Isaura, the SlavePart 11
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Part 11
—Isaura,—said Leôncio in a harsh voice, pointing to the instruments of torture,—there is what awaits you, if you persist in your mad obstinacy. I have nothing more to say to you; I still leave you free, and you have the rest of the day to reflect. You must choose between my love and my hatred. Either of the two, you know well, is violent and powerful. Farewell!...
When Isaura felt that her master had gone away, she raised her face, and lifting her eyes and clasped hands to heaven, she addressed to the Queen of the angels the following fervent prayer, breathed out amid sobs from the depths of her soul:
—Virgin Lady of Piety, Most Holy Mother of God!... you know whether I am innocent, and whether I deserve such cruel treatment. Help me in this afflicting plight, for in this world no one can aid me. Deliver me from the clutches of a hangman, who threatens not only my life, but my innocence and honesty. Enlighten his spirit, and infuse into his heart gentleness and mercy, so that he may take pity on his unhappy captive. She is a humble slave, who with tears in her eyes and grief in her heart begs you by your most holy sorrows, by the wounds of your Divine Son: help me, for pity's sake.
How beautiful Isaura was in that supplicating and anguished attitude! oh! far more beautiful than in her moments of serenity and pleasure!... if Leôncio saw her then perhaps he would feel his iron and blinded heart soften. With her eyes flooded with tears, which streamed down her faded cheeks, her melancholy mouth half-open, trembling as the murmured prayer passed amid sobs, her black and opulent tresses thrown in disorder over her shoulders, turning her lovely bust, set upon a sculptural neck, toward heaven, she would offer the inspired artist the most beautiful and sublime model for the effigy of the Mother of Sorrows, to whom at that moment she addressed her ardent supplications. The angels of heaven, who surely at that instant hovered around her beating their wings of gold and crimson, could not fail to carry so fervent and sorrowful a prayer to the feet of the throne of the Comforter of the afflicted.
Absorbed in her sorrows, Isaura did not see her father, who, entering the hall with subtle and cautious steps, was making his way toward her.
—Oh! fortunately she is there,—murmured the old man,—the hangman was here too! oh! poor Isaura!... what will become of you!...
—My father here!...—exclaimed the unhappy girl upon catching sight of Miguel.—Come, come see the state to which they reduce your daughter.
—What is wrong, daughter?... what new misfortune has befallen you?
—Don't you see, my father?... there is the fate that awaits me,—she replied, pointing to the stocks and the shackles that stood there beside her.
—What a monster, my God!... but I was already prepared for all this...
—This is the liberty he intends to give to the one his mother raised with so much love and affection. The most cruel and degrading captivity, a continual martyrdom of soul and body, is what remains to his unfortunate daughter... My father, I cannot resist so much suffering!... I had one extreme recourse left; that very one is to be denied me. Seized, shackled, bound hand and foot!... oh!... my father! my father!... this is horrible!... My father, your knife,—she added after a slight pause in a hoarse voice and with a somber gaze,—I need your knife.
—What do you intend to do with it, Isaura? what mad thought is this of yours?...
—Give me that knife, my father; I will use it only in an extreme case; when the villain comes to lay hands on me to put those irons on me, I will make my blood leap into the vile face of the hangman.
—No, my daughter; such extremes will not be necessary. My heart already divined all this, and I have everything prepared. The money that did not serve to obtain your freedom will now serve us to snatch you from the clutches of that monster. Everything is already arranged, Isaura. Let us flee.
—Yes, my father, let us flee; but how? where to?
—Far from here, wherever it may be; and now, my daughter, while they suspect nothing and do not load you with irons.
—Ah! my father, I am very much afraid; if they discover us, what will my fate be!...
—The undertaking is risky, I cannot deny it; but courage, Isaura; it is our only plank of salvation; let us cling to it with faith, and commend ourselves to divine providence. The slaves are in the fields; the overseer took your companions to the coffee grove, your master rode off on horseback with André; there is perhaps no one in the whole house except some negress there in the corners of the kitchen. Let us seize the occasion, which seems indeed to come to us from God's hands at the moment I arrive here. I have already prepared everything. There at the bottom of the yard by the river a canoe is tied; that is enough for us. You will go out first and go there through the inside of the yard; I will go out by the outside a few moments later and we will meet there. In less than an hour we will be in Campos, where a ship awaits us, whose captain is a friend of mine, and which is to set sail for the north at dawn. When day breaks, we will be far from the hangman who pursues you. Let us go, Isaura; perhaps in this world we will find some merciful soul who can protect you better than I.
—Let us go, my father; what can I fear?... can I possibly be more unfortunate than I already am?...
Isaura, hugging the shadow of the wall that surrounded the courtyard, opened the gate that led to the yard, and disappeared. Moments later Miguel, going around the outside of the buildings, skirted the yard and found himself with her at the river's edge.
The canoe, gliding subtly close along the bank, propelled by Miguel's vigorous arm, in a few minutes lost sight of the plantation.
Chapter X.
More than two months have now passed since Isaura's flight, and now, readers, while Leôncio employs extraordinary efforts and extreme means, and, loosening the purse strings, sets the police and a multitude of private agents in motion to seize again the prey that had so stealthily escaped him, let us set sail for the northern provinces, where perhaps before he does we will come upon our fugitive heroine.
We are in Recife. It is night, and the beautiful Venice of South America, crowned with a diadem of lights, seems to rise from the arms of the ocean, which clasps her in a loving embrace and kisses her with love. It is a festive night: on one of the main streets a splendidly illuminated building is noticed, toward which a great number of gentlemen and ladies of the most distinguished and opulent classes flock. It is a lovely building where a select society usually holds brilliant and crowded soirées. Some of the richest and most elegant students also usually come down from old Olinda on certain nights, to come there to flutter among the splendors and harmonies, among the silks and perfumes of the ballroom; and before the gentle glances and angelic smiles of the beautiful and witty women of Pernambuco, to forget for a few hours the hard benches of the Academy and the worm-eaten law texts.
Let us suppose that we too are devotees of that temple of Terpsichore, let us enter inside it, and observe what curious and interesting things are going on there. Right in the first room we find a group of elegant young men, conversing with some animation. Let us listen to them.
—She is one more star that comes to shine in the salons of Recife,—said Álvaro,—and to lend luster to our soirées. It has not yet been three months since she arrived in this city, and it will be a little more than one since I met her. But believe me, Dr. Geraldo, she is the noblest and most enchanting creature I have ever known. She is not a woman; she is a fairy, she is an angel, she is a goddess!...
—Good heavens!—exclaimed Dr. Geraldo; fairy! angel! goddess!... they are therefore three distinct entities, but in the end you will see that she is nothing more than a real woman. But tell me here, my Álvaro; that angel, fairy, goddess, woman or whatever she may be, did she not tell you where she came from, what family she belongs to, whether she has fortune, etc., etc., etc.
—I care little about those things, and I could answer you that she came from heaven, that she is of the family of the angels, and that she has a fortune superior to all the riches of the world: a pure, noble and intelligent soul, and an incomparable beauty. But I will still tell you that what I know for certain about her is that she came from Rio Grande do Sul in the company of her father, of whom she is the only family; that their means are quite scanty, but that in compensation she is lovely as the angels, and her name is Elvira.
—Elvira!—observed the third gentleman—a lovely name indeed!... but you will not be able to tell us, Álvaro, where your fairy lives?...
—I make no mystery of that; she lives with her father on a small farm in the Santo Antônio district, where they live modestly, avoiding relations, and appearing very rarely in public. On that farm, hidden among groves of coconut palms and trees, she lives like the violet among the foliage, or like a mysterious fairy in an enchanted grotto.
—That is famous!—retorted the doctor—but how did you manage to discover that enchanted nymph, and to gain entry into her mysterious grotto?
--I will tell you in two words. One day, as I was riding past her country house, I caught sight of her sitting on a bench in the small front garden. Her marvelous beauty astonished me. When she saw that I was gazing at her with too much curiosity, she slipped away like a butterfly among the flowering shrubs and disappeared. I formed the firm resolve to see her and to speak to her, cost what it might. However much I inquired throughout the neighborhood, I did not find a single person who was connected with her and who could introduce me. At last I asked who the owner of the country house was, and I went to him. He could give me no information, nor serve me in any way. His tenant came every month punctually to pay the rent of the country house in advance; that was all he knew about him. Nevertheless I continued to pass by in front of the garden every afternoon, but on foot so as to be better able to catch sight of her and admire her; almost always, however, without success. When it happened that she was in the garden, she always avoided my gaze as she had the first time. One day, however, as I was passing, her handkerchief fell as she rose from the bench; the gate was open; I took the liberty of entering the garden, picked up the handkerchief, and ran to hand it to her, when she was already setting foot on the threshold of her house. She thanked me with a smile so enchanting that I was on the point of falling on my knees at her feet; but she did not invite me in, nor did she make me any offer.
--That handkerchief, Alvaro,--interrupted a gentleman,--she certainly let fall on purpose, so that you might see her up close and speak to her. It is a refinement of romanticism, a delicate stroke of coquetry.
--I do not believe it; there is not even a shadow of coquetry in that being; everything in her breathes candor and simplicity. What is certain is that I had difficulty tearing my feet from that place, where a magnetic force held me, and which seemed to exhale a mysterious effluvium of love, of purity and of bliss...
Alvaro pauses in his narrative, as if enchanted by such gentle memories.
--And you stopped there, Alvaro!--asked another gentleman;--your romance is interesting us; let us go on, for I am anxious to see the turning point...
--The turning point?... oh! that has not yet arrived, and not even I myself know what it will be. I exhausted at last the possible stratagems to gain entry into the sanctuary of that goddess; but it was all in vain. Chance at last came to my aid, and served me better than all my skill and diligence. One afternoon, as I was driving in a carriage in the Santo Antonio neighborhood, along the banks of the Beberibe, a drive that had become a devotion for me, I caught sight of a man and a woman sailing at full speed in a small boat. Moments later the boat found itself run aground on a sandbank. I got down immediately, and taking a skiff on the shore, I went to the aid of the two sailors who were vainly struggling to free the small vessel. You cannot imagine the delicious surprise I felt when I recognized in the two people in the boat my mysterious lady of the country house and her father...
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