Isaura, the SlavePart 18
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Part 18
--Oh! there is a mystery!... then in that case I declare to you that I will not leave this lady for a single instant, and if you do not wish to say what you came for, you may withdraw.
--I am not falling into that trap, for I will not lose my time, nor my work, nor my five contos.--These last words he muttered between his teeth.
--Senhor Martinho, please be so kind as not to abuse my patience any further. If you do not wish to say what you came for, remove yourself at once from my presence....
--Oh! sir!--retorted Martinho, without becoming perturbed;--since you force me to it, it costs me little to do your will, and with great regret I must declare to you that this lady to whom you give your arm is a runaway slave!...
Alvaro, although he knew the villainy and impudence of Martinho's character, in the first moment was stunned upon hearing that sudden and unforeseen denunciation. He could not give it credit, and reflecting an instant he confirmed himself more in the idea that all of that was nothing but a farce put into play by some unworthy rival, with the aim of displeasing or insulting him. The person of Martinho, who not a few times, in the capacity of buffoon or clown, served as an instrument to the vengeances and petty passions of beings as ignoble as himself, served to justify Alvaro's distrust, who ended by feeling nothing but disgust and indignation for such an infamous proceeding.
--Senhor Martinho,--he shouted with a severe voice,--if someone paid you to come mock me and this lady, say how much you earn, for I am ready to give you double to leave us in peace.
At this blood-boiling affront, Martinho's broad and impudent face did not alter even slightly, and as his only response:
--I repeat again,--he shouted with all shamelessness,--and in a very loud voice, so that everyone may hear: this lady who is here is a runaway slave, and I am charged with apprehending her and delivering her to her master.
Meanwhile Isaura, catching sight of her father, who was also searching for her everywhere with his eyes, letting go of Alvaro's arm ran to him, threw herself into his arms, and hiding her face on his shoulder:
--What an opprobrium, my father!--she exclaimed with a faint voice and sobbing.--I was indeed foreboding it!...
--This man, if he is not an insolent fellow, is either mad or drunk,--Alvaro shouted, pale with rage.--In any case he must be driven out as unworthy of this society.
Already some friends of Alvaro, grabbing Martinho by the arm, were preparing to put him out the door, like a drunkard or a lunatic.
--Easy, my friends, easy!.. he said to them with all calm.--Do not condemn me without first hearing me. Listen first to this announcement that I am going to read to you, and if what I say is not true, I give you leave to spit in my face and throw me out the window below.
Meanwhile this small altercation was beginning to attract general attention, and numerous groups moved by curiosity crowded around the contenders. The fatal phrase--this lady is a slave!--uttered aloud by Martinho, transmitted from group to group, from ear to ear, had already circulated with incredible swiftness through all the rooms and corners of the spacious building. A general murmur had spread throughout it, and ladies and gentlemen, and everything that was there, including musicians, porters and servants, trampling one another, rushed eagerly to the room where the singular incident we are relating was taking place. The room was literally packed with people, who could not even move, and who, panting with anxious curiosity, raised their heads, pricked up their ears and stretched their necks as much as they could to see and hear what was happening.
It was in the midst of this silent, motionless, stupefied and breathless multitude that Martinho, calmly drawing from his pocket the announcement that we already know, unfolded it before their eyes, and in a very loud and sonorous voice read it from beginning to end.
--It is quite clear,--he continued when the reading was concluded,--that the signs match perfectly, and only a blind man would not see in that lady the slave of the announcement. But to remove all doubt, there remains only to examine whether she has the said burn mark above her breast, and it is something that can be verified right now with the lady's permission.
Saying this, Martinho with impudent boldness made his way toward Isaura.
--Halt there, vile bailiff!... Alvaro shouted forcefully, and grabbing Martinho by the arm, he hurled him far from Isaura, and would have thrown him to the ground, if he had not crashed against the group, which was pressing ever more tightly around them.--Halt there! not so much boldness! slave or not, you shall not lay your filthy hands on her.
Annihilated with grief and shame, Isaura at last raising the face that until then she had kept always bowed and hidden on her father's breast, turned to those standing around, and joining her convulsive hands in the gesture of the most violent agitation:
--There is no need for them to touch me,--she exclaimed with an anguished voice.--My lords and ladies, forgiveness! I have committed an infamy, an unforgivable indignity!... but God is my witness that a cruel fatality led me to it. Sirs, what this man says is true. I am ... a slave!...
The face of the captive was covered with cadaverous lividity, like a reaped lily her brow drooped upon her breast, and her graceful body collapsed like a beautiful marble statue that the hurricane tears from its pedestal, and would have sprawled upon the ground, if the arms of Alvaro and Miguel had not promptly rushed to support her fall.
A slave!... these words, sobbed in Isaura's breast like the death rattle of the final wrench, murmured from mouth to mouth by the stupefied multitude, echoed for a long time through the vast halls, like the sinister roar of the night's gusts through the tangle of funereal trees.
This strange incident produced in the soiree the same effect that the explosion of a powder magazine would produce in a camp; in the first moments fright, amazement, and a kind of death rattle of anguish; then agitation, alarm, movement and clamor.
Alvaro and Miguel conducted the fainting Isaura to the ladies' boudoir, and there, aided by some compassionate ladies, they gave her the assistance that the case required, and did not abandon her until she had completely recovered her senses. Martinho, uneasy and wary, followed them and spied on them as closely as was possible for him, in fear that they might steal his prey.
It is impossible to describe the uproar that arose, the agitation that stirred all spirits, and the diverse and opposing impressions that this unexpected revelation produced in their minds. With what face would so many beauties of the first order, so many ladies of the most distinguished social ranks, remain upon learning that she who had supplanted them all in beauty, grace, talents and charms of spirit was nothing more than a slave! I myself cannot say; let the readers form an idea. Meanwhile in many of them the cruel disappointment they had just been through was not without being mixed with a certain intimate contentment, especially in those who felt annoyed by the distinctions and homage that certain gentlemen, seized with enthusiasm, had frankly rendered to the gentle unknown. They were humiliated, but also avenged. As for those who had hopes or pretensions to Alvaro's love,--and they were not few,--these exulted with jubilation upon learning of the case, and the noble youth became the target of a thousand merciless jibes and mockeries.
--What do you say to the slave of the slave?--they were saying--what a face the poor man must have made!...
--The same as before. Surely he will free her and marry her. That one is a madman capable of every foolishness.
--And how wicked! He will have at the same time a wife and perhaps a good cook.
Sad consolation! the stigma of captivity could not erase from Isaura's beautiful brow, but rather brought out more the stamp of superiority that the divine breath had engraved in her in indelible characters.
Among the young men the impression was quite different. Few, very few, failed to take a lively interest and compassion for the fate of the unhappy and beautiful slave. In every corner people spoke and argued heatedly about the case. Some, despite the evidence of the indications and Isaura's confession, still doubted the truth that they had before their eyes.
--No; that woman cannot be a slave,--they were saying,--here there is some mystery that will one day be unveiled.
--What mystery? the case is very plausible, and she herself confessed it. But who will this brute and heartless plantation owner be, who keeps such a lovely creature in captivity?
--He must be some bumpkin with a very stupid and sordid soul.
--If he is not some little sultan of good taste, who wants her for his seraglio.
--Be that as it may, this brute must be compelled to give her her freedom. In the slave quarters, a woman who deserved to sit on a throne!...
--Also only that infamous Martinho, with his satanic instinct of greed, could sniff out a slave in the person of that angel! what impudence! if I saw him here now, I would be capable of strangling him!
Meanwhile Martinho, who had previously armed himself with a warrant of apprehension, and had himself accompanied by an officer of justice, demanded categorically that Isaura be handed over to him. Alvaro, however, interposing the influence and prestige that he enjoyed, opposed himself decidedly to this demand, and taking as witnesses the persons who were there, constituted himself guarantor of the slave, committing himself to deliver her to her master, or to whomever by his order might claim her. In vain Martinho tried to insist; a multitude of voices that hooted him and covered him with insults forced him to fall silent and give up his claim.
--Ah! cursed ones! you want to rob me!--Martinho shouted like one possessed.--My five contos! ah! my five contos! there they go down the drain.
And saying this he sought the stairs, and leaping down them two and three steps at a time, off he went roaring out the door.
Chapter XV.
It has now been about a month since the events we have just narrated. Isaura and Miguel, thanks to Alvaro's valuable intervention, continue to live in the same small country house in the Santo Antonio neighborhood. Since it was no longer possible for them to think of fleeing farther away or hiding themselves, they remain there on the advice of their protector, awaiting the outcome of the steps he had promised to take on their behalf, but always in the most agonizing unease, like Damocles with a sharp sword suspended above his head by a thread.
Alvaro goes almost every day to the house of the two fugitives, and there spends long hours entertaining them with talk of the means of obtaining his protégée's freedom, and seeking to comfort them with hope for a better fate.
To inform ourselves of what has occurred since the fatal night of the ball, let us listen to the conversation that took place at Isaura's house between Alvaro and his friend Doctor Geraldo.
On the very morning that followed the night of the ball, the latter had left Recife and set out for a town in the interior, where he had been called in order to take charge of an important case. Back in the capital at the end of a month, one of his first concerns was to seek out Alvaro, not only from the impulse of friendship, but also spurred by curiosity to learn the outcome of the strange adventure of the ball. Not having found him at home on two or three occasions when he looked for him there, he presumed that the most likely way to find him would be to look for him at Isaura's house, in case she were still in Recife residing in the same country house; he was not mistaken.
Alvaro, having recognized his friend's voice, who was asking for him from the garden gate, went out to meet him; but before that, having assured the owners of the house that the person looking for him was an intimate friend, in whom he placed complete trust, he asked their permission to let him in.
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