Isaura, the SlavePart 21
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Part 21
—What does it matter!... do you not remember a mark in the form of a burn on top of the left breast, which is recorded in the advertisement? I will say that no such mark was found, which is very characteristic, and the identity of the person is destroyed. I will add further that the young woman, in whom you take an interest, is one thing seen at night and another by day; that she in no way resembles the beautiful slave described in the advertisement, and that instead of being twenty years old she appears to be thirty-something to forty, and that all that youth and beauty was the effect of cosmetics and the flickering light of the chandeliers and candelabras.
—You are very ingenious, sir,—observed Alvaro, smiling;—but those who have seen her will give no credit to all that. There remains, however, one more difficulty, Senhor Martinho; it is the confession she made in public?... that will be hard to gloss over.
—Hard!... it is alleged that she is subject to attacks of hysteria, and is subject to hallucinations.
—Bravo, Senhor Martinho; I trust absolutely in your expertise and skill. And then?
—And then I communicate all this to the chief of police, I declare to him that I have nothing more to do with this business, I pass the power of attorney to any bailiff, or captain of the bush, who wishes to take charge of that errand, and immediately I write to the slave's master informing him of my mistake, with which he will certainly give up searching for her around here, and will take his searches elsewhere. What do you think of my plan?...
—Admirable, and we must not lose time, Senhor Martinho.
—I am going right now at this pace, and in less than two hours I will be back here, to report on the performance of my commission.
—Not here, for I will not be able to stay long. I will wait for you at my house, and there you will receive the agreed sum.
—You may withdraw,—said Martinho to the officer of justice and the guards, who were posted outside the door.—Your presence is no longer necessary here. No doubt!—he continued to himself;—this is going to double like in lansquenet. This slave is a mine, which it seems to me is not yet exhausted.
And he withdrew rubbing his hands with contentment.
—So, what arrangement did you make with the man, my Alvaro?—asked Geraldo, as soon as Martinho turned his back.
—Excellent,—answered Alvaro;—my idea produced the desired effect, and even more than I expected.
In a few words Alvaro gave his friend an account of the bargain he had made with Martinho.
—What a despicable and abject character this Martinho has!—exclaimed Geraldo.—From such an instrument one cannot expect any work that is worth anything. And do you think you have accomplished much, Alvaro, with the step you have just taken?...
—Not much, but something at least I can always accomplish. At least I manage to hold back the blow for some time, and as the popular saying goes, my Geraldo, while the stick goes and comes, the back takes its ease. While Leoncio, persuaded that his slave is not here in Recife, searches for her all over this world, she remains here quietly in my shadow, free from the persecutions and the ill treatment of a barbarous master; and I will have time to hasten the means of arranging proofs and documents that justify her right to freedom. That is enough for me for now; as for the rest, since you seem to judge my cause irremediably lost, divine justice will inspire me with the way in which I should proceed.
—How you deceive yourself, my poor Alvaro!... you think that by removing Martinho you are for the time being free from persecutions and searches against your protégée? what blindness!... there will be no lack of scoundrels equally ravenous for money, who for the five contos de réis, which for those wretches is a fabulous sum, will set out in search of such precious prey. Now especially, when Martinho has given the alarm, and when this business has attained a certain degree of celebrity, instead of one, a hundred Martinhos will appear in pursuit of the beautiful fugitive, and they will have nothing more to do than follow the trail beaten by the first.
—You are very finicky, Geraldo, and you always look at things from the worst side. It is quite likely that they will swallow the lies invented by Martinho, and that no one else will remember to discover the captive Isaura in this young woman, in whom I take an interest, and even if a thousand scoundrels search for her in all corners of the world, it will matter little to me. I still obtain a delay, which could be very advantageous to me.
—Well then, Alvaro; let us suppose that it happens so; but do you not see that such conduct is not worthy of you?... that thus you really incur the offensive epithets with which that Leoncio has honored you, and that you truly become a seducer and harborer of other people's slaves?...
—Forgive me, my dear Geraldo; I cannot accept your reprimand. It can only apply to vulgar cases, and not to the very special circumstances in which Isaura and I find ourselves placed. I do not give shelter or cloak a slave; I protect an angel, and I succor an innocent victim against the fury of an executioner. The motives that impel me, and the qualities of the person for whom I take these steps, ennoble my conduct, and are enough to justify me in the eyes of my conscience.
—Well then, Alvaro; do what you wish; I do not know what more I can say to dissuade you from a course of conduct that I judge not only imprudent, but, to speak to you sincerely, ridiculous, and unworthy of your person.
Geraldo could not dissimulate the displeasure caused him by that blind passion, which led his friend to acts that he qualified as burlesque folly, and unqualifiable madness. Therefore, far from aiding him with his counsels, and indicating to him the means of promoting Isaura's liberation, he sought with all zeal to dissuade him from that purpose, painting the business as even more difficult than it really was. Gladly, if it were possible for him, he would have delivered Isaura to her master only to free Alvaro from that terrible temptation, which was precipitating him onto the path of the most ridiculous extravagances.
Chapter XVII.
Finding himself alone, Alvaro sat down beside a table, and resting his elbows on it with his forehead between his hands, he fell to musing deeply.
Isaura, however, sensing from the silence that reigned in the room that there were no longer strangers there, went to him.
—Senhor Alvaro,—she said, approaching gently and timidly;—forgive me ... I have certainly come to bother you ... you perhaps wished to be alone...
—No, my Isaura; you never bother me; on the contrary, you are always welcome beside me...
—But I see you so sad!... it seems to me that more people came in here, and voices were raised. Did they give you some displeasure, my lord?...
—Nothing extraordinary happened, Isaura; they were some people who came to look for Doutor Geraldo.
—But then why are you so sad and downcast?
—I am neither sad nor downcast. I was meditating on the means of snatching you from the abyss of slavery, my angel, and raising you to the position for which heaven created you.
—Ah! sir, do not torment yourself thus for the love of an unhappy woman, who does not deserve such extremes. It is useless to struggle against the irremediable destiny that pursues me.
—Do not speak thus, Isaura. You hold my protection and my love in very little account!...
—I am not worthy to hear that sweet word from your mouth. Bestow your love on another woman who is worthy of it, and forget the poor captive, who has become unworthy even of your compassion by concealing her condition from you, and making you go through the shameful disgrace of...
—Be silent, Isaura ... how long do you intend to keep remembering that cursed incident?... I alone was the guilty one for forcing you to go to that ball, and you had reason enough not to reveal to me your misfortune. Forget that; I beg you by our love, Isaura.
—I cannot forget it, because remorse always revives in my soul the memory of that weakness. Misfortune is a bad counselor, and it disturbs and clouds the spirit. I loved you, just as I still love you, and more and more ... forgive me this declaration, which is doubtless an audacity in the mouth of a slave.
—Speak, Isaura, speak always, that you love me. Would that I could hear that word from your lips for all eternity.
—It was a sad love in truth, a slave's love, a love without smile or hopes. But the happiness of being loved by you was such a consoling idea for me! in loving me you ennobled me in my own eyes, and almost made me forget the reality of my humble condition. I trembled at the thought that by revealing the truth to you, I would lose forever that sweet and only consolation that remained to me in life. Forgive, my lord, forgive the unhappy slave, who had the mad audacity to love you.
—Isaura, leave off vain scruples, and those humble phrases, which can in no way fit on your angelic lips. If you love me, I love you too, for in everything I judge you worthy of my love; what more do you want?... If before knowing the condition in which you were born, I loved you, subjugated by your rare charms, today that I know that to so many attractions you join the prestige of misfortune and martyrdom, I adore you, I idolize you more than ever.
—You love me, and it is that idea that mortifies me even more!... of what use is that love to us, if I cannot even have the fortune of being your slave, and must without remedy die between the hands of my executioner...
—Never, Isaura!—exclaimed Alvaro with exaltation;—my fortune, my tranquility, my life, I will sacrifice everything to free you from the yoke of that vile tyrant. If the justice of the earth does not aid me in this noble and generous undertaking, the justice of heaven will be carried out by my hands.
—Oh! Senhor Alvaro!... do not go sacrificing yourself for a poor slave, who does not deserve such excesses. Abandon me to my fatal fate; it is already no small happiness for me to have deserved the love of a gentleman as noble and as amiable as you; this memory will serve me as encouragement and consolation in my misfortune. I cannot, however, consent that you should debase your name and your reputation, by loving a slave with such extreme.
"For pity's sake, Isaura, do not torture me any more with that cursed word, which you constantly have on your lips. A slave, you!... you are not one, you never were, and you never will be. Can the tyranny of one man or of all society perhaps transform into a vile being, and condemn to slavery, one who came from God's hands an angel worthy of the respect and adoration of all? No, Isaura; I will know how to raise you to the noble and honorable place to which heaven destined you, and I count on the protection of a just God, because I protect one of his angels."
Although Alvaro learned after the night of the ball that Isaura was a simple slave, he nonetheless did not cease from that time on to treat her with the same respect, deference and delicacy as a maiden of the most distinguished social rank. He acted thus in accordance with the lofty principles he professed, and with the noble and delicate sentiments of his heart. Modesty, innocence, talent, virtue and misfortune were always for him things respectable and sacred, whether they were found in the person of a princess or in that of a slave. His affection was as chaste and pure as the person who was its object, and never even lightly had it crossed his mind to abuse the precarious and humble position of his beloved, to profane her immaculate candor. Never on his part had a more daring gesture, or a less chaste word, made the blush of shame rise to the captive's face, and nor had Alvaro's lips even brushed the slightest kiss upon her virginal and modest cheeks. Only after moments and repeated entreaties from Isaura had he taken the liberty of addressing her as "tu," and that only when they were alone.
Only now for the first time, Alvaro, dominated by the gentlest and most vehement emotion, as he uttered the last words, wrapping his arm around Isaura's neck, gently drew her against his heart.
Both were absorbed in the sweetness of this first embrace of love, when the noise of a carriage, which stopped at the garden gate, and soon after a loud and resounding--"Hey, house!"--made them separate.
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