Part 8

The other slave women all gazed at her with a certain interest and compassion, for she was loved by all of them, except by Rosa, who felt for her an envy and mortal aversion. In two words the reader will be informed of the motive for this malevolence of Rosa's. It was not pure envy alone; there was something more positive in it, which converted that envy into mortal hatred. Rosa had long been the mistress of Leôncio, for whom she had been an easy conquest, costing him neither entreaties nor threats. But ever since he had inclined toward Isaura, Rosa was left entirely abandoned and forgotten. The gentle mulatta felt herself cruelly wounded in her heart by this disdain, and as she was malicious and vindictive, unable to take revenge on her master, she swore to discharge the whole weight of her rancor upon the person of her unhappy rival.

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"--A thunderbolt split you, accursed one!--May a foul leprosy consume you, you wretch!--May a rattlesnake bite your tongue, you mangy dog!"--These and other curses the slave women vomited, muttering among themselves against the overseer, as soon as he turned his back on them. The overseer is the most detested being among the slaves; an executioner does not carry with him so many hatreds. He is abhorred more than the cruel master, who armed him with the pitiless whip to flog them and crush them with labor. Thus it is that the sufferer forgets the judge who handed down the sentence, only to revolt against the executioner who carries it out.

As we have already said, it fell to Isaura's lot to sit near Rosa. The latter immediately trained upon her unhappy companion her battery of sarcastic and irritating taunts and gibes.

"I am quite sorry for you, Isaura," said Rosa, to begin operations.

"Truly!" replied Isaura, disposed to oppose to Rosa's provocations all her natural gentleness and patience. "And why, Rosa?..."

"Is it not hard to move from the parlor to the slave quarters, to exchange the damask sofa for that block, the piano and the satin cushion for that wheel? Why did they drive you out of there, Isaura?"

"No one drove me out, Rosa; you know well enough. Mistress Malvina went away in the company of her brother to her father's house. Therefore I have nothing to do in the parlor, and that is why I come here to work with you all."

"And why is it that she did not take you with her, you who were her darling? Ah! Isaura, you think you are fooling me, but you are much mistaken; I know everything. You were getting too fine and grand, and so you came here to learn your place."

"How malicious you are!" replied Isaura, smiling sadly, but without losing her composure; "do you think, then, that I was very content and full of myself for being there in the parlor among the whites?... how you deceive yourself!... if you do not persecute me with your wicked tongue, as you are beginning to do, I believe I shall be more satisfied and at peace here."

"That I do not believe; how can you be satisfied here, if you find no young men to flirt with?"

"Rosa, what harm have I done you, that you should thus torment me with those words?..."

"Look, the mistress must not get angry!... forgive me, Lady Isaura; I thought the lady had forgotten her airs and graces back in the parlor."

"You may say whatever you like, Rosa; but I know well that in the parlor or in the kitchen I am no more than a slave like you. You should also remember that if today you find yourself here, tomorrow God knows where you will be. Let us work, for that is our duty, and let us leave off these conversations, which have no charm at all."

At that moment the ringing of a bell is heard; it was between three and four in the afternoon; the bell was calling the slaves to dinner. The slave women suspend their work and rise; Isaura, however, does not move, and continues to spin.

"Well?" Rosa says to her with her scornful air, "do you not hear, Isaura? It is time; let us go to the beans."

"No, Rosa; leave me here; I have no hunger at all. I shall stay getting ahead on my task, which I began very late."

"You are right; besides, a civilized and pampered girl like you should not eat from the slaves' cauldron. Do you want me to send you a little broth, a chocolate?..."

"Shut that mouth, you chatterbox!" cried the old creole woman, who seemed to be the prioress of that troop of spinners. "What a viper's little tongue!... let the other one rest. Come, my people."

The slave women all withdrew from the hall, leaving only Isaura, given over to her work and even more to her sad and troubling reflections. The thread stretched as if mechanically between her dainty fingers, while her small, delicate bare foot, abandoning the little morocco slipper, rested on the treadle of the wheel, to which it gave an automatic impulse. Her brow drooped to one side like a faded lily, and her half-closed eyelids were like melancholy veils, concealing an unfathomable abyss of sadness and discomfort. She was dazzling in her beauty in that enchanting and simple attitude.

"Ah! my God!" she thought; "not even here can I find a little peace!... everywhere they have sworn to martyr me!... In the parlor the whites persecute me, and devise a thousand intrigues and plots to torment me. Here, where among my companions, who seem to wish me well, I hoped to be more tranquil, there is one who, out of envy or whatever it may be, looks at me askance and only seeks to mock me. My God! my God!... since I had the misfortune to be born captive, would it not have been better if I had been born brutish and deformed, like the vilest of the negresses, than to have received from heaven these gifts, which serve only to embitter my existence?"

Isaura did not have much time to give free rein to her anguished reflections. She heard a noise at the door, and raising her eyes she saw that someone was heading toward her.

"Oh! my God!" she murmured to herself. "Here comes a new annoyance! They do not even let me stay all alone for an instant."

The one entering was, without more ado, the page André, whom we have already seen in the company of the overseer, and who, very swaggering, stiff and petulant, went to place himself before Isaura.

"Good afternoon, lovely Isaura. So, how is that flower?" greeted the dandy of a page with all his coquetry.

"Fine," replied Isaura curtly.

"Are you sulking?... you are right, but one must get used to this new way of life. Truly, for one who was accustomed to being there in the parlor, amid silks and flowers and scented waters, it must be very sad to be stuck here between these smoke-blackened walls that reek only of pipe dottle and the soot of an oil lamp."

"So you too, André, come in your turn to take advantage of the occasion to throw mud in my face?..."

"No, no, Isaura; God forbid that I should offend you; on the contrary, it truly grieves me in my heart to see here, mixed in with this rabble of thick-lipped, stinking negresses, a girl like you, who deserves only to tread on carpets and lie on damask mattresses. This master Leôncio really has the heart of a beast."

"And what does that matter to you? I am quite satisfied here."

"Nonsense!... I do not believe it; this is not your place. But on the other hand, I am rather glad of it."

"Why?"

"Because, after all, Isaura, to tell you the truth, I like you very much, and here at least we can talk more freely..."

"Truly!... I declare to you right now that I am not disposed to listen to your liberties."

"Ah! is that so!" exclaimed André, all puffed up by this brusque rebuff. "So the lady wants to hear only the sweet nothings of the handsome young men back in the parlor!... well, look here, my comrade, that cannot always be, and among our own kind you will not find a young man of better appearance than this servant of yours. I am always cravatted, gloved, shod, starched, braided, perfumed, and what is more," he added, slapping his hand on his pocket, "with my pockets always jingling. Rosa, who is also a very pretty girl, drinks the air for love of me; but poor thing!... what is she beside you?... In short, Isaura, if you knew how much I love you, you would not make so little of me. If you wanted, look... listen."

And saying this, the rascal of a page, drawing near to Isaura, boldly threw his arm around her neck, as one who wanted to speak to her in secret, or perhaps steal a kiss from her.

"Hold on there!" exclaimed Isaura, repelling him with annoyance. "You are getting quite forward and insolent. Get out of here, or I shall go and tell master Leôncio everything."

"Oh! forgive me, Isaura; there is no reason for you to bristle up like that. You are very cruel to one who has never offended you, and loves you so much. But never mind, time will soften that little heart of stone. Goodbye; I am leaving now; but look here, Isaura; for the love of God, do not go and say anything to anyone. God forbid that young master should know what happened here; he would be capable of hanging me. What is fortunate," André continued to himself as he withdrew, "what is fortunate is that in this business it seems to me he is as far along as I am."

Poor Isaura! Always and everywhere this continual importuning by masters and slaves, who do not let her rest for a single moment! How could that heart not live afflicted and troubled! Within the house she counted four enemies, each one more persistent than the last in stealing the peace of her soul and torturing her heart: three suitors, Leôncio, Belchior, and André, and a terrible and pitiless rival, Rosa. It was easy for her to repel the importunities and insolences of the slaves and servants; but what would become of her when the master came!?...

Indeed, a few moments later Leôncio, accompanied by the overseer, entered the spinners' hall. Isaura, who had for a moment suspended her work, and with her face hidden between her hands was absorbed in bitter reflections, had not noticed their presence.

"Where are the girls who usually work here?..." Leôncio asked the overseer as he entered the hall.

"They have gone to dinner, sir; but they will not be long in returning."

--But one has stayed behind here... ah! it is Isaura... Just as well!--Leôncio reflected to himself,--the occasion could not be more favorable; let us attempt the last efforts to subdue that hardened creature. As soon as they finish eating,--he continued, addressing the overseer,--take them to the coffee harvest. I have long intended to recommend this to you and have kept forgetting. I do not want them here another instant; this is a place of idleness, where they waste time without any profit, in continual chatter. There is no lack of cotton cloth around to be bought.

No sooner had the overseer withdrawn than Leôncio made his way over to Isaura.

--Isaura! he murmured in a gentle and moved voice.

--Sir!--replied the slave woman, rising with a start; then she murmured sadly within her soul:--My God! it is he!... the hour of torture has come.

Chapter VIII.

Now it is indispensable for us to abandon Isaura for a few moments in her painful situation before her dissolute and barbarous master, in order to inform the reader about what had occurred in the bosom of that little family, and what footing the affairs of the house were on, after the news of the commander's death, bursting like a bomb amid the domestic intrigues, came to give them a dolorous diversion at the moment when they, seething at the highest degree of ebullition, forcibly demanded some denouement or other.

That death could only prolong so delicate and deplorable a situation, placing all the paternal fortune in Leôncio's hands, and untying the last fetters that still hindered him in the expansion of his abominable instincts.

Leôncio and Malvina were in mourning, shut up at home for some days, during which it seems they gave truce to their reciprocal sulks and spites. Henrique, who absolutely wanted to leave the next day, yielding at last to Malvina's pleas and entreaties, consented to stay and keep her company during the days of mourning.

--Depending on how my husband behaves, she told him,--we will go together. If in these days he does not give Isaura her freedom and some destination or other, I will not stay another moment in his house.