Part 21 (1/2)
Everything around bent itself before her. She met no resistance, there was nothing upon which she could discharge the vials of her wrath. Soldiers and servants crawled before her.
That she might not hear the rejoicing going on outside, she ordered the windows to be closed, and charged the sentry not to permit any one to enter. She tied a handkerchief around her head to prevent it from bursting; and, in spite of the fact that the sun was still s.h.i.+ning brightly, she ordered the lamps lighted.
A madwoman who had been detained for disturbing the public peace was taken to the barracks. The alferez was not there at the time and the unhappy woman had to pa.s.s the night seated on a bench. The following day the alferez returned. Fearing lest the unhappy woman should become the b.u.t.t of the crowd during the fiesta, he ordered the soldiers who were guarding her to treat her with pity and give her something to eat. Thus the demented woman pa.s.sed two days.
Whether the proximity to Captain Tiago's house made it possible for the sad song of Maria Clara to reach her ears, whether other strains of music awoke in her memories of old songs, or whether there was some other cause for it, at any rate, the madwoman began that night to sing with a sweet and melancholy voice the songs of her youth. The soldiers heard her and kept silent. Those songs brought back memories of the old times.
Dona Consolacion also heard it in her sorrow, and became interested in the person who was singing.
”Tell her to come upstairs at once!” she ordered, after some seconds of meditation. Something like a smile pa.s.sed over her dry lips.
They brought the woman and she presented herself without any discomposure, and without manifesting either fear or surprise.
”Orderly, tell this woman in Tagalog to sing!” said the alfereza. ”She don't understand me; she does not know Spanish.”
The demented woman understood the orderly and sang the song ”Night.”
Dona Consolacion listened to the beginning with a mocking smile which disappeared gradually from her lips. She became attentive, then more serious and pensive. The woman's voice, the sentiment of the verses and the song itself impressed her. That dry and burning heart was perhaps softened. She understood the song well: ”Sadness, cold, and dampness, wrapped in the mantle of Night descend from the sky,”
as the folk song puts it. It seemed that they were also descending upon her heart. ”The withered flower which during the day has paraded its dress, desirous of applause and full of vanity, at nightfall repenting, makes an effort to raise its faded petals to the sky, and begs for a little shade in which to hide itself, so as to die without the mockery of the light which saw it in its pomp, to die without the vanity of its pride being seen, and begging for a drop of dew, to weep over it. The night bird, leaving its solitary retreat in the hollow of the old tree, disturbs the melancholy of the forests....”
”No, no! Do not sing!” exclaimed the alfereza in perfect Tagalog and raising to her feet somewhat agitated. ”Don't sing! Those verses hurt me!”
The demented woman stopped. The orderly muttered ”Bah!” and exclaimed ”She knows how to pata Tagalog!” and stood looking at the senora full of surprise.
The Muse understood that she had been caught, and was ashamed. As her nature was not that of a woman, her shame took the form of rage and hatred. She pointed out the door to the impudent orderly and with a kick closed it behind him. She took several turns about the room, twisting a whip between her nervous hands, and then, stopping suddenly in front of the demented woman, said in Spanish: ”Dance!”
The demented one did not move.
”Dance! Dance!” she repeated in a threatening voice.
The poor woman looked at the Senora, her eyes devoid of expression. The alfereza raised one arm and then the other, shaking them in a menacing way.
She then leaped up in the air, and jumped around urging the other woman to imitate her. The band in the procession could be heard playing a slow, majestic march, but the Senora, leaping about furiously was keeping time to different music than that the band was playing, that music which resounded within her. A curious look appeared in the madwoman's eyes, and a weak smile moved her pale lips. She liked the Senora's dancing.
The alfereza stopped dancing as if ashamed. She raised the whip, that terrible whip made in Ulango and improved by the alferez by winding wire around it, that same terrible whip which the ladrones and soldiers knew so well.
”Now it is your turn to dance ... dance!”
And she began to whip lightly the demented woman's bare feet.
The pale face contracted with pain, and she was obliged to defend herself from the blows by her hands.
”Come! Go ahead!” she exclaimed with savage delight, and she pa.s.sed from lento to allegro-vivace in the use of her whip.
The unhappy woman screamed and quickly raised her feet.
”You have got to dance, you d----d Indian!” exclaimed the Senora and the whip whizzed and whistled.
The woman let herself sink to the floor and tried to cover her legs with her hands, at the same time looking with wild eyes at her tormentor. Two heavy lashes on her back made her rise again. Now it was no longer a scream; it was a howl which escaped from the unfortunate woman. The thin s.h.i.+rt was torn, the skin broke open and the blood oozed out.