent.
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She could not know why. His voice roughened, and he spoke harshly,
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and she was displeased. I should not care to play providence, she
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answered coldly. I do not want so much for mine. I might not
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love Santa Ulelia as you do. I don't believe you could help it when
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you once knew it. And Pablo's eyes, far seeing, were set on
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the very end of the garden vista below them, where poplars pointed upwards.
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I think you would love the place to which your son was heir. You
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would love it for him. It could not help being yours. Then the
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slow keller rose in her delicate face, but she did not reply directly to
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his words. Instead, she reverted to an earlier speech. You say that
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Santa Julia would be mine. You do not really mean that nothing is yours
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unless it is yours to throw away if you want to throw it away.
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What you really mean is that I should belong to Santa Ulelia. It is
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a little different, Pablo felt anger stir in his heart. Dormyn had spoken
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truth when she said that he was not quite orton Cameron, but he spoke
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very quietly. He must not mar this hour. I suppose I am doing
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what any man does when he asks a woman to marry him. I cannot
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help it if the world over a wife must share her husband's life. If
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a man who had to live in San Francisco or Bombay asked you to marry
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him, would you take it as an insult? But you seem to take
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it as an insult that I ask you to marry me because I live in
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chi Awaw. I think he spoke with slow heat. I think you are
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splitting hairs because you do not love me. I think his voice shook.
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You are determined not to let yourself love me. I had better go.
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Dorry rose to stand again beside him, and laid her hand on his arm.
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His face was still averted, but without looking at her, he laid
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his left hand above her own. Please try to be a little more fair
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to me, my dear, she pleaded. You seem to expect me to
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answer you now, she laughed gently. Even if a man lived in Bombay,
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he would give me time. But you you hold a pistol to my
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head like a highwayman. Indeed, you do no woman can say off hand
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that you will marry a man she hasn't seen for four years if she can't.
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He shrugged his shoulders. Still, he did not look at her.
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That I can to day doesn't mean that I couldn't. Perhaps next week,
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next month, be reasonable, don Pablo. Her hand stirred beneath his,
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and he lifted his own. I can't see it that way, Pablo mused.
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You love me enough or you don't. Every day I stayed here trying
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to make you think me back into Wharton Cameron would make it worse, would
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make it less true. For I am Pablo Gutyrras. Since I am Santa
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Uleelia, I would wait on your pleasure forever. But waiting wouldn't help.
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Doubtless I would give up Santa Hullelia for you if I were not bound simply,
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I may not I have promised if it means hell for me, he
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cried, flinging his head up. I cannot help it. Death doesn't wait
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for a man to see his way clear. His voice slowed again as he
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thought aloud. What I think I mean is this, dorry. It would
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be strange and different for you until you are used to it. You are
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not part Spanish, as I am. Pablo turned his head slightly and looked
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sidelong at her golden cloud of hair. Then he shut his eyes quickly on
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that golden glimmer. If you loved me, you would be happy. But
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it would take the kind of love that a woman does not have to reason
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about. I suppose what you would call romantic love. Irony smote his voice
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till it quivered. Ah, if you are not romance, what are you?
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She cried. That is what I am afraid of, to pay with
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my whole life and yours for a romance. I tell you, if I
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could throw Santa Uleelia away, it would be different. I would marry Wharton
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Cameron, I would marry Pablo Gutieras perhaps, but I cannot marry Santa Uleelia.
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I do not belong there. It may be that you would grow to
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hate me, He seized both her hand ans quickly in his. I grow
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to hate you. You must be mad. What right of you to say
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such a thing to me, she faced him steadily. You are angry with
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me, now you see, Yes, I am angry. You are treating
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me lightly, and I have given you no cause. You are the only
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woman I have ever loved, or shall ever love. And you tell me
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I might hate you. It is enough to make a man angry. If
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any man told me I could ever hate you, I would kill him.
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Ah, you have learned to kill, she said bitterly. He bit his
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lip till the pain dizzied him. Only so could he force his own silence.
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He dropped her hands and turned away. Pacing the garden path. Dorry
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fell into step with him, and so they walked mutely together, neither could
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return to those last words of hers. After a few shaken moments, Dorry
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Mayne spoke again. You will not wait, then, don Pablo. Why
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should I wait? I think you have answered me for good and all,
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whether you meant to or not. If I am stopping here in your garden,
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it is because it is very hard to say good bye. You must
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forgive me. I will go presently. They stopped together by a stone rimmed
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pool and stared into the brown water. Don't you see, she said,
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so low that he had to bend over to hear that, I am afraid
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of those vows you have made. You don't seem to realize that vows like
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that would bind your wife too. You speak as if I could be free
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while you were bound, as if I had only to love you. You
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would not promise your uncle to marry a Spanish girl, you say, But
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he had almost to touch her cheek to hear you promised him a son.
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If I married you, you would make me bear you children. You would
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give me to Santa Ulilia, body and soul. She broke off into years,
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as quiet as her whisper. When at last she looked up, he
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had moved away from her and was standing with folded arms, staring down at
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her with narrowed eyes, as if from a great distance. His speech,
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when it came, was like a cloak flung about him. No woman,
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permit me to assure you will ever bear me a child against her will.
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I do not know what ye think men have in their hearts when they ask
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you to marry them. I love you with my whole heart and soul,
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and asked you to share my life. Nor is it a mean life to
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be mistress of Santa Ulaelia. Great ladies have thought themselves fortunate before this to
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rule there. No man thinks himself worthy of the woman he loves, but
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he offers what he can. You speak to me, as if I had
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proposed some nameless horror to you. You could have refused me more graciously.
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I think you could have flung me a kind word. I do not pretend
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to understand, but I shall not forget. His hand felt mechanically for the
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hilt of a knife to support it. But don Pablo wore no knife,
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and the hand dropped. She ignored his mood, his tone, his whole
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attitude of cold relinquishment. Do you mean, she asked, breathlessly and low,
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that you would not bind me with that fowl, that I should be
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really free? She stepped forward, lifting her hands a little towards him,
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though she did not look up at his face. Because I do love you,
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Pablo. He bowed to her with formal grace, as though she were
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a stranger. I am good enough for you, it would appear. I
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am grateful, of course, but you have misunderstood me. I fear,
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Senorita. I was asking you to be my wife, not my mistress.
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She looked at him, then stung into fearlessness. I have said nothing to
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you so cruel as that. I will ask you to excuse me for a
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few moments. No, she put up her hand. I wish to see
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you again. The sun will not set for another half hour. I would
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rather you waited for me here. It is a question of your life and
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mine, and I must be alone for a little. And if we are
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to part, I will not do you understand? I will not part from
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you in anger. There is enough love between us for a little kindness to
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come of it. You expect me not to mind your honesty, Why should
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you mind mine? You have done extraordinary things yourself, but you will not
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even let me say what I feel. I am going back to my own
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place for a little to be alone. I ask you, for both our
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sakes, to wait for me. Dory Mayne went swiftly back up the terraces,
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and Pablo watched her pale form disappear. Hope crept back into his heart,
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because, in spite of their bitter words, she had bade him wait
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for her. She loved him too, in some way he could not completely
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define, not, he thought, mere passion, since to a woman like
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Dori, main passion can scarcely come uncomplicated and alone. For her, it
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could be but a thread in the pattern. And what the pattern was he
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knew no more than ever. Convinced though he was, that if she would
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take the risk life would make all things clear. He could not force her
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to take it. It was the weight of her reason, not of his,
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that must sway her. And there alone she was pondering what the fair
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face of sainta Ulaelia frightened her, And no words, no oaths of his,
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could make her see that it held no threatening feature. Santa Euleelia rose
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before his eyes in a mighty vision. It hurt him that it should be
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troduced in a girl's mind. So far, little senseless questions came to shoot
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across his brain. Could he trust Francisco to get the cattle safely to Durango
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to be fattened. Would there be trouble in the northern villages far from his
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eye, where some of the pews listened to stray agitators? But he cut
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himself off sharply from reminiscence. He must keep his mind blank and patient.
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Dorry had withdrawn herself to think apart from him. He would never be angry
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with her again, not though she stabbed him over and over. Blackstone rimmed
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a pool. He smoked a cigarette, resting in a darkening arbor. A
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second then, in the full crimson of sunset, Dorry came back to him.
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He threw his third cigarette away and stood waiting. Whatever right she had
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performed in her solitude, She was now cooler, steadier, poised beyond the
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ebb and flow of emotion or caress. Some sense told him that your words
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now would all be essential. Well, Dorry, Pablo smiled on her very
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gently. I had to go away from you for a little. If you
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had been willing to stay on for a time and let us talk it out
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more slowly, it might have been different. But you are probably right.
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I am owd enough to know, and we might quarrel again and again.
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If you stayed. You would not be happy here. I know I should
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always be happy with you wherever we were, but life here would not seem
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very real to me in that sense. I should not be happy here.
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There it is you, see Wharton. She went back to the earlier name,
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as if it were the more beloved, and I should not be happy
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there, not even if you loved me. I do love you. Then,
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he stretched out his arms to her. Then, Dorry, what else
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matters? Life matters? She answered, calmly. Four years ago you could
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have taken me by storm. I am old enough to see clearly. Now,
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even with you, my dear, I should be lonely, and I
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could not bear children to be strange to me. Aliens born to something I
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did not understand. It would not be strange to you. You would love
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your home, he murmured, thickly. You are truly dedicated to it.
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I am not. I should have to love it as you do, to
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be happy there as you are. Besides, you always belong to it.
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I see now your very face, your very speech show it. You have
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no idea how different you are, Don Pablo. And yet somehow I knew
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I could love you, because I did love Orton Cameron so dearly. Then
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why again, he begged her. I am not a brave woman, she
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said, steadily, not brave at all. I can go just so far,
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and then I see facts. I might even risk being a misfit,
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being unhappy myself, but not making you unhappy. And I should make you
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very unhappy. If I were not happy, I should be happy forever if
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I had you with me, Dorry, she shook her head. No,
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dear, for you are not just Wharton Cameron. You are not even just
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Pablo Gutierres. You are as you said Saintayuloya. Let me ask you one
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straight question. Would you want me to marry you? If I said,
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I would be your wife gladly, but never willingly bear you a child?
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Dorry, Dorry. His dark face grew somber with pain. Why should I
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marry a man who wants a child more than he wants me. You don't
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understand, darling. I want you more than anything in the world, but
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I bound myself. I cannot destroy the race of the gutiras I promised my
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uncle, my father in very truth, A son for Santa Uleelia, a
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child is his right and mine. He finished, broken, but unflinching.
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What I said is true. You are not Wharton. You are not even
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Pablo. You are Santa Ulaelia. Love or no love, I cannot marry
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Santa Uleelia. Call me a coward if you must. He took her very
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gently in his arms. I shall never call you anything but lovely. If
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I could give you courage, all would come well, I know, but
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if I can't, I can't. It is over. Good Bye, sweetheart.
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She hid her face on his shoulder. Why did you do it?
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Remember, dear, that I never expected to see you again. If you
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loved me back there. You gave me no sign. I can't, Pablo.
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The words came muffled from her throat. I could never be a Catholic,
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I could never be Mexican. I could never I could never have a
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little Spanish son. And even if you could stay, I can see now
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that it wouldn't help. It would only tear my heart to pieces. And
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perhaps yours mine is torn already, Dorry, and we must both forget.
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So it had better be over quickly. She lifted her head but clung to
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him. Still kiss me again once, Pablo, if you are willing.
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At last, he released her. I I can't see very clearly, Dorry,
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he said, Show me the way out. I would rather not go
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into your house again. She led him to a gate in a far wall,
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and their hands clung once and parted. He saw only a pale,
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golden blur as the gate swung to my angel with the flaming sword. He
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whispered and passed into a wooded road. End of Section nine.